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maximoff-pan · 4 months

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the ultimate deception | benedict bridgerton (part one)

summary: you are a well known artist who paints under a pseudonym. What happens when Lady Whistledown comes to know of your identity? How will your relationship with Benedict evolve?

pairing: benedict bridgerton x fem!(artist)reader

word count: 4k

warning(s): poor writing and dialogue (sue me, I'm rusty lol), very unedited so if there are mistakes, I apologize, misogyny, penelope aka Lady Whistledown's biggest defender

a/n: this is definitely going to be more than one part, but I wanted to post something after so many months. Let me know how you like it (or don't like it haha)...comments and feedback are much appreciated <3

• • • • • •

“I wish I possessed merely an ounce of your talent.”

Benedict’s gaze seems to be wholly absorbing your latest painting, a depiction of the botanical wonders of London’s Royal Kew Gardens.

You puff out a breath, blowing on the feathery end of one of your writing quills. In your haste, it had gotten loose, tickling your face irritatingly. Tucking it back behind your ear, you wave him off. “You have much more talent than you give yourself credit for.” You admit through squinted eyes, scanning your work. “You simply lack conviction. And you worry far too much about what others think of you.”

Benedict smiles, receiving your words as the highest of praise. He reaches out to take a better look at the piece of art before him. “You flatter me.” He mumbles in awe. “But I suppose there’s a chance you could be right.”

Chuckling at his words, you grin knowingly. You’re right. It’s more than a chance…you just are. He knows it too.

You both continue to steadily eye the painting, you out of critical evaluation of your work, and him in sheer admiration of it.

Benedict’s favourite part remains the beautifully bloomed magnolias that are scattered across the canvas. He’d been sure to tell you numerous times of their elegance while you’d been working on it, eagerly awaiting the finished product. As you’ve come to realize, Benedict loves watching you work. It’s one of the prices you’ve had to pay for his allowance of your workstation being at Bridgerton House, if you could even call it that.

You are grateful, truly. You wouldn’t be able to make your own living without his kindness. And you certainly wouldn’t be able to keep to yourself in the way you prefer to.

“When will Augustus Leighton be displaying his latest work of perfection?” Benedict’s question reminds you of your fate as an artist.

Augustus Leighton is the pseudonym you paint under. Using his name, you have become a well known artist among the ton, even going so far as to have a painting hung at Buckingham Palace. It’s difficult, you must admit, pretending to be someone else. But it’s a necessary evil.

Painting as a woman would get you nowhere. Especially as a woman with no money (particularly at the time you began), no status, and no husband.

Your mother is a seamstress with little to her name and your father was a servant to Violet and Edmund Bridgerton, before his heart became too weak. He passed away when you were thirteen, only a few years after the Bridgerton children had lost their own father. You’d grown up with little money, but Violet had been kind to both you and your mother, seeing how close you’d become with her children.

You were raised alongside them, Benedict and Eloise becoming your closest of friends. At three and twenty, there are five years between you and the two siblings in either direction, with Eloise being freshly eighteen, and Benedict having turned twenty eight. To this day, they remain two of only three people who know of your true identity, outside of Penelope Featherington.

You hadn’t exactly meant for Eloise or Penelope to find out about it, but once they had, it became comforting to have more than just Benedict to speak to about your predicament. Especially considering, although Benedict has been wonderfully supportive, he could never understand the struggle a woman must endure in a male dominated world.

“Likely never. This one is a gift for Lady Danbury.” You answer Benedict’s inquiry after a bout of silence. “She’s spoken about her love of these gardens quite regularly, so I thought, why not have Mr. Leighton recreate it for her?”

“How will you get it to her?” He questions.

A smile pulls at the corners of your lips. “I have my ways, lest you worry about it.”

• ж • ж • ж • ж •

The next few days are interesting to say the least. You’d somehow managed to get the painting delivered to Lady Danbury, and as far as Violet had been willing to speak of her latest visit with the formidable aforementioned woman, you have been made aware that she adores it.

You’d also heard more about it from Benedict, who’d mentioned something about her being at a loss for words, an ultimate shock to both him and his mother. They’d never seen her look so bewildered.

According to Eloise, Lady Danbury had been surprised to receive such a gift, especially of something so near and dear to her heart. She’d said it reminded her of her time with the Queen, telling the young Bridgerton woman about the months just after her husband had passed, when a new independent lifestyle began to bloom for her.

The painting itself reminded her that women like her could be free, and one day, they would be. That sort of metaphorical mindset had definitely appealed to Eloise’s sense of social justice. She’d been more than excited to tell you about the older woman’s reaction to your art, claiming it to be a wonderful revelation.

Today though, as you sit in the Bridgerton’s common living room, the opposite representation of said female autonomy rests in your hands. The paper feels rough against your skin as you pass it to Eloise who’s propped excitedly to the left of you. You’ve never been a fan of Lady Whistledown’s gossip column, although you can admire her unabashed confidence. But despite her strong will as an author, which could be seen as an inherently empowering trait, you are of the impression that she goes about it in an entirely backward way.

Women don’t need to put each other down to build themselves up. It accomplishes nothing, consequently acting as a source of nourishment for the patriarchy you find yourself trapped in.

“You’re not going to read it?” Eloise asks as she takes the pamphlet from you.

“I never do.” Is your instant reply.

Penelope perks up at the mention of the column, eyes trained curiously on you. If you had known better, you’d say she was a little too interested.

But at this moment you shrug it off, listening with no suspicion as she asks a simple, “Why?”

You don’t have the hindsight to understand why your stomach turns at her question, but you respond anyway. “I tend to think of Lady Whistledown as a poison.” It’s the first time you’ve voiced such an opinion.

Penelope and Eloise turn to you in surprise. “Come again?” Penelope’s soft voice cuts through.

“She is a poison.” You repeat before explaining yourself. “Do not get me wrong, I hold admiration for her bravado, but her words, the things she writes, they cause nothing but pain and conflict for those she chooses to sink her teeth into.”

“But she’s an independent woman.” Eloise interjects. “One who is doing more than any of us could dream of. She is making a name for herself!”

You try to think about your next words carefully, but your mouth makes quick work of a reply. “A name which she hides behind, casting stones through the guise and safety of anonymity.”

Penelope lets out a scoff from beside you. She’s always been one to defend the infamous gossip columnist. “At least she does not hide herself behind the mask of a man.” That feels like a shot. “The people know full well of her gender, despite her true identity remaining a secret.”

You hear the implication on her tongue. The same cannot be said for you.

And she’s not wrong. You do hide yourself behind the mask of a man. You’d never once denied that.

You sigh. “I know you must think of me as a hypocrite.”

Eloise agrees hesitantly. “Only a little.” She admits. “It’s just that you do the same as Mr. Leighton.”

You soften at her honesty. Truthfully, you understand where she’s coming from, but you can’t help the urge you feel to defend yourself.

“I disguise myself as Augutus because I know that no artist or art critic alike will take me seriously as I am. I want to share my work with the world, that is simply all I want. It’s all I have ever wanted.”

“Does that not make you a coward?” Penelope inquires, although it feels less like a question and more like an opinion. This is what she believes. And she's entitled to that.

“Perhaps.” You nod in acknowledgment. “But it has also made me uniquely successful. And I take great pride knowing that my work is highly regarded, in spite of the fact that I have to be someone else to succeed.”

“Does that ever bother you?” Eloise persists. “Knowing that no one will know you for the work you have done?”

Before you can respond, Penelope chimes in with a query of her own. “Does it ever make you feel guilty, lying as you do?” This feels like a challenge.

You turn to Eloise, answering her first. “No, I feel quite unbothered. I like the privacy it provides me.” Your gaze flicks between the two girls, a fire in your eyes as you speak.

You answer Penelope’s question next. “Guilt is one of the last feelings to cross my mind.” You feel content with it. “Because of Augustus, I have my own money, my own independence. I do not need a man to survive or to be happy. I have choices. And that's a facet of my life I never dreamed could have existed. If there is anything more empowering for a woman than that, I cannot think of it.”

Eloise listens to your words carefully, absorbing them, reveling in them. She hadn’t thought of it like that, but you’re right. Independence is a sign of true equality. And you have that. Not because of the name you hide behind, but because you’d used the insecurities of men to your advantage. You’d played the game and won.

“I suppose I have been quite short sighted.” There’s much less arrogance in her tone. Eloise sounds humbled. “You’ve given me a new perspective to think about.”

Penelope does not enjoy the direction this conversation has headed. “Surely you cannot think yourself above someone such as Lady Whistledown.”

Your face scrunches in thought. “Above?” You stipulate. “I do not think myself above anyone, gender aside. But I do think I have a much higher sense of self respect than she does.”

“And how could that possibly be?” Penelope has to bite her tongue. She wants to say more, defend herself more. But she cannot.

Eloise cuts in. “Lady Whistledown has the utmost confidence in herself. I dare say more than all the women in London combined. As much as I have come to see your side, I cannot agree with that.”

“One’s high level of confidence is of little concern here.” You deliver. “Often, in matters regarding the human condition, such as these, it can act as a detriment.” Your eyes narrow as you speak. “Self respect and self confidence can coincide, but they are not the same.”

Eloise laughs out of confusion. She’s not used to being this clueless. “I don’t understand.” She says.

“Ah,” you decide to stop tiptoeing around the subject. “I merely think that no self-respecting woman would use the pain and suffering of other women, or any other person for that matter, for their own profit and entertainment.”

Eloise’s smile drops. “Oh.” Again, she hadn’t thought of it that way. But what resonates with her most is that you’re not wrong.

“Is that what you truly think of Lady Whistledown?” Penelope’s voice is calm and collected for the first time this afternoon. It almost scares you.

“Yes.” You say, before voicing, “However, I mean no offense to either of you. I know how much you girls adore her column. I just want more for you than what she does. A life of gossip is dangerous, and you deserve so much more.”

If you had known you’d been talking to Lady Whistledown herself, maybe you would have kept those opinions to yourself. But little did you know how much your life was about to change, how dangerously you’d walked the line, and how much vengeance rests in Penelope Featherington’s soul.

Future note to self, do not play with fire if one does not wish to get burnt.

• ж • ж • ж • ж •

“(Y/n), I think you need to see this.” Benedict holds up the newest edition of London’s famous gossip column.

Your heart sinks at the look in his eyes. I’m sorry they seem to say.

You haven’t even read it and you already know it’s bad. Handing it to you, Benedict looks hesitant, almost in preparation of what's to come. As you take it from him, you glance down at the ink on the paper, her handwriting etched in your brain.

You swallow the lump in your throat as you begin to read:

Dearest Gentle Reader,

It has come to this author’s attention that a certain individual is playing an unforgivable game of deception within the world of classical art that this ton so highly regards. This artisan has gone to great lengths to keep their true identity from you, painting under a well recognized pseudonym.

By now you may have guessed, this artist is a woman. One who has tricked you and lied to you by passing her work off as that of a man’s. What a horrid crime it is to keep such a secret from you, and a desperate one, I must admit. A woman so foul as to seek such attention for her art, far too greedy to be content with the life so many of the wonderful women of the ton lead. Instead, she parades around disguising herself so she can live a life she feels entitled to.

This author asks you to consider the arrogance of it all. But the question remains, as I am sure you are desperate to uncover: who is the serpent who remains among us?

And so it is with great sorrow that I announce the once beloved Augustus Leighton is a fraud. A man never seen in the public setting, has given us a reason why. He is a woman.

And her name, ladies and gentleman of London, is (Y/n) (L/n).

As I am sure you, gentle reader, are shocked at this revelation, I will take a moment to address the woman this particular entry concerns.

May I remind you Miss (L/n), I have ears and eyes everywhere. Or did you forget? It would do you a world of good to remember that the next time you think about besmirching me. And, as I write this, I must say, this warning goes for all. Heed it, live by it, breathe by it. I am not a woman you want to cross.

Yours truly,

Lady Whistledown

Panic crawls through your body. You want to cry, scream, maybe even simply die from the anxiety you’re feeling.

“What am I going to do?”

Your voice cracks, it sounds like glass breaking. Shattered, ragged, and tired, and Benedict can do nothing but hold you.

Again, as your body shakes and caves into the pressure you think, what am I going to do?

• ж • ж • ж • ж •

The moment Eloise enters the room with Anthony at her side, your mind is sent ablaze. Only three people had known about Augustus. Only three people could have possibly let it slip, and you know for a fact it wasn’t Benedict.

As much as you want to believe Eloise would never do something like that to you, you can’t help but feel like she might have offhandedly mentioned it to someone. Her mouth had always worked much faster than her brain.

Benedict’s gaze meets yours in understanding. He hopes his sister hasn’t done this; he’ll be furious if she has.

You’re about to say something when a certain eldest Bridgerton catches you off guard. Anthony smiles when he sees you, eyes twinkling uncharacteristically so.

“I had no idea you could paint like that.” He says. “I must admit, I’m quite proud of you.”

You blink rapidly in confusion. Proud? In all the years you’ve known Anthony, he’s never told you he’s proud of you.

“So you’ve read the column then?” Your head hangs in shame. Everyone in London has probably read it by now.

“Everyone has.” Eloise pipes in timidly, confirming your suspicions.

She’s nervous, understandably so, fingers fiddling with the hem of her dress. You assume when you finally catch her gaze that she’ll avert it quickly, but instead, she holds it well.

We need to talk.

Benedict, reading the room perfectly, coughs in apprehension. “Brother, how about we let these ladies be for a moment? I’m certain they have some things to discuss.”

“Of course.” Anthony nods with a smile, not before reminding you how proud he is of you.

If anything good can come of this, it might just be that.

Once alone, Eloise is eager to assure you of her innocence. “I spoke to no one.” She promises. “Blood be forgotten, you’re my sister (Y/n). I would never betray you like that.”

The look on her face is one of pure panic; she needs you to believe her. And despite everything, you do. It almost makes you feel guilty that you questioned her.

“It’s alright.” You assure her. “I know you wouldn’t.”

But that only leaves one person…

“I think Penelope is Lady Whistledown.” You're taken aback by Eloise’s words, like a stab to the chest. Twisting the knife in further, she corrects, “I know she is.”

Moments of silence pass before you can collect your thoughts. “How long have you known?”

This is where Eloise loses her composure. Pure shame is etched upon her features. “I caught her a few weeks ago.”

A few weeks. A few weeks… A FEW WEEKS?

“Oh.” Your murmur is dejected and weak.

Eloise had known you’d been slandering Lady Whistledown in front of Lady Whistledown, and she’d done nothing to stop you, except defend her best friend’s honour. No wonder she’d been so reluctant to agree with you.

“I wanted to say something.” Eloise stammers. “But I couldn’t. Penelope doesn’t know that I know.”

You inhale a staggered breath of air, face falling to your palms. “I’ve been such a fool. How could I have been so stupid?”

“You have not.” The girl beside you opposes before continuing, “Trust me, I am furious with Penelope. The things she’s done and said about me, about the people I care about, I’m not sure I can forgive her for it.”

You scoff lightly. Trust her? How are you supposed to do that?

Sure, Eloise has certainly been burned by Lady Whistledown before, but she’s always had her name to fall back on. “You have no idea what it’s like, Eloise.”

“I’m sorry.” She slumps in apology, shrinking in on herself. Eloise likes to think she can understand where you’re coming from. She’s a woman, same as you, one who has the same struggles against the patriarchy, and yet, hers are much different.

“Don’t.” You dismiss her apology in frustration. It feels harsh but necessary. “You always speak about feminism and the difficulties of being a woman. How it is impossible for you to hold title and rank, or to be recognized for your accomplishments. But you are a Bridgerton Eloise, and that comes with more privilege, more title, more rank, and more acknowledgment in society than you seem to understand.”

Eloise’s brow furrows. “More often than not, that name is a burden, something you could not possibly grasp.”

“And I should not have to.” Your lips pull into a thin line. This isn’t a competition, but you feel it necessary to defend your point wholly. “I am the daughter of a servant and a seamstress. I have no money, no control, and no future if I am not to marry. Since the day I was born, I belonged to someone else. You talk of struggle, but you have no idea what it truly means.”

Eloise doesn’t like what you’re implying. “You think I live a life of luxury? That I am a stranger to the adversities life has to offer? I can assure you, I know much more about the struggles of which you speak. My mother has prepared me for the purpose of my future; finding a husband is imperative.”

“You plan to remain unmarried, correct?” You ask her seriously.

“With every fiber in my being.” Is her scathing reply. And it only serves to prove your point. But you can see her side of things too.

“El, you defy your mother with your distaste for society. And while I applaud your determination to fight for equality, your fault remains in your failure to recognize the entitlement that has been bestowed upon you simply by having that choice. Unlike so many women, you can choose to live your life as a spinster. For you, those options exist. For me, I have not one choice besides finding a well suited, at best, middle class husband, because that is all I am suited for.”

In this moment, her heart shatters for you. Is that really what you think of yourself? “You cannot possibly mean that.”

“It’s how it has to be.” You affirm.

“It’s not.” She disagrees. “There’s so much more for you than a husband.”

Both your defenses are down, walls have collapsed, and you’re starting to get through to each other. She’s starting to grasp the gravity of what this means for you. Your career is more than likely over, as is the steady source of income you’d managed to build. Except where before you’d had less than no money to your name, you now had a healthy dowry (that you’d earned no less) to find a more comfortable suitor.

Eloise sees it now. What Penelope has done is monumentally life changing.

However, as emotional as this circumstance is, you still feel the need to reach out. She’s your sister after all.

“Eloise,” your eyes search hers. They tread in a sea of empathy. “I never meant to imply you have lived a life without misfortunes. I’m not trying to diminish your hurt. But I thought if you heard my side, you might come to understand mine.”

She softens at your admission, having gotten carried away in defending herself. Nodding, she smiles gently. “I do.” She says. “And while you may not bear the Bridgerton surname, you do have us. Every Bridgerton will stand behind you, always.”

Against every fibre in your being, you believe her. Somehow you’ll always have this little family of yours, somehow you hope you’ll be okay…

#benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton x you #benedict bridgerton x y/n #benedict bridgerton x fem!reader #benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton imagine #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton x you #bridgerton x y/n #bridgerton x female reader

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lilyginnyblackv2 · 1 year

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Some long, big thoughts on Kazuki, Rei, and being “Fathers.” - SPOILERS!

I really think this episode is when Kazuki and Rei really face the reality that they are Miri’s FATHERS. Like, it finally sunk in.

The lady here uses otou-sama, which is a very formal way to address the two of them, very stuffy. But also very...Japanese. In Japan, it is very commonplace nowadays for little kids to use papa and mama when addressing their parents, but those are still seen as loanwords. They don’t carry the same weight as being referred to, and seen as, FATHERS.

That question and how they would be perceived by others really hit them here. They aren’t just playing house at home anymore, they are out in society and are going to be perceived as this Miri’s fathers. That may also come with the assumption that they are a couple or in a relationship with each other.

They both look uncomfortable here at that realization, but neither one really denies it either. Of course, this daycare is very unwelcoming and the lady far more judgmental than Anna. So that also likely plays a part in how they feel and react here too. The first daycare they go to focused more on the business side of things.

The room is huge, but empty, the walls are colorful, but not bright. Miri is sent off to play with blocks and the lady never directly addresses her or asks for her thoughts on things. Everything about this daycare is unwelcoming and uninviting and unaccepting, so Rei and Kazuki act coldly to this initial realization and the usage of the word FATHER here, seems very fitting.

It’s not a happy, bubbly, childlike, and even fantastical like the word “Papa” is. And the lady interviewing them, was definitely judging them, even before Miri started mentioning some more...suspicious stuff, lol.

Now, when they go to Aozora Daycare, Anna also addresses them using the word father in Japanese, but she goes with otou-san, still formal, but not stuffy and far more common and approachable. It’s still not “Papa” though. She only uses “Papa” when she talks to Miri about Rei and Kazuki.

(In the Japanese she directly addresses Kazuki first by calling him otou-san and then stating that she was asking Miri, not him, haha).

We are met with understanding here, though. Not judgement. The walls of Aozora are filled with children’s art projects, a piano that indicates singing and dancing time as a group, and warm smiles and comfy clothes. Everything that indicates a child-first daycare center.

The whole interview process ends successfully. The daycare views them as suitable parents and Miri got accepted into the school.

And while Rei looks disinterested during this entire interview. He was paying just as close attention to everything as Kazuki was, and if watch the high-five scene with a good eye, you can see that Rei actually has his hand up and waiting for Miri’s high-five before Kazuki.He understands her and her flow so well.

The rest is going under a Read More due to length.

Next we see them navigating all the prep work. And even though Rei did fall asleep at one point, we see that they both put in as much effort and energy as they can to get everything right for Miri and her first day of daycare. They both read through the handbook, write her names on things, even Rei did some sewing too. They exhaust themselves out.

They think they make a great first impression on that first day:

But they make a lot of faux pas in the world of Japanese parenthood (specifically in a space that tends to be dominated by motherhood).

Arriving by car = ✘

Wearing suits that aren’t black = ✘

Having Miri wearing clothes that look expensive = ✘

Arriving by car is equated to wealth and money, and even to showing off, as opposed to riding a bike.

Wearing suits that aren’t black is associated with the underbelly side of Japan, men that work in the red light district or with the yakuza. An exception to this would be like, in many places, the entertainment business.

Dressing Miri up in clothes that look expensive plays into the whole “yakuza daughter” vibes, but also makes it so that she stands apart from the other children. It can also make it so that Miri has a difficult time putting the clothes on and off herself, which could take up class time when coming in from play time, getting ready to go home, and etc.

I worked at a juku (cram school) with a daycare. Most of the students I cared for there were native Japanese kids between 2 - 4 years old whose parents were working in America. My boss would often get annoyed when parents would bring their (usually daughters) in wearing fancy shoes that looked pretty, but hurt the child’s feet and were hard for the child to take on and off themself.

Kids around Miri’s age are also shown to be aware of economic and social class on some level as well.

LOS ANGELES, Calif. (Ivanhoe Newswire) -- Rich, poor, middle class. Parents often believe it’s their responsibility to shield their children from economic differences and social class.

But new research shows children as young as five years old are not economically blind. In fact, by the time they reach prekindergarten, kids know the difference.

This group of primary school kids already knows what money can buy.

Combine that with the (thirsty though they were) mothers who probably advised their children to not get on Miri’s bad side because of her dad’s, and her outfits that set her apart, and scenes like this one:

Don’t seem so out-of-place.

When Kazuki and Rei pick Miri up at school, her answer to “How was your first day? Have fun?” being “I dunno yet.’ Set’s off alarm bells - even with Rei.

His brows are furrowed. He knows that something is off and wrong with that statement. They don’t know what they did wrong, and they don’t know how to fix it. Miri gets quieter and sadder and this is the first time they’ve had to actually deal with Miri on a deeper, emotional level.

That feeling like you are failing a child (whether your own, one of your students, or just a child in your care) is such a devasting feeling. This episode expresses it well by having these scenes all take place on the way home from the daycare, when the sun is setting.

Thankfully, Kazuki is open to listening to what Miss Anna has to tell him, and she is so supportive. She doesn’t judge them or treat them like they are incompetent or incapable. She just gives them the push in the right direction, with “insider info” in a way, to get them and Miri acclimated correctly. And Rei and Kazuki jump on it. They love that they’ve found this place with a bunch of good quality cheap shit that can help them and make their lives easier.

And after this, Miri goes to school in regular clothes. Kazuki goes to the play area in the regular clothes, and he is just genuine and authentic with the kids. He doesn’t dress Miri up in a way that sets her apart anymore (on a class level, in a way that makes the other kids think she is “saying” “don’t play with me.”).

Kazuki, especially, isn’t trying to “fake it until he makes it anymore.” He isn’t trying to give the impression that they are rich. And I wouldn’t be surprised if he also felt a bit more pressure to get everything right because he and Rei are two guys raising a kid together - two FATHERS.

But then he realizes letting Miri and him and Rei just be themselves is enough.

This was very much so a Kazuki issue that ended up negatively impacting Miri. A situation I’m sure every parent (or even teacher, like I’ve been before) has experienced on some level. It’s one of the harsher parts of being a parent and trying to help your child and do what’s right.

And now, he and Rei have one foot further into parenthood, since they know about this new shop and:

Gave Miri her own room.

That is such a big deal. Similar in a way to how people say not to name an animal unless you plan on keeping it as a pet. Not because Miri can be compared to a pet or an animal in any way like that, but because of what it implies on both an emotional attachment level and a “she is now a permanent part of our household” level.

That's a fully decorated room, filled with toys and plush dolls and games, a bed, books, a rug, even a desk. A desk filled with stationary supplies for her to learn and something which is viewed as a necessity for children to have at home when they are in elementary and junior high school (especially).

Rei and Kazuki have gone from being Miri’s “Papas” on a sort of imaginary, “playing house” level, with very limited outside and real-world/societal interactions to being her fathers. They have integrated her and themselves as her parents and fathers into society on a large level now.

By investing in that room, they are investing in Miri, and are openly choosing to be viewed as her fathers - as partners. Even if they don’t necessarily view each other in that way, it doesn’t matter to them in the end, because Miri is what’s most important.

(Note: I will link to the news article and report that stated that information about children and economic class recognition in the comments).

#Buddy Daddies #KazuRei #Kazuki Kurusu #Rei Suwa #Miri Unasaka #Anna Hanyu #Buddy Daddies spoilers #BD spoilers #long post #image heavy post #meta post #thought post #feel free to add your thoughts to this as well!

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bunniesanddeer · 2 months

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Hi! I hope you’re having a wonderful day or night.

I saw your asks are open and I had an idea. What if it’s a protective Alastor x Reader who is the daughter of a protective Lucifer? Maybe she kept in contact with her dad so they are closer and she is older than Charlie. When Lucifer comes to visit the hotel him and Alastor cause some drama

Thanks!

W.P💚

I hope this is what you were looking for? I am very new to doing things like this!

Daddy's Girl

Pairing: Alastor X Lucifer's Daughter! Reader

Tags: Sisterly love, some sexual connotations, spoilers, some angst maybe? idk, swearing, Mimzy.

SPOILERS FOR "DAD BEAT DAD"

Word Count: 1,775

The hotel was eerily quiet when you awoke, so you made your way downstairs to see if anyone was awake. All you could hear as you made your way down the stairs was your quiet footfalls and weird murmuring. As you turned towards the sitting area, you realized the muttering was coming from your younger sister, Charlie.

Charlie was pacing back and forth in front of a pin board covered in colorful papers, and strings. She tugged at her hair, her muttering growing more frantic. As you took in the scene, you realized there were a few people standing and watching her. Niffty was bouncing on the couch, her face full of a strange glee. Husk and Sir Pentious were watching with mixes of bafflement and curiosity.

“Hey, Char Char? Are you ok?” You asked, walking around the couch to get a better view. You saw Angel and Vaggie approach from your peripherals as Charlie whipped around frantically.

“Nope! No. Not really! Haha. Hah…” Her false smile falls as she rips a page off the board. “I have been up all night trying to figure out why the hotel isn’t working! We’ve done every single trust exercise and arts and crafts project I could find! We’ve talked about our feelings and… nothing is working!”

You frown. You knew that things taking so long would eventually get to her, but it was sad to see just how severely. She needed more help.

You walk up to your sister, and set your hands on her shoulders. “I think…”

Her expression collapses. “Please don’t say it.”

“We should call dad. And ask for his help.”

She winces. She clearly doesn’t want your dad’s help. You can’t exactly blame her, either. The two of you were raised a little separate, and it had affected her relationship with Lucifer pretty badly. Although, you were older, and it had afforded you time with Lucifer before Lilith had started to separate herself from him. Charlie had only had a handful of years before their relationship went south. It showed in her anxiety with him, and Lucifer’s inability to talk to Charlie openly. It made you sad, but you weren’t sure how to fix that rift.

“He’s the reason the extermination happens to begin with! He just let it happen! He doesn’t even like sinners! Why would he help me?” Charlie hugs herself, looking off to the side. “He’s always preferred you anyway.”

You hear some audible winces from the audience by the couch, but you ignore them. You pull her into a tight hug, her taller frame putting you at her collarbones. “You know I would change that if I could, honey.” You squeeze her tightly and say, “We can at least see if he can get you a meeting. Anything to give you the advantage, Char Char.”

She sighs, and hugs you back. “Yeah. I guess we can at least try.”

You pull back. “I think you should call him. I bet he’s dying to hear from you, even though he sucks at showing it.”

Charlie rubs her arm and nods. “Alright. I’ll do it!”

As she struggles to start the phone call, Husk makes comments about her having ‘Daddy Issues’, and you blanch. How rude! (Even if it was true). The others make comments about meeting Lucifer, but you and Vaggie just keep your eyes on Charlie. She seems so nervous, and it makes your stomach twist in knots.

She finally calls. It rings three times before a faint, “Heyyyy bitch!” rings out on the other end of the line. You facepalm. Good going Dad.

When all is said and done, Lucifer announces he is visiting within the hour, after much cajoling and guilt-tripping on Charlie’s part. Although, from what you could hear, he seemed excited.

Charlie is excited, and so is everyone else in the hotel. You cheer for her, and then the realization hits you.

Alastor. Fuck.

As the final touches are finished, you sidle up to Alastor with a small grin.

“Please, please don’t start shit. Charlie needs this to work. And I need this to work for Charlie,” you murmur to him.

He barely glances at you. “Worry not, sweetheart! You know I would never do anything to risk the reputation of the hotel! Charlie will get the help she needs!” His arm wraps around your shoulders, and he squeezes you into his side. For just a moment, his head ducks down, and he whispers into your ear. “Just need to make it clear whose little girl you are now.” Then he perks right back up like nothing happened.

Your face burns hot. How dare he! But you don’t get to do anything in retaliation, because Charlie is opening the door.

“Chaaaaarlie!” Lucifer exclaims, immediately pulling her into a tight embrace. Your sister’s face is full of shock, and you just want to laugh. Ha! You were right! He continues talking to her in the slightest baby voice, and you can’t help but let some giggles escape you. Your dad could be just so silly! “Oh, it’s so good to see you!”

He lets go of Charlie as she welcomes him to the hotel. He spots Keekee first, and pets her. Then greets Razzle and Dazzle. You watch from the sidelines with a small smile. It was nice seeing your dad outside the home. He had been holing himself up for so long… You look up at Alastor, who hasn’t moved an inch since your dad came in.

You elbow him gently. “You okay?”

Alasotr’s expression is tight. His eyes flicker to you for a moment, before landing back on your father. He merely hums in response, making you frown. How odd… You knew the two wouldn’t get along, but for Alastor to dislike him already?

Then your dad spots the bar. “Oh! What in the unholy Hell is that?”

Alastor immediately shadow-walks to the other side of the room, and you know it’s time to intervene.

“Oh! Just some of the renovations we’ve made.” Alastor gestures with his mic, before continuing. “Adds a bit of color, don’t you think?”

You wince, and make your way to Alastor’s side.

“Hey, Dad,” you say, trying to prevent your dad making any further comments on the decor. That's a good way to piss off Alastor.

“Sweetheart!” Your dad runs up to you, and tries picking you up. You laugh at the tights squeeze. “How’s my girl?” His hands squish your cheeks, making it hard to respond.

You giggle through the ministrations, and finally push his hands back so you can respond. “I’m doing great, Dad. Figured I should introduce you to Alastor here.” You gesture to Alastor, who looks the closest to not smiling that you have ever seen. It makes your stomach feel like lead, as you keep talking. “He’s our facilities' manager, and my…”

Your voice trails off, and you look at Alastor, as if hoping he has the word you are looking for.

“I’m her lover!” Alastor exclaims, quite loudly. His static drops for a moment and then bursts back up in volume, making you wince. Great. He just announced that to everyone in the room. The ‘everyone’ being everyone who didn’t know. You can hear Charlie ‘whoop!’ in the background, and several variations of ‘what the fuck’. “She’s quite the darling. I just couldn’t resist this sweet face!” Alastor grabs at your cheeks, similar to how your dad did, and squishes them. “See?”

You risk a glance at your dad. He looks ready to kill. Fuck. This is absolutely not how you wanted to tell your dad. He nearly killed the last partner you had for ghosting you. You can see your dad’s horns growing, and you push Alastor back.

“Haha! Yeah. Uh. Sorry. I would have told you before now, but we’re kind of new! We were trying to keep it on the down-low for now but…” You glare at Alastor, but he just has this shit-eating grin on his face, and you know he doesn’t care.

“Right.” Your dad continues glaring at Alastor. You wince, and decide to go over by the snack table. Angel is just giving you this look, and you know he will be asking about Alastor’s dick, which you have not seen, later. Husk seems disappointed in you, and you absolutely know why. You just give him an apologetic shrug, and watch as Alastor and your dad seem to start a pissing match.

It ends with Alastor in his face saying, “Fuck you,” and your knees nearly give out. Holy shit.

Charlie finally intervenes, and Lucifer, after some more glaring at Alastor, get her to introduce him to the rest of the residents.

Alastor lays a hand on your shoulder as your dad greets both the guests and the staff. You can feel his thumb rubbing back and forth, and it sends shivers down your spine. You look up at Alastor, but his gaze is still locked on your dad. Annoyed, you roll your eyes with a huff, and look back to the meet-and-greet. Your dad is looking back at you, his frown deep, and a barely audible growl making its way to your ears. Your dad is fucking growling at Alastor. What the Hell?

A rumble builds up in Alastor’s chest, and you can feel it against your back. This one sets heat back up to your face. Gosh, this man needed to get his shit together. No need to start stuff with your dad! Alastor’s hand tightens on your shoulder, before he lets go and stalks back towards Charlie, who is trying to convince your dad to help her.

And then they’re singing. Because of course. Alastor joins in, saying some things that seem to really piss off your dad, but you can't hear much over the blood rushing in your ears. Sometimes these two could be so embarrassing. When your dad pulls out the golden fiddle, you nearly die laughing. (He still wasn’t over losing that one time!) Everything comes to a head, with the two men yelling insults in each other's faces, when suddenly-

“It’s ME!” A woman barges in through the lobby doors, yelling and calling herself Mimzy. She’s blonde, and dressed like a flapper. Alastor seems to recognize her, so you don’t worry.

Later that night, when your dad has finally agreed to help your sister get that meeting, you all settle onto the couches, making a game plan. Alastor sits beside you, one foot resting on the other knee. You lean over and ask softly, “What did you say during that song, anyway?”

Alastor’s grin sharpens, and he presses his lips near your ear, again. “Charlie calls me dad, and your eldest calls me Daddy.”

If you nearly choke on your own spit, you refuse to admit it.

#alastor x reader #alastor fanfiction #fanfic #hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel #bun's short fics

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koolades-world · 3 months

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Hey there! I'd Like to request something. So like, MC is an Artist (Style doesn't matter they just have to draw humanoid things) and then they draw the brothers+dateables in their style, what would the reaction be?

hello! sure thing :)

I myself am admittedly not a very good artist, which is my my preferred art form is writing. the only time I draw is usually during gartic phone games with friends, and thanks to my franticness under a time limit it's always very chaotic. but at this point I've just embraced it and it's always funny

enjoy!

Artist Mc

Lucifer

you draw him while he's seated at the dinner table on a saturday morning while he's reading the newspaper and enjoying a coffee

not that you didn't intend to show him, but suddenly he was leaning over your shoulder, staring, and it caught you off guard

as you scramble to explain, he just smiles and sits back down in his chair and goes back to what he was doing to keep being you model

once you're done, he asks if he can at least have a copy to keep, which in itself is a huge compliment, but it's so he can think of you every time he looks at it 🥺

Mammon

during class, he happened to look super cute as always while looking wistfully out a nearby window a few rows in front of you and the lesson was getting boring anyways. next to your notes, you begin to doodle him, using highlighters for color

you forget it's there and lend him that very notebook since he had tuned out that same lesson

once he opens it, he seems himself and doesn't know how to react. he's a babbling, red mess

once he regains motor functions, he shakily declares that it's very becoming of the Great Mammon and that you did a great job. success!

Levi

the two of you are hanging out in his room. he's playing a ruri game and you're lounging behind him, sketching on a bean bag

you're not drawing anything in particular and were searching for an idea when suddenly, the idea found you

levi wasn't paying attention to you, so you could easily look at him and ruri, and sketch them side by side in matching outfits

once he stops for a moment to get a snack, you happily show him the drawing and he does the demon equivalent of blue screening. give him a minute to reboot then try again haha

Satan

when you decided to draw him, the two of you were seating together, with you in his lap while he read a book so he saw the drawing from it's first line to it's last

made positive comments about it the entire time, like about how you captured the green of his eyes perfectly, or telling you his hair looked better in the picture than it did in real life

at some point, he stopped pretending to read the book and sat watching you with his chin on your shoulder

he added cute little notes around it once you were done with little hearts around them

Asmo

he's asked you to draw him jokingly a few times, but never expected you to actually do it the next time he asked

when you tell him if he wants, he can pick something else to wear, he almost strips down so you can draw him nude but you stop him as soon as he started to take his shirt off

he scurried away and was back quickly in a new outfit, and posed how he would for a picture

talks to you basically the entire time you draw, and once you're done, he squeezes you into a tight hug and asks if he can post it on his Devilgram

Beel

after joining him enough times for Fangol practice, you knew it well enough to begin making sketches of him as he practiced

drawing him in action was a little challenging since he never held still, but you were determined

you drew a few since his practice went on longer that day, and got to proudly show him the results

he was equally as proud of you since he thought you did a great job. he asks if he can have one, and if you give it to him, you'll find it hanging up next to his bed next to all his Fangol trophies <3

Belphie

he's an easy model to draw thanks to his lethargy, so you often find yourself sketching him

something about his peaceful nature and natural frosted tips was just so drawable, so you had at least a few pages full of him napping in various positions with different blankets

one time, he wakes up while you're next to him drawing, and is a little shocked in a good way. he didn't know you viewed him that highly

he's still half asleep, so he just compliments your artwork and moves to lay his head on your lap, then falls back asleep, ensuring you're the flustered one now

#obey me #obey me!#obey me satan #obey me x reader #obey me asmo #obey me beel #obey me levi #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me belphie #omswd #obey me shall we date #obey me mc

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vigilantethot · 6 months

Text

random headcanons about being Miguel O’hara’s housewife <3

Pairing: Miguel O’hara x fem! Reader

this is mostly SFW

Disclaimer: This is my first fanfic I’ve written in yearsss so pls be easy on me haha. Also the reader is black coded.

It’s no secret that Miguel works too much. He is under tremendous stress all the time, so it makes total sense that he needs his home to be a safe space, and a calm sanctuary.

Its also no secret that Miguel is a control freak. He has a schedule that he MUST abide by or he’ll go crazy.

As his wife, you have a HUGE part in his routine.

Miguel takes pride in providing for his loved ones, and early into the relationship he told you he wanted you to have to worry about nothing, to just do whatever your heart desires whether its art, reading, or just laying in bed all day.

When you first got engaged to Miguel, it was super hard to get used to his schedule, it seemed like he was never home, and you often found yourself feeling useless and insignificant to him.

Upon communicating this with Miguel after he was late for dinner the third time that week, he instantly made changes to accommodate you into his life. You were his life after all.

He quickly made sure to start including you in his day, even if he’s at work. The last thing Miguel wants is for you to feel useless, and he would do anything to make you happy.

Treating you like a princess makes him so happy. Everything you want, you get. Miguel has more than enough resources to cater to your every whim.

Found a new hobby that you’re going to spend hundreds of dollars on only to get bored of it and keep the supplies in your hobby room to collect dust? Sure, go ahead and get everything you need, he just wants you to find your passion!

Now lets get back to the routine:

You two always started your days in bed, limbs tangled, your head on his chest, his hands rubbing your back.

After a quick cuddle session, and maybe a little more than that, you two make your way to the kitchen, where you brew coffee, make his breakfast, and discuss your plans for the day.

Miguel never leaves for work without kissing you at least three times, he says its to “clear his head.”

Miguel likes to keep tabs on you all day. He is a very possessive and overprotective man, and he will go to great lengths to ensure your safety.

He's constantly texting, asking what you’re doing and how you’re doing. Always asking if you ate (if you didn’t you would be in BIG trouble, it seriously pisses him off when he thinks you’re not taking care of yourself.)

He also has a few cameras in your house, for “safety”. Mainly its just to watch you throughout the day to admire you/check in on you.

He also always has your location, just in case.

Miguel calls to check in at least twice a day. Hearing your voice and hearing you talk about the fun things you’ve done calms him, and reminds him why he works so hard.

You really don’t mind how overbearing Miguel can be, he makes you feel loved and safe.

Miguel loves to hear about your excursions throughout the day. You just got your hair done? be prepared to send him 100 pictures, and he will save every single one.

Seriously, his camera roll is just you.

You went shopping? He wants you to model everything you got, even if its just a bonnet.

He loves anything you do to your hair, whether its a sew-in, braids, or just cutting it all the way off. He’s so lovesick he would still look at you with heart eyes if you had a bowl cut.

Before he met you, Miguel would never leave his work under any circumstance. But on the days where you go to the salon and look so pretty, he couldn’t resist taking a long break just to see you in person. Of course your fresh hairstyle would be tousled and unkempt by the time he’s done showing his appreciation for your beauty.

When Miguel gets home, his full attention is on you.

He loves to come home to you, with your apron on, music playing and the wonderful smell of whatever you made him for dinner.

After showering and putting on cozy clothes, you two enjoy dinner and just talk about anything and everything. His eyes full of love and adoration as you tell a funny story about something that happened to you that day.

He always helps clean up after dinner, often splashing you with water of putting soap bubbles on your nose while washing dishes. He can only show this side of himself with you, and that’s why his love for you grows more and more each passing moment.

After dinner, you two normally unwind on your huge, comfy couch that he custom ordered just to be able to accommodate the both of you.

You two spend the evening cuddling and watching TV, with him pressing lingering kisses on your neck until he takes you into his huge arms and takes you to bed, where the night can continue ;)

A/N: feedback? requests? message me :)

#miguel x reader #miguel o'hara #miguel x you #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x black reader #spiderman x reader

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uranometrias · 8 days

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hello aly! 🤎 i saw that you were receiving requests and it's okay if i ask for something about hotch? 🥺 perhaps him falling in love with jack's art teacher, i'm in the mood for something really fluffy because i need comfort haha take care pretty soul!

this is such a sweet ask. and yes that's more than okay, you never have to ask xx it's kind of short, i hope it's still okay, i focused mainly on their first meeting, but i am open to writing more works for this universe.

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"Good morning, bud!" you don't have to fake excitement or enthusiasm as Jack Hotchner bounds into your classroom. You crouch, kneeling so that you're face to face with him, as he practically glows. His smile is so bright you fear you may have to squint as he's quick to jump into your arms, chubby little hands looping around your neck. You tried your best to make every single student that walked through your door feel welcome, but they all weren’t as agreeable as Jack Hotchner was.

The hug is comforting, sweet, and it reminds you why you got up every morning to work for less than you were worth. The joy you instilled in your kids made everything worthwhile. Jack pulls back after a moment, exclaiming that you were squeezing too tight. It makes you chuckle slightly as you brush a bit of stray lint off his shoulders. “Sorry, kiddo! You’re just too stinking cute.” You hum, and you enjoy this part of the job. You adored all of your students.

Hellos at the beginning of the day, and goodbyes as they poured out into the hallways to head to their next class. Specials at your school, which consisted of Art, Music, and Gym, happened on rotation. You had Jack’s class first period, four times out the week. His entire class though, had been angels. Through the year you'd only had about two incidents, and both included students fighting over who's turn it was on paint day. You finally let Jack go with one more squeeze.

He giggles, which is a tell that your hugs weren't all that bad. You're a bit startled when an unfamiliar man steps through the door behind him. He's wearing a collared button up, with jeans, and a matching belt. "Um, excuse me, Sir." you hold a hand up, quickly moving to usher Jack, and the other entering students away from the door. "You can't come in here." you affirm, and you look around to see if there was anything in your direct vicinity that could be used to attack.

You settle on a foam brush, clutching it by it's bristles, as you hold it out towards the man. "Stay back, or I'll-" you look down at the paint brush, and then back at the mystery assailant. "I'll use this, and you won't like it." you assert, and your students are giggling, seemingly amused by the situation. You don't see the humour in it. You'd met every single parent and guardian of your students, and this man had never been there. Which made him a flight risk, a danger.

"I think you've got the wrong idea." the man speaks, and his voice stands out. It's very stern, but not hostile. He has a commanding presence, and he seems to appraise you diligently. You take a look at your hand-print dress, and suddenly feel very childish. You loved your job, mostly because you could dress without much judgement. It wasn't like the kids were going to tell you that you looked childish.

"You can never be too careful." you retort sharply, and you readjust your grip on your paint brush. You hoped you looked a bit intimidating, but you wouldn't count on it. "And I don't see a visitor's badge." you add a second after. "Jack, come this way." you prompt, and he seems to stall. He looks from you to the man and back again. He was conflicted, for starters he had his father, his hero standing on one side. And you, his favorite teacher of all time on the other.

"Bye-bye, Daddy." and his choice is made, the small child waving his hand boldly before he's rushing off to his desk, and you're stuck. Aaron, is surprised. Eyes trailing after his son with that feeling every parent has when they realize their child is growing up. It forces a puff of air to escape him, as his eyes quickly flit back to you. His eyebrows raise, dark eyes swimming as realization sets in. Usually Jack was dropped off by his Aunt Jessica Brooks, she was a lovely lady.

She'd mentioned Jack's parental situation. How his mother had passed a few years back, and how his father had a demanding job. You'd given up on ever laying eyes on the man. "You're Mr..." you trail off as your voice cracks obnoxiously. "You're Jack's dad?" you ask, and he lets out a quiet laugh, one that's more a nose exhale than anything else. It's a fitting sort of laugh, you hardly expected the man to be the type to guffaw or even chuckle in an ugly sort of way.

"Not that you can tell by the way he took off." he retorts, and there's still an amusement that rests in his tone. "Aaron," he finally introduces. "Hotchner." he finishes, hand shooting out. It must have been habitual. You didn't know much about the FBI, but you did know that they were sticklers, stone serious. You'd done a project on greatest heroes, and Jack had managed a piece that consisted of a JJ, Prentiss, Garcia, Morgan, Rossi, and Reid. They'd been paired up with a piece that was solely his dad, his superhero. His favorite.

"I'm Jack's teacher." you introduce, as if that didn't go without saying. You reach forward with your free hand, allowing his palm to press against yours. His shake is firm, but you're surprised at how nice his hands feel. There's this spark, a feeling of lightning zigzagging from him to you, and it makes you leap back, paint brush clattering to the ground. The class seems to get lost in the mishap, watching with bated breath for what would possibly come next.

Aaron doesn't bat an eye as he bends down, crouching to pluck the brush up from the ground. He looks bemused, standing back to his full height as he holds your weapon of choice out towards you. "You should be more careful. It's a pretty dangerous weapon in the right hands." and he's making a joke. You find yourself gobsmacked, it was too much for him to be charismatic, and attractive. No, he had to pick one or the other. Still, you grab the brush, despite your fear of sparking again.

"You just got lucky you were vetted by the right kid." you offer your own sort of joke, and his smile makes you proud on the inside.

"I'm sorry for the late appearance." he changes the subject, but it doesn't feel forced or charged. "I meant to get here sooner so that I could lay eyes on Jack's favorite teacher..." you feel proud at the compliment. "You're all he talks about when his day is done." he adds, and you're turning to look at Jack. The kids were separated at their tables, multicolored smocks already on their bodies. They were more than ready for the day. "But as I'm sure you're aware, my job can sometimes keep that from happening." he says and you nod.

"Jess did mention you had a hectic schedule with your job, I understand." your hand waves tiredly, brushing off his apologies. You didn't need them, not when it was so clear that Jack adored his father. And it was more than clear that Jack was Aaron's world. "I'm just glad you finally got here." and you try not to sound as breathless as you feel. "It's important for teachers and parents to be on the same page." you prompt, and Aaron's head nods. You don't know if he really believes you or if it's all politics in a way.

"I couldn't have said it better myself." and he looks so sincere. He's staring at your face intently, and you feel self conscious, blinking too much to be normal. "You've got a little..." and he's motioning towards you. Mortification is the only thing you feel as you run through your morning routine. You'd scrubbed your tongue and teeth thrice before leaving the house. You'd cleaned out any evidence of sleep from your eyes, so what exactly could be out of order.

You swipe frantically at your face and nose, hoping it wasn't something that would make you look like a dunce or a fool in front of Aaron. He chuckles a bit as he extends a hand. "Uh, may I?" he asks, and you're nodding before you should be. It's almost instantaneous the way he's cupping your chin, tilting you head, and dragging his thumb over your cheek. He removes his hand a second later, you could almost pretend it didn't happen. That is, until he's swiping paint on his jeans. Damn, you were such an idiot.

You'd been prepping paint stations for your lesson on symbolism. You must have forgotten to clean up your face before the first bell rang signaling the day's beginning. "That's so embarrassing." you exclaim, and another student is entering the classroom, quickly hugging your side, as you offer an awkward wave to another parent. You squeeze the girl a bit, before she's bounding off to her seat.

"You know, I think it builds character." Aaron promises, and you snort. "Besides, it was kinda intimidating." he's lying, and you know it. He's trying to make you feel less shameful about it. "Anyone looking to mess with your class is in for it." and you're certain your face is visible exposing your humiliation, and subsequent embarrassment at the hands of one of your student's parent.

"Enough, enough." you plead, and here's where you get a full laugh. It's handsome just like everything else about him. "Your sarcasm's far from helpful." you huff, and you're dragging your hand over the same place he'd touched. It tingles as you drag your hands down, and you hope for your sanity Jess is back tomorrow. Garnering a foolish infatuation for your student was the last thing you wanted to happen.

"I'll do my best to keep that in mind for next time." he replies. The bell chirps overhead, a signal that class needed to begin. "Don't work too hard." he prompts, and your heart stutters in your chest. You feel like a fool, he was just being nice, a gentleman like his job required him to be.

"I'll try my best." you promise, and he smiles at you like he's pleased.

"I'll see you later, bud!" and he's addressing Jack, who ignores protocol. He bounds across the room to offer his dad a big hug, he squeezes him tight, Aaron hugging him back maybe tighter. It's sweet, but you feel like you're intruding.

"Say bye-bye to daddy, Miss L/N." Jack pleads, and you blink.

Bye daddy. And you scold your horrid mind. Jack's waiting expectantly, and it seems his father is as well.

"Goodbye, Mr. Hotchner." you huff out, and he's smirking.

"Goodbye, Miss L/N." he matches your exasperated tone. And then he's leaving, and you're heaving a sigh of relief. Jack's going back to his seat, face just as smug as it could be for someone his age. It takes you a second to float back to Earth, staring at the doorway like he'd come back, but he doesn't. You inhale sharply, good riddance. You shuffle slowly to the door, shutting it as you soon address your class.

"We're gonna talk about Symbolism today." you announce, and the kids who were far from listening finally take you in. "Does anyone want to take a guess as to what Symbolism is?" you question, and a flurry of hands shoot up in the air. There's one girl, little Mary, who looks like she's doing the pee pee dance as she tries to get you to choose her. So you do, "Go ahead and give it a shot, Mary."

"Miss L/N, are you gonna marry Jack's dad?"

Maybe today was the wrong day for paint and symbolism.

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snuggleboots · 10 months

Text

Akatsuki parents? Akatsuki parents.

because I like shoehorning my experiences into my ninja bullshit. Hope y'all enjoy my rambling. : )

Feat. Hidan, Kakuzu, Kisame, Itachi.

Hidan ends up a girl-dad, and a proud one at that, given your daughter is a complete fucking gremlin, just like him. An aggressive toddler that looks like a tiny little sweetheart, with chubby cheeks, gorgeous violet eyes framed by the prettiest eyelashes you'd ever seen, and hair that looks like a carbon copy of your own. Her little smiles are a mixed bag, and you never know whether to expect cute baby affection or chaos that no toddler her size should realistically be capable of bringing into existence.

Nobody expects it when she toddles on up, all tiny, squishy hands and 'awwww, hug?'s, only to turn on a dime and start biting, smacking, or pinching- all while wearing a huge grin that she must have inherited from her dad, or giggling like a squeaky hinge. Babysitters do not last, Hidan finds absolutely nothing more hilarious than seeing another one leave haggard and never pick up jobs from either of you again.

She's a natural climber, knows no fear, and loves nothing more than climbing up onto the back of the couch and waiting. 'Oh no, 'M stuck!' is a goddamn trap. It took a couple pint-sized ambushes, wherein she lunges, catches some serious air, and rams into you or Hidan at full force to learn that lesson. Your natural state becomes STRESSED. Hidan, on the other hand? Constantly entertained. That little girl can do literally no wrong, because, shit, she's just emulating her dad, obviously.

If it's possible for a toddler to be sarcastic, she is, and it's only ever when she's using her manners. One tiny little eyebrow cocked, a crooked smile and cooed, 'Oh, nooo. So-orry!' Hidan has literally cried from laughing so hard, until she turned it on him. One big, angry bitemark on his forearm later, and those tittering giggles and 'Uh-oh, you o'tay? Uh-oh!' felt just a little more irritating than when they were directed towards you. He's even less impressed when you're laughing right alongside your little devil-child.

Older kids tried, once, to pick on the little girl who laughed too loud and played too hard. Unfortunately for them, she's always had a set of lungs and knew damn well how to use them. One blood-chilling shriek- not because she's hurt, but because she knew he'd hear, and haha, there's dad. Big, fat crocodile tears, a quivering pout and squeaky, 'Oh, no!' and it was game on.

Hidan doesn't give a fuck how old a snot-nosed shithead might be, his bullying is indiscriminate and he's had far longer to refine his insults than they have. She's rarely bullied, because word spreads and it's hard for a kid to bounce back from such heated and targeted shit-talk, even harder to bounce back when they watch some whooping, laughing maniac beat the shit out of their dad for trying to step in. You were only slightly surprised, and a little concerned when your little gremlin laughed and squealed over the playground dad on dad beatdown.

Deidara drops by from time to time, and he seems to have as much fun wrangling your tiny little hellion as Hidan does. He doesn't mind the fact that she can be aggressively playful, and takes absolute delight in the way her eyes go wide and shine with awe when he shows off his art. She's fascinated by his hair, and you find some remarkable moments of quiet and peace when she's perched on the couch with him on the floor, her chubby fingers toying with and carding through the golden mane that's somehow smoother and shinier than silk. If he minds the fact that she essentially pets him like a cat, he certainly doesn't mention it. 'Awww! So sof', so sof'.' Between Deidara and Hidan's high energy capacity for mischief, his visits always end up with your daughter properly knackered, and mercifully tame for the rest of the day.

Kakuzu didn't want kids the same way a dad doesn't want the dog his kids inevitably end up bringing home. You two ended up with a daughter, and at some point, somehow, someway, he became begrudgingly attached and takes over everything surrounding that little baby. Maybe it was the fact that when he looks into her eyes, he sees a soft, sweet mirror of his own, moss-green eyes that haven't yet seen the horrors of the world and the awful things that wait within it. Either way, the most miniscule part of him that can still feel love does, and every ounce of it belongs to her. You have your share, but you know that his daughter put the moon and the stars in his sky again.

Your full-time job becomes raising her, the little lady that sees the world with his eyes and speaks remarkably well for a tiny toddler her age. There's not a snowball's chance in hell that he'd trust some random to watch over his girl. You're just lucky that she's an honest delight to raise, although that might be your own bias talking. Kakuzu does a lot of reading with her, and it's almost comical to see a man like him drawling and grumbling through a ten-paged book about a little pig's wild adventures in kindness.

When Kakuzu's balancing books in the evening and she can't sleep, she always seems to find her way to the kitchen table where the old bounty hunter is pouring over expenses and budgets. Tiny fingers count on an abacus while he counts stacks of green, and when he loses count because she's quietly chatting away to the walls and the table and his ears when they listen, he can't even find it in himself to be upset. Not when those pretty eyes turn their gaze to him and she bids her sweet 'uh oh, sorry papa'. For all his power, he can be weak in those moments that make his heart just a little happier.

Innocent, and unacquainted with the temper that almost defines him as a man, she isn't afraid of him, she isn't afraid of him, she isn't afraid of him. Never had she, nor will she ever bear witness to the ugly, vicious face of his short-fuse and hellfire wrath.

That sweet little girl is spoiled, and that's only because she never seems to ask for anything herself. So polite, for one so small. When little green eyes sparkle because they fell upon a pretty dress, a toy, a book that has her oohing and ahhing, a little cup that has a straw 'oh, wow!' and a cute little pig printed on the plastic 'ohh! a piggy! haha, oink oink!' - who is he to turn his head and leave it at that?

She could ask for the moon, and it would be all he could do to bid a slow, pensive nod and murmured assurance, 'It only sits in the sky for you.'

Hidan is a frequent and uninvited visitor, and while normally you'd find that to be cause for concern it's quickly proven pointless to worry given the fact that if Kakuzu isn't grouching him under control, your daughter has a hilarious talent for putting him in his place. Seeing the zealot sat on your couch, being prodded and chided by a girl less than half his size is certainly a sight to behold; hearing her tut and chastise him in a way she must have learned from her dad for putting his feet on the coffee table, shoes on the couch, or his drink on the side table without a coaster is absolutely hysterical. 'Stains are 'spensive! Feet down!'

Kakuzu's sweet little mini-me: breathes

Kakuzu:

Kisame takes on the dad role like he was born for it, after a small period of adjustment. You two end up having a boy and a girl, and he's practically putty in their little hands. Your boy is huge, had been since he was a baby - which is natural, Hoshigaki kids are just... big, generally. Your girl caught both of you off guard, only because she's so tiny. The sibling dynamic is chaos, but a warm one that always seems to leave Kisame cackling or grinning over something ridiculous those two end up getting into.

Your boy is like a walking clone of his dad, and even as a little boy he's already standing as tall as your ribs. Slate-blue hair as soft as cornsilk, teeth that make you grateful he was never a biter, and little gills bracketing his throat. Soft-spoken, a little shy outside of his parents, and constantly looking to wrestle and play. If you're doing something, he's a guaranteed little helper - he likes to help with cooking when you let him. If his baby sister is getting into trouble, he's either helping her do it to make sure she's safe, or he's the one carrying a kicking, griping toddler to one of you two to handle. Yeah, he's a bit of a narc- but it's always for a good cause. He's a fretful big brother.

Your girl is probably the most precious little baby you'd ever met, and Kisame is quite literally helpless against her doe-eyes and deceptively sweet, cheery little voice. Where her brother is quiet, she is loud; where he's happier to follow the rules and keep out of trouble, she's a born rule-breaker that finds boundaries just to test them. When you stumble upon her in the midst of some suspiciously quiet, pint-sized anarchy, she always manages to look surprised that you ever caught her in the first place. She looks like you, if you were knee-height and sporting tiny little daggers for teeth and gills on your cheekbones. Kisame blames you entirely for her gremlin personality.

Kisame does not discipline unless he needs to, because he feels awful when big, sweet baby eyes look at him with complete betrayal that he dared to tell them no, or stop them from pulling off some kind of crazy baby scheme that would make your hair grey from stress. Quivering pouts or teary eyes and he's gotta tap out.

Babysitters adore your kids when they behave, but Kisame vets any you hire thoroughly because he's more than a little protective of his babes. It's like they're each a half of his heart living outside his body and he honestly struggles to manage the overwhelming love and affection they pump into his veins every day. He could, and gladly would break fingers over something as minute as hurt feelings.

You hold the sole rights to discipline outside the house, too. If either of your ankle-biters act out their mischief in public, and someone tries to step up and throw in their two cents, Kisame's massive silhouette and mean, sawtooth grin are very effective deterrents.

Itachi is a semi-frequent visitor, and both of your children love him fiercely. You're half-convinced that he has some kind of Uchiha magnetism, given the fact that he'd won over not one, but three Hoshigaki by the sheer power of his quiet, soothing presence. Kisame takes great amusement in watching your little lady climb all over the poor man, and your son sidle up beside him with his favourite book to chat his ear off about the adventures that lay within it. Itachi, to his credit, never ever seems to mind the undivided attention of the lively gilled babes.

Kisame, and his pint-sized sidekick: getting into Hoshigaki-brand bullshit

You, with your sweet little chore buddy: > : ( no- one hundred times, no!

Kisame, and his tiny co-maker of mayhem: betrayed, bamboozled, and somehow? positively shocked that you found out

Itachi slips seamlessly into a domestic role, despite how long he'd been absent from one. Childrearing almost seems like his god-given purpose in life once he actually sets himself to it, and the second you two brought home your cooing, burbling baby it was on. He's happy, grateful to stay home and take care of your son, tend to the home and make your transition back to work as smooth of a process as possible.

It's an all-too common scene to come home and find the Uchiha at task in the kitchen, tending to a meal simmering on the stove while your squishy, pudgy-cheeked and sleepy eyed boy perched on his hip with a tenderness that makes your heart hurt. Even as a clumsy little toddler, he's never found very far from his dad. If Itachi is cleaning, there's his little mini-me, trying to help and earning gentle encouragement and a soft, fond smile for his efforts.

Honestly, your little guy is the most well-mannered, well-adjusted, well-spoken toddler you've ever met. He genuinely likes to help, to the point that it sometimes becomes a problem because he's very determined when there's any little problem set out in front of him. At the park, playing with other little babes, he's more concerned with making sure everyone's playing fair and playing safe than he is about actually having any fun himself. He's a bit of a worrywart for someone his age, and half the time it feels like he's the self-appointed tiny guardian of his friend group. Someone trips and skins a knee? 'Are you okay? We can sit down for a little. It's okay.' A born father, is your Itachi.

Who, for a man so reserved and soft-spoken, is hellbent on making sure his son has the most peaceful, memorable childhood he can possibly offer. Not a day is wasted in your household, even a lazy day is an opportunity to make memories and spend some honest, quality time with the people he loves most. You three can cook meals together, with your boy set to work at taste-testing and mixing ingredients under the quiet, watchful eye of his dad. He never wants for encouragement, love, affection, or little things that catch his eye; it would be wrong to call him spoiled, because he isn't, but there is little he wants that he doesn't receive.

Your secondary job is bullying Itachi into taking a day to relax and unwind, because although your son is essentially the perfect child, it's still a lot of work to raise him. Even when you're the primary parent on those days off, he's never far away, and always finding sneaky ways to slip back into dad-mode rather than actually relax. Half the time it takes you putting your son on the job of wrangling his dad just to make the man sit down, crack open a book and let himself just be. That typically entails your little boy gently chiding his father in a way you're certain he learned from the Uchiha himself- and god, it makes your heart melt. 'No, no. Gotta have your tea, it's gonna get cold', 'Sit, sit, sit. Sometimes we need to sit, papa. Gotta rest!'

Kisame loves to visit, he makes that fact no secret. For a man so massive, so intimidating, he handles your boy like glass- as if he's afraid a little rough play might break him. And your son, always as sweet as he is smart, adores the company. His questions know no limits, and he's a clever little babe about getting answers without actually asking questions. 'Can we go swimming? You must swim fast- can you swim under water? I can hold my breath longer than you can.' You once got to watch the boy perched at the end of a dock for half an hour, holding a staring contest with the swordsman who'd been stubbornly sat at the bottom of the lake's shallows for at least half an hour. That thoroughly entertained grin on the swordsman's face when he flared his gills told you he knew what exactly your boy was so curious about when he'd challenged him in the first place.

#kakuzu #hidan #kisame #itachi #naruto scenarios #naruto imagines #kakuzu x reader #kisame x reader #hidan x reader #naruto x reader #itachi x reader #i'm sorry but kakuzu as a dad specifically is my favourite #kisame as a dad and/or an uncle is ALSO my favourite i can't help it #kisame hoshigaki #itachi uchiha #kisame hates hiring babysitters and has no shame in offering to call itachi - you try to persuade him not to because itachi's a busy guy #kisame doesn't even have the courtesy to look sheepish when he tells you he'd already called him over to watch the kids for the night #'he's practically their uncle- sweetheart he LIKES watching 'em. it's fine! it's really fine!'#househusband itachi who brings his son along when it's time to go babysit the hoshigaki babes #'is it really work if it's essentially a playdate?' 'yes - and i'd like to pay for the trouble' 'you consider your children trouble?'#'...shut up and TAKE my MONEY PLEASE'

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cool-fancier · 7 months

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Cherries of Mystery

Synopsis: Fans were left in a state of speculation as you and Bada subtly hinted to your relationship on Instagram with cryptic cherry-themed posts. You two took joy in the anticipation as fans analysed every aspect, knowing that the cherry symbols meant for your humble and wonderful love for one another.

Even the slightest actions can excite fans in the world of social media and K-pop idols. Keeping your relationship a secret had become somewhat of an art form for you, a famous K-pop idol, and Bada, her equally famous choreographer and secret girlfriend.

You made the choice to have some fun one nice afternoon by subtly hinting at their relationship on Instagram. You uploaded a picture of yourself with a sneaky, amusing grin on your lips and said, "Lips taste like cherry." You and Bada were making a small inside joke, so it was meant to be mysterious.

Bada, who was aware of the situation, couldn't help but chuckle when she read your post. She made the decision to join in and start her own rumour. Bada took a photo of herself with a cherry-flavored lip balm, the brightly coloured container shining in the dim light. With the caption "Trying out some new lip products today! 🍒💄 #CherryKiss #NewFavorites," she posted the photo to Instagram.

Fans started making connections in only a few minutes. Comments began to flood in on both of their posts.

@Y/NLoveNotes:"Did anyone else notice that they both posted something about cherries today? 👀"

@BadaDanceLovers: "I smell a conspiracy here! 🕵️‍♀️"

@DancingLovebirds: "OMG, my shipper heart can't take this. Are they trying to tell us something?"

@BadaxY/NAdmirers:"I'm convinced there's more to this cherry story! spill the tea, queens!"

As fans examined every aspect of the posts in an effort to figure out the secret message, the interest and excitement reached an all-time high. Even if it was vague, the cherry symbolism was enough to spark their imaginations. It was a clever method for you and Bada to tease fans without drawing attention to your relationship.

The cherry-themed mystery held fans attention throughout the day on social media pages. They investigated Bada's and your posts more and more, getting more and more engrossed in the puzzle.

@BadaEnthusiasts:"Okay, hear me out. What if 'lips taste like cherry' means they've been kissing? 👄🍒"

@BadaSecretAdmirers:"I see you with that theory, but what about Bada's lip balm pic? Is she hinting that she tasted cherries too?"

@Y/NMagicFans:"This is like a K-pop Da Vinci Code. I'm invested!"

You and Bada, meantime, found the fan theories and the amount of attention their posts were getting to be very amusing. You had a nice laugh over the situation in a private.

You: "Babe, it seems like they've onto us. The cherry game is strong."

"Haha, we're turning into quite the mystery queens," said Bada.

You: "But seriously, I really like how they're enjoying themselves. And they have no idea how much fun we're having too!"

Bada: "Our secret is safe, and they're none the wiser."

The mystery behind your and Bada's cherry-themed social media posts only grew as the days went by. Fans couldn't resist acting as amateur investigators in an effort to unravel the meaning of these cryptic messages.

@Badaismine:"Okay, guys, new theory! What if they're just messing with us? Maybe there's no hidden meaning at all!"

@Y/Nwife:"But why the sudden cherry obsession? There's gotta be something more."

@Bada_isY/nwife:"I heard they're working on a new project together. Maybe it's related?"

The speculation ranged from the plausible to the utterly fantastical, and you and Bada couldn't help but smile at the frenzy you had unintentionally created.

You say, "Babe, our cherry posts are the talk of the town!"

Bada: "I find it unbelievable that they are still trying to solve it. It's just too much fun."

You: "Should we drop a hint for them? Or do we let them keep guessing?"

Bada: "Let's keep the mystery alive a bit longer. We'll watch to see how inventive they can be."

And so, the cherry-themed mystery continued to swirl in the K-pop fandom. Every aspect of your and Bada's posts relating to cherries was argued, theorised about, and examined by fans. Was it a humorous tease, a sign of their secret love, or just a joke between them?

The cherry saga was not resolved as the weeks passed. The real significance of those cherry posts may never be revealed to the public, but Bada and You understood that they stood for your love, which was sweet and unassuming like the cherries yourself. That was ultimately all that mattered to you both.

#bada lee x reader #bada lee #swf2 #swf2 x reader #bebe #bada lee fanfic #bada lee x oc #bada lee x y/n #street woman fighter 2 #street woman fighter x reader

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angellayercake · 29 days

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The (very unsexy) Adventures of Secondo and Snowbell

aka four times Secondo was cockblocked by Snowbell and one time he wasn't 🙃

HAPPY BIRTHDAY @tasty-ribz!!!!!!

I hope you have the best day Ribzy because you deserve it! You are one of my favourite people in the whole world and you are going to accept being spoiled today because you are actually the sweetest and I feel so very lucky to be your friend 💜 I hope you don't mind me repurposing this art because it was what inspired this idea to begin with. So art, Snowbell and Secondo all belong to @tasty-ribz. If you would like to read the origins of Snowbell you can here and she features in Ribz' art here

NSFW | Papa Emeritus II x Reader | 4100 words

warnings: sexting, nudes, fingering, oral sex, pinv sex, orgasm denial(HAHA)

‘I miss you amore mio.’

‘I miss you too Papa.’

He drops his phone onto his chest with a huff. You were visiting your family for the holidays. It was only a week and yet he felt like he had lost an arm. This was not the first time you had spent a few days apart but usually it was him leaving the Abbey the two of you call home. He still missed you then of course but he was usually busy with endless duties and meetings and the time would pass in a blink of an eye until he was once again with you.

But this time, he was the one left at home and he missed you every moment of every day. He missed your kisses over breakfast, catching your smile across the Abbey as you go about your day, your warm body curled in his arms every night. And he was not the only one missing you terribly. At first, little Snowbell had decided it was his fault you had gone. It almost broke his heart the way she would perk up every time someone came to his office only to glare at him balefully when the person who entered was anyone but you. But within a day she seemed to be fearing he would disappear too, refusing to settle anywhere but his lap during the day and fussing about being returned to her cage in his office, until he gave up and brought her back to his rooms. Her tactic seemed to be to stay as close to him as physically possible so he could not leave her even going as far as trying to follow him to the bathroom.

He scratches at her fluffy head where she is curled up next to him on the sofa when his phone vibrates again. The chat with you is still open when he lifts it but as soon as he registers the photo he had just received it slips from his grasp and he has to fight the urge to cover Snowbell’s eyes. Instead he scoots her off the sofa, gently but firmly enough that she thumps with her back foot in annoyance before hopping away to the small bed you had set up for her in his bedroom.

Sure that she was far enough away he gingerly picks up the phone and indulges in the pulse of arousal your message inspires. He is hardening in his sweatpants embarrassingly quickly but he shoves that thought aside as he hurriedly shoves his pants down so he can give you his full attention. The picture is gorgeous, you spread out on a bed in his favourite barely there lingerie looking into the camera with a sultry expression.

‘Amore mio, you make me want to drop everything and run to you,’ he types one handed, not willing to relent his steady stroking. He watches the three dots at the bottom of the screen pulse, his anticipation growing. When your message final comes through he can’t suppress the groan as he takes in your second picture. It is a close up of your face pouting in the way that would have him unable to resist kissing you if you were in front of him.

‘What about you Papa? How much are you missing me?’ You type just underneath. While sending naughty photos is not exactly new to him it is new to your relationship, but he is nothing if not a gentleman. He is not going to leave his lady hanging especially with all the effort she has gone to. He opens the camera up and adjusts himself slightly for the best lighting, he wants you to be able to see exactly how worked up you have him. Maybe it will even encourage you home quicker.

Just as he is about to snap the picture all the air is forced out of him when a heavy weight suddenly lands on his stomach. Gasping for air he blinks at his phone and instead of seeing his erect cock on display he sees the unimpressed face of his rabbit staring back at him. Casting his phone aside he lets go of his dick like it were on fire, quickly pulling up his pants while Snowbell hops up his chest.

‘Well Coniglietto, you have certainly ruined the mood,’ he tells her with a sigh as she nibbles on his nose. His erection has well and truly flagged so when his phone buzzes again he knows he has to show you exactly what happened. Maybe the sight of your unimpressed fluffy child will work even better then a picture of his dick. Quickly, noticing your second message containing only question marks, he sends the photo. Snowbell is covering everything you may have wanted to see but it is more than obvious the activity he had been engaging in before his interruption.

‘I am afraid someone decided they missed you even more,’ he types underneath, hoping you will not be too disappointed but when his phone almost instantly buzzes with a video call request he knows it is fine.

‘Well hello…’ he starts before you cut him off.

‘Show me our baby girl please?’ He grumbles with pretend annoyance but switches the camera, relaxing as he listens to your happy cooing.

●○●○●○●○●

‘Sec…’ He manages to cut you off mid moan, capturing the sounds of your pleasure with a deep kiss so your hiding place would not be discovered. All day you had been on his mind, not that that wasn’t the case every day but today you had been especially distracting. You had risen early and while he had enjoyed sleepily watching you prepare for the day the call of a few hours more sleep had won out over ravishing you against your vanity. But those lustful thoughts had twisted their way into his dreams so when he had finally dragged himself out of bed a few hours later he had found himself burning with need while you were already hard at work. So when he chanced upon you in the corridor later that day, a day which had been filled with his heated imaginings, he couldn’t even wait long enough to take you back to his office. Not when there was a conveniently shadowy alcove just a few feet away.

You put up no fight, giggling sweetly as he manhandled you into the semi secluded space. His urgency must have been written all over his face as you asked no questions accepting his kisses with a pleasured sigh. To his ever present surprise you were as enamoured by him as he so obviously was by you, always able to break through his stoic exterior. You were so precious to him and he was overtaken with the need to show you. He wanted to make you cum on his fingers so with little preamble he sought out your core neglecting even to remove his gloves first. When his fingers don’t meet your warm wet heat he hastily pulled his hand free of your trousers, biting at the finger of his glove to free himself. He almost gets distracted by the traces of your taste against the leather but he spits them onto the floor quickly as soon as he realises he needs his mouth to swallow your beautiful sounds.

He teases at your clit, circling with the tips of his fingers until you are gasping into his mouth before sinking deeper but just as he is about to breach your entrance a terrified shout echoes through the corridor, coming from his office. You jump apart looking at each other in shock for a moment before rushing from your hiding place in time to see a white streak dashing down the corridor and around the corner followed by Terzo. He looks at you, blinking slowly in shock before you both take off running after them. Rounding the corner all he can see is Terzo bent double leaning against the wall.

‘Where is Snowbell? What did you do?’ He points at his brother accusingly. Terzo straightens up struggling to catch his breath and holds his hand up in front of him.

‘She bit me!’ He says indignantly, making Secondo scoff as you take his proffered hand in yours. He watches impatiently as you check his finger, finding the hole in his glove, the usually pristine white faintly dotted with red. The nip is barely visible, the glove taking most of the damage so Secondo can’t bring himself to care, much more concerned about the whereabouts of his rabbit.

‘You probably deserved it you stronzo! What were you doing?’ He has to fight off the urge to shake him when he doesn’t answer straight away.

‘I was waiting for you in your office,’ he begins to explain. ‘And you were taking forever.’ He gestures dramatically, unnecessarily elongating the word. ‘So I thought I would say hello to Snowbell but when I opened the cage she. Bit. ME!’ He waves his injured finger in Secondos face but he just bats it aside.

‘And then you must have scared her with all your shouting!’ He can’t help raising his voice as he gets more and more worried. They need to find her so he begins looking around the immediate area hoping she might just be hiding nearby.

‘Stop both of you,’ you say firmly, managing to keep calm despite the situation. ‘She has got out before, we know where she usually likes to go so let’s split up and check there first.’ He is so grateful for your level headedness. You are right, he knows that but he can’t help the panic starting to claw at him and he can see it in Terzo’s face as well underneath all the bluster. What if something happened to her?

‘Terzo could you check the window seats outside the library please? She likes to lay there in the sun so she may have gone there. I will check the kitchens in case she has gone looking for food. Secondo, you know how much she likes visiting Copia and his rats so you check his office.’ With only a nod you all go your separate ways. Your heart breaks a little sending him off by himself but you know that Copia will help calm him while you look. You hurry towards the kitchens, eyes darting from side to side checking every possible hiding place for a rabbit.

You reach the kitchen quickly with no sign of her but you sense you are on the right track when you find the little door to the kitchen garden open. Thankfully, between yourself and Primo you had made sure the walled vegetable garden had been entirely rabbit proofed so Snowbell would be safe on her usually supervised adventures outside. You search methodically through the raised beds, around the green houses, the dense herb garden and the small orchard but she is nowhere to be found. Your sense of calm is slipping away with every place she is not until you reach the ramshackle shed tucked away in the far corner. Princess’ Palace says the sign nailed to the slightly ajar door and you are almost certain you have found the runaway rabbit.

Princess is Terzo’s half feral cat. He had found her in this very shed almost twenty years ago as a small and very unwell kitten.and carefully nursed her back to health until she had been strong enough and old enough to look after herself. She preferred to roam the grounds avoiding most of the inhabitants of the abbey only tempted inside to lounge in front of the fire in Terzo’s quarters or chase some of the mice that also made the abbey their home. But since Snowbell’s arrival she had also been visiting Secondo’s office striking up an unexpected friendship between them.

You open the door slowly and breathe a sigh of relief when you see them. You pull out your phone trying to make no sudden movements that might disrupt them and take a photo to send to both Secondo and Terzo. Snowbell or the round ball of white fluff cuddled up with Princess you assume is Snowbell begins to shift, sensing your presence so after sending off the message you put your phone away and scoop her into your arms. You offer Princess a quick scratch to the head when she blinks open one bright green eye at you, probably annoyed you are taking away her nice warm napping mate. She stretches her legs before curling back in on herself and resuming her nap.

‘Come on now,’ you whisper against Snowbell’s soft head as you close the door to the shed and make your way back across the garden. ‘Let’s get you back to your Papa before he tries to kill your Uncle.’

●○●○●○●○●

Your mouth! He could never quite believe how good it felt when you took him in your mouth. It was obscene the way your lips stretched around him as you sunk down his length, taking as much of him as you could. He could watch you do this for hours, but not today. Currently you were under his desk, your lunch plans derailed when you realised how stressed he was. He had back to back meetings all day and he still had a mountain of paperwork to sort through but nothing would have stopped him from making time for your standing lunch date. You always brought him something directly from the kitchens when he didn’t have the time to leave his office and today has been no different. At least until you had sunk down to your knees in front of him and offered to help him relax before his busy afternoon.

It was an offer he couldn’t refuse considering the frankly embarrassing amount of times he had fantasised about you in exactly this position. He gently slides his fingers into your hair to support your head when he can’t resist shallowly thrusting into your mouth. You were so perfect for him, taking all of him so well. You gaze up at him with your eyes so full of care that he has to look away before the vision and the sensations overwhelmed him. And that was his big mistake.

He doesn’t focus at first, staring blankly across his office, still stuck on the vision of his lips around his cock but when you pull back to breath and lavish attention on the head he blinks back to the present and instantly locks eyes with Snowbell. The world narrows down for a second as he stares at her, feeling like the worst man in the world for getting a blowjob in front of his rabbit. Then you sink back down his length, taking him all the way to the base and he snaps out of it.

He tips his head back staring up at the ceiling as he tries to rationalise allowing you to continue. You are behind the desk so she can’t possibly see you and she is a rabbit! She has no idea what a blowjob is. And you feel so damn good. He drops his chin to his head allowing himself to look at you again but he still manages to catch sight of Snowbell sitting in her cage as he goes. His erection flags almost instantly despite your best efforts and you pull away looking up at him in concern and he has to bury his face in his hands.

‘Papa?’ Your voice is filled with worry. ‘Secondo what is the matter?’ He has to explain before you think there is actually something seriously wrong but he is suddenly overwhelmed with the absurdity of the situation he has found himself in. A laugh bubbles up in his chest that he doesn’t bother to repress as he tucks himself away and smoothes down his robes before taking your hands in his.

‘Amore, you are perfect as always,’ he starts trying his best to reassure you. ‘But, fool as I am, I looked away from you and found that our Coniglietto was watching.’ You peer over the desk behind you and see that she is in fact still watching and joins him in his mirth. Your soft giggles almost as much of a stress relief for him as your sweet mouth had been.

‘I do have another idea on how to relieve your stress Papa,’ you say as he helps you to your feet. You go to the cage, open it and scoop the inquisitive rabbit into your arms bringing her back with you. Instead of settling back in your seat though you continue around to his side of the desk but he only raises an eyebrow in question. ‘And much more bunny appropriate too.’ You seat yourself sideways in his lap, allowing Snowbell to snuggle between you. With a soft sigh you settle against his chest, stroking gently down Snowbell’s back and as he wraps his arms around you both he thinks you might be onto something.

●○●○●○●○●

At times like these he could easily be convinced the breathing was not actually a necessity. With the sounds of your pleasure ringing in his ears and the taste of you on his tongue who could argue that his need for oxygen was more important. That being said he greedily sucks in air when you ease up, looking down at him as you scratch your nails over his scalp. As soon as he has had his fill though he grips your hips firmly, encouraging you to continue riding his face. Your body jolts when your clit grinds against his nose just the way he knows you like and he moans as he laps at your juices as if it were the only thing that might quench his thirst.

Today wasn’t exactly anything special except for the fact that both of you were completely free. No meetings, no appointments and no obligations. Even Snowbell was spending the day with her Uncle Primo which meant he had you entirely to himself and he intended to make the most of it. He had risen early and made you breakfast in bed to begin your perfect day off right and as you were lying in bed together feeding each other fruits and pastries you had decided that neither of you would be leaving his rooms today. After getting up you had watched some telly, just basking in each other's presence until things had inevitably turned heated.

He can feel your body tensing as you near your peak when a series of loud bangs echo through his quarters causing you both to freeze. You start to pull away, moving to climb off of him but he stills you with his firm grip.

‘Amore, ignore it,’ he says between kissing and sucking at your sensitive inner thighs before you relent, eager for him to finish what he started. Just when you find your rhythm the bangs come again, the noise so jarring in the intimate relaxed atmosphere the two of you had built.

‘It must be important,’ you say reluctantly, pulling away once more but he will not relinquish you.

‘Nothing is more important to me than making you cum,’ he growls into your centre, proving his point with a broad lick from your entrance to your clit which he sucks on obscenely and you couldn’t possibly argue with his determination. At least until you hear even louder, BANG, BANG BANG!

‘Secondo if you do not open this door right NOW, I will be making rabbit stew for my dinner!’ You both scramble up from the sofa as soon as you realise it is Primo at the door, rushing to pull on clothes and make yourselves presentable in between exchanging worried glances. You had never heard him so angry before and you were nervous to find out what could have made him so mad. And what it had to do with Snowbell. You both pause at the door, sharing one last look before you swing it open to reveal a flustered looking primo holding a distinctly purple rabbit.

‘Primo,’ Secondo greets him with confusion taken aback by the scene before him. ‘We were not expecting you so soon,’ he hesitates. ‘And what have you done to Snowbell?’

‘Me?’ If steam could come out of his ears it is possible that would be what was happening right now as he looked at you both indignantly. ‘What have I done? Fratellino, the question you should be asking is what has she done?’ He holds her out to you a clear enough demand and she quickly snuggles into your chest when you take her blinking up at you with sad eyes.

‘She ate all my red cabbages!’ He fumes at his brother. ‘Not one is without a nibble!’

‘Oh Snowbell,’ you scold her gently, tapping her nose before stroking at her stained fur. ‘That’s not very nice.’

‘I will replace your cabbages Primo.’ He would like to point out to his brother that perhaps he shouldn’t have let a rabbit have free reign in his cabbage patch but he doubts the ensuing argument would be worth it but there is certainly one thing he must insist on. ‘But I think you owe Snowbell an apology.’ You look back and forth between the two brothers engaging in some kind of stubborn staring contest.

‘I … well, si.’ He turns to Snowbell and bows down to her level. ‘My apologies Snowbell. I would never put you in a stew coniglietto. But your Papa needs to teach you some manners if you want to come in my garden again,’ and with one last glare at Secondo he turns on his heel and storms away, presumably to salvage what he can from his cabbage patch.

‘I think we better go run someone a bath,’ You say as you both look down at the stained bunny blinking up at you innocently.

●○●○●○●○●

You flop back onto the bed before he has even had the chance to put down your bags and he takes a moment to watch you starfish on the luxurious sheets, his fondness for you warming his chest. In his mind at least, he had been planning this trip since you had agreed to be his. You both had arrived in Italy a few hours before, taking the scenic route to your hotel so he could begin to show you some of the sights. He was as excited to share his home town with you as he was to share everything else.

He was happy, more than he could ever remember being and it was almost entirely down to you, and of course Snowbell. As much as his favourite ball of fluff tests his patience he knows that without her he might have none of this. Following that train of thought makes his heart pang with guilt, having to leave her behind to have this holiday even if he knows she has been left in safe hands. Copia was the only person he had trusted to look after her for any length of time and he had already sent updates reassuring them that she was faring well in their absence. You must sense his train of thought because you gesture for him to lie beside you, shuffling over to make room.

‘Missing her already?’ You ask softly, wrapping your arm around his waist and pulling him closer.

‘It is silly, I know…’ he starts but she shushes him with a finger to his lips.

‘It isn’t silly at all.’ You replace your finger with a chaste kiss. ‘I miss her too. But that doesn’t make me any less happy to be here with you.’ You always say exactly the right thing to make him feel better. He chases your lips then eager to deepen your kisses. Any tiredness from your travels is replaced by the slow simmering heat of desire that he has only known since being with someone who understands him so well.

You undress each other slowly, no need to rush when you both feel like the only two people in the world. He needs to feel his skin against yours, your physical closeness matching how he feels about you right now. You roll on top of him, caging him in with your arms and as he enters you he pulls you impossibly closer until it feels like there isn’t even room for air between you. You rock together perfectly in sync, gasping into each other's mouths even as your kisses turn sloppy. He breaks from you for just a moment.

‘I love you amore,’ he whispers against your lips.

‘I love you too Secondo.’ Your smile was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen and he wished he could dedicate forever to making you this happy. He couldn’t guarantee forever, usually he couldn’t even guarantee an uninterrupted ten minutes, but he could have right now.

●○●○●○●○●

Love you Ribzy and a fancy british audio fic version will be recorded for you at some point in the future. I will even practice so I don't laugh through the smut this time 😁

#HAPPY BIRTHDAY RIBZZZZ #papa emeritus ii x reader #secondo x reader #the band ghost fic #my writing

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sporesgalaxy · 3 months

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I know this is something u were probably asked before but as the guy that has a good relationship with art....how do you do that??? I mean I get that this question is vague but how do you not care if it looks bad? Do you just?? Keep on going till it looks like you want it to look? Despite the agonies? You seem like you enjoy talking abt this thats why im asking, dont feel the need to answer if u dont wanna

hmmmm. You know, I don't think about the agonies much these days. But it's not that I don't care. I guess I've become a freak who sees beauty in the agonies, sorta? It's kind of complicated! I will do my best to explain!

First of all, I know that I have the unfair advantage of having no ambition. I don't have a goal for my art besides making art when I feel like it. That makes it easy to be less judgemental-- I remember having a rockier relationship to my own art during the time when I thought I would make it my career.

This is why I like talking about my perspective, though!! I think it's important to try not to let yourself be consumed by self-criticism as an artist, even if self-criticism is necessary for you, and hopefully my carefree way of looking at things can help balance things out haha.

Anyways, ambition or not-- and I know how this sounds but bear with me-- art doesn't ever look bad.

(Barring ethically harmful art, ugh, I don't want to get into ethics so just-- surely you know what I mean!!!)

Art gets a lot less stressful if you can tell yourself that no art is bad, and remember the reasoning behind that until you really believe it. It isn't a fast process, but it's very worth the work.

The truth is that art either looks how you want it to look, or it looks different from the way you want it to look, but both are ultimately neutral. You CAN make art that looks different from what you wanted, that you still feel pleased with.

When art looks different from how you wanted, the gut reaction you have is often to call it bad or get frustrated. And of course it's frustrating! Maybe you feel it's not as effective at communicating something as you'd hoped, or you feel it's not as visually impactful as you imagined...but it's important to remember those things are only your perception. Not an objective fact. And art is a two-way street! A communication between creator and observer! And communication is really weird and complicated.

•••

Other people's perception of your work won't ever be exactly the same as yours. Sometimes this is desireable and sometimes it isn't! Maybe your art will communicate the thing better to someone than anything they've ever seen-- even if a more effective version could theoretically exist, the "imperfect" version that actually exists and communicates is all that matters to the observer. Or, maybe a feature that turned out exactly how you wanted it to will fly completely over an observer's head, and not have the effect you wanted at all. A lot of the time, you'll never even know.

An artist can NEVER fully control an observer's perspective, so at a certain point you have to live with what you have. You already do this, to some degree, if you have ever EVER decided to stop working on a piece of art and share it. You can always keep adding to something. You can always keep editing. But sometimes, you stop. And perfection doesn't exist, so when you stop it must be because the art is good enough for now. And nothing about "good enough" is objective!

And is that really so bad? Surely people who grow fruit understand that a fruit which is smaller than they imagined can still feed somebody-- that at the very least it will feed bugs and microorganisms and be useful as fertilizer to grow more apples. Your art still means something, still accomplishes something, is still worth making whether it turns out how you imagined or not.

A lot of art is learning when to quit and move on. As a habitual perfectionist, this was something I had to learn early, to stop myself from erasing holes into every piece of paper I drew on.

There's this rule I was taught in middle school drama class: if you fuck up, act like you didn't fuck up. The audience doesn't have your script memorized, so odds are they won't have any idea you fucked up unless you tell them. Other art works the same way. No one knows what you wanted to make but you. And more importantly, a "perfect" version of your art doesn't exist (no "perfect" version of anyone's art exists, or ever will).

The version you made exists, so you have to find what's worth loving about that version. You have found what's worth loving in the imperfect art of others many times. Many observers will treat your art the same way you treat others' art. Why not treat your own art that way, too?

It sounds really REALLY corny, but I try not to think of this as embracing "mistakes." I think of it as celebrating coincidences.

I really really like coincidences. I like that every circumstance wasn't guaranteed to happen, that everything comes down to chance. I think all the little random things are beautiful because they turned out however they did, and not any of the millions of other ways things might have turned out. It's a coincidence that my genes expressed the way they did. It's a coincidence that my parents met in college. It's a coincidence that my oldest friend and I both got to middle school early every day, and stayed close even when we didn't share any classes.

Art is full of coincidences! I try to draw a straight line. The line does not turn out straight, because of the way my hand is shaped and the way my muscles contracted, because my body is not exactly like anyone else's in the world. No one else would have drawn that slightly not-straight line just exactly how I did. It's mine, and it's crookedness is what makes my art mine. Okay, maybe it's a little too crooked for what I want this time-- I'll erase it and draw a new crooked line at a bit of a different angle. There we go, I like that! Now it's my beautiful, irreplaceable crooked line! And the ghost of its predecessor guides the eye just so, and no one else's two crooked lines would guide your eye the same way, only mine! Isn't that nice on its own? Just to have made something that can't ever be replicated? To have made something no one else has ever made before?

You can also apply this in a bit less dreamy and more practical ways, I promise haha.

For example...I've never been a canvas flipper, as a digital character artist. I don't mirror my canvases to see if they still look preportional to me from either direction. I also don't usually draw visual novel character sprites that need to look good mirrored in either direction to serve their function, so it's never been a practical concern of mine.

I consider many kinds of distortion on a character I've drawn to be a good part of the visual flow of the image. Like a smear frame in animation, distoriton in the right places can make character art look dynamic and energized because it can lead the eye through a certain visual flow over the form of the character. If I were to flip the canvas, that eye-leading effect might hit differently because my American eye is used to reading from left to right-- perhaps it doesn't feel as "smooth" going in the opposite direction. This doesn't mean I need to change the distortion necessarily, it just means I prefer not to flip the canvas.

Often, these distortions aren't intentional. They're a coincidence of how my muscles move as I draw, and the areas my left-to-right American eyeballs instinctively pay more attention to. But the effect is still desireable to me. So, happy coincidence!

I think...that's the best I've got for now? Feel free to ask for clarification. I hope it's not total nonsense!

#asks #art tips

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callsign-relic · 8 months

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I loved part 2 so much!! The adorableness makes me grin like a fan girl. How you contrasted what is going on in their heads... one dark, any negative sign must obviously be betrayal... and tiny human reader is fretting over angles and shading and (holy crap Starscream stop moving) for the giant alien war mech 😍🫠

I didn't mean to ramble, I apologize, I just hope you know how awesome you are.

And if the offer still stands, and you think this is okay, I would love a part 3!! And I had an idea that you can totally use or not use, but what about stargazing?

Maybe reader brought a sleeping bag or maybe time just slipped away on a normal visit, idk, I was trying to go for soft bonding.

Idea or not, I'll seriously be happy with anything. Thank you!!! 😊

Wow, thank you so much!! I’m very happy you enjoyed that little series so far :D I’d be happy to make a part 3 for you! For those unfamiliar, here are parts one and two!

Hope you enjoy! I kind of got carried away with it so it’s a little longer than my usual fics, HAHA

Warnings: SFW, Fem!Human!Reader

There was something you had noticed during your frequent visits to Starscream’s hideaway.

For all of the mech’s boasting and shows of his own grandeur, all of his complaints and infuriated utterances when things didn’t go his way— if there was something that could always seem to get him to quiet down, it was the view from the top of the waterfall at night.

Only once had you stayed long enough to really notice. You were already on your way back to your home before sunset, but you had forgotten your bag. You turned back into the clearing, expecting to see Starscream there, only to find him perched atop the waterfall’s edge at the top of the mountain. He wore an expression you had never once seen before on him, and was gazing up into the sky.

And so, you resolved to really see it next time.

Starscream’s optics flicker as they catch the light of the setting sun, fierce in its final moments— as it always was, the seeker had learned from his time stowing away in earth’s wilds. He raises a clawed servo to shield his optics before casting his gaze down onto you.

You were doodling away in your sketchbook— as you usually did, when you didn’t know what else to do. For once, you were taking a break from drawing studies of your mechanical companion, instead examining a finch perched upon a tree branch not too far from the rock upon which you were sitting.

The little bird seemed to be in the midst of its preening ritual. With its sharp little beak, it dug into the pit between its torso and wing and tugged. It kept tugging at the same spot for a little while, until finally, it removed a bug from its otherwise well kept red and brown feathers. With a couple twitches of its head, the bug jittered around in its beak before disappearing into its mouth— a well earned reward after its hard work.

You felt this was the perfect scene to capture on paper. You quickly brought your pencil to the page, first getting the basic shapes down, as you usually did—

But something suddenly blocked the remaining orange light from overhead, and your sketchbook was too dark to look at. Had the sun set already? No, you could still see the faint hues of pink and orange from the corners of your eyes. Perhaps a passing cloud blotted out the sun?

The clearing of a throat pulls you out of your wandering daydream, and you lift your nose from the page to be met with a gray pede. Slowly, you crane your neck higher and higher until, scaling the length of a familiar mech’s frame- until you lock eyes with a pair of squinting, red optics.

You offer a crooked grin.

“Human,” Starscream begins, servos impatiently on his hips, “it is about time you start on your way home.”

Though your grin falls into more of a smile of ‘I tried,’ you nod. You close your sketchbook and grab your bag, stuffing it full of your art supplies and a spare grocery bag full of wrappers from snacks you had thankfully remembered to bring with you that day. As you begin packing up, Starscream gives a nod of his own and goes in the opposite direction as you— scooping the spare mechanical parts he often spent his time fiddling with into his arms before stepping into the forest line. He crouched down, removing a false bush from its place, revealing a worn hole in the ground. Then, one by one, he places the metal pieces into the hole.

Now was your chance. Aside from your travel bag filled with your usual materials, you hike a much larger backpack over your shoulders. You were lucky Starscream didn’t care enough to ask what you were doing with a new bag.

Rather than head out into the forest line— while the mech was distracted, you carefully backed up and away closer to the waterfall. In your exploring, you recalled there was a little alcove hidden behind the waterfall, and that would be your temporary base until Starscream returned to his perch atop the mountain.

Tucking behind the rushing water, you pull yourself inside just in time to see Starscream cover the hole with foliage once more, quickly picking himself up onto his pedes. Though the water makes it difficult to see, you can see the bright red of his optics shift about— he had been scanning the environment as night finally began to fall.

Once he was apparently satisfied, he left your field of vision from this angle. You could, however, continue to track him from the tremors his pedes left in the earth as he walked. Though the vibrations sent your instincts into a slight panic, all you had to do was breathe, you were used to it by now.

Eventually, the quakes fade, and when you hear one final shake run its way from the top of the mountain all the way down to you, you know Starscream has finally sat down.

Now was the time to make your move.

You slip your way out from behind the waterfall and begin your ascent up the mountain. Thankfully, it wasn’t that bad of a climb, really— just a steep incline. Though, you did have to take a couple of breaks along the way to catch your breath and take the weight of your backpack off your shoulders for a little bit.

Eventually, you take another few steps up onto the hill, and the back of the silver mech’s frame finally becomes visible to you. You duck your head instantly— you didn’t want to risk him catching you so early on. But, there he was, in that same position he always liked to seem to take.

One leg dangling off of the edge of the cliff, the other crossed onto his thigh, and his arms resting behind him as he gazed into the night sky.

With another breath, you gather your courage. You approach him.

You soon make it up beside one of his servos behind him and he doesn’t even notice you. You’re not sure how to get his attention without frightening him…

“Hey—“

A shrill screech cuts its way through the air, and while you flinch into yourself, Starscream raises his servos in defense— pedes scrambling in place as he looks around in a panic before finally landing his optics down onto you. The fear in his eyes quickly twists into fury, though his chassis pounds up and down all the same. He slams one servo down into the earth with a fierce growl, using his other servo to scoop you up in one fell swoop.

“You!” He shouts, “I told you to leave! What are you doing all the way up here?!”

While getting scooped up into the fist of a metal giant would typically send you into a bout of panic, you had enough experience with Starscream’s sudden flashes of anger that you could keep relatively calm. “Okay, I know you said to leave, but…!” You trail off, trying to determine whether or not it was worth lying to the mech’s whose hands your life was currently at the whims of.

With a sigh, you drop the eager attitude. “…a couple days ago, I saw you up here, looking up at the sky. I— I know you say you don’t care about company and that having people around you is more trouble than it’s worth, but…” your eyes drift to the scar under the mech’s right optic before you lock eyes with him once more. “…I feel like your problem is that you just haven’t met the right company yet.”

Starscream examines you for a long time. His fury has simmered down by now, though his faceplate remains twisted in pure suspicion.

“Correct me if I’m wrong,” you add. “Listen, I get if I crossed a boundary with you. I’ll leave if you want me to.”

Then, after another moment of scrutiny, Starscream lowers his servo back down to the floor— much to your surprise. You drop to your feet, nearly tumbling backwards from the weight of your backpack, but you manage to keep your balance enough to see the seeker staring at you with… stifled confusion. Though he appeared to be trying his best to hide his emotions from you, your eyes shifted to the side, catching his wings tilting themselves downward.

Quickly, he tears his gaze away from you. “Fine. If you don’t bother me, you can stay.”

You pump a fist quietly to yourself, all while giving him an earnest, “Thank you.” Finally, you remove your backpack from your shoulders, crouch down, and open the zipper to gaze into the contents within.

Your trusty sleeping bag.

You scoop the mass of fabric into your hands before dumping it onto the floor. You unravel the bundle into a much more usable form, lower the zipper—

“What are you doing?”

The sound of Starscream’s rough voice makes you jump in your spot just a bit. You turn around to see him staring at you with a raised optical ridge— perplexed.

You fully turn to face him and place your hands proudly on your hips. “I brought a sleeping bag,” you explain, gesturing a hand towards the bag. “It’s basically a bed that can travel with you, and you can use it to sleep in the wilderness. Another innovative human invention,” you wink.

The seeker’s confusion dissipates into disinterest. “Whatever keeps you busy,” he waves you off with a servo before turning to face the night sky again.

You shrug— you learned to never take Starscream’s comments to heart anymore. If he really didn’t want you there, he would have long since kicked you out by now. So, you drag your sleeping bag up beside the mech’s hand— Starscream lifting it out of reflex as you approach.

“No, you can stay there!” You assure him, fully unzipping your bag. “Uh, if you don’t mind me next to you, that is.”

The mech rolls his optics, shifting to the side to allow you some breathing room with a grumble. You offer a little chuckle as thanks as, at last, you slip into your sleeping bag, zipping it up to about halfway up your torso.

Then, you cast your gaze up into the stars.

The sparkling dots looked as though they were dancing gently in their places. While you couldn’t tell them very much apart, it was certainly a much better view here than from your apartment window. It was no wonder why Starscream liked the view so much.

“…hey, Starscream?” You try.

“What is it?” He replies in a low grumble, looking down at you from the corner of his eye.

“You said you were an alien, right?”

He huffs a pompous laugh, “A Cybertronian, yes.”

“So… is your planet up there somewhere?”

And you’re met with silence.

“Starscream?” You repeat.

“…yes,” he finally answers— though his tone is softer than you had ever heard from him before.

You shift from lying down to resting your weight onto your elbows behind you. “Is it visible from here?”

There’s another huff, but it’s more resigned this time. “No. Though I know its general location from this angle.”

You lean forwards, squinting— trying to get an idea of where Starscream had been looking just from the perspective of his head. But then, you suddenly pull yourself backwards as something slowly raises itself before you.

A single, dark navy servo.

You look between the hand and Starscream’s face for a moment, dumbfounded— but you decide to just take the chance and hop on. He wasn’t even looking at you, who knows how long this offer would last? Leaving your sleeping bag behind, you clamber into his palm, and the very moment you’re settled down is when Starscream raises you into the air, level with his chest.

With his free servo, he points northwest. “There. Just past that cluster of stars.”

You squint again, trying your best to follow his pointed digit. You wished you were more astronomically adept. “The… the group of seven or eight stars there, all bundled up against each other?”

Starscream nods. “There, thousands upon thousands of lightyears away, lies Cybertron.”

#relic writes #Transformers #Transformers x reader #Transformers prime #Transformers Prime x reader #TFP #TFP x reader #Starscream #Starscream x reader #TFP Starscream #TFP Starscream x reader

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shegatsby · 3 months

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Heyy! Its me again haha. I really wanted to thank you, this turned out really good!♡

I also have another idea..

Okay so reader is Will's cousin and they are visiting Will, Hannibal doesn't know and decides to pay Will a visit but he's currently at the store so he starts talking with the reader and they find out they have much in common like being fans of arts, opera and cooking.. and then reader says they are applying for a job in Baltimore as maybe an arts teach or smth. And 5 to 6 months after that reader meets Hannibal again in a museum of arts, they again start talking and catching up, exchanging numbers and staying in contact for awhile until Hannibal gets 'captured' and then of course everything that happens after that, Hannibal tries contacting reader in that time but it seems as reader blocked him.. and then I thought that maybe it would be like after the fall that Hannibal finally gets in contact with reader and they finally start building a romantic relationship!^^

So yeah thats my idea. I really hope you like this idea and can make something of it. Your writing is like honestly amazing and I would be really excited if you would do this considering the other one was so well made.. I wish you a wonderful late new year and to everyone else aswell! <3

A/N; I cannot believe I've finished this while listening to Justin Bieber -Maria lol Sorry its a bit long but i really enjoyed writing it. Also thank you for your kind words, i'm here to serve the fandom. <3 sorry for any typos since English isn't my native language. Oh, i hope you'll have an amazing year and i hope you'll heal from your past wounds.

words; 2.607K

warnings; mention of cirme, thats it. its safe kiddos.

You had to walk into the store in order to get warm and also buy groceries for your dear cousin. Will Graham. You were visiting him for a week and he asked you to cook your famous stew, in cold days like this a warm stew would cheer anyone up, so after breakfast you decided to get dressed and go to the store while Will was making cookies for his guest. You didn’t know who the guest was but he said he wanted you two to meet. You only nodded and left the house. Inside was warm, and smelled nice, you loved grocery shopping and cooking for people. It was your way of showing your affection towards beloved ones. You were in the wine section, decided to make some hot wine. As you were trying to reach to the top shelf you heard a calm yet dominant voice saying ‘’Allow me.’’ And on your peripheral vision you saw a man’s hand reaching for the wine you wanted. ‘’Here you go.’’ You turned to face the owner of that deep voice, ‘’Thank you.’’ You managed to say, observing his maroon orbits. Such a distinct color, you thought. ‘’Elegant choice. Most people don’t go for that brand.’’ He announced, Doctor Hannibal Lecter never made small conversations with people he didn’t know but when he noticed that this person knew a good quality wine he just wanted to chat. ‘’I’m making hot wine for today. This one is the best for that.’’ You said smiling, he smiled back. ‘’What is your go to choice?’’ he had this strange aura that made you want to talk to him, normally you would smile and say goodbye but he intrigued you to your core. ‘’If I’m visiting a close friend I pick this one, which that’s what I’m doing today.’’ You looked at the brand he was holding, ‘’I always admired the painting on that bottle. Such baroque colors.’’ He raised an eyebrow to your statement, ‘’I assume you’re interested in art?’’

‘’Always have been. Actually once the paper work is done I’ll start working in Baltimore with painters. They opened a studio and asked if I could work with them.’’ That’s when Hannibal noticed the small and dry paint residue on your dominant hand. ‘’I live in Baltimore and I hope to see your paintings one day at an art gallery. Good luck.’’ He smiled a warm smile which reminded you the sunset in winter, it gave you hope for the future.

‘’Thank you so much.’’ You said and you both walked to your separate ways. However, fate had its own webs to arbitrate in your behalf.

Once you reached to your cousin’s home you saw a car on the front yard, apparently his guest have arrived. You climbed the porch and used the spare key Will gave you. You could hear two man talking about a murder case, you knew what your cousin’s job was and he was so passionate about it that every week he would call you and tell you about a new case. In the entire family he chose you as his special blood connection. You two have always been considered as outlaws, or ‘’the freaks’’ and this made you more close to one another. ‘’I’m home.’’ You announced to let them know, just in case if they were talking secret FBI files. ‘’Come in Y/N.’’ you heard your cousin say with enthusiasm. You quickly left the bags on the kitchen counter and washed your hands, you had slightly cleaning obsession which Will never forgot to point it out. ‘’Hi!’’ you wore your warmest smile and walked into the living room which was at the back of the house and it had a door that opened to the back yard.

As soon as you walked in you saw that man from the store, sitting on the single armchair, holding a coffee mug in his large hand. You froze in your steps, watched him stand up, fix his clothes subtly and extend his hand towards you, ‘’What a lovely coincidence. Doctor Hannibal Lecter.’’ You took his hand, it was warm and manly, ‘’Y/N Y/L/N.’’ Will was puzzled but you explained to him quickly.

That night you asked him to stay longer and he helped you coking the stew and making the hot wine. 3 of you talked and explored new ideas about their cases, they were really keen on getting a fresh perspective from you about their recent case.

It had been months since that strange coincidence, since that you were working in that studio you mentioned to him and rented a small apartment for yourself and your cat. Things were going pretty smoothly and for the first time you and your team had an opening at the Baltimore Museum of Arts, it was an important night for you and you dressed up accordingly. Elegant yet showing your curves in a subtle way. A black velvet dress that was above the knee, black high heels, a fresh blow out, red lips and red nails. You felt like a goddess and walked like one as well. The event started at 8 pm, you were there with your colleges making sure everything was ready.

You were nervous so your colleagues greeted the guests who were mostly middle aged white people, you didn’t mind, since no one knew your face you could stand behind guests and listen their criticism about your work. It was fun, drinking your champagne and listening to rich folk who knew nothing about art making assumptions, some wondered about the artist but you were safe. You were standing right next to them and they didn’t know who you were. You had no idea about what was going to happen that night and that excited you deeply.

‘’Hello Y/N.’’ someone addressed you directly, for some reason you felt like a deer caught in the red lights. You turned to face the owner of that dominant voice, it was him. You almost dropped the empty champagne glass you were holding, he had a smirk on his plump lips. He grabbed your empty glass, a waiter was near you two so he gave the empty glasses to him got new ones, ‘’May I say you look ravishing tonight.’’ His comment made you feel the heat rising to your cheeks, ‘’Thank you, it’s been a while. How are you?’’ and you started catching up, he asked which one of the paintings were yours and you pointed, he looked at them for a while without saying anything, he seemed as if he was calculating something in his marvelous brain of his. Soon you were surrounded by his colleagues, he kept you by his side, ‘’I’m sure you would be delighted to know that those magnificent paintings were created by none other than this woman who is standing next to me.’’ He announced when his colleagues mentioned how much they liked your paintings, you were shocked that he revealed you to them like this, he seemed proud to have you to himself, the crowed started to compliment you all you could say ‘’Thank you, thank you so much..’’ you weren’t used to having the spot light. You could feel his large hand on the small of your back, not moving up or down, staying put. You felt like he was showing you off, but why?

When the night came to an end all of your paintings were sold, the owner would be revealed in a few days and you decided to send him or her a thank you note. Hannibal asked you for your phone number to keep in touch, he offered to drive you home also, you didn’t refuse because it was cold outside. As you left the building together you noticed his elite acquaintances raised eyebrows and questionable eyes, you didn’t care. You gave him the directions, it was snowing outside softly, when he reached to the parking lot of your apartment complex, he parked the car. You had a strange feeling that you didn’t want this night to come to an end, you noticed his slowness, maybe he felt the same way? You watched him opening his mouth to say something and then closing it. ‘’Would you like a glass of hot wine.. since it is really cold it could warm us.’’ You abruptly suggested, ‘’I would love to.’’ Was there a hint of excitement in his dominant voice? You didn’t want to jump into conclusions, he was older than you and seemed like a serious man, why would he want to have deeper connection with you? He had multiple beautiful people in his circle to entertain him… you decided that you two were in the right place in the right time and also Will Graham being your cousin made you two share a simple connection, that was it.

Thankfully your flat was organized and clean, he appreciated that mentally. He, deep down, was checking his long list ever since he met you, no one knew but Hannibal would like to share his luxurious life with someone and he had a long list, and whenever he met someone knew he would see if that person could tick all of the things in his list, you were doing great so far.

After making the hot wine you found yourself laughing at Hannibal’s stories with Will, you left your high heels on the floor, sitting on the couch whereas Hannibal was sitting on the armchair, sleeves rolled up, his tie was loose, legs wide open, holding his empty wine glass, you found yourself admiring his posture, he sat like a Greek statue, carved by the most talented sculptor of all time. He noticed your lingering shiny eyes on his body, he even liked it,

‘’Being desired by someone is perhaps the closest anybody in this life can reach to feeling immortal.’’

He said, his voice sounding like a prayer, divine and his eyes on yours… he slowly stood up, placed the empty glass on the coffee table, you could see the veins on his hand. He turned to you and got your glass as well, placed it next to his. His thick fingers went to your chin, lifting your face up to meet his. His orbs got darkened, he leaned in, you could feel his rich perfume, filling your nostrils. He whispered, ‘’I would like to have you for dinner, see you soon little dove.’’ and he left.

Of course he wanted to kiss you, ravish your body and leave marks on you, claiming his territory but there was still time for that. He was an old fashioned man and he didn’t have time for superficial things, he wanted this to be right. Before he let you speak he wore his shoes and left your flat and left you speechless.

After few days you got a phone call, Hannibal invited you for dinner at his house. What happened at your house few days ago troubled the depths of your mind every single day. He seemed like he was interested in you but you weren’t sure.

You knew he was interested in etiquette, aesthetics, so you wore slightly formal clothing. A black pencil skirt, beige blouse and high heels, soft make up and you were done.

When he answered the door his face light up to see you looking divine, ‘’Please come in. I have surprise to show you.’’ He announced.

He held your hand and walked you to the upstairs, ‘’This is my study room.’’ He announced before he opened the dark wooden door, inside was lit with yellow lights, he was right it was his study room. The detail was that the walls held your paintings… he was the one who bought your paintings, all of them.. ‘’Rest are in my office, my clients love them.’’ He said smiling to you, ‘’Hannibal… I don’t know what to say….’’ You were overwhelmed with emotions. ‘’I really like your work and I want you to follow your dreams.’’ You turned to look him in his maroon orbits, you didn’t have to say anything, your eyes did the talking.

After that you kept seeing each other, his work and also yours made it hard but whenever you had time you spent time with him. Bringing lunch to his office or Hannibal sending your studio presents. However, these last week you heard nothing from him, he wasn’t answering his phone, he wasn’t at his office, when you finally went to his home he wasn’t there, but his car was there… finally you called your cousin Will and he didn’t tell you much except Hannibal was involved with some crime and he disappeared. You couldn’t believe your ears, you did your research, he was all over the news but deep down you didn’t want to believe it. Also the news weren’t clear about his crimes…

Weeks passed without any news from him, you spent your days at the studio and you noticed how dark your paintings got… when you were with him you were blooming but now you felt as if life dropped you of somewhere and you are watching everyone live, except you. Your life got stale.

One day your paintings were accepted by an Italian art exhibition but you also had to be there as well, so packed your things and left Baltimore. Will also encouraged you to do it, he knew how depressed you got after Hannibal’s departure.

Italy was a dream, a dream you were glad to live it, the warmth, food and art made you feel like in a Disney movie but a part of you secretly wishing to experience this with a particular gentleman. You didn’t know your prayers were going to be answered.

The night of the exhibition you got a phone call, unknown number. You answered, ‘’Hello?’’ at first there wasn’t a voice, you were about to hang up but you heard him, ‘’I’m so proud of you Y/N.’’

Your heart dropped to your stomach, it was him. Hannibal.

‘’Hannibal? Where are you? What happ-‘’ he stopped you, ‘’Not on the phone, I’ll see you after the exhibition. Wait for me at the back.’’

The night felt like an eternity, when finally you were free you literally ran to the back of the building and there he was, on his motorbike, he looked so different yet familiar at the same time. ‘’Hop on princess.’’ He made you wear a helmet and together you rode. He took you to a villa, it was his new home.

You didn’t say anything until he brought you inside, as soon as he turned to face you to speak you slapped him, ‘’How dare you leave without a single note? I’ve been worried sick!’’

Hannibal was baffled to see this fierce side of you and he liked it. He kissed you. His plump lips made you feel at peace. Kiss got heated due to the fact that both of you had sexual tension for each other so long that now you were a volcano exploding. His hands went to your waist and pulled you roughly to him, his body felt like a rock, so firm. When you pulled away you were on his couch, on top of him, ‘’Is it true?’’ you asked out of breath, ‘’What?’’ he asked to buy some time. ‘’All they say about you.. are you a criminal?’’ you asked with hesitation. He had a smug smile, ‘’Does it matter?’’ his cockiness and confidence made it hard for you to be realistic but you figured as long as you two were together nothing could harm you. You kissed him passionately.

Thank you for reading.

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koolades-world · 9 days

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got a request for an italian mc via comment! if you're this person and want your name attached, please let me know :)

enjoy!

Italian Mc

Lucifer

he loves a good cup of coffee, in the morning and at anytime of the day really

if you're also big on coffee, the two of you could probably talk for hours about it

even if you're not, you probably picked up a thing or two and he can talk your ear off anyways haha

if you do like coffee, he'll go out of his way to make you one so you can enjoy it together <3

Mammon

he actually asks you to teach him something so he can have something new to cook on his nights for dinner

he thought he knew how to make eggplant parmesan until you showed him how you made it

all of a sudden, everyone is clambering for seconds!

he only has you to thank and he makes sure he does

Levi

your ability to multitask amazes him

which is saying a lot! as someone with as many interests as him, you need to be to top of everything all the time

and somehow, you're just more efficient with it

you can have a conversation with satan about what he's reading, do homework and manage the stove all at the same time. talk about impressive!

Satan

he loves the way you talk with your hands

it's mesmerizing to him to watch you pour emotion into body language as you rant about eh awful ending to a book haha

he thought he knew people who did that, but after he met you, he really knew what it was like

has been hit more than once by your enthusiastic hand motions

Asmo

he finds italian extremely romantic to listen to! it's also a romance language haha

he'd listen to you forever speak italian so much to the point where he start to learn what you're saying

he now happily incorporates random italian words into his vocabulary and will proudly tell you (to ensure he was correct haha)

he thinks he's an expert now but he does want you to correct him if he's wrong because that would be so embarrassing

Beel

his all time favorite of the things you've made has to be fritto misto

he loves the variation involved so every time you make it, it's something slightly different

however, he does notice you always manage to include his favorites <3

while the favoritism may be a little more than apparent, he can't deny that he enjoys it!

Belphie

while he might not seem like it, he'd love to take a trip to italy

he loves the idea of heading out hiking and watching the stars with you

he's also a fan of the art history there

honestly, it's the most awake and motivated you've ever seen him haha

#obey me #obey me!#obey me x reader #obey me satan #obey me asmo #obey me beel #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me levi #obey me belphie #omswd #obey me shall we date #obey me! shall we date

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arcadekitten · 4 months

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With the new year on the horizon and 10 completed games under my belt, I thought it might be fun to go through some projects that didn't make the cut and I ended up shelving for one reason or another! (It's only like, 2 of 'em but still)

The first is a game about Theodore and Zapara. While Tricks N Treats was my first finished + published RPGmaker game, I originally started testing things out with RPGM shortly after Cemetery Mary's release. The following game was meant to take place in the CM universe.

It was my first time using RPGMaker & it shows. It was also being made in VXAce, hence why proportions are so different from all my current projects. VXace uses 32x32 tiles whereas MV + above use 48x48. Trying to work within these limitations was a bit tricky for me

The (gif) footage you see above is all that exists of the game now(I didn't even screen record LOL). Back when my old laptop kicked it the files for this game went with it and I never cared to back them up. I don't consider it a hard loss though as by that point I had already moved on to bigger more polished projects and I didn't see myself returning to it any time soon(or at all).

The plot of the game was that Theo woke up in the night to hear Zapara leaving their apartment. When he goes to look for and finds her, she seems to want to avoid going back to the apartment for reasons she won't share. By the end of the game she confesses that she had a really realistic nightmare and she's scared if she goes back it will come true. Theo reassures her that he would never let her nightmare happen in reality, and so the two go back together. In the morning, we see Crowven texting them. They're making plans to go out to a club, when Crowven asks if his cousin can come along--tying it into CM.

I think if I made this game, it would've been cute, and maybe I'll even do something with the premise for a larger game, but I don't see myself trying to start this as a solo project again.

The next game that was shelved from when I was learning Unity & Adventure Creator. Patrons had seen previews it! I started this game as a tool to help me learn the programs, and it got shelved when I felt it was no longer teaching me but instead adding weight to my back.

Unlike the previous game, this is a game I COULD see myself starting again--probably using the same method I'm using for WISHMAKER in RPGM. This game is called "Dreary Elaine", and it's a bit interesting!

(ignore the reference PNG of Elaine here HAHA) This game, like WISHMAKER, is a point-and-click adventure game, where you play as the titular Elaine as she delivers party invitations to her neighbors.

The thing that makes Dreary Elaine interesting is that it is actually an offshoot of my other work! Mary Anta is a character that exists in the fictional world of Noisrev. Dreary Elaine is Mary's favorite childhood book series. A fictional world within a fictional world!

As I said above, this is a game that has the potential to come back one day--I'm just not currently sure when. But exploring the Elaine-verse is something that always appeals to me and who knows! Maybe I'll represent it more in my work going forward.

I think that's all for now? I hope it was fun to read through and I'm excited to have more (finished) games and art for you soon! ❤️

#cemetery mary #?#theo #theodore #zapara #elaine #arcadekitten #arcadekitt3n #art #my art #cain

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cymk8 · 4 months

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I can't stop looking at your Shadowlach art. Any of it. All of it.

- One cos of your artistry: beautiful and soft and the negative space?? Hello??

- Two cos HELLO?? you draw them so soft and sweet and it is just so peaceful to look at your art. (The kitties in the hair brushing one are *so* cute, and non-ship friends are also enamoured with them :3)

Tell us more about your headcanons, please!

Some prompts if needed: How did things progress from platonic? Was it romantic from early on or primarily physical attraction? Were they on similar pages throughout their relationship or did one fall harder?

General invitation to word dump: what thoughts have you most crazed? Why don't you let them out ;)

(thank u so much...for your compliment and also the fact you sent this ask in the first place has made my day)

God I have so fucking many thoughts I'm going little insane about it and I'm literally so happy you asked because. I have been w a i t i n g HAHA

Your prompts:

We have all heard That Line™; I'd imagine that having both been so pent up, they would immediately jump each other's bones given the opportunity — Shadowheart is absolutely unsubtle and Karlach is Karlach

I actually think it would be one sided for a while!! But not in the piney way. I think Shadowheart attempts to rizz the shit out of Karlach only to fail because Karlach's situation with her engine essentially made her exceptionally good at Resisting Temptation (I find it absolutely hilarious that most of Karlach's in-game responses are so purposefully obtuse when it comes to her)

That in particular pisses Shadowheart off since she would be so used to being able to finesse her way through things like this (because of her background as a professional 'spy' — because otherwise...she's an absolute dork); it makes her try extra hard and eventually come to the conclusion that her attraction is greater when in fact Karlach has had more experience living like a Nun™ than she does

(cont.)

As for the development...I think they would be on similar levels of attraction, but tackle it differently — Karlach would immediately embrace the feeling and Shadowheart will try her fucking hardest to rationalize it away/deny it (queen of repression)

They would probably be fast friends (Shadowheart rizzing Karlach), then actual friends (because Karlach is so earnest Shadowheart feels like she can be earnest too), physically involved, then romantically involved — it only outwardly seems fast, but they definitely have things to work through before they can actually really be honest and feel that they can rely on each other completely

Random headcanon/general thoughts that have going FERAL IN THE CLUB:

I think they work really well together — they balance each other out in the sense that they have very different ways of handling their own stresses and trauma; they have a lot of opportunities to grow even just by being around one another (for example, Shadowheart is so Repressed™ even other characters feel the same way — and Karlach is the opposite); restraint and freedom go hand in hand 😌

They both have a love for adorable things...once the all of the shit with Karlach's heart gets sorted and they FINALLY get to live that cottagecore life, I think their farm would have so many more animals. Like. So many...Karlach would honestly just be so excited to be able to care for things again — and Shadowheart would be excited because she's finally allowed to be just as loud about showing that she DOES care

The idea that Shadowheart's hair could be a signifier for how closed off she is — so throughout the acts, she slowly lets it down/get messier figuratively and literally in front of everyone...AND KARLACH gets permission to touch and braid it as a sign of true trust and vulnerability; it becomes something of a ritual (Karlach is obsessed simply for the fact that she isn't seen as dangerous and is trusted to be able to be gentle about things) (thanks @kanobies for giving me that sweet, sweet psychic damage)

To add to that: they like physically pampering each other — Karlach finally internalizing that she can be 'pretty' and deserving of gentle care and Shadowheart internalizing that she is allowed to want/ask for things that aren't strictly necessary or used towards a greater cause (I don't think she's ever had a strong sense of bodily autonomy in the sense that she was gaslit into thinking every aspect of her life was for Lady Shar)

I'M OBSESSED WITH THE FACT THAT THEY RADIATE DOG ENERGY IN VASTLY DIFFERENT WAYS: thank you Isobel for immediately clocking Shadowheart on sight by calling her a feisty little terrier and for Karlach being literally Clifford the Big Red Dog and

The difference in lifespans...FUCK. KARLACH WOULD TRY SO HARD TO MAKE THEIR TIME TOGETHER WORTH IT/MEMORABLE since she knows her life is comparatively short; Shadowheart would never take it for granted; they make each other keepsakes...🫠🥹🥹

And I still have so much more but I gotta seem like I'm at least somewhat classy (pls...if anyone wants to talk about any of them or both of them I am so mcfucking ready)

#i am not in fact classy #im....SO NORMAL ABOUT THEM #bg3 #shadowheart #karlach #shadowlach

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