#with him it's more just cause he's the worst

[dyingswanpavlova]

"Your girl" - Part 15 | The Salesman x Reader

Summary: What is inside the box?

Warnings: dead dove do not eat, kidnapping, mentions of sexual abuse and other traumatic events in the past, numbness, helplessness, violence, threatening, mentions of blood, mentions of murder and rape, body issues, trauma talk, stockholm syndrome, forced relationship, unhealthy relationship, depression, manipulation, mentions of sexual activities and desires, hinting of suicidal thoughts in the past, stalking, not beta-read, if I've missed any please tell me! mdni 18+!

"Your girl" - The Salesman x Reader Masterlist

„Life. What even is life? An endless, pointless cycle of moments and memories which all serve the sole purpose of destroying my soul?"

“What is this?”

The words were barely even audible, but you could tell that he heard you nonetheless.

You tried so hard to focus on the box and whatever was inside, to be fierce and angry, but all you could truly look at was the bouquet in his hand. A giant bouquet of white roses, just like you had mentioned before. The innocence for which white roses stood, a heart that was inexperienced in love. The secret language of flowers. You had spent a whole afternoon explaining it to him and he didn’t laugh once, he didn’t even smirk. He had been so enamored with your words and the way your eyes shone and sparkled as you spoke about it.

And now he brought them home to you. Of course he did.

It made the pain in your chest grow tenfold. How was it possible? And why did you deserve this? What did you do to deserve it?

Why now?

Why not a month ago, when you had been confused and angry, sad and disappointed, covered in marks and an air of fear?

Why now?

He slammed the roses down onto the bed and rolled his sleeves up.

Did he wash his hands already?

He cracked his knuckles and suddenly you were sure these last few weeks had been no more than a fever dream. You saw yourself, motion- and lifeless, strangled to death by his beautiful hands.

But you fought. You fought so hard to let the anger win over your fear.

“What is this?”

He hummed softly and took a step closer, only for you to back away.

“Can’t you tell?”

You looked down at the box again. It was shaking in your hands. With a few quick, uneven breaths, you reached inside and began to pull out what would, no doubt, cause you nightmares, if you made it out alive this time.

“Is everyone born with a soul? Do some of us end up losing it during the course of our life? And is the soul even real? If it isn’t, why do I feel like I can feel it breaking? Tearing and crumbling? Every time she touches me. Every time she smiles and says it’s what’s best for me.”

The paper was the most prominent, for it was so big. It was crumpled up by a few times, like someone had read it in a fit of rage and attempted to throw it away - but decided against it.

Your cry for help.

You didn’t need more than two seconds to recognize the text. You had written it quite a while ago and you remembered the day vividly in your mind. Sitting at your desk in your childhood bedroom. A storm had raged outside, like it did every so often and you found yourself crying silently, feeling the suffocating weight of your mothers abuse. After she finished punishing you with the belt for what felt like hours, she stroked your hair in a way that was almost affectionate and whispered: “My dumb, stubborn girl. This is for your best. You should know better than to defy me again.”

She then locked you in your room and you spent the next two hours lying on your stomach, crying into your pillow. Every movement was painful and the depression came crashing like a stone rain. The loneliness was the worst. After eventually you stopped crying, because your tears ran dry, you closed your eyes and imagined, how beautiful would it be? How beautiful would it be, if someone came and rescued you. If someone came and loved you.

Loved you to death.

“The darkness surrounds me like a grey cloud. And I want out. Out, out, out. Please, Lord, let me out. Let me swim in the abyss of darkness and send me a dark prince to swim alongside. Let him be broken, like I am and I promise I will set him free. Let others call him overwhelming, let them call him suffocating. Let them call him all the bad things in the world. I care not. I don’t want for his love to be easy. Don’t let him love me conveniently, passively. Let him devour me whole. Let his soul consume mine. Let him be all-consuming. Let him end me with his love. Let me be his and let him be mine. All mine.”

You spent hours of your childhood and youth daydreaming like that. But the outcome was always the same.

You, crying and alone in your bedroom, sobbing to yourself, because no one loved you.

And no one ever would.

Normally, you’d fall asleep after a while. But not that day. The pain was intense and the humiliation that came with it was even worse. You considered watching a show, but even that felt impossible. Reading? Oh, no. You couldn’t bear it. For once, the lovely romance didn’t bring you any comfort, because it wasn’t your own. It only ever reminded you of how you wouldn’t get that kind of affection. That attention.

That love.

Ever.

So, instead, you moved to your desk and began to mindlessly hit the keyboard of your laptop in an attempt to find some comfort in the words. You poured out your heart and soul, because it was all that you got that would keep you from dreaming of dangerous things.

Once you finished typing and you read over the lines, you did something rather odd. You logged into the website, on which you’d normally be no more than a silent reader, a quiet mouse in the walls, a fly, observing and merely existing. And for whatever reason, you really couldn’t tell, you pressed the upload button.

There was your text, your soul bled onto paper. You stared down at it and…

Nothing.

For another hour – nothing.

And eventually you gave up.

No one would read it. No one would understand it. And no one would rescue you.

You parked it in the back of your head and forgot that it existed.

It wasn’t until three months later that you began to work out a plan, apply for jobs, book a flight in the hopes of finding a reason to live, somewhere across the globe.

And when one of the companies actually considered you – it wasn’t the greatest job, but it was a job and it was a real opportunity to leave – you immediately agreed. You ended up destroying the laptop in case your mother found it and tried to find you as well.

“Where did you get this?” You hissed as you stumbled to your feet, the paper crumpled in your hand. He sighed softly and approached you with tiny steps.

“Don’t you know how the internet works, darling? Once you publish something, it belongs to the depths of the network.”

Your frown deepened. “But why do you have it?”

He raised a brow, something akin amusement dancing in his eyes. “I didn’t think that’d be the thing that spooked you the most.”

“What do you-“

All it needed was a short glance down at the box and you felt your blood run cold.

Oh God, this was even worse than you thought. Far worse.

You swallowed, but your mouth felt dry. With a shaky hand, you reached down and carefully touched what remained in the box.

Your driver’s license. So far, so bad. You had lost it a few months ago or so you thought. Somewhere in the streets of Seoul. But did you really? You had asked yourself more than once. Why would you have lost it? You hadn’t driven a car since you came here. You took the bus, the train or you walked. And so you saw no reason to carry it with you, wherever you went. You were sure you had left it in your apartment, in-between credit cards and important papers, which you still needed to sort out. But why would it disappear from the safety of your home? It made no sense. You didn’t want to be paranoid, so you simply told yourself you had lost it.

And there it was.

Your heart clenched painfully in your chest.

You had lost it, months before you even met him. But this wasn’t even the worst part.

No. The horrifying part was yet to come.

There it was – tiny, little you. Cheeky and toothless, not older than four or five. Your father had still been alive then, that was the reason you still held that spark, that gleam in your eyes. Youthful and alive. Happy, even.

A normal girl. Unbroken.

You remembered the tiny photograph. For whatever reason – it couldn’t be love – your mother had kept it. The picture had its place in the living room of your childhood home, right above the chimney. And there she was, staring up at you - the sweet, little brat that you once had been.

Somewhere in the middle of South-Korea.

And it hadn’t been you who took that picture with you.

He had been there. He had been home. He had been in the fucking house.

Back in the day, when you gathered your most necessary things, you didn’t care about tokens or childhood memories. No, you only took what you could wear, eat or pay with and then you left in a hurry. There were no things like childhood pictures. You were sure this picture belonged somewhere in Yorkshire.

A ring from your jewelry box, a near-empty lip gloss you had worn only for yourself, a hair clip, a teddy bear and was that…

Oh, God.

You stared down at the pair of panties that you had worn far more than once in your life. He hadn’t taken that from any cupboard, had he? The faint blood-stain was self-explanatory.

A wave of nausea caused you to shudder and gasp out. You pulled your hand back like you had been burned and the paper fell from your hand.

He was still standing a few feet away, watching your reaction carefully. He obviously hadn’t hoped for disgust and fear, but that was exactly what covered your expression.

“Oh, God.” You whispered breathlessly. Your blood was rushing loudly in your ears and you stumbled backwards, until your back hit the wardrobe. “Oh, God.”

“Don’t panic, alright? Let me explain.”

“Explain?! What is there to explain?! Did you- Were you in my- Fuck!”

Your hands were shaking furiously and you tugged on your own hair, hardly recognizing the pain as such. The real pain was in your chest and stomach. The real pain stood right before you.

“Let me explain.” He said more firmly and took another step closer, ready to free your hair from your bruising grip.

You backed away and stared at him with wide, crazed eyes.

“Stay the hell away from me!”

He exhaled slowly, obviously to calm himself down. He was pretty good at this now. After all, he hadn’t hit you in weeks. But now, he seemed pretty tempted.

“Calm down.” He gritted out. “Shut your mouth and let me explain.”

A cold shiver ran down your spine and suddenly the curtain was lifted again. This was one fucking Joe Goldberg worthy moment. Just that not even that guy had been twisted enough to follow his victim around the whole globe…Or had he? You hadn’t finished the show yet. And you probably never would, after all, you were as good as dead.

“Why?” You heard yourself whisper.

He ran his hands through his hair, leaving it messy in his frustration. He then took a deep breath and loosened his tie.

Oh, he would strangle you. Creative.

“It…It’s complicated.”

You frowned. Ever since you got here, you hadn’t ever before witnessed him get so…flustered? Embarrassed, even. What on earth was this?

Was he even truly angry?

“Speak.” You hissed out. “Speak, or I swear to you, I’ll-“

He raised a hand to silence you and it worked. Your anger only went as far and the fear won. There was obviously still something inside of you that fought for your safety. Your sense of self wasn’t entirely dead. Only beaten to a pulp. An unconscious one.

“I read your text.”

“Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned. I’m a sinner and I’m not a good person. The thoughts I have, they’re dark and bad. Too bad for anyone to understand, except for the lonely, broken souls which yearn for the same freedom that I do.”

Now it was you who took a breath to calm yourself. Fucking idiot.

“I then…” He groaned in frustration and kept stalking closer like a predator. “I hacked your IP-address. I found out where you lived.”

The wave of nausea became more and more apparent, leaving you gasping and near retching. You felt your mouth run dry and the room spin around you.

“I saw the pictures on your computer.”

Now, that was what caused you to stumble and your knees to give in. He immediately rushed forward, ready to catch you, but you backed away against the other wall, like a caged animal.

The pictures…

The pictures were for no one but yourself. Just a silly girl, trying on her mother’s dress and playing dress-up in her room. You remembered how the dress made you feel. Pretty in a way���but also restrained. You remembered the way your eyes glistened in the photos. Pretty, but sad. What had made you so sad? The way the dress made you feel. And the way you were so sure that you would never, never feel beautiful in a dress.

Never feel confident.

Never feel desired.

“And then?” You croaked out.

“And then I paid you a visit.” He said quietly.

“Dear Lord, I was already on my way to you. How many times? I cannot count. And what kept me here, what kept me? The hope for my dark prince to come.”

“I sat in a fucking Honda for near two days. I hid behind the hillside, so you wouldn’t get suspicious. A few times, I was sure someone would call the cops on me, but no one ever did. No wonder. Your next neighbors lived like a whole mile away. I remember getting so angry and thinking to myself, doesn’t she ever leave the house? But that anger quickly disappeared, when I finally saw you.” He smiled wistfully and tilted his head to the side. His smile seemed oddly genuine and not twisted at all. Unlike the rest of him. “Your mother was walking in front of you and speaking to someone on the phone. I remember thinking that you look nothing like her. She radiated such confidence, but not in a good way. More like…More like someone who takes up all the space in a room. Who sucks out all the air and doesn’t care that she leaves everyone else to suffocate. That bratty make-up and the way she swayed her hips and wiggled her ass around like a dumb dog. Repulsive.”

He sounded so angry.

It left you feeling oddly confused…and somehow comforted. Your first reaction was to be angry and horrified, because he followed you and stalked you all the way back to England. But the way he spoke about your mother, it made you feel so…seen. It was exactly how you saw her. So, you just stood and listened.

“You were different.” He hummed softly. “You looked so fragile compared to her. Like every step you took was a high risk. I didn’t understand it. I kept thinking how beautiful you are. Sad, sure. But beautiful. I kept asking myself why you wouldn’t see that. What a waste.”

Your heart was racing in your chest. It didn’t make any sense. Not a single word that left his mouth made any sense. His actions were a lost cause anyway, but his mind was worse. Whenever you felt like you understood him, he quickly made sure you didn’t. And now everything was different. All that was gone, right? He was a fucking stalker.

He was a murderer. You knew that since you first met him, knowingly, but at least he was open about that.

This, right here. This was a lie. A big, messed up, mean lie.

“None of this makes any sense.” You somehow choked out. “You read a text I wrote and saw a picture of me and that made you travel all the way to England? And why are we- Why am I here? Did you-“

“Let me finish.” He was now close enough to reach out a hand and touch you, but he didn’t. There he was again. The man who was so strangely adamant not to force himself on you.

Was there a reason for that? Would he ever tell you?

Your chest heaved rapidly with every breath you took. You knew there was no way out, except right through. So, you nodded.

Lord, help me.

“All I want is for someone to love me…and to love him in return.”

“I went inside and…” He glanced at the box and smiled to himself. “I know I went a little overboard, alright?” He sighed softly. “But can’t you see it? We’re made for each other.”

“You’re a stalker.” You said quietly. A part of you feared his reaction. But another part of you, the stronger one in this case, feared something else far more.

No matter what he did to you so far – he always seemed clear about it. He had never once come off as confused. Sociopathic, maybe. But he knew what he was doing. He knew that he abducted you. He knew.

But in that moment, something seemed different. And that scared the hell out of you.

He was insane. Of course he was. But his eyes were open about it.

Instead of striking you though, he smiled. A soft smile, with soft eyes. He then reached out a hand and carefully brushed a strand of your hair behind your ear. You squeezed your eyes shut and pressed your back against the wall behind you.

“Don’t be scared.” He said quietly. “Let me finish.”

You kept your eyes closed, but you nodded slowly.

“You wanted someone to rescue you, didn’t you?”

That made you frown and your eyes shot open.

“But that wasn’t you. I made it out of there on my own. I found myself a job. I booked the flight and I left on my own. That wasn’t you.”

He smiled in a mixture of amusement and something else. “Are you sure?”

That gave you pause. “What?”

He sighed softly and kept his gaze fixed on his fingers, still playing with your hair.

“Didn’t you ever ask yourself why you got the job so easily? No interview needed, nothing. They just hired you. Some little girl from England with no experience, except for what she learned in school.” He spoke calmly and softly. And you felt another shiver run down your spine, but not in the same way as it did, when he kissed your neck.

That memory suddenly seemed awfully distant.

Did that even really happen?

“What are you talking about? How would you-“

He shot you a long, suggestive look, his lips twitching treacherously.

“My computer.” You said quietly.

He nodded. “I told you, darling. It’s all in the network.”

“But how did you make them hire me?”

“It wasn’t that hard. Enough money can buy you anything these days.”

You swallowed. “Alright. So, you bribed them to hire me. What else?”

He hummed, feigning thoughtfulness. “Your mother came home late the day you left, didn’t she?”

Your eyes widened. “Is she-“

“No.” He said firmly and slowly shook his head. “No. She just had another client, unexpectedly.”

You took a deep, shaky breath. You were a horrible person. Your thoughts were dark and came from a bad place.

“Good.” You whispered. He raised a brow, like he didn’t believe you. It wasn’t too hard, he could read you like a picture book.

You glanced down at the box again. “So, you were in my house. My computer, my job. What about the rest?”

He smirked and looked down for a moment. “You have something specific in mind, don’t you?”

“Didn’t you care about the blood?” You didn’t know why that triggered you so much. Almost more so than the job. Maybe he had altered your brain chemistry so much, that you now thought insane things to be normal. Twisted ways to be expected. Bad to be good.

“You think I’m scared of a little blood?” He bit his lip and slowly shook his head. “Me?”

You wanted to laugh. It was so ridiculous. Everything was. This whole situation was so sick and at the same time, he was cracking jokes?

“Did you forget that my own desires are rather twisted?” He sighed softly. “I just wanted to be close to you. To feel you. And that was all I had at the time. Except for that one time in your apartment, of course.”

You tried to swallow, but the was no saliva. You tried to breathe, but there was no air.

When you saw the driver’s license, you had assumed as much. But you had also assumed that he had broken in, while you were at work or anywhere else. Not at home.

“Where was I?” You whispered shakily.

“Asleep.” He murmured. “Like an angel.”

You closed your eyes and held onto the wall, but this time he didn’t let you back away and instead he caught you. He pressed his palms against your hips and wrapped an arm around your waist. “Careful.” He whispered.

“Did you…” You swallowed heavily. “Did you touch me?”

His calm expression turned into a frown and he pulled his head back to get a better look at your face. “No.” He said in a tone of voice that made it obvious how offended he felt.

“Forgive me!” You snapped back angrily. “How silly of me to assume!”

He closed his eyes and gritted his teeth, but he took another slow breath to calm himself down. Whatever he did, it was working. His expression relaxed.

“I didn’t touch you.” He said quietly. “I just watched you for a while.”

“Why did you wait so long?”

“What?”

“Why did it take you so long to…” You gestured around the room.

He hummed thoughtfully. “I don’t know. I didn’t want for things to go this way. I wanted to…to meet you. To speak to you. To take you out for coffee maybe. But…I just…”

You listened to him with a patience that surprised you. Of course you wanted to be angry with him, because you knew, despite the mess in your head, that would have been the right way to react. And you were angry. But you weren’t really angry, because he broke in or followed you. Because he stole your things or pulled the strings of your life like you were some dumb puppet.

You were angry, because he never told you about it.

Because he lied.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

His head snapped up and he met your gaze with obvious disbelief. “What?”

You nodded. “Why didn’t you tell me? I had to find out by myself.”

He frowned - and for the first time ever since you had met him – he was truly speechless.

“I trusted you.” You said quietly, without taking your eyes off him. “I accepted your sick bullshit, I took everything you gave me. I forgave you every thing you did to me – to my body and to my mind. I trusted you. And you can’t trust me in return. Why not?”

“I was…”

“Afraid?”

His dark eyes widened and he pulled his head back like you had slapped him. “What? No. Not afraid.”

You scoffed and crossed your arms in front of your chest, feeling far angrier than you expected.

“You slapped me. Punched me. Threatened me. Made me feel like I’m worthless. You deprived me of food, water and goddamn privacy. You ignored me for weeks. And I still forgave you. But you couldn’t even tell me the truth about who you are.”

“Stop this.” He hissed.

“You don’t care for anything except yourself. The only reason why I’m here, is because you thought I was pleasant to look at and pliable. Did you do this more than once? Do you always do it like this? Collect your poor victims online? Is it always people like me, with no family and no one to miss them? Or are some of them more lovable than I am?”

“I’m warning you.” He gritted out between his teeth, his gaze flicking from the floor to your face and back.

“The only reason why I’m here is because you wanted to fuck and me and eventually get rid of me. If I didn’t agree willingly, you would have just taken what you wanted, just like that man-“

“Shut up!” He rushed forward and grabbed your shoulders, pressing you against the wall with, what seemed to be, all his strength. His grip was painful and his movement rough, but the sound of his voice was anything but. It wasn’t an angry exclamation. It was a man, more desperate than you had ever seen before. “Shut up! That’s not true! It’s just not true!”

Your heart skipped a beat and you swallowed thickly. This was either really good or it was fucking bad.

“Then why am I here? Why me?”

His breathing was going shallow and his eyes were wide and almost frightened. It was a sight you weren’t used to at all. He was normally either composed or angry. But never this desperate, never this vulnerable. Not even that one time in the kitchen. Even back then, he kept a semblance of composure, but in this moment, he was too far gone. He looked like he was in pain, like he was aching and you were the reason. This time, though, you couldn’t stop. You needed answers, you needed something.

“Why me?” You whispered again, fighting for air.

“Because I-“ His brows furrowed in a mixture of anger and desperation, while his gaze scanned your face restlessly. He looked like he was on the verge of exploding, of dying, of crumbling into a cloud of non-existence.

“Say it.” You whispered. “Just fucking say it.”

When he still didn’t reply and instead just kept staring at you with those wide, uncertain eyes, it suddenly became too much for you.

“You owe me the truth!” You snapped in a fit of anger. “I did everything for you! I accepted everything! And also, for God's sake, I'm not an idiot! I can tell that there is something, something you want to tell me but your just too afraid to! I don't understand what it is and why it's so hard for you, but, fuck, things are hard for me, too! Despite all this, I never tried to leave, because I didn’t want to! I stayed here, despite everything and you can’t even bring yourself to tell me why you-“

“I love you.”

“Love me unconditionally, love me to death. Love me with his last breath. And I promise you, I promise, I will love him just the same. I will die for him and I will live for him. Let him murder my soul and I will kiss his hand. Let him bathe in my blood and I will apologize for the mess. Let him be as he is, let him be dark, let him be hurtful. Let him suffocate me and I will forgive it. Just let him love me as I am.”

There was no affection in his words. None at all. He bit them out like a curse, like another man would have a degrading slur. The hiss in his voice was all too apparent and so was his anger. There was no affection. Only pain.

You couldn’t bring yourself to care though. All that you cared about was…

“What?” You breathed out.

He closed his eyes and tightened his grip on you. Killing someone wasn’t nearly as hard for him, you could tell.

For a good ten seconds, you didn’t care about the way he said it. But then you suddenly did. And you also cared about the way he couldn’t seem to look at you.

Was he bullshitting you?

Had he just said that?

Was this some kind of twisted mind game?

“No, you don’t.” You nearly spat out. “You don’t even know me.”

His eyes shot open and the look in them was all but terrifying. But again, you didn’t care. You had long made peace with death. That was probably one of the main reasons why you stayed with him and did everything he asked, why your sense of self-preservation left you so early.

You were his girl, after all.

“I don’t know you?” He spat out in return.

“No, you don’t. How would you-“

“Your favorite colors are forest green and apricot.”

He was bullshitting you. It was a mind game.

“Do you really think a stupid color-“

“You never had a boyfriend. Just one kiss. A lost bet. You had your first real crush in High School and it was your teacher. You’re afraid of sharks, but you love orcas. Your favorite food is anything Italian. You hate alcohol. Your favorite book is Wuthering Heights. You favorite season is spring. You favorite musician is that Indie woman and I keep forgetting her fucking name, but you know who I mean. With the long, dark hair. She sounds like she’s crying in every song and she keeps referring to Jim and no one knows if she’s singing about her ex-partner or the drink. Your favorite actress is Sharon Tate. You’re afraid in the dark. You like being called darling. It sounds like something someone would call his partner in a stable relationship. You love Fred and Ginger. The nineteen-twenties are your favorite decade. You prefer Fitzgerald over Hemingway. You cry when you cum. And you love it, when I kiss your neck and call you sweet names, while I’m slowly ripping your body apart. You’re too ashamed to say the word fuck, in any normal situation, but you’d say anything, anything at all, when you’re in the right mood. You wish your mother was dead and you hate yourself for thinking that. One of your biggest fears is birthing a child. You want to write a book. You’re religious. You forgive far too easily, even a sick bastard like myself. You’re-“

By the time he got to the point of mentioning your mother, you felt a fresh wave of nausea wash over you. And suddenly everything was too much. His grip was too tight, the air was too little, your heart beating far too fast.

You didn’t. You didn’t want her to die. You just wanted…just wanted to be free.

Was that the same thing?

Were you horrible like that?

You didn’t even realize you were starting to hyperventilate, not even when he loosened his grip on you and gently cupped your face in his hands.

“Hey.” He whispered. “Hey. Stop. Stop.”

Hot tears ran down your cheeks and he quickly wiped them away with his thumbs.

“Look at me. Look at me.”

He gently tipped your chin up and then wrapped his arms around you, cradling you against his chest and gently running his fingers through your hair.

“Shh.” He made softly, as he gently rocked you back and forth. “Shh. Don’t cry. Please don’t cry.” He whispered.

He was a stalker. He was sick. He was dangerous.

And he knew you.

And he loved you.

He still loved you.

He knew your flaws. And he loved you.

He loved you.

You wrapped your arms around his neck and clung to him tightly, like a child, desperately seeking the comfort and warmth only he could give you. His grip on you tightened and he nuzzled the top of your head, mumbling gentle reassurances and sweet nothings against your hair.

It took forever, but eventually you calmed down.

He made you calm down.

And he loved you.

He cared about you.

And he loved you.

He knew you and he loved you.

After a while, when you finally managed to gently free yourself from his grip and slowly pull your head back, just enough to look at him, he didn’t cower. He stared right back at you, his eyes red-rimmed and his expression softer than ever before.

He was a different man.

You couldn’t tell what it was. But it was there.

It wasn’t just a better mood, a better day, a shift in his demeanor –

It was him. He was different. A different man.

But somehow, he was still the same.

The way he looked at you was the same. Only softer.

The way his eyes shone was the same. Only wiser.

He loved you.

“Do you really mean it?” You whispered, with the innocence of someone who was inexperienced in love.

He bit his lip and briefly glanced down at the floor, before he met your gaze again.

“I mean it.” He whispered back, with the softness of someone who had no idea what love even meant. His lips hovered right above your own and suddenly he didn't seem so bitter any more. "I love you." He whispered against your lips. "I do."

For you, he seemed willing to try.

He would do anything, wouldn’t he? Because you would.

Maybe he would even love you to death.

“Let him love me.”

He loved you.

_______________________________

Tag list 1:

@mitsuki-dreamfree @kpopsmutty69 @heroine-chique @vkeyy @mizuwki @blu-brrys @z0mbi345 @yourpointbreak @ayieayee @freddyzeppsworld @lola11111111 @indifitel6661 @salesmanlover08 @laurenbenoit70 @lalalaa2210 @lila-marshal @auspicious-lilana @0-aubrie0 @lovelyaegyo @theredvelvetbitch @violentbluess @muriels-lover @dorayakissu @eviebuggg @muchwita @ririgy @strxlemon @obsessedwthdilfs @kiwilov3 @misty-q @rlmiku

Author's note:

The most important things first:

Thanks to the lovely @thelastofkryze for the plot twist, because pookie came up with the stalking thing!

And thanks to the wonderful @muchwita for being a grand inspiration of the toxic love part in the letter ("Let others call him (...) love me conveniently, passively.")

Our man's being soft for a reason, guys!

I love you all! 🤍

[max-nicoxfandom]

DCXDP - Danny is a flerken, this causes Dick a lot of concern

Dick doesn't like Damian's new cat, or everyone thinks it's a cat, at least. It's kinda big for the size of a regular house cat, and it's whole body is like a weird trippy illusion; black with blue eyes one moment, white with green the next.

Damian claims he just picked it up off the street, and he's overall utterly unperturbed with the cat. According to him the thing was probably some sort of escaped lab experiment, and he is determined to figure out who was testing so inhumanely on animals. May God have mercy on their souls when that boy reaches them.

No one in the family quite likes the cat, except Damian, obviously.

The animal just has a way of sneaking into where it's not supposed to. It's always watching. Always just around the corner. Always at the exact place you don't want it to be at that exact moment.

Tim in particular is very annoyed by the cat. He likes to sit on Tim's paperwork, press buttons on his computer, and stick his face in Tim's coffee. The cat actively makes Tim's life harder whenever it gets the chance. Damian finds this to be the best form of comedy, because he is a little menace(lovingly).

Dick thinks he has it the worst with the cat overall though. Why? Because no one believes him about this stupid animal. Sure, they all agree that the cat is fucking weird, at the very least it's more sapient than a cat should be, but that's as far as they take it.

Not Dick.

Dick managed to sneak up on it once, and only once, and has never even attempted again. He just wanted to get back at the creature after it spent all day tripping him as he walked down the halls. It was harmless! Honestly, he just expected the cat to jump, maybe hiss, and skitter away for the rest of the day.

Instead the cat whirled around and opened its jaw so wide Dick swears its chin began to grace the floor, and then glowing green tentacles came out! They latched around his arms, covered his nose and mouth, and began to pull him into the tooth filled abyss of its jaws.

He felt the life in him leave before he was even half way pulled in. The fight slowly began to drain out of him, and the room was getting so so cold. Dick really thought this was how he was going to die, via his baby brother's freaky ass cat.

And then Damian's voice rang out, sharp and firm, simply calling the name of his cat lovingly dubbed "Phantom". The name Dick gave him, actually, because the cat travelled around the house like a ghost. Damian is the one who decided the name ghost was too childish, and thus, Phantom came about.

Damian arrived to him laying on the floor, Phantom on top of his chest purring away, as if the thing didn't try to consume him mere moments ago.

"Lying on the floor is quite unbecoming of you, Richard. However, since you are bonding with Phantom, I will let it slide."

And then Damian picked up the cat, tucked it into his chest, and walked back to where he came from.

When talking to Damian about the event later, he just looked at him like he was stupid. Tim said the cameras had shorted out (something that had been happening a lot recently), and he had no clue what Dick was talking about. Bruce and Alfred both advised him to seek mental help, believing him to be stress hallucinating. He didn't even bother telling the others.

So yeah, Dick doesn't like Damian's cat monster. He doesn't want to hurt his baby brother's feelings, but it can't stay.

Will be reblogging with more, eventually, other people's additions are VERY welcome

[igorluvr]

req for thanos x shy reader who wears glasses?

'SHRINKING VIOLET

PAIRING: choi su-bong (thanos) x reader

SYPNOSIS: you and thanos had been inseparable since middle school, watching eachother grow into adulthood. you'd been with eachother through good and bad, so what would happen if the both of you suddenly caught feeling for one another?

CONTENT: non-squid game au, childhood best friends awww, kinda corny, lots nn lots of fluff

AUTHORS NOTE: omg i loved writing this!! its super short bcs i wanted to hurry up nn publish your request but i hope u like ittt

[words: 717]

THE first day of school was always a nightmare, and being in a new city made it worse. You missed your old school, teachers, friends, and the comfort of familiar routines. Eighth grade was especially tough, as everyone else already had their friend groups established, causing you to feel like an outsider.

For the first few months, you floated around like a ghost, trying to avoid the rude kids. You went to a particularly large school, so your bus stop had at least 10-15 other people waiting there. Unfortunately, they were all the wrong types: smokers, gossipers, egotistical athletes—the worst of the worst. Already having a bad day, you decided to put in your headphones to tune them out.

Suddenly, someone slammed roughly into your back, sending you crashing face-first into the concrete. “Oh shit!” a voice shouted behind you.

Quickly, you gathered your belongings, but it was difficult. “Shit sorry, I tried to yell. Are these yours?” an older boy said, picking up a colorful skateboard. You noticed him presenting your glasses in his hand. With a small nod, you took them from him, but they were now crooked, making you groan.

“You okay? You went down pretty hard,” he asked, worry in his voice. “Mhm, sorry,” you replied quietly, not wanting to embarrass yourself any more.

His head tilted as he looked at you. “Aren’t you in my science class?” he questioned. You stared at him, confused. You weren't too good with remembering faces. “I’m Su-bong, Choi Su-bong. I sit next to the teacher?”

Now you remembered him—the boy who wouldn’t stop making pencil-beats on the desk during class, causing the teacher to move his seat up front by hers. He had a bright smile and a confident demeanor, one of the more outspoken kids. Embarrassed, you mumbled a quick 'sorry', wishing to disappear.

“Don’t be sorry! I recognized you. You’re the new kid, right?” he said with a chuckle, making you shrink further into your shell.

You expected him to laugh at your quietness, but instead, he leaned against the bus stop, looking genuinely interested. “Since you're new, let me be your first friend. I promise it'll be worth it,” he offered, a playful grin on his face.

Your first instinct was to walk away, to assume his friendliness was just an act or a joke. But he spoke with a sincerity that made you want to believe him. “Why do you want to be my friend?” you asked, hesitant and stuttering over your words.

“Because you seem cool,” he replied nonchalantly. “I hate seeing people alone at school, it makes me feel bad. C'mon, I can show you the best spots in the cafeteria, which teachers to watch out for. It'll be fun!”

Stuck between anxiety and hope, you struggled to find the right words. His enthusiasm chipped away at your walls, and the idea of friendship began to settle in your mind. “Okay,” you said shyly, feeling a mix of excitement and fear.

From that point on, you two were inseparable. From that first day you became friends all the way to graduation, you never left each other's side. You experienced everything together, helping him build his rap career as 'Thanos', going to your first party together, smoking together, even going to prom as each other's dates. It wasn't until your adult life that you started confusing your feelings for him.

Su-bong had always been good-looking; you couldn't deny that, but you never saw him like that. You loved him in a completely platonic way, or so you thought. It seemed as if your feelings for him had hit like a bus.

It was completely out of nowhere—a random Tuesday afternoon. The both of you were hanging out by an abandoned building, a place you visited regularly. Going to random places and smoking together had become a routine for both of you, but this time was different.

The way the golden light from the sunset hit his face just the right way, the deepness of his voice, the way your hands grazed slightly as you passed the blunt to each other—it did something to you. You couldn’t shake the feeling. It was like a revelation, constantly revealing desires and emotions you had long buried.

Of course, though, you’d never dare to bring it up. I mean, come on, all the years you’d been friends, what were the chances of you both randomly catching feelings at the same time? Every time he laughed or nudged you, it was a reminder of the line you couldn't cross. So, you kept your feelings hidden to protect your heart and cherished friendship.

After getting as high as the both of you could handle, you decided to go back home. As you got into the passenger seat of his car, the air was thick with unspoken words. The soft glow of the sky above illuminated his sharp features, and you studied every part as if he were on display at an art gallery. You could feel his boldness radiating, but he also sensed your shyness. As you fidgeted with your glasses, he smirked and broke the silence.

“Hey, you know,” he said, leaning back in his seat hazily, “those glasses of yours? They’re kinda cute.” There was a teasing tone in his voice that made your cheeks heat up and you looked away, trying to hide your smile.

“Thanks,” you mumbled, heart racing. Thanos chuckled softly, his mood shifting slightly as he took a deep breath. “Look, I gotta be real with you for a sec. I’ve been thinkin’ a lot lately… and honestly, I’ve been feelin’ more than just friends. Like, a lot more.”

Your heart stopped. Could this be it? “What do you mean?” you asked, curiosity overpowering your surprise. Something changed in you for sure, but did he actually feel the same way?

“I mean c’mon, we hang out all the time, I just can’t ignore it anymore. I really care about you. You’re my best friend and all, but I want more than that.” Thanos admitted, a smirk creeping on his face. That smile truly sent your heart in a whirlwind.

A million thoughts raced through your mind. The air in the car felt condensed, and you found your voice trembling just a bit. “Y-you’re serious?”

“Yeah,” he said, leaning in a little closer, his strong gaze locked on yours. “I’m serious. And I hope you feel the same.”

You took a shaky breath, trying to gather your thoughts. “I do. I really do,” you said, in disbelief of this entire situation. Maybe it was the weed getting to your heads, but this moment felt truly euphoric.

Before you could say another word, Thanos leaned in closely, lips brushing softly against yours. The moment your lips connected, everything around you faded; nothing outside of that car existed anymore.

The feeling was electric, sending waves of warmth through your body. All other thoughts left your mind, and you felt dizzy with the feeling of his soft mouth moving against yours. You were overly aware of everything—the way your heart raced, how his hand felt on your cheek, and the happiness bubbling in your chest.

When he pulled away, both of you were breathless, smiling at each other with surprise. The doubt that you felt faded into the background, replaced with an undeniable joy. His eyes sparkled with the same wonder and mischief that had always drawn you to him. You both smiled, the tension evaporating as laughter bubbled up from within.

“Wow,” he said, still grinning. “That was… nice.” You giggled at his loss of words. You'd never seen Thanos so nervous. “Yeah, nice,” you echoed, heart still racing.

With a sparkle in his eye, he took your hand, intertwining your fingers. Slowly, he lifted your hand to his lips, kissing your knuckles gently, and you couldn’t help but let out a small gasp. The sweet gesture left you speechless, heart thumping wildly as you stared into his eyes.

“Now that feels nice, too,” he said softly, gaze locked on yours as he held your hand to his heart. “Guess that’s a proper confession, huh?”

You laughed, feeling light as air. “Definitely," you responded, voice slightly shaky due to the immense amount of happiness running through your veins.

The sweetness of the moment wrapped around you like a soft blanket. You felt shy and flustered, but also excited—excited for what was to come. His eyes held all the hope you could dream of, and in that moment, you knew you were ready for this new step with him. As you exchanged smiles, it hit you that this was just the start.

You couldn’t wait to see where this new chapter in your relationship would lead you both. Wherever it may be, you were ready to face it side by side, you two against the world. In that perfect instant of the moment, everything felt infinite.

And as the warmth of the moment surrounded you both, the sun lowered beyond the horizon, painting the sky with vibrant hues of orange and purple—a promising picture for your future. You both shared a knowing look, laughter lingering in the air as you realized that you were embarking on not just a journey of love, but an adventure of life that you were both willing to embrace with open arms.

[worthlessnepenthes]

So I reblogged this because it’s funny but then I thought about YQY for a second, and reblogged again so I could talk.

This isn’t going to be any new, profound thoughts for the fandom I’m sure but they’re new to me and I wanna talk for a minute.

I, personally, do not like YQY. I don’t HATE him, but I don’t like him. But I do feel sorriest for him, out of all the SVSSS and PIDW characters. I often forget that when he left SJ, he too was a literal child. Yes, he probably could have done better—told his master he needed help to save his brother, heck, told a fellow shidi or shixiong once he got to the peak. He was probably popular. I can’t imagine no one would have been willing to help him. But he was also a child, so I forgive him. He suffered and hurt himself, grievously, permanently causing himself a chronic condition in his attempts to get back to DJ. I don’t know that I think he did everything he COULD, but I do believe he did everything he THOUGHT he could.

And then Shen Jiu shows up, much like a feral cat, and constantly lashes out and hurts YQY. Their strained relationship is absolutely caused on both ends. It’s hard to say, ‘Well, YQY should have just KNOWN that SJ wasn’t going to the brothels to sleep with whores/didn’t kill LQG/wasn’t abusing Ning Ning/whatever other terrible things he was accused of,’ when SJ was, in fact, very verbally abusive and physically abusive to at least one disciple (lbh. Do we even get a canon reason WHY he hates him so much?), and verbally abusive to YQY, and to most likely many other characters.

However, maybe if YQY had actually stood up for SJ and said ‘No, this is a misunderstanding, this is not what happened,’ instead of just assuming that SJ had done whatever terrible thing and then covering for him in a sense of guilt, maybe things wouldn’t have been so bad. Or if YQY said, ‘take out your anger on me, it’s all my fault, but leave the others alone’. (It wasn’t, and SJ is wrong for acting this way.)

Honestly if they had ever fucking COMMUNICATED instead of just assuming the actual fucking worst of each other, while still deeply loving the other (in whatever romantic or platonic way they had, they loved the other) no matter whether they ever said it or not, a lot could have been avoided. Like PIDW YQY’s death.

Or hell, if Airplane had ever written about Xianxia mental health care instead of probably curing depression with papapa!

But the relationship between SJ and YQY is almost worse and more horrifying after SY comes through. YQY KNOWS it isn’t SJ, but every test they do show he isn’t possessed. So maybe it really is SJ, and all SJ needed to become happy was simply…to forget almost everything, but especially any time SJ and YQY spent together before they became Peak Lords.

So YQY is still trying to make it up to a person that he both thinks is there and thinks is not there, never knowing for sure. Every emotion he has towards this ‘new’ SJ feeling like a betrayal, ‘if only SJ could have acted like this before!’

Yeah. It’s really horrifying. He never gets the comfort of knowing for certain that SJ is gone, never gets to properly grieve and burn incense for him. But he also always feels just slightly off kilter with SY, and then feels guilt, because this is SJ! And even if it isn’t…what can YQY do about it?

YQY has many sleepless nights, wondering, after SY shows up.

I don’t like YQY, but I feel sorry for him. He is the most pitiful character in the book to me.

Shen Qingqiu, pissed off during a peak lord meeting: when I die I want Shang-shidi to lower me into the earth, just so he can let me down one last time

Shang Qinghua: bro c'mon

Yue Qingyuan, abruptly overcome by jealousy so intense that he's on the verge of a qi deviation: but I thought I was the one who let Xiao Jiu down the most...?

[ratwithhands]

We got Volo!! I've been thinking about Mahoumas again now that my school workload is lighter, so I finally got to draft Volo's champion design. Worst to ever do it, can't wait to draw him fighting our main duo.

Since I've had time to think about it, I've also done some more refining on where the magic comes from. Essentially in this AU, legendaries are such powerful divinities that just being in a place will cause immense damage to the nearby environment and creatures as a result of the energy they let off. In ancient times they would "resolve" conflicts by whaling on each other, which would obliterate any nearby settlements and mess up the ecosystem. Arceus then decided that the best way to protect all his children would just be to simply stop them from doing that by only allowing proxies to fight.

The basic idea is that a legendary has a divine champion (diplomatic assistant) that meets with the champions of others in order to discuss and settle issues. This ensures no region ending damage and also makes sure that decisions aren't rash, spur of the moment actions. The champions are protected under the rules too; once in contract to a legendary, they aren't to be attacked or harmed by other champions unless they've already been cleared and confirmed for trial by combat. There's some other specifics too but in essence they're basically just there to keep the peace and represent their divinity.

What makes Volo different (and such a pain to deal with) is that he's Giratina's first champion, so he got a lot more benefits that champions generally shouldn't have. Giratina had never had to set up a champion before, plus was excited to have one after eons, so Volo was lavishly spoiled. Since Giratina doesn't talk to other legendaries, he was also pretty much unchecked and just doing whatever he wanted without any regulation. This is a problem in general but it is especially troublesome when another champion (cough, Ingo) tries to revert the "corrections" he's making.

Anyways bonus doodle: since he was the first, Giratina wanted a little whimsy for him.

Let me know if you guys want to see more of this bastard, I'm off to take a nap

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

curious about your take on riddle's dream. i have seen people en masse claim that riddle yearns to a deliquent/"if he wasn't traumatized, he would be in a pop music club" and... it feels like such a literal interpretation (although there are some who are obv just joking) to the point of misinterpretation? i'm not very invested in riddle's story arc, but to me it read like a pretty clear "what if i was the worst version of myself (which riddle has been raised to see as being disobedient) and i was still loveable".

[You can read my thoughts on the book 7 chapter 12 part 3 update here!]

I think there’s a lot of different ways to interpret the dreams because of how… vaguely they’re written + their length + every player coming into the dreams with their own experiences which inform their POVs. For this reason, I don’t feel comfortable outright stating X or Y interpretation is “wrong”, and nor do I wish to be used as a means to validating one interpretation over the others. All I’m going to do this ask is explain how I personally interpreted Riddle’s dream. That’s all.

I don’t think Riddle wants to be a delinquent; this would be conflating a child’s desires to that of a delinquent. Yes, Riddle was detained be a police officer—but not for any violence or serious criminal actions. He was detained for singing in front of the police station (without a license) and causing a public disturbance (because of his amplifiers). Furthermore, Riddle doesn’t engage in any other criminal behaviors (unless you count not going to school, but a minor isn’t usually held liable for that; the onus is on his parents for not sending him). I think it would be more accurate to say that Riddle’s wishes are very child-like ones. He wants to be able to play with his friends all day, he ignores studying and obeying rules, he can eat tarts and drink sugary tea whenever he wants, he has doting parents that are always emotionally there for him, etc. These are not marks of delinquency, they are the innocent longings of an inner child that never got to be recognized.

While I don’t think it’s a guarantee that Riddle would be in Pop/Light Music Club had he had a more lenient mother, I do think that Riddle would want to explore creative outlets. He is noted as having a very strong imagination, but is limited in his life experiences and struggles to think for himself or to act outside of the concrete, as is defined by rules and laws. If these restraints were loosened up and he had actually been allowed and encouraged to explore other avenues, he might have found an interest in the arts and expressing himself through that. It could be a visual medium, a written medium, a musical medium, whatever.

I think music is what we jump to right away because he has a band in the dream, but I could easily see him dabbling in other areas too. Maybe music was chosen because it’s a group activity, and Riddle longs to be that setting. A happy family, a boy with lots of friends, you name it. You could also argue that Riddle went with music because that’s what he knew from his dorm members. Adeuce are in athletic clubs, which Riddle is sort of rubbish at, and Trey is in Science Club, which of course covers topics Riddle would already be studying irl. Cater’s club is the only one with a significant degree of creativity allowed. Riddle might have based his hobby in the dream off of Cater’s experiences. One telltale detail that supports this theory is that Riddle mentions people keep leaving because the band can’t stick to one genre, which is also true of Cater’s irl Pop/Light Music Club. Another thing to consider is that Riddle is able to conjure the look of delicious cakes and cookies but not replicate the taste because he’s not familiar with it. You could say this is also true of his being in a band. He looks the part, but we never hear him participating in it—perhaps because Riddle could have seen Cater rushing to a club meeting in his outfit, but not have actually heard him play. Therefore, it’s possible that Riddle’s dream is just pulling from his shallow understanding of what “being in a band” is about… the camaraderie of it. This, again, loops us back to Cater’s relationship with his fellow club members. It’s less about the actual playing and more about the vibes and hanging out with one another. Maybe Riddle heard stories from Cater about this and got curious? This same logic applies to other aspects of his dream. He seems to emulate what he has heard from his dorm members in general. Loving parents who are there for him (like Trey), the bout of delinquency (like Deuce), the ability to speak his mind (like Ace). Riddle is wanting to be more like his peers, who were able to have “normal” experiences. To me, it feels like he used his dorm members as templates (which he combined with his own desire to have a fulfilling childhood) because Riddle himself doesn’t have a clear concept of what it means to live freely. After all, he only has like 1-2 months of playing with Trey and Chenya to go off of compared to a few years with his Heartslabyul classmates.

As I said earlier in this post, I don’t think the Riddle we see in the first layer of his dream is meant to be “the worst version of himself” or “Riddle but disobedient”; it reads as more of Riddle indulging in everything he missed out on in his childhood. Sweets, parental love, playing all day with friends, loudly and openly expressing himself through music, exploring creative ventures, making happy memories… I don’t believe these are bad things or borne out of Riddle wanting to be rebellious or disobedient, they’re just consequences of acting like a kid.

I do find it interesting that so many aspects of himself were entirely written over. However, I don’t see it as Riddle thinking he has to be a different person (as in, having a different personality?) in order to be worthy of love. Riddle was definitely still able to make friends as a child even with the quiet personality he had then. It was possible. Nothing in his backstory makes me think Riddle believes he wasn’t deserving of love—but he may think that love has to be earned, that love is conditional. And what is that condition? Following the rules, obeying, performing well in exams. That’s what he was taught would earn him success and his mother’s love and that’s what he enforced in early book 1. I think… Riddle definitely wants to be someone else, but in the sense that he wants to be born into different circumstances. Parents that get along, a dad that has time for him, a mom that dotes on him, no magic, no expectations to shoulder, lax rules, etc. This ties in with Riddle wanting to live the childhood he feels he never had. A childhood where he had no friends, where he studied all the time, where his mother calorie counted for him, where he was not allowed to play video games or watch movies, where he was not allowed to choose his own clothes or career or anything. Several of these sentiments were expressed post-OB.

Now that being said, everything I just discussed covers only the first layer of Riddle’s dream. I see the idea of Riddle thinking he has to be someone else coming through a little stronger in the second layer of his dream. That’s the part where everyone is being chased through the destroyed rose maze. Here, we see a much more extreme and even more domineering Riddle than what we saw in book 1. He lords over his students such that even his versions of Ace and Deuce have fallen into line and mindlessly follow his commands. The mob students are scared of him—and though Riddle is aware of it, he is content. They salute him and praise him for his iron fist. He is the most correct, after all. He is ruling just as his mother would, he is being the person his mother wants him to be.

This is expanded upon further in the third layer of his dream, in which he faces his inner darkness. Riddle confronts the truth: that he is desperate to cling onto the dorm leader seat, because that’s all he has going for him. He has driven away his classmates, who fear him and resent him. There’s his mother, but she has not granted him the affection he craves, and her approval is conditional. He is alone and unloved. This potentially recontexualizes details seen in earlier layers. Why is Riddle in a band? Maybe because he wants to be like Cater, who seems easygoing and approachable. Why does Riddle live many other aspects of his dorm members’ lives? Why do the characters conjured by Riddle’s darkness to fully believe that Cater wants to transfer to Scarabia—a dorm known for having a friendly and relaxed leader? It could suggest an insecurity in Riddle, a worry that he, as he is, is not enough. Not smart enough for his mother’s approval, not kind or cheery or normal enough to make friends. So all he has is his crown, which he reverently claims to. It’s one of the few things he has to call his own, a decision he made for himself and something he earned through his own merit.

But ultimately, I see Riddle’s truest desire as… being his own person, having his own independence and things he chose for himself. Not letting himself be ruled by the shadow of his mother. (His Phantom fittingly seems to dangle him on strings, as if Riddle is its puppet or marionette.) It doesn’t mean complete chaos or anarchy, and it doesn’t mean being like other people. It means defining his own rules for how he should live. Walking forward on his own path. Making his own identity, not tied down to that of his mother. Riddle is so used to being to do what to do or how to be—by his mom, by some arbitrary set of rules. The fact that he confesses to the things he actually wants after his OB… that he wants to stand up to his mother over winter break… that he confronts the dream version of his mom with the declaration that he will open this door with his own hand, that he will walk forward on his own path… I think that says a lot.

…. Weeeeell, like I said at the start, that’s one interpretation 🤷‍♀️ It’s not necessarily “correct”, and it’s liable to change (especially since all of this information is still very fresh; I’m still taking the time to digest it myself). The wibbly wobbly dream magic is open enough to invite all kinds of interpretations, so I encourage you to take this all with a grain of salt and to come to your own conclusions?

I think it’s interesting that it’s Riddle’s dream that has resulted in many different interpretations, especially on the English speaking side? I wonder if that’s because the average EN player skews younger, so those fans can relate a lot with the struggle for identity and finding freedom from one’s parents, even if their circumstances aren’t exactly the same as Riddle’s. We project our own experiences and feelings onto Riddle, which informs our interpretation of his dream.

[htrfkyeki]

1.

"What do you want from me in return huh?"

"Oya oya, someone are lovely enough for lean me a hand hmm. So, want to join me tea party?"

"Rightttttttt, i was so weakkkkkk right now, thanks for your help."

"...i can do it myself, please."

"Heh? Do i need to pay you?"

"Why?"

"You busybody, you know?"

"No thank you, i can do it myself."

"Do you think you can do it?"

2.

"You think it's funny?"

"Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha, everyone know i was the Mad Hatter a long time ago, you lag behind very much, buggy."

"Hehhhhh. Really? That's all you can say?"

"...i will tell the twins."

"I have the better one for you though, what do you refer more, poison or desert, or BOTH?"

"My strings can carry even something heavy like a car, do you want to try yourself?"

"You know, i made someone went missing before, and i don't mind to do it again?"

"DO YOU HAVE A DEATH WISH?"

"𝔈𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔫𝔞𝔩 𝔟𝔩𝔦𝔷𝔷𝔞𝔯𝔡."

3.

"And you give it to me because?"

"Oh, i also have useless thinggy too, twiny much hahaha."

"I'll give it to Ruggie-senpai, thanks."

"...do you not know how to use money wisely?"

"Do i look poor to you?"

"You can have it back."

"Even Dia-san have more useful thing that the one you give me now."

"Why?"

"I don't need that."

4.

*Sigh* "Make sure to clean all of it later, 'k?"

"Eh? Tea party? Why it's not tea partyyyyyyyy?"

"What a hassle..."

*He running away when he saw there was a party waitting for him.

"Did Kalim told you to do this? Jamil didn't said anything either?"

"I- thank you."

"Huh?"

"Why?"

"Did someone force you to do this?"

5.

"Who ask?"

"Me too, hehe."

"And you telling me this because?"

"...do i know you?"

"As if i care."

"Wow, you thought you was someone important to me for me to care that much?"

"Then go away?"

"So?"

"You wasting my time, you know that?"

6.

presume the one ignore them was their lovers

"Why are you ignore me? Was i do something wrong? Please, i hate being like this, Jade..."

"Eh? Trey? Pay attention to meeeeeee."

"I just give Cheka a headpat and now you sulking with me? Really, Leo-san?"

*He crying. Azul then have to appease him and promise that he still love Erol.

"You know that not working on me right Kalim? Do you one me to pull that trick instead?"

"What did i do this time to upset you, Vil-san..."

"I'M SORRY... please don't ignore me Dia-san..."

"Are you in bad mood right now? Or i just fuck up something? Talk to me, Floyd."

"It's... fine i guess. I used to be ignore anyway..."

7.

"What are you doing?"

"Am i that famous?"

"Attention seeker much?"

"...and here i thought only Floyd could make some scene."

"Uh oh. Why is everyone looking at me? I'm not doing anything."

*Sigh* "I hate it here."

*He use his unique magic to run away.

"You're even worst than Sebek, and that boy only cause scenes when it relate to Malleus-senpai."

*Bold of you to assume that Nevi show up in public.

8.

"No."

"Gladly." *progress to pull a loudest voice he could produce.

*Side eyes that person until they coward away.

*He stare blankly at that person, until the twins magically appear in front of them and ask Erol what's wrong. That doesn't end well...

"Told Kalim instead, he is a person people after all."

"You're crazy."

"Do you want me to blackmail you instead?"

"You have some gut for told me to do that. And that's not a compliment."

"Why i have to do that?"

9.

"Really? Jade said that? Let's me ask him then, and i'll do that if it's real. And if not... you dead."

"TREYYYYY, DO YOU REALLY WANT ME TO GO WITH THIS BUGGY TODAY INSTEAD OF YOU?"

"As if Leo-san would tell me to do that. Next time try to be more creative, yeah?"

"I- did Azul really told me to sing in front of you and your frie-" *He didn't finish his sentence, as Azul appear behind him with his sinister smile.

"You sound too suspicious. What do you plotting now you peasant."

*He call Vil for comfirmation, after the housewarden denying he didn't said anything like that, Vermeil give that person a death stare, then go away.

*Deadpanned. Then go away, he didn't want to deal with stupid people.

"Oh, so FLOYD LEECH told me to do that huh? Bring him here, make him tell it himself, then i comply." *The unhinged Leech happen to pass by that time, let's say after that no one dare to put word in either of them mouth anymore.

*He doesn't even let that person finish the sentence and teleport to somewhere else. It's happen to be Malleus dorm room. After Nevi ask him if the thing that person want him to do was real. And of course it's not real. Then they cuddle. (Malleus ask Lilia to find the person who have a gut to mess with his mate, then make sure that person never try to do anything like that again).

10.

"Don't want to, thank anyway."

"Oh. Party? Can i invite my boyfriend and friends too?"

"I have enough with social gathering, thank you very much."

"S-sorry, i'm busy right now."

"Sorry, i'm already join one, the one Kalim organize at Scarabia. Do you want to join instead?"

"Can i refuse it?"

"Uh uh, no party, i hate loud place, sorry."

"Did you invite wrong person? I'm not Malleus-senpai."

*The person was too scare to approach him, let's alone invite him to social gathering.

11.

"Isn't it a little bit too much? I don't have money to pay you back you know."

"I know it's out of character for me, but fancy restaurant doesn't suit me at all, i'm sorry."

"Are you try to impress me?"

"Do you want to go to Monstro Lounge instead? I have a discount for worker in there."

"Fancy lancy. At least you have some taste."

"Uh oh, you're rich."

"Can we not-"

"Oh, really?"

"My sincere thanks to you, but i'm afraid i can not join you for dinner right now."

☆ — oc questions: reactions. by @ricesinspo, tag me if using!

— ☆ —

how would your character react if someone did these things? consider their personality and behavior, as well as who is doing it and why.

alternatively, ask game: send me a question + 2 characters

offered to help them on something they can do on their own

jokingly made fun of them

gave them a gift they didn't want

threw them a surprise party

told them "i don't care about you"

kept ignoring them

brought lots of attention to them

asked them to perform in front of an audience, like right now, without prep

asked them to do something they're uncomfortable with, "oh, but you have to do it, for [loved one]!"

invited them to a social gathering

took them to a fancy restaurant

told them they're a bad friend / partner / ...

wrote them a poem

died two weeks ago (they only found out now)

pulled a prank on them that went very wrong

pulled them aside from the crowd

told them a secret

exposed something about them that should've been kept private

told them "we need to talk."

punched them

— ☆ —

[killinqpills]

★─── yandere sagau. ii

𝐋𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐁𝐋𝐔𝐄.

𝕽𝗘𝗚𝗥𝗘𝗧 doesn't really go away at all. It's almost like a stain against our skin, and the longer you leave it to fester without wiping it away, the faster it'll seep into your bones. Until eventually, it drips onto your souls and becomes permanent, a haunting reminder of a tragedy you created for yourself.

"why did you do it?"

Venti asked without a thought or anger, an emotion he ironically feels like he's drowning in, but for some reason couldn't express. Perhaps it's because he realizes that he's already shattered, held together only by false hopes and endless what if's, bitterness might as well leave him scattered against the ground like ashes in the winds.

But he didn't know who to be angry at. The easiest answer would've been himself, but his cup of self loathing was already full to the brim, practically overflowing without a sense of direction.

Besides, the blame had always been easier to pin on someone else when we're reluctant to hate ourselves a little more. It's a small mercy we grant our hearts, the fleeting lie that we're still redeemable, with flaws and all.

Venti prays, no matter how selfish it would be, that you'd be returned to his undeserving hands once more, swearing on everything, that he'd cradle you gently this time.

What amusing thought, right? He, a god who his people once prayed to, now kneels on the grounds himself and begs for salvation. Like a lost lamb blindly searching for its shepherd whom it ran away from, desperate to make it back to them.

Back to you.

"why didn't you stop me?"

Zhongli asks him, just as dully.

A question for a question, because neither of them knew the answer to either one. Or perhaps they did, but the weight of the truth was simply far too heavy for them to carry.

He feels everything yet nothing at all.

That's a lie though, there's something unbearably ugly simmering at the very bottom of his heart, on the edge of boiling and spilling all over him like it did all those years ago; despair.

It felt just as heavy as it did when you first left.

Although at that time, you had left on your own, disappearing off of the face of teyvat while those who you've left behind scrambled to keep you alive through their own means. Endless tales were woven through the silks of history, and everyone made sure it'd remain to be one of the few things left unaltered by time.

And now you're gone once more, away and out of his reach and there he was, begging for you to return despite being the one to cause it.

Zhongli might've been many things, but he was not made to be gentle.

He was sharp and pointed to every edge, and although time had done its job to soften his jagged thorns, blades that are blunt and rusted tend to hurt the most.

He's nicked you more than enough times in the past, as the young, prideful god he was, stubborn and violent. Unused to your gentleness in a world that seemed to thrive in conflict, yet still so enraptured of the way you brush off the sting so easily, letting him close despite it all, over and over again.

"I miss them." Venti utters, no more than whisper, something you could almost disregard as a small gush of wind in the night. But the quiet confession would be the loudest thing Zhongli would ever hear in his decades of living.

Grunting, Zhongli looks away, eyes unreadable as he gazes blankly at the sorry excuse of a land that's been left to spread after the false creators death.

. . .

A violet cry was heard behind him, as violent as the winds became as Venti raised a weapon against the creator.

Gasping, Furina watched horrified as an arrow fused with anemo flew through the air with an almost violent whistling sound, then, a body slumps.

The grating laughter that once infested her ears now is nothing more but a deafening silence, like waiting for the inevitable worst to come, but being unsure of what exactly it is.

"You─.." Ei muttered, stunned.

There, sitting on a golden throne like a looming shadow, once the oddity which called itself the creator, was now nothing more than a corpse with an arrow embedded in their chest. Dark, thick and almost obsidian colored blood oozing out from their wound.

Then, panic struck.

"We.. we've committed a grave sin!"

Once the unnamed man shouted such words, the archons watched as their people scrambled to leave, pushing against the other and screaming their heads off in hysteria.

At lost for words, they could do nothing more but try and fail to calm them down with gestures and soundless pleas because their words simply get lost in a sea of anguished cries.

"T─this can't be!"

"The creator will punish us!"

"No─ no! I did not even want to be a part of this!"

"Please, I don't want to die!"

At that moment, something catches Xiao's eye. Turning his head to the throne, he observes as the corpse bloats ever so slightly, skin rippling as if something wretched was wiggling beneath it, attempting to pierce through the skin, as though it was about to:

"Explode." He gasps in realization.

When a god dies, their divine power is released back into the world, often causing significant environmental changes and disruptions, while their consciousness fades away, effectively marking their death.

"Get away from the throne─!"

His shout echoes above all other voices, effectively catching the other's attention. But by then it was already too late, in horror he watches as the body erupts, causing him to close his eyes on instinct despite knowing that doing so wouldn't shield him from the impact.

...

Zhongli closes his fist, it trembles slightly, aching ever so slightly from overexerting himself to create a shield large enough to prevent anyone it can reach from being exposed to the utter chaos he sees now.

A large patch of land now lay wasted, covered in a dark substance that looks as though it's spreading ever so slightly, like water that spills without end.

Clearly, not everyone had managed to avoid being hit by it. Bodies upon bodies lay in the substance, looking almost as though they're melting into it in a sick and twisted way. The false creators final display of possession over something that was never theirs in the first place.

Your body was in there too.

Swallowing vile down his throat was no easy task this time.

Xiao, who barely managed to escape, stands beside him, head titled down and unable to look at anything or anyone without being overwhelmed with shame and guilt.

Zhongli could not bring himself to comfort him this time, for they're simple two souls drowning in grief, he's unable to keep the other afloat without the threat of being submerged himself. All he could offer now, was a silent apology.

"Is there no way to get rid of it?"

Ei asks, coming up beside them with Yae following suit, the pair walking in sync with heavy expressions on their faces. Venti shrugs, almost bored, but they knew not to take it as that, for this was the bard expressing defeat.

"Let's just hope we find a solution, before it gets rid of us."

He says casually, looking back towards the wreckage, the others following in suit. They watch anxiously as the substance spreads, looking as though it was trying to devour everything in its path, vile and unforgiving, things you never were.

For a moment, Zhongli wonders what would've happened had you not descended as quietly as you did in your mortal body. But unlike Venti, Zhongli was not content with settling on endless what─if's.

Shuffling, Yae notes the way the grass beneath her feet seemed rotten, dried and dead as though they're no longer able to rise with life. Actually, looking around, she realizes that everything seemed awfully.. dead.

Everything looked gloomy, the air was cold and lacked sunlight, the trees wilted and some if not most had already fallen, not a single animal in sight, not even a soft chirp from a distant bird, or a cricket from an insect to be heard.

"At this rate, it doesn't seem like we'll be able to live long enough to see that."

She sighs grimly, and with a quick look around, nobody else could find it in themselves to argue otherwise.

From afar, paimon worriedly gazes at her surroundings, feeling utterly helpless at the outcome of mankind's greatest mistake. Her heart aches as her eyes darts from one place to another, not liking the way everything just seems so devoid of life.

Aether stands near her, observing as well, but instead of despair like many others, his stare was contemplative.

Things have been rather difficult for the last few days, the citizens briefly exposed from the dark substance began falling ill one after the other, and although food and medicine had yet to become scarce, with the rate of natural life beginning to dwindle all across teyvat, everyone knows it'll just be a matter of time before everything starts going downhill.

Not like it hasn't already, though.

"Is. . . is this really it?"

Paimon's voice quivers, tears welling up in her eyes as she floats closer to the traveler for comfort.

Is this how it's gonna end?

There's an unsettling silence that engulfs them for a moment.

"No."

Startled by his sudden words, or rather, word. Paimon whips her head towards Aether, stunned and equally confused at his seemingly unwavering resolve.

"wha─ what do you mean?" She asks hesitantly.

For a moment, Aether refused to answer, perhaps too caught up in his own inner thoughts which were a mess of indecipherable words and unsure possibilities. But then, he opens his mouth.

"A god who willingly died at the hands of their own creation─"

He pauses.

"Do you truly think that such a person who loves more than anything, would allow this to happen?"

Conflict struck Paimon and she feels a sinking pit at the bottom of her stomach. Defeated and ashamed, she lowers her tearful gaze to the ground.

"No, but that kind of mercy.." Her voice trembles, struggling to let the words fall from her tongue.

Aether turns to look at her, a look of grim understanding that she shares being passed between their gazes.

"It's not something we deserve."

Your love, the kindness that flows through your veins, the warmth in your eyes, the pureness of your heart, your nature which remains merciful.

All of which we are undeserving of.

The truth had never tasted so bitter in Aether's tongue before. Somewhere, deep─ deep down, he hopes you are truly dead.

𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒 :

Woah?? my lazy ass actually made a part 2? surprise.

Anyways this is a lot shorter than I would've liked it to be, but honestly I'm at lost on what to write. Thanks to those who reblogged / commented and stuff, it was a great source of motivation.

Stay tuned for more (maybe)

Taglist : @n0tmentallystable @iris-arcadia @starboye @sims-4lifers

[authorsofghosts]

Sin | Kurt Wagner x Reader

Summery: Kurt likes you. Maybe a little too much. He can't stop thinking about you, and it causes him to get in his head a little too much,

Themes: Angst -> Smut, Mutual Crush, Open Ending, Alcohol/Drinking, Awkwardness, Character Cameo, Flirting, Kurt Has a Beard and Forked Tongue (because fuck you), His face is also skin (not fur), Oral (male receiving), Porn with Plot, Shorter!R (<5'9), R is a mutant/x-man (No Powers Written), Religion Talk.

Word Count: ~1.8k

@sometimescherwrites spare wife? spare wife?

NSFW MDNI 18+ ONLY

Kurt sat there, tail wrapped around his leg, staring at you as he fidgeted with his rosary. You sat across the dining room table, eating and not even aware that his glowing yellow eyes were boring into you. He swallowed hard, looking down at his own plate of food that was left untouched. He looked to his side, being nudged by the elbow of the person next to him.

"Distracted, bub?" Logan snickered slightly.

"No," Kurt lied, grabbing his forking and stabbing it into whatever was on his plate, shaking his head. The spade of his tail taps his calf anxiously. "Was just praying."

Logan shock his head, knowing better, but not prying much further. Kurt stared down at his food to try and focus on that instead of you. He doesn't know what it is about you, but he's absolutely entranced by anything you do. A simple flick of your hair, your laugh, anything.

He sneaks small glances in your direct anytime he'd hear you speak, a smile smile on his blue lips. He didn't dare look at you long enough for you to notice. He didn't know what kept him from his usual confidence with you, but it drove him crazy. He finishes dinner as quick as possible, dismissing himself.

He sneaks into the halls of the mansion, finding himself on his way to his room on autopilot. He puts his hand on his door as he turns the knob, pointed ears perking up as he hears a voice from behind him.

"Kurt? You ask softly, brows knitted together as you looked at someone you thought of as a friend, maybe even just a little bit more. He looks... sad. Not himself.

He turned to you, his eyes wide. He clears his throat, tilting his head just enough for his onyx curls to shift to one side. "Ja?" He whispers, not meaning to.

"Are you... okay?" You ask, taking a few steps closer to him. Your eyes flicked down to his hands as he turned, leaning against the door to his room. "I mean, you were really quiet, you're usually the life of the party."

He swallows hard, his Adam's apple visibly bobbing. He had been stuck in his own head this evening, maybe because of you, maybe because of something else. He wouldn't admit it, however. "Nein, no, I'm uh... I'm fine, liebchen." He laughs out halfheartedly.

You didn't believe him, hearing the waver in his voice that makes it obvious he's lying. "You sure? Do you wanna... talk about anything?" You probe.

Your concern for his well being makes his heart flip, his face reflecting it in the worst way possible. "You know, uh..." He starts, trailing off immediately, tail flicking behind him. "How about we have a discussion, over a glass of wine, perchance?"

Kurt smiled at your sudden tension, putting out his three fingered hand. You looked at him, trying to hold back a smile. You take his hand, your wrist immediately being wrapped around by his tail as his other hand opens his door.

"You have wine?" You ask finally.

"Ah, Charles allows me it for religious purposes. Though, I may abuse this small allowance." He smiles softly, his own cheeks flushed a soft purple.

"I see." You say, looking around his room. It was more... red than you imagined. Of course, that was his favorite color, besides black. He made sure to let everyone know that it was not blue.

Kurt walked over to his desk, pulling out a drawer and pulling out a box. He grabbed two glasses out of it before showing you the bottle of wine. "Does it suffice?" He joked.

"I'm sure it won't kill me." You chuckled, sitting in a comfortable looking arm chair in the corner of his room. He turned on his desk lamp before sitting in the rolling chair, leaning back as he poured the glasses of wine.

"I assure you I'd never poison you, mein Liebe." He chuckled, handing you your glass. You take a slow sip, looking at him as he watches you with a smile.

The short, shallow glass has barely enough wine to cause anyone to get even a little buzzed, but the thought and caring act is still there. "So, are you going to tell me what's wrong?"

Kurt chokes slightly on his wine as he realized he did promise you to talk about what had him in his head. His brain works overtime to try and think of anything but you. He sighed, smiling as he laughs softly, "I guess I may just be a little out of my element. I'm rather, ah, how do you say..." He clicks his tongue in thought, stroking his beard. He looks at you, judging your reaction before he continues. "A little lovesick, I guess."

Your eyes widen, looking at him. You take another sip of the wine, looking down. You knew he could never like you back. It's just a stupid crush anyways, Kurt couldn't like you, so you looked at him with a fake smile. "Lovesick? You?"

"Ah, yes, I am." He says, blushing furiously. "They, uh... they're very nice." He laughs, scooting forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he looked at you. "Funny, cute, powerful..."

The way his eyes are half lidded clues you in in something that makes all your self doubt disappear in moments. "Do I... know them?" You ask softly. He smirks, leaning back again, spreading his legs apart, nodding. "Are they on the team?"

He chuckles softly, setting his half drank glass of wine down. "I think you know them very well, actually." He looked at you, fidgeting with his rosary once again. His thumb rubs the cross as he fights back to urge to bite his lip.

You feel your face heat up, realizing exactly who he's talking about. You take another sip of wine, setting your glass down and sitting up slightly. "Very well you say?" You stammer slightly, looking into his yellow eyes.

"Yes. And I think you know who I'm talking about, don't you, mein Schatz?"

The words send a chill down your spine, and you stand up, making his eyes widen. You can't help but take two steps forward and place your lips again his, hand resting on his chin. It takes but a split second for him to kiss back, forked tongue snaking around yours before you overpower it.

You fall into him, your hands quick to wrap around his shoulders and tangle in his hair, pouring all the pent up feelings into this one moment. You pulling slightly on his hair, making him whine and pull back. "You're very forward."

"Shut up." You murmur against his lips before pressing yours to his again, "You talk too much." You say before biting his bottom lip, pulling it into your mouth before licking and sucking on it. He gasps, a small whimper escaping his throat. "Oh?" You laugh, pressing your forehead to his.

He looks up into your eyes, his own illuminating your flushed cheeks. He blinks a few times before he pulling you down to kiss him again. "Silence." He murmurs, picking you up and laying down on the bed, placing you atop him.

"No, I don't want you to be quiet. And I'm not going to be quiet either." You smile, handing gripping his hair again, pulling and causing him to gasp, a muffled 'Scheiße' falling from his lips as yours fall down to his neck, nipping softly.

You continue to travel down his torso, taking his shirt off somewhere in the process. You trail soft kisses along his fur, looking up at him as he watched you with wide eyes, continuing to whine and whimper with each caress and press of your lips again his body. You palm his bulge, eyes widening at the sheer size. "I see you're ready, huh?"

"Sh-shut up." He whispers, eyes rolling back. He gasps as your hand travels into his pants, "Fuck, please-" He whines out, hips bucking up into your hand.

"Patience, Kurt..." You say, pressing a kiss to his lower stomach, slowly pulling his pant and boxers down. His cock springs out, hitting his abs as he groans. "So pretty." You whisper, your hand wrapping around the blue length, "Such a pretty boy, huh?"

Kurt hisses at the touch and praise, head falling back. You pump his cock, the head turning a slight purple as beads or precum drips from it. You take his tip into your mouth, watching his face intently as you suckle, tongue swirling around it and collecting each pearl of savory salty pre. You pull back, panting, your breath making his dick twitch more. "P-please, don't stop." He stutters, making you smile wider.

"You want me to continue?" You ask. He nods in response, biting his lip as he looks down at you between his legs, the image more than he can handle. He turns his head, putting a hand in front of his face.

"Oh, no you don't. eyes on me, Kurt." You purr softly, licking up his length, kissing softly until he finally can't handle the teasing and looks into your eyes once again. "Good, good boy." You smile, sitting up slightly before pushing a good inch or so of his dick into your mouth.

"Ah- Scheiße, fuck-" He moans out, hips bucking into your mouth, pushing more into your mouth. You don't pull back, however, just pushing his cock head into your throat and opening wider, hallowing your cheeks to fit it. Kurt continues to moan out, almost pathetically, as your lips and mouth travel up and down his shaft.

It twitches as more pearly white precum falls against your tongue. "Ah, Liebchen, fuck-" He groans, getting closer as you push his length down your throat, the sound almost pornographic before you pull his dick out your mouth, pumping slowly.

"You gonna cum for me, huh? You gonna be good and cum in my mouth, right?"

"Y-yes, please, ah... Please, more." He whines out, his hand finding your face, stroking your cheek. You take this as a sign for you to get back to business.

It doesn't take but a few more seconds of your mouth and hands for him to release into your mouth, paint it white. You swallow happily, taking each spurt.

You pull back, climbing on top of him once again and looking down at his pathetically smiling face. "You ready for more?" You ask softly. He answers with a soft nod.

Kurt would be lying if he didn't go to the closest confessional booth the next morning.

[moody-alcoholic]

Sub Ala Angeli

part 1 - The fall

Summary: Ghoap x fallen angel!reader, mini fic. Sub ala angeli - Under the wing of an angel.

CW: Mutilation, mentions of blood, mentions of injuries, suicidal ideation.

AN: I hate to be a tease but I will be finishing cross my heart before I commit to this full time.

enjoy <3

You don’t remember the fall.

You don’t remember much after the excruciating pain of your wing being torn. The scream that left your throat felt strange. You’d never experienced pain before, you never experienced the stench of blood. They made sure you felt pain. It was like someone had flipped a switch inside you, there were all these new emotions: Sadness, pain, fear. 

Fear was the worst, the thump of your heart racing in your chest, the tears clouding your vision as you listened to your fate being decided. 

Exile. 

It had been decades since an angel had been exiled to Earth, most are sent below to the depths of hell to live among the demons they became traitors to. Your crime was different, your crime was forgivable. All it would cost you was a wing and to live among the humans you were sworn to protect.

Live a righteous life and the gates of heaven would open again. 

One wing is left as a reminder, the other is taken to stop you coming back until they say you can.

You don’t know where you are, you're laid on your stomach, the ground is wet, you’re in a forest. It’s cold, you're naked, your body exposed to the elements. You can feel the wound on your back throbbing, blood trickling down your side. You let out a sob turning to your side and pulling your knees up to your chest. 

You can’t even use your other wing to cover yourself. It hurts too much. It doesn’t matter anyway you’re already soaked. You watch as beams of sunlight break through the trees. The sound of the rain hitting the ground around you is strangely comforting. 

Maybe you’ll just lay here and die. Die of exposure or whatever new conditions you’re vulnerable to. At least when you die there'll be no more pain. 

Hopefully.

…

The snap of a branch jolts you awake. It’s dark now, your body shivers, goosebumps have risen on your skin. Your lip starts to quiver, your fingers and feet hurt to move.

“I’m sure it was this way.” You hear a voice, a sob escapes your throat. If people find you they might hurt you. 

“Johnny this is a waste of time, there’s nothing here. We’ve been looking for hours.” Another voice says. You use all your energy to push your hands into the soft ground trying to force your body up. A groan leaves your throat, everything hurts.

“What was that?”

“Probably a fox or something. We should get back, it’s already dark.” 

Your back throbs, each movement sends a stabbing pain through you. You can’t hold yourself up, you have no energy, you’re too injured. 

Maybe these strangers are your only hope, or maybe they’ll give you a quick death. Your body slams back on the ground and you let out a yelp, tears fill your eyes again. 

“Over here!” One of them calls. You see lights breaking through the trees ahead of you. It’s not like the warm glow of the sunlight though. It’s bright and white, harsh causing you to close your eyes. Your mind flicks back to the courtroom, high walls or pure white and gold. 

You let out another sob as the sound of footsteps gets louder. You can’t defend yourself, if they hurt you there’s nothing you can do. You turn back on your side propping yourself up on your elbow. You bring your hand up to block the light, squinting your eyes. 

“Holy shit.” They stop a few meters ahead of you, you slowly lower your arm. One of them steps toward you and you flinch before you can stop yourself. It makes your body throb with pain and you cry out, your hand flys up to grip your shoulder. 

“Okay, okay.” He says backing up. You can’t get a proper look at him, your head is swimming now, your body starts to shake. You let your hand fall as your breathing picks up, a new feeling washes over you. Panic. Maybe you were wrong to trust these people. 

“We’re not going to hurt you.” He says, his arms outstretched palms open, he’s given his torch to the man standing behind him. He unzips his coat, pulling it off and holding it out. “You must be freezing, we can take you somewhere warm.” He says taking a little step towards you. This time you don't flinch. 

He takes another slow step, like he’s trying to move without spooking you. The arm propping you up gives way, your body slams painfully against the wet floor. You squeeze your eyes shut, gritting your teeth. Warm hands land on you, on your shoulder sending shivers up your spine. 

“Eazy lass, you’re okay.” He says, his voice is calm. Your head swims as he throws the coat over you. You hear the other man moving towards you. You turn your head and look up at the stranger now bent down by your face. He brushes a strand of hair out your eyes and smiles at you. 

You try to smile back, you try to get a good look at him but the light coming from behind him is too bright it stings your vision. Your head throbs as you reach out for him, it uses the last of your energy. You open your mouth to thank him but your body goes limp and everything goes black.

…

You don’t remember being bought here. 

You reach over for the water your hand is shaking as you pick it up and gulp it down. You’ve never been thirsty before, it’s a new feeling, everything is new. You go to stand up, your whole body feels unbalanced and you tip to the side crashing against the bedside table. You knock the glass over and it rolls on the floor smashing.

You wake in bed. You're still naked laid on your stomach. Som is bleeding through the curtains in the room. You look over and see a glass of water on the bedside table. Your body feels stiff, you push yourself up swinging your legs out the bed. Your back hurts, you grit your teeth reaching round to your back. You can feel bandages. 

If they wanted to kill you they would have done it already.

You back away, sumbling round to the end of the bed, your arms and wing stretching out as you try and balance yourself. The room to the door opens and you turn, it causes you to stumble and you fall backwards onto the floor. You let out a yelp as pain shoots through you. 

“Easy, you’re okay.” He says, you look up at him, wrapping your wing around yourself. It hurts pulling on all the muscles in your back, including the ones you won’t need to use anymore. Your breathing picks up, you look at him with wide eyes, trying to hide behind your wing as much as you can. He bends down so he’s on the same level as you. 

He's smiling at you, his head tipped slightly to the side. He has blue eyes and dark hair, he doesn’t look scary. 

“We’re not going to hurt you.” He says as you pull your legs up to your chest. The other man appears in the doorway with his arms crossed. He looks bigger than the guy with the dark hair, his eyebrow creased as he looks at you. He has blonde hair, and big arms, you swallow hard your eyes flicking back to the other guy.

“I’m Johnny, this is Simon.” He says thumbing at the guy behind him. “Do you have a name?” You shake your head.

"What happened to you, were you attacked?” He asks. You shake your head. “We tried to patch you up the best we could. We weren’t quite sure what you needed.” You lower your wing so he can see your face better. His smile gets bigger, he reaches out his hand.

"We thought maybe you could use something to eat? Or a bath?” He says. You feel your stomach rumble, hunger, you’ve never been hungry before. Your hand rests on your stomach. You nod, dropping your wing and reaching out for his hand.

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[screamingcrows]

A good night's sleep - Zandik x fem reader

Notes: Akademiya Zandik rubbing off the worst one of his life. Reworked and revamped. Used to be two chapters, merged into one. Tigers have barbed penises. Steal my writing and I'll get you Streptococcus pyogenes. Tags: Akademiya!Zandik x fem reader, nonconsensual somnophilia, no penetrative sex, dry humping, (a little) blood, very vague thoughts of murder and cannibalism, panic, coercion, dubcon but not what you expect, 3.5k Minors DNI

Zandik rubbed at his eyes, trying to convince himself that his current inability to fall asleep was caused by external factors. Rustling leaves, bats, itching skin, the opportunities were endless. You'd been trekking through the forest most of the day with any proposed breaks quickly shut down.

Theoretically, he should be just as fast asleep as you. He tossed restlessly on the thin mat, cursing at the pitiful excuse for bedding. Comfortable sleep was a luxury he'd grown to take for granted, and the reminder of how things had once been stung. At least you'd managed to set up the insect net together, even if sharing the cover did mean having to be a little closer than preferable.

Pillows would've been nice. Maybe if he hadn't insisted on travelling as light as possible.

But it was always easy to be clever in hindsight.

Burying his face into the scratchy blanket, Zandik attempted to block out any disturbances. Those that could be blocked out at least, for while he was no stranger to erratic thoughts, tonight felt excessive.

His fingers tapped against his thigh in a well-known rhythm, shifting his breathing to follow. By all means, it should force his pulse down and calm his mind. A tried and tested strategy. And it did. His frantic thoughts fading into nothing, no more triple-checking plans for tomorrow, considering parts to excavate and examine, plants to bring back, measurements to take…

A blissful silence settled, broken only by the branches creaking above.

Until you moved. A small, sleepy mewl escaping your lips as you shuffled beside him. He didn't have to see you to know what infuriatingly peaceful expression would be on your face. Images of your soft features flooding his mind, fingers moving to scratch at his scalp in hopes of a distraction.

How he tried once more to push those thoughts away, his crimson eyes darkening as memories of the day filled his consciousness nonetheless. You, with your deviously impractical attire, shorts that had left practically everything exposed. It was a daring choice, reflecting the total confidence with which you had moved through the thicket. Oh how his fingers ached to know what it would be like to touch bare skin, hands flexing at the mere thought.

Nothing but a preprogrammed reaction. Although annoying and impractical, the response was natural. The thought circulated in the back of his mind, slowly losing meaning. His body curled in on itself, delirious poison spreading through his body. All those little cuts and nicks that littered your skin, how would it be to pry them open and lap at the juices they concealed?

You were fluttery by nature, a little bird struggling to remain still for longer intervals. Easily excitable as well in the most annoying way. You'd flitted around in the forest, zigzagging between moss, animals, shiny rocks, saplings… Leaning down and touching anything you could, ass up of course, while you chatted about your findings.

He'd never had problems concentrating, but with all the blood draining from his mind to other places, it had been impossible to focus on your ramblings.

Despite the hurdles of keeping you on a leash, he always found himself having to suppress a smile when you yapped, eyes alight with innocent glee. So much went on behind those bright eyes of yours, words clearly too slow to convey everything clearly. That much was evident with how you sometimes spoke in tongues, stumbling over syllables and skipping words entirely.

But better yet, how you looked when your brows furrowed, sucking your cheek in enough to bite at the inside, actually considering his perspectives.

Before he could register it, he'd already rolled around on his mat, eyes burning holes into your back. A shaky hand reached out, his breath catching in his throat as he fought the desire to examine, squeeze, grope… He groaned softly, reminding himself that this was an endeavor driven by pure inquisitiveness, the goal being nothing more than to satisfy curiosity. You were asleep and would be none the wiser as long as he was careful.

The mantra kept repeating itself. This was curiosity, and nothing more. Curiosity about why you had that blasted effect on his mind, and if pursuing physical intimacy would solve his inability to sleep. It was a need akin to hunger, satisfy it and he'd be left alone.

There was already an uncomfortable tightness at the front of his pants, the feeling unfamiliar and invasive. Instinct kicked in and made his hips buck a little, erection rubbing against the confines of his pants. Archons he needed more than this. It infuriated him to no end that his mind had no qualms conveying the blunt desire from his body. The solution was so tantalizingly simple, engrained in every fiber of his being.

Your touch would make it go away. Make it all better.

He shifted closer, needing to know if you truly felt as divine as the most prominent hypothesis of his body had stated. Zandik had to bite down on his own arm, sharp teeth threatening to break skin as his other hand ghosted along your waist. How it had snaked under your blanket without his knowledge was beyond him.

You were unimaginably warm and pliant under his touch, fingers easily sinking a little deeper. Everything in his body tingled, an almost magnetic pull spurring him on to shift ever closer. Your breaths were still even, body vulnerable and his for the taking.

Though it was an act of worship, his hands traveling along your body felt more akin to sacrilege. Crimson irises were swallowed by his dilating pupils, palm sliding so tenderly across your soft stomach, somehow already under your shirt. Just a little more. He needed some reaction from you, assurance that this was real. That he hadn't inhaled spores and was caught in a hallucination. How terribly unbefitting such a fate would have been.

But every way of getting a reaction brought an increased risk of waking you completely, compromising the experiment. Reassurance wasn't worth it. Everything was foreign and uncomfortable, a tightness straining against the front of his boxers. He had to close his eyes, unwilling to watch as his hips bucked again, a low hiss passing his lips at the slight friction provided by the fabric.

Still reluctant to risk fully pressing against your inviting form, Zandik settled for sliding his hand further up. It was downright ludicrous how your skin got even softer the closer he moved to your chest. There was something repulsively human about the way your heart felt as it beat steadily behind your ribs.

He wanted to throw up.

He needed to get closer.

Holding his breath while inching closer was no small feat when your dewy scent permeated the air. If only it was possible to tear skin and flesh from bone, lay it out on the ground and examine. Perhaps then, Zandik would find what made you so irresistible.

It was almost euphoric to be so close to something as plush and supple and unmarked by the cruelty of the world. It had to be preserved, too ephemeral for anything but a jar of formaldehyde stored far from sunlight. He groaned, still careful enough to angle his head to prevent warm air from brushing along the back of your neck.

Temptation had him firmly in its grasp as he slowly, deliberately, rolled his hips against your rear, body jolting at the feeling. Any will to resist the delicious pull from your body faded, hands slowly moving back down to your hips and adjusting your position.

Zandik felt alive, burying the part of him that bled out with every slow buck of his hips. The wet patch that had been forming at the front of his boxers did nothing to quell the beast piloting his body. Daring to look down, he found nothing but fuel for his frenzy in the lines of your body, every slope begging to be mapped.

Everything in his mind screamed at him to let go and back away. Not for your sake, no you were still blissfully unaware, an exhausted little creature. No, the longer he continued the more certain he became that this had to be preserved. There had to be a way to mimic it, reverse engineer whatever made it impossible for him to stop.

He inhaled deeply, intoxicated as he kept bucking against you, delirious mind too far gone to notice the little huffs and whimpers that left your lips, sleep clearly disturbed by his movements.

It was a dangerous battle, fingertips playing with the hem of your panties. The battle might be won through composure, but there was no doubt he would lose the war. But could it truly be counted as a loss? In a sense, shouldn't he map out every detail to get the most accurate answer.

Zandik swallowed, fingers slipping beneath the thin cotton and edging closer to your heat, burning his skin and making his stomach churn. There was nothing practiced about it, tentatively tugging and rubbing at whatever tissue came within reach. Your squirming was nothing against his hold, body curling greedily around you.

Feeling the tip of his finger slick with something viscous, barely breaching a tight entrance, Zandik withdrew his hand with a sharp jerk. His hold was steadily morphing to mimic the vultures of his birthplace, nails sinking in like talons. Tear you to pieces, that was what he needed.

He barely realized that he'd begun chanting your name between grunts. It was all too much, uncoordinated movements growing even sloppier as he found himself unable to stop. An overwhelming feeling was building in the pit of his stomach, drowning out every uncertainty that made its home there.

Pure ecstasy was all he felt, head pressed against your shoulder as he came. His nails were stained with your blood when he finally loosened his grasp. The wet sensation between his legs, fluids smeared against skin and fabric alike, brought nothing but repulsion. There was only simple, temporary pleasure to be gained from this endeavor. Expecting anything more profound had been folly.

So this clarity was the price to be paid for his actions?

No, the real price was paid when he heard your confused voice, the pale moonlight too invasive in the way it lingered along your trembling body. How it reflected in the shimmering droplets of blood running from atop your hip. Small sniffles mixing with your terribly soft voice.

"Z-zandik? What just… why is my back wet? a-and I'm bleeding?"

"Go back to sleep"

Despite Zandik's best effort to keep his voice even (as even as possible while his veins continued to thrum with the aftermath of release), it still cracked uncomfortably. Wasting no time, he pushed away and shook his hands furiously in the air, trying desperately to rid himself of the unpleasant sensations crawling as parasites beneath his skin.

You were turning around. Panic spread like wildfire, something he hadn't experienced in years.

Something had to be done to make you stop, he wouldn't look at you. Moving in tandem, he rolled onto his other side. The front of his boxers soaked. An urge to scream scratched at the back of his throat.

"Zandik? I- I asked you a question…"

Your voice felt like syrup as it flowed into his ears. Thick, disgusting, alluring. The light sniffles were filtered out by his mind, as was the way your breaths became increasingly erratic. It felt vile, being an insect writhing on silken strands was not something that suited him.

Zandik recoiled when your fingers dug into his shoulder, you shouldn't be reaching out for him. He shuffled further towards the other side of his mattress. A calm mind to handle this, that's what was needed, and nothing about you trying to turn him around was calming. Although his mind had cleared significantly, there was still a bothersome ache in his body.

"And I said go back to sleep," he snapped, hoping it would dissuade further argument.

Everything felt awful when he pushed off to stand, blanket sliding into a pile. His back was towards you when he clambered out under the net, stomping barefoot away from the makeshift camp. Under normal circumstances he would've scoffed at anyone doing the same, if was unsafe and a blatant overreaction.

That didn't matter. Not when he could feel the sticky substance sliding down his abdomen. How it made the fabric cling to his skin. Worst of all was the smell of his own release. Even while covering his mouth and nose with a hand, he could detect those musky notes.

It made him gag, crumpling into the underbrush as he fought back the urge to empty the contents of his stomach. Morbid curiosity bid his free hand to ghost over his crotch, body jerking when he felt the wet patch. Even worse was the fact that he was still-

He shook his head, uncaring that any jostling came at a risk while his vision remained blurry, especially with the abundance of roots and the like. A clear mind, that was the least he should be able to supply. Faint sounds of running water caught his attention. Perfect.

It was closer than he'd dared to hope. Half tumbling down a small hill before landing on all fours with a wet squelch. The water had already been disturbed by his movements, if there were predators, stealth was no longer an option.

Restraint was the key to survival, panic a certain death-sentence. Being found half naked, mauled in a stream was far from the legacy he desired. After what felt like an eternity of bated breaths, eyes flickering around the dark forest, Zandik dared to relax a little. If a spinocrocodile or rishboland tiger had been nearby, it would've already struck by now.

Cleaning himself took longer than what was reasonable, but the cool water helped soothe the prickling beneath his skin, making the extra time spent a worthwhile investment. Thoughts of you were kept at bay by his shivering, and every tantalizing memory that did make it through those defenses was quickly decimated with a simple look at the consequences staining his hands.

Failure was a ruthless teacher.

One could only hope the remaining sheen and slightly sticky feeling would be nothing more than a trick of the mind.

His hands remained submerged in the stream until his fingers had gone numb. Slivers of moonlight crept through the canopies above, something twisted in how gently it caressed his features when his head tilted back. Why would it shine so lovingly on him now?

Perhaps playing your preordained part was the only way to be accepted by them.

Walking back turned out to be more difficult than expected, feet dragging along the ground being a particular nuisance when paired with less than optimal lighting conditions.

Would divinity smile upon a monster filling the place they had carved for it?

How would he explain the blatant lack of clothes? The thought of stumbling into someone else on the short walk back briefly flashed through his head, but that was a thought his pride could not afford to entertain. Not until faced with that reality at least. But what would he say when you undoubtedly kept pestering him with questions?

Returning to the Akademiya alone would be folly when everyone knew you'd left together.

He rubbed at the bridge of his nose, briefly flinching from the cold touch. How was he supposed to deny what you would've pieced together in an instant if you were properly awake. Convincing you it had been a figment of your own imagination was undoubtedly the best course of action. If only there were dreams to blame.

Conveniently, your back was turned towards the direction he emerged from. Carefully maneuvering back to his mat, Zandik swiftly rummaged through the modest bag he'd brought, desperate for anything to cover himself with after forsaking his clothes in the water. A waste, but one he couldn't bring himself to care about. Especially not when his focus was broken by you moving a little.

With rising adrenaline, he swiftly plopped down, struggling to pull the blanket over himself without alerting you. Clean boxers were gripped tightly in his hand, mind occupied by counting the bated breaths with which he waited an eternity for you to settle.

When you hadn't moved for a while he took the chance to shuffle around a bit, intent on finally getting dressed again and forget this whole ordeal.

"You know," your soft voice caused his breath to hitch, the silence deafening before you continued, "you could've just asked me…"

He lay frozen, leg raised off the ground, boxers halfway on as he considered if acknowledging your statement would doom his set course of action. Before he could finish the thought, you continued, uncharacteristically certain in your choice of words.

"I'm at least guessing it wasn't an accident?"

"I simply needed some air and got up. It's none of your concern," he found himself struggling to remain cordial.

Why couldn't you just leave him be?

He heard your little huff, could almost see the way you were no doubt leering at him, deep eyes narrowed in frustration. It was infuriating how quickly you flooded his mind again, the clear water of the stream having done nothing to wash away the grooves in his mind that immediately sent thoughts in your direction.

"Why can't you just admit to it? I know that was cum on my back, Zandik. I'm not stupid."

"Good, then you'll have no trouble understanding when I tell you to stop bothering me and go back to sleep."

Admittedly, the words came out harsher than intended, but the longer you remained awake, the more difficult it would be to write all this off as a drowsy delusion once the sun rose.

It took mere minutes before his attempt at rest was disturbed by a weight against him. Wanting nothing more than look at the stars and scream, Zandik rolled carefully onto his back. Instead of stars, your eyes were alight with a foreign glint, face directly above his.

Hope became a dwindling resource when your thighs settled on either side of his hips. Seeing the light bruises that had already begun to bloom from his touch made it impossible to resist reaching for your exposed flesh. Shame burned in his blood, not from the action itself but the realization that he hadn't been nearly as restrained as he thought.

He took a deep breath, tensing when your hands pushed down on his shoulders.

"Get off"

"Why? Isn't this what you wanted?"

He had to grit his teeth when you rolled your hips, keenly aware of the blood gathering down there. It didn't help how warm you felt against him.

"I said, get off"

You were plotting something. That much was obvious from the little twitch of your lip and the cunning stare. If he wasn't struggling to keep his focus away from your lips, he might have been able to prepare.

The relief that entered him when you leaned forward was palpable, consciousness trapped in a beautiful lie of its own making as he spent two seconds expecting you to roll off. Instead your warm tongue pressed against his pulse, dragging up the column of his neck. It made him groan, hands shooting up and grabbing your waist in an instant to stop your movements.

That was a mistake. Once more feeling your softness had his mind reeling, only made worse when your breath wafted against his ear, close enough that he could almost feel your soft lips against his skin.

"But I want to do this with you"

Something in your voice made him shiver, stoking the embers of an unknown force. You wanted him. Him. It made him briefly pause, and that was apparently all the opportunity you needed. It was foreign, the feeling of hands clutching at his body making his back arch. He didn't have time to react before you'd pulled the blanket out from between your bodies.

"How are you-" his voice falters, nothing but static in his mind for a moment. "How can you enjoy this?" How could you enjoy being a slave to the vessel that carried what truly mattered, the mind.

Bubbling laughter was all the answer he got, swiftly accompanied by the press of lips against his collarbone. He writhed at the feeling, obtrusive and far too intimate. Would you rip out his throat if given the chance? Would he? Would you scream or would the blood make it impossible to produce high-pitched sounds?

His fingers were sneaking under the hem of your shirt, discovering with dismay that the fabric had a moist spot at the very bottom. So you hadn't changed. Repulsive.

Warmth spread through his body with every reverent kiss, some part of him basking in the attention so freely offered. Zandik wasn't blind to how his cock throbbed from the stimuli as you eagerly dragged your hips back and forth. But that simple pleasure was nothing compared to the feeling of your back splitting open under his nails.

[michanvalentine]

Some of my favorite lines—among the saddest—that Astarion has ever said. Every time I hear them, delivered so perfectly by Neil, my heart aches. I'm sharing them with you because my husband can't take hearing me talk about Astarion and Baldur's Gate anymore!

"It’s what you want, isn’t it? To lose yourself in me." There’s an entire world behind this line: the expression on his face, the tone of his voice. There’s sadness and resignation. This is how things work—this is who he is. The person in front of him is no different from the others, just another one who wants to lose themselves in him, use him for their own pleasure, and then move on as if nothing happened. Not only that, but it's also the same old charade used to deliver unsuspecting victims to the slaughter. The same old script, one he’s tired of, one that causes him pain. His eyes grow sad as he says it, his shoulders sink, his lips curve downward, and everything about him exudes bitterness. In that moment, amidst sweet words and sensual movements, the real Astarion comes out, carrying all the heavy baggage he’s been burdened with.

"Maybe, but did he take it." Cazador is dead, Astarion won, he’s alive, and he’s free. But the death of his tormentor didn’t turn back time, the death of the monster didn’t undo the damage or return what was stolen. It’s a powerful, terrifying, and painful realization, especially when you think about how these things—these parts of Astarion—were taken and erased. Because what is gone wasn’t just lost—it was replaced with suffering, shame, anger, hatred, and horrific experiences. These are memories that will stay with him for the rest of his un-life, memories he’ll have to battle every single day.

"All right, I’ll do it." The way he says it, after Tav/Durge delves into his mind and uses his greatest fear against him, is utterly heartbreaking. Once again, there’s resignation, but there’s also fear and, worst of all, a hint of submission. In that moment, Tav/Durge is the embodiment of Cazador. They bring back his most horrifying experience, fill him with pure terror, and remind him of how useless, weak, and pathetic he is—unable to defend himself. It makes him feel small again, lost, and willing to do anything just to feel safe. And this is coming from the very person who, up until that moment (unless the player is a complete sociopath xP), had been helping him regain a shred of self-worth and independence. It’s truly a low blow, a betrayal—especially because Astarion depends on Tav/Durge, much like he depended on Cazador, but in a positive way instead of a negative one. They force him, against his will, to do something he doesn’t want to do, and with that statement, Astarion seems to be saying, “Yes, master.”

"I didn’t know how to say no." This one is heartbreaking too, it hits right in the heart. It really hurts, especially in context, but also in general. Saying "no" is a fundamental right of every free individual. But Astarion doesn’t say that he can’t say no—he says he doesn’t know how to say it. And that’s truly sad, because at this point, it’s no longer just an external imposition; it’s something internalized. And of course, it goes without saying that here too, Tav/Durge took advantage of Astarion—of his inability to defend himself, to immediately recognize and stop behavior that should be shut down at the first sign because it’s harmful to him. Once again, Tav/Durge betrays him in the worst way, right after an agonizing confession, no less—Astarion opens up and admits to having very real struggles with sex.

Do you have any favorite lines too? Obviously, there are a billion more funny ones, but I’m afraid I’d need an entire day to write down all my favorites. I just love this little shit too much. xD

[usernameforaboredcat]

OPLA “Ruined” Sanji And There’s No Fixing It

Look, Ik the title says a lot BUT this needs to be said, because I’m tired of acting like this isn’t a problem that’s been on my mind since the first season dropped

Omfg another essay about Sanji? YES SHUT UP!!

Now before some of y’all come at me, I love Sanji, okay? I love my handsome goofy ah Jiji just as much as any other fan girl of this slutty waist idiot.

But in the One Piece Live Action there’s two things they happen that make me think that they don’t really care or know how to write Sanji as well as Oda and some fan fic girlies.

Now I know two isn’t a lot to say that he’s been “ruined” but like…hear me out.

Sanji & Nami

As much Sanji may flirt with various different women throughout the series, it’s obvious that he has his main girl, that being our lovely navigator Nami.

First tiny nit pick, in the anime Sanji first noticed her because of her laugh. In the live action it was a sarcastic joke. Something like that just doesn’t sit right with me, I don’t know why.

My MAIN problem is…they don’t talk. In the anime Nami and Sanji has a few one on one conversations along with responding to each other and talking to each other, spending a fair amount of time together to at least get a general idea of each other’s personalities, especially Sanji himself.

But in the live action…THEY TALK ONCE! ONCE!! WHEN THEY FIRST MEET AND WHEN NAMI IS RUNNING TO ZORO AND USOPP OUTSIDE ARLONG PARK AND SANJI HAS HIS ARMS OUT CALLING “NAMI! 😃” LIKE A CHUMP!

SHE DOESNT KNOW HIM!

Nami abandoned the only friends she was able to make to keep them safe (Luffy, Usopp & Zoro) and upon them coming to help her and Luffy take down the reason for her trauma, some guy she’s talked to literally once is the most excited to see her? No shit she ran straight past Sanji to hug Zoro and Usopp SHE DOESNT KNOW SANJ!

Yes they’ve been in the same room as each other, like Nami standing off to the side while Luffy and Sanji are talking, or Nami and Zoro talking with Sanji standing off to the side, but not directly. They couldn’t add in them talking at least once? Nami had more chemistry with Luffy, Usopp, and especially Zoro than she did with Sanji.

I really hope they have more one on one moments next season, cause so far it’s making Sanji REALLY creepy.

And now…

The worst offender

Sanji & Zeff

Done terribly.

You wanna know WHY I say this?

Compare anime Sanji leaving Zeff vs Live Action Sanji leaving Zeff.

Anime Sanji got on his hands and knees, face down ass up, bowed to Zeff and thanked him for taking care of him and putting up with him. And in Asian culture, how low you bow shows how much you truly respect that person. A very cute, heartfelt scene in my opinion.

Live Action Sanji? Got into an argument with Zeff and stormed off and joined Luffy…

Bro…

BRO!!

FOR REAL?!

They went out of their way to have a cute little moment where Sanji and Luffy bonded in the fact that “my father figure loose a limb to save my life” but couldn’t give Sanji and Zeff a proper goodbye.

Why does this matter?

Because you expect me to believe the same man who stormed off over an argument to be a pirate is the same guy who will “eventually” abandon the Straw Hats to go be with his abusive birth family and marry a women he’s never met?

Live Action Sanji could never.

He’d think that Zeff can handle himself or Germa/Big Mom Pirates won’t find them (I’m not definitely saying this I’m just saying something along those lines)

I just don’t see Live Action Sanji making that type of sacrifice.

Personally I don’t think the Live Action will even make it to WholeCake, I can explain on a different post why I think the Live Action will only make it to maybe Enies Lobby, but this post isn’t about that.

Look, I know that there are parts in the LA where Sanji does SAY he’s grateful for what Zeff has done for him, but I’m a big far of the “Show Don’t Tell” method.

Do I think there IS a way to fix this? At the moment, I’m not sure. It’s super easy for them to fix Nami and Sanjis relationship because they’re main characters and crew mates, but Sanji and Zeffs relationship is gone and dusted and won’t even BE relevant till technically Zou, where Sanji makes the choice to leave the Straw Hats to keep them AND Zeff and the others at the Baratie safe.

From behind the scenes footage for Season 2 they did show that they’ll be adding the Anime filler cooking contest that Sanji enters, MAYBE he could have flashbacks? The prize is an Elephant Tuna, a fish Sanji is seen cooking with in the first season, it’s the dish Zeff makes him throw out that Luffy ends up eating. Maybe Sanji could have a flashback to when Zeff is teaching him how to prepare it cause it’s one of those fish that needs special prep, and Sanji smiles to himself and mutters a “thank you Zeff” under his breath or something.

Just something small to show that he’s grateful, it’s all I ask.

Conclusion

I don’t know.

Personally, if I had to rank all the LA Straw Hats in a tier list based on how they are compared to their Anime selves, Sanji would be at the bottom of the tier.

But personally, none of them are really that high for me. (Maybe it’s because I just love the Anime so much and the Live Action no matter how hard they try will be perfect)

That’s all I have to say.

If you agree or disagree, tell the comments, I won’t argue back, I just wanna state how I feel. OR you can tell me that I’m an idiot and they can fix it or that I misread the scenes.

I know during Sanjis introduction period they had a lot going on with the Navy subplot, Mihawks introduction, Namis betrayal, Zoros fight against Mihawk, and a lot of other things.

All I ask for is one minute of screen time where Sanji gives a proper goodbye and thank you to Zeff, the absolute goat.

See ya, love y’all.

[bennysmiller]

Treat You Better - Part One (Triple Frontier x You)

A new series in which the Triple Frontier boys help you through a breakup, and it changes everything.

The iced latte that sits in front of you doesn’t hit like it usually does and now you’re sure that the worst part about having a broken heart is that it ruins everything for you. You can’t even feed your caffeine addiction without thinking of him.

“So,” Benny starts, hoping to finally get your attention. “You’re looking well.”

You look up at the four men around your table, all of whom seem awkward at the lack of conversation.

“I’m looking well?” You repeat, with a mix of disgust and confusion in your voice, while tugging at your somewhat messy hair and cringing at the bags that sit so proudly under your eyes.

“I mean, considering, you know…everything.” Replied Benny, trying his absolute best to not offend you.

He’s referencing the breakup. Evidently, there is no “post-breakup glow”, your friends had lied to you. You’re a mess. A mess that even coffee couldn’t fix.

“Well, thank you Ben. How charming.”

Frankie clears his throat at this and turns to you.

“What he means, is that you’re handling it a lot better than your last breakup.”

That did not make it any better. You glare at Frankie in response, and this time, Will sits forward, his arms crossed on the table. If looks could kill, Benny and Frankie would be well and truly dead, and Will would be the one holding the gun. That’s shut everyone up, you think to yourself.

“I’ve had enough of this silence. What are we all feeling like doing tonight? Movie night? Something stronger than coffee? Running out into the traffic?” You say, trying to break the tension. After all, you caused it. You invited everyone to the coffee shop just to attend the funeral of your relationship.

No one says anything. Instead, the guys all exchange looks with each other, like they know something you don’t. Like they already have plans they don’t want to tell you about. To your right, Frankie starts playing with his baseball cap and runs a hand through those curls of his. Will is looking at his lap. Benny has a slight smirk on his face, one you know all too well.

The atmosphere between all of you has shifted now. As you go around the table, you discover that Santi is looking at you with a very specific look in those eyes of his. But he looks elsewhere when you meet his gaze, and you know something is up.

“What is wrong with all of you? Has this emotional mess I have become put you off as well?” You ask, raising an eyebrow at them.

“It’s the opposite,” says Frankie, a slight nervousness in his voice. “Benny?”

Now you’re confused. You look at Benny, waiting for him to explain.

He still has that smirk on his face and it’s starting to piss you off. Just a little. It melts you, the way he looks so cocky and handsome and perfect. But he’s being a dick by not answering you, so you shrug at him to further demand a response.

“You think you could ever put us off? You couldn’t be more wrong. We have an idea. A game. We love you, but you have terrible taste in men, sweetheart. We hate seeing you so heartbroken. We think we could change that.”

There is something much different in the air now. It isn’t an uncomfortable tension of awkward silence over bad coffee. It’s an excitement you want to know more about. So for the first time since the breakup, of course it is Benny fucking Miller who has managed to bring the butterflies within you back to life. All you needed was for him to light the spark the last man put out, and now you’re overwhelmed with confidence.

“Go on, Miller. Don’t leave me hanging.”

[cntloup]

toji x fem!reader

angst, bold italics indicate flashbacks, parenthesis are the character's thoughts

this pic of him makes me sooo 😵‍💫🥵

if anyone knows the artist, please let me know 🙏🫶

it's a saturday night and you've been invited to a ball tonight by your close friend, shiu.

you thought what would be better than to unwind with some friends after a long week. what you didn't think would happen was to see him.

you mentally curse shiu for not mentioning anything about him coming here. you thought it was a given that he wouldn't invite both of you.

you spent months crying, trying to get over that guy. and now, he's standing right in front of you, looking dashing as ever, in a suit no less.

you suddenly feel nauseous, as if all the emotions you thought were gone kept rushing back to you.

"you'll have to excuse me..." you mutter lowly to shiu who was just about to introduce you to some clients as you ignore him calling out your name and quickly walk out of the venue, mustering all your power to keep yourself from having a full-blown breakdown in the middle of the room.

as soon as you walk out the door, you break into uncontrollable sobs and start hyperventilating, clutching your chest in a desperate attempt to calm your pounding heart.

"hey... you ok?" suddenly, the world stops... and there's only that voice, the one you know all too well and haven't heard in over a year.

"the hell does that mean?!" he barks at you, his blood boiling as pure rage fills the hollow shell of suppressed emotions, trying to bury the bitter taste of heartbreak.

"I've tried, toji. I really have, to make it work. but I don't feel like you love me. you say you do, but they're just words. I feel like I'm just a maid. and a mom to megs. I don't feel loved for me. I don't feel like myself anymore..."

you let out a gasp and your head turns around as if on autopilot until your eyes meet his.

his already concerned expression softens even further as soon as he witnesses your disheveled look, bloodshot eyes and tear-stained cheeks which he has caused.

he feels the gnawing grasp of guilt in his heart for hurting you like this, all the memories of him in the past year coming back to him, how he was absolutely and completely shattered to pieces over your breakup. and now he can only imagine how it must have been for you.

he was an absolute wreck after you; always beating himself up over pushing you away so much to the point that you doubted his love, ('how did we end up like this?') he kept drinking his sorrow away until he blacked out every night and gambled all his money away even more so than usual without a care which shiu noticed and toji figures now that must have been the reason why he invited both of you.

you were his everything. you proved him wrong when he thought he was done with love after the death of his wife. you dragged him out of the pit of despair and held him through the turmoil, in your loving embrace which became his home.

the silence weighs heavy on your chest, thick tension filling the room as the leaden weight of the words that have just been uttered settles in your heart, and his.

"y-you're leaving?" his quivering voice is laced with a bleak desperation, as if trying to grasp at even a sliver of hope that this is not happening, his worst nightmare.

"goodbye, toji." you swallow the lump in your throat, 'I will always love you...' the words play out in your mind, but they never leave your mouth.

"what are you doing here?" you wipe the tears furiously with your hands as you think he shouldn't see you like this, ('please hold me')

"I could ask the same thing." he takes a step closer to you, carefully as if not to scare you away, ('still love you...')

"fuckin' shiu..." you shake your head, ('can't live without you')

he chuckles dryly, ('take me back please... i promise to be better... for you, i will')

you both stand there, staring into each other’s eyes for what feels like an eternity, feeling yourself nearly getting lost in his eyes, before sensing a surge of emotions rushing into you and overwhelming your heart, causing you to avert your gaze from him and mumble a quiet 'I need to go' and quickly make your way towards your car before he has any time to react, ('please stay! curse me, hit me, anything! just please, stay!') still shocked by seeing you after so long when he thought he was over you. what a fool.

oh, how you wish you could have stayed. how you wish he wouldn't have let you go in the first place. and how you wish you had the heart to let it all out instead of just leaving...

you notice him running after you in the rear-view mirror, but you know it's too late now as you drive away with tears in your eyes, your loud sobs mixing with the roars of the heavy metal music playing in the car.

[androdetective]

I wish people talked about the recruiters backstory more. His story is one of exploitation and class tensions. He came from poverty and was a young guy who became a pink guard. Who eventually caught Oh Il-nam's interest, which is what got him promoted from soldier to manager to recruiter. He was only able to become successful because a rich guy happened to notice him. That was all entirely based on luck. We know he's rich now from that recruiter morning routine video that was released. He's one of the very rare people who actually went from poverty to riches.

When he was at his lowest when young, he was swept up by bad people who gave him the worst mentalities. But that's what caused him to be able to live a comfortable life. The way he talks, he talks exactly the way Oh Il-nam (and even the front man) talk about the games. How he's just a messenger who delivers messages, how he told himself during his guard years that the poor people are trash with no purpose. It's the simplification of horrible things. The mindset of the games/system got a hold of him. His poverty roots are irrelevant to him. He probably thinks he was different and a hard worker, which is why he made it unlike the other trash.

When he gives that "you're just another piece of trash who made it out of the garbage" speech to Gi-hun and how he only made it because of luck, that entirely applies to him. He had a millionaire VIP to help him, compared to the other hundreds of regular guards. It's unbelievable luck to have a millionaire to help you up the ranks/class. He is a self-hating class traitor. He's those types of people who went from poverty to upper class. And because they managed that, they swear that the system works and will be horribly classist to people below them. They think that lower class people are garbage and need to work harder just like they did. Ignoring the fact that they only managed to because of luck.

We know that outside of his work, he messes with poor people through games/social experiments. When he gave the homeless people the choices between bread and a lottery ticket, everyone but one chose the tickets. Which is already cruel, considering it takes extreme luck to win. It's even worse than a 1/456 chance. When he's finished, he dumps the bread and stomps on them. He then blames all the homeless people for wasting the bread because they chose unlucky tickets. This isn't even a part of his job, but he does this to reaffirm his belief in the system/game. It's a special type of cruelness because the money he spent on the tickets and bread was nothing to him. He could've given each person both of each and continued to be rich. But he doesn't because he views them as wastes who don't deserve it.

When holding Kim and Choi Woo-seok hostage. He ties them up and bounds them with dog bone gags. Something he probably got from the love hotel on such short notice. There are countless jokes about the gags, but I do think they have meaning. The recruiter is called a dog by Gi-hun. Something that means he's below his masters. He did not like getting told that by Gi-hun. We know the recruiter likes putting others below him. The show choice of specifically dog bones, to me, is another instance of him transferring that powerlessness to those below him. To have a sense of power and control. A reminder that he's made it. He even plays a classical song during the game (and even during russian roulette). With the song named "Time to Say Goodbye", it's one last mocking. Classical songs are seen as very high class. It's the kind of music played in the games. And that's what the recruiter enjoys and strives for.

We know that during his pink soldier days, he ended up shooting his dad. There are two beliefs people come to about him. That he was either a regular dad or a bad one. If he was a regular one, it shows that the trauma of poverty and capitalism can make you turn against loved ones. If he wasn't, it shows that already vulnerable people with no support are more likely to get preyed on by the privileged. The recruiter ends up saying a line I found interesting, "One day, they gave me a gun. I liked the way it felt. It was like someone had finally acknowledged my existence. " This was the most vulnerable we've seen him. This implies he didn't feel he had support until he was given power. A bad kind of power given to him by Oh Il-nam. He was being set up to become a valuable asset, not a person. That line could imply he didn't feel acknowledged not only by nobody before the games, but by even his family. If that's true, then that could further explain his happy attitude when he talked about shooting his dad. If he already sucked, then he was even worse by being desperate enough to play the games. Even all that aside, his feelings about his dad didn't matter. He had a job to do. If he couldn't do his job, he could get killed. It's either his dad dies or he dies. And that's exactly how the system works. He knows it's a dog eat dog world.

He becomes such a strong believer in the system he is willing to die for it. He followed the rules of Russian roulette because if he didn't, he'd go against of the rules of the system he wholeheartedly believes in. The system who got him to greatness. The system wants you to kill and die to uphold it, so that's why he does it.

Before he shoots himself, half his face is confident while the other half is scared. Gong Yoo has said he did that on purpose. Even before death, he was putting on a confident performance. But his fear, from seeing that HIS luck with the system ran out, was enough to crack through. From what we've seen of him, he's almost never genuine. He puts on a customer like service kindness. When we know he hates the people he recruits/interacts with. The most genuine we've seen him was during rock paper scissors and russian roulette. And even then, he's putting on a show trying to freak out the players. He looks down on them, and he wants to be the one in control. He's not allowed to be genuine with those he recruits, nor does he let himself. He's a good employee who does his best for his employers. And that's exactly it, he's another employee who's easily replaceable. After the recruiters' death, we don't see In-ho worry about it. No one cares because there's others like him. As Gi-hun has said, he runs around, barks, and grovels like a dog for his master. The recruiter is no one special, no matter how much he sucks up to those in power. It shows best in his lack of a name. His personhood doesn't matter, what matters is his job.