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saerins · 7 months

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𝒊𝒏 𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒍𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒖𝒂𝒈𝒆

+ nagi seishiro x f!reader | wc 2.4k | content: fluff, high school setting!, some cursing

notes: this was something requested by an anon !! i realised this prompt was also done in my other fic whole except nagi was the second lead :’) also pleaseeeee excuse me if this is ass because i haven’t written in a long time T_T but i’m working on getting back properly !! <3

summary: he didn’t ask you out because he wanted to, yet nagi gets more than he bargained for in the end.

“so, um, nagi, why’d you ask me out all of a sudden?”

it’s kind of an awkward situation to be in, you think, as you look around the arcade, shuffling your feet beside where nagi’s seated, trying to win some tickets from what you can only assume to be a music machine.

when he’d asked you out on a date yesterday, you didn’t think he’d take you to an arcade, of all places. (then again, nagi asking anyone out is sort of unbelievable, honestly.) if you knew sooner (or if nagi had bothered to tell you), you wouldn’t have worn such a nice dress for today.

besides, you’re not even sure why you’d agreed. call your state half-flustered or whatever, because you heard that nagi seishiro of all people does not bother with human relationships much. you’ve only ever seen him interact with mikage reo anyway—and you’d just chalked it up to him wanting it that way. nagi had never shown interest in girls or romance or that kind of shit, so cue your surprise when he asked you out yesterday, when he saw you at the bus stop.

“hey, wanna go on a date tomorrow?”

you blinked at him, utterly surprised because that was the first time that nagi had ever spoken to you.

“um, where to?” (you were still malfunctioning over the fact that he was asking you out on a date.)

nagi scratched the back of his head, and you could faintly make out reo a few ways behind him, watching on.

“hmm, not sure, i’ll text you tomorrow morning?” he suggested, pulling out his phone. “what’s your number?”

okay sure, you could’ve asked for more details, but it was hard getting nagi to respond to you at all. you’re pretty sure he was gaming, that’s why.

“oh, ‘cause reo asked me to.”

that… was not the answer you were expecting. “reo asked you to?”

nagi has a bad habit of not elaborating. you don’t really like that, because you don’t like asking questions, but you can’t help yourself now. this is too bizarre for you to let go.

“yeah, something about how he’s sick of me playing games all day long, told me to go get a date, then he’d return me my switch,” nagi mumbles, and you can’t help but think that reo’s plan may have backfired, considering how he’s on a date and still playing games.

while nagi’s grey eyes are focused on the screen in front of him, you find yourself drawn to the way he’s sucking in his cheek as he concentrates, the way his bangs fall over his eyes and how his fingers can respond so quickly to the lines on the screen.

“you’re pretty good at this,” you tell him, getting lost in how well he’s playing. the points on the screen gets so high he’s almost nearing the high score.

for a moment, nagi’s distracted by how close you are to him; your hair smells like citrus and it’s really smooth. it’s also the only time anyone other than reo has been this close and you’re not anyone so he doesn’t really see why you’re able to steal his focus from the game.

someone like you shouldn’t make him notice things that aren’t about games or himself.

but you do—and he misses the first note since the start of the game, though he recovers fairly easily.

he doesn’t know much about you, only that you’re in his class and you’re very pretty (now that he’s actually looking at you). you have a really cute laugh too, he realises, right when he wins the game and probably what’s a thousand tickets, with you rejoicing happily beside him.

“oh my god, you’re so fucking good at this,” you’re jumping and giggly and nothing like how quiet you are in school and why does he feel a little giddy knowing that he’s getting to see this firsthand? this doesn’t make sense. “okay, move aside, teach me, i wanna do it too.”

nagi obliges. it’s a pain having to teach someone else compared to doing it himself, he gets to know, as you miss probably half the notes on screen even when he tries to tell you how to do it. hell, he’s not really a good teacher.

you win about 300 tickets.

“not bad for a rookie,” nagi comments as you grab your own pile and stack it in your shared basket. the neon red and blue flashes pretty against your skin. it makes you even prettier, he feels.

you raise a brow. “nagi seishiro, wanna play a bet?”

no, not really. but somehow, he can’t quite turn down a game when it’s from you.

“what’re you betting?”

you hold out the basket in front of you. “i’m gonna find a game where i can beat you.” your chest is puffed out, like you’re determined, like you really believe you can. “if i lose, you can decide my punishment.”

nagi blinks at you. you’re… weird. you make his heart beat faster than usual. it’s a little concerning. “and if you win?”

grinning, you wink at him, “let’s leave that to later.”

whatever possessed him to spend the entire day following you around the arcade and watching you fail, he doesn’t know. you’re pretty bad at everything compared to him, but it’s not really fair—he’s probably spent ten times as much of his days in the arcade than you.

have you ever even set foot in here before?

nagi observes as you try desperately to beat him in ddr. you fail, naturally. your feet coordination really isn’t that good, but it’s pretty cute how hard you’re trying. you’re still pretty even at the end of it, even when you’re sweating and some of your hair is matted against your skin. he keeps that to himself though.

throughout the entire day, nagi finds himself entertained by your persistent insistence to beat him at something. it’s funny how you’re awful at the arcade games. it’s also funny how you’re honestly trying. it’s really no use but here you are, sweating once again from shooting hoops.

your 64 versus nagi’s 154.

“wow, you’re really bad at all these games,” nagi murmurs when he sees your score. “wanna go somewhere else?”

you’re quick to open your mouth but it takes you just as quick to shut it, probably knowing you’ll never beat him. at least, not today. “fine, you win,” you say through gritted teeth. you’re a little prideful; nagi’s learning a lot about you. “what do you want?”

nagi seems to have forgotten your earlier bet. he just shrugs and tells you to choose what you want at the exchange counter.

“you don’t want anything?”

nagi looks at the prizes with such disinterest it makes you wonder what can interest a guy like him. he shakes his head, “i can get anything i want anytime anyway.”

(the underlying insinuation that coming to the arcade with him is your only chance to win prizes flies right over your head.)

but when nagi looks at your slightly disappointed face, he tries to backtrack. “i’ll let you know when i think of something i want since i won,” he says, looking away from you. “but you choose one of the prizes today.”

turns out it’s so easy to please you. just like that and that smile is back on your face.

you choose a big goddamn pink teddy bear by the way. nagi sighs as he leaves the arcade with you. it’s probably a character nagi doesn’t know. he’s judging you, but then you hug it and smile at him and he forgets what he’s thinking about.

“i know this was only because reo asked you to, but…” you mumble after you and nagi both finished eating dinner, sitting across from each other at the ramen shop. “it was fun.”

nagi’s not sure what this is. just a customary thing where you’re showing appreciation for the time you two spent together today? you’re looking away from him though, he’s pretty sure normal customs don’t dictate that. he’s pretty sure you’re supposed to look at him when you say that.

“why’re you looking away?”

you look at him in blank shock (an expression that he doesn’t know how to process—what’s so weird about asking you that?) before you smile helplessly. “you’re very weird, nagi seishiro.”

“what do you mean?” nagi’s clueless, in that nagi seishiro way only he can be.

a few seconds of silence pass when you try to make up your mind. it’s unnerving how big and wide his eyes are, especially when they’re focused only on you and nothing else. in the end, you manage with a shake of your head.

“it’s nothing,” you decide. telling him of your possible crush on him would not do any good, you guess.

something bugs nagi; he can’t understand what it is. he just knows something feels off but it’s not like he’s ever felt this particular kind of irk—he doesn’t know what to do.

when the time comes to leave the restaurant, nagi finds himself walking the opposite way to his home because you started walking first.

somehow, his feet follows you.

it’s stupid—walking this far away from the direction of his home is troublesome. it’ll be a hassle to get home when his bus is on the other side of the long gone restaurant. why is he walking you to the train station again when he’ll just see you next week anyway? you’re in the same class.

“oh, are you gonna take the train too?”

nagi blinks at you, drawing a blank at your question. he must’ve completely zoned out. did the both of you get here in complete silence?

“no,” he answers honestly. he doesn’t elaborate. as usual.

by now, that doesn’t surprise you. instead you just nod your head, a hesitance borne in the shuffling of your feet. “well,” you drawl out, dragging the syllable, somehow hoping this wasn’t the end of the night but it is. “this was a nice one-time date,” you settle for, smiling. you’re about to just say goodbye, but you bite on your bottom lip, contemplating, before you slip his phone out of his hand and slide the screen to the side, taking a picture of the both of you together, nagi looking at the screen in surprise and you winking beside him.

when you hand it back to him, you bite your inner mouth, trying not to grin. “in case reo asks for evidence,” you offer as an excuse. you totally didn’t want to take a picture with nagi. “he better give you your game back!”

nagi gets this fleeting feeling that he doesn’t know how to explain when he sees you smiling at him. like how you remind him of the color gray. not because it’s bland but because it’s his favourite color. you remind him of spring and the cool breeze and how refreshing it feels.

“it was a nice one-time date, nagi seishiro,” you chuckle before you turn around, ready to head into the station and probably never spend such time with nagi again. you’ll probably get over the sadness of what could’ve been pretty quickly. you think.

but just before you can enter, you hear the firm steadiness in nagi’s voice. “no.”

you whip your head around, not quite sure you heard him right. “no?” you narrow your stare a little, moving out of other people’s way as they push past you into the station. “as in, you didn’t like it?”

you hope he doesn’t mean it like that.

nagi looks away, earnestly processing it. it came blurting out of him, he didn’t even know what he said until he said it. “i won the bet and what i want is… this. again. with you.”

the implications of his words slowly sink in and it has you feeling giddy. nagi, the guy who barely cares about anything nor makes the time for anyone—is he actually telling you this? is he really saying he’d take you out more?

meanwhile, nagi’s feet stay firmly planted where he is, wondering why you make him feel like this, why you make him feel like he can’t get enough. you’re just… you. before today, he could honestly say you were insignificant. but just the way you are; how you speak, your smile, your laugh and your resilience—nagi likes it, finds comfort in it, somehow.

“then,” you say as you enter the station, face giddy with the excitement of something new blossoming. “i’ll wait for more dates with you, sei.”

the way you call him that makes his heart skip a beat and he’s left blankly staring at your figure as you retreat into the station, stealing his heart with you.

“fine, fine,” reo sighs. it’s two days later on a monday and reo grudgingly gives nagi back his switch. “so, what’d you two do anyway?” he asks, shifting his gaze between nagi and you, though you’re at the other end of the classroom, talking excitedly to your friends.

nagi’s attention quickly transfers to his switch, already opening up a game to play. “nothing much,” is all he offers, and reo’s beginning to think maybe it was more of a punishment for you than a date.

reo sighs again, ready to lecture nagi for being the worst date ever when he pulls up his phone to look at the time. but he accidentally takes nagi’s phone instead, unlocking it to find his own chat thread—to which nagi doesn’t even bother saving his name (reo side eyes him but nagi doesn’t even realise).

that doesn’t surprise him, but what does is when reo realises your contact is saved—with the icon being a picture of the two of you together. you must really be something to be able to make nagi do something so idiotic like this.

“oi, nagi.”

nagi only responds with a raise of his brow. he’s still clicking away at the controls. reo guesses it must be a racing game from those sounds.

“if you guys get married i better be the best man for being your matchmaker,” reo teases, his grin filling his face.

even though nagi doesn’t respond, the champagne pink that brushes across his cheeks is enough indication to reo of nagi’s feelings for you.

looks like he never needed to worry after all.

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ddarker-dreams · 8 months

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Forgive me if this sort of thing has been explored before but picture this scenario: Chrollo coming home to darling having a panic attack. Why? What's going on?? She won't tell him, because it's a panic attack triggered by a phobia of something very mundane. She doesn't want him to know she has a phobia and she definitely doesn't want him to know what kind of phobia. To give an example let's say she has an irrational fear of mice. RIDICULOUS. He mustn't know. Lie lie lie distract disengage.

THIS ........ this setup does something for me........... i've recently fixated on this concept where you wake up from an awful nightmare, something like chrollo coldly ordering your death and for it to be as painful as possible.

you wake up, tears on your cheeks and sweat causing your nightwear to adhere to your skin. you're met with an unusual sight — chrollo's side of the bed is empty. cold, too. he must have been gone for a while now. any other night, this detail wouldn't arouse suspicion. if anything, it'd cause relief, that you've finally caught a break from his ever-watchful eye.

then your mind reminds you that chrollo isn't your only foe. it replays those images, those sounds, snapping and squelching as your grisly end nears.

you do what you can to calm yourself. splashing cold water on your face, drinking water, wiping the sweat from your brow; the way you go about everything is mechanical. he could do it, your thoughts taunt. this isn't the monster of your bed — waking up doesn't make the threat disappear. it only brings you closer.

with shaking hands, you open the door separating the bedroom from a moderately sized living space. you shove your pride aside and call out his name. softly, at first, and then at your normal speaking volume. nothing. would he really leave you on your own for this long without setting up precautions?

or maybe... is he preparing to finally do away with you?

the world goes on without your senses bothering to process anything. your body reacts like it would if an apex predator was gaining on you; all-consuming adrenaline, unsteady breathing, trembling limbs. this unrelenting whirlpool pushes you down to abyssal depths.

you're running out of air and it's too deep to surface.

then you hear a voice you recognize.

chrollo's kneeling down beside you, eyebrows furrowing, a prominent frown on his face. he rarely reveals this much emotion, small as it is. you can practically hear the gears in his head turning, attempting to piece together the situation and its severity. his hand is steady on your shoulder and the timbre of his voice soothes you. it's so consistent, so reliable, he always seems to know what to do and what to say.

you don't care to dwell on these bizarre thoughts. not now, not when you feel like you're drowning. an anchor is an anchor, even if it's a man you've sworn to loathe. it's okay to seek comfort, isn't it? no one could judge you. you can't judge yourself, either. you've been through so much — now and in the past — what's wrong with accepting the sweet fruit he's tempted you with?

you latch yourself to him. it isn't graceful or romantic, it's clinging to the lifeline that pushed you overboard to begin with. he lets out a soft sound at the ferocity of your grip. anyone else would've been knocked over by the sheer exertion of force, but chrollo didn't even budge. he must decide to discern the specifics later as he doesn't prod at you with questions. no, he reciprocates the embrace with an ardor that would've sickened you any other time.

you're babbling incoherently and yet he picks up enough to hazard a guess at what brought this about. he reassures you that he'd never harm you, that the thought alone makes him feel emotions he thought himself incapable of. he hugs you close, rubs his hands over your back, presses lingering kisses to your temple, and shushes you.

exhaustion catches up near the final tears you've shed. chrollo keeps himself still so as not to disturb you when you fall unconscious. he picks you up gently, brings you back to your side of the bed and puts you down. fondness envelops his heart at your now peaceful visage. he smooths out a stray hair cascading down your face.

all he intended to do was make a quick phone call, but coming back to you, with your glassy eyes and trembling lips, essentially attaching yourself to him like he's your sole source of comfort ... he might need to pinch himself to ensure he isn't dreaming.

#i'm sorry i deviated from the original ask somewhat😭#yanderes comforting their darling and their darling actually accepting it even if it's temporary. it always gets me #yandere chrollo x reader #chrollo brainrot #answered #Anonymous

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greenthena · 4 months

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Why we won't have an Apology Dance in S3--or, why I'm choosing to start WW3

Much as I love the Apology Dance, I have a hunch that neither Crowley nor Aziraphale will perform it in S3. It's such a weird (affectionate) little mating ritual, and I cannot see it without thinking of David Attenborough's "Birds of Paradise" clip from Our Planet. (The little fuckers really get going around the 2:30 mark, if you're interested.)

youtube

S2 demonstrates so many of these bizarre little mating rituals. Specifically, I'm thinking about the "Don't hesitate to ask me if you have any questions" moment...

...I mean, Goddamn. Someone damn it. Aziraphale is about to climb that demon like a tree.

And the exchange about borrowing the Bentley...

...which is a battle lost before it's even begun because Aziraphale flashes those pretty eyes and Crowley's too smitten to really put up a fight.

Mah point is (dolphins). My point is that every aspect of their interaction, particularly in S2, is a dance, a courting practice, a mating ritual to which only these two weird (affectionate) little birds know the steps.

And the Apology Dance is one of the key steps in this ritual. We know how important it is because Aziraphale has memorized each year when he performed it for Crowley. 1650, 1793, 1941... And Crowley has now reciprocated. But for all the importance of the Apology Dance, we never hear an actual apology. The words, "I'm sorry" are never exchanged between the Ineffables.

Of course, Aziraphale has forgiven Crowley on multiple occasions (have a tissue), but the absolution is never in response to an apology.

Why does this matter, you ask? Because Crowley has never asked to be forgiven. It's one of his self-identifying traits.

And every time Aziraphale offers him forgiveness, it calls into question Crowley's whole identity. I think this is why Crowley initially refuses to do the dance. He doesn't "do the dance," because he doesn't apologize. Because what's the point? If you believe yourself to be beyond forgiveness, why even bother with an apology.

But that's not what's most interesting to me. See, outside of mending his relationship with Aziraphale, I don't think the demon could give a single fuck about forgiveness. On the cosmic level, it's just another carrot dangled by Heaven. The whole concept of forgiveness of sins demonstrates a pretty fucked up power differential. I mean, who gets to decide whether God has forgiven you when She's not even talking?

I think it's fascinating that despite their squabble, Crowley removes his glasses the moment he steps back into the bookshop, performing the Apology Dance in his "naked" face. It suggests that he knows before he even starts that everything is going to be okay. He can approach the situation in a state of vulnerability because he deeply trusts his angel. But the dance, the mating ritual, still has to be completed. It's similar to how Aziraphale knew Crowley would let him drive the Bentley, but they still had to negotiate their way through the motions.

We've called it the Apology Dance, despite the fact that no apology is offered and no forgiveness given. Remember, Aziraphale's response to Crowley's successful completion of the ritual is, "Very nice."

So here's the crux. All these rituals that they perform, the Ineffable dances, if you will, rely on one crucial element. The result of the ritual has to be established before the ritual has begun. They each have to enter the ritual in a state of vulnerability, knowing the outcome will be safe and satisfying. And I think that's why Aziraphale doesn't say, "I forgive you" after Crowley's elegant spin and bow.

Because forgiveness is something Aziraphale only offers the demon when he feels cornered, frightened and unsafe. Think about the two times he's said it. In both cases, the forgiveness was weaponized.

(Apology Dance incoming for this next gif.)

In a very real way, when Aziraphale forgives Crowley, he invalidates his best friend's lived experience. Crowley doesn't want to be forgiven. He wants to be accepted. Loved. Seen.

So as much fun as it is to speculate about who might dance for whom in S3, I truly hope neither angel nor demon apologize to the other. For me, the most meaningful conclusion would be for them to complete their mating ritual not with some dogmatic, pedantic, fucked up power differential where one forgives the other for perceived iniquities. Nah. Fuck that. I want them to accept and love and deeply see one another and fully embrace whatever that means.

Here. Have some tissues.

#good omens #aziraphale #crowley #aziracrow #ineffable husbands #aziraphale is in love #crowley is in love #apology dance #im gonna make you cry #im really sorry for the last gif #david attenborough #birds of paradise #david tennant is 87% legs #good omens s3 #good omens season 3 #go3 #Youtube #Good omens meta

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lovelyyandereaddictionpoint · 6 months

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Trunk or Treat with The Yandere Student Council Pt. I

Based Off the OCs in this Post

“Alright everyone let’s start talking about ideas!”

“Uhm do you mean ideas for what to do with Halloween coming?”

“Oh no darling, we always do a Trunk or Treat kind of thing.”

“We are talking about our costumes.”

As bizarre as it sounds the college’s students look forward to the costumes of the student council

Allowed to enjoy whatever festivity that comes with their choice

For reference they share that last year they had a ‘kiss–in–the–coffin’ booth for their shared vampire costumes

“J-j-just so you know the kisses were on the cheek only!”

“I didn’t ask but okay.”

It set the precedent for this year to be just amazing if not better

“Since we have you now (Y/n) we should have something special that welcomes you in!”

“I-i-i-i think that’s a great idea.”

“I’m all for it too!”

Despite your protests, in fear of being singled out by their fans your haters they forge on

“They won’t be bothering you. Not on my watch.”

“You say that but–”

“Seriously (Y/n) believe us! We’ll make sure there won’t be any problems.”

“And if there are we will kill them.”

“What?!”

“Joking. Joking.”

They’re not

Anyway it was decided on that the council will be Ghostly Royalty

Which makes costumes really easy or so you thought

According to Min, quite a large part of the budget went into your costumes

“Pick your jaw up (Y/n)! This is the best part! You don’t think we get this big of a budget without showing off, do you?”

“Still…it feels a bit overkill…especially when I don’t have a fan base at all.”

“Ohhh that’s what you think–ow!”

“Roman, always such an optimistic chatterbox. Always saying things that are not true.”

Lucoa takes the role of the king naturally

Spencer is forcefully given the role of the queen

Min takes the role of the dungeon master, despite his meek character

Roman takes the role of an advisor

Gil as a duke

June as a duchess

“Wait so what am I?”

“Our dragon.”

“What?!”

“We wanted to put a spin on the old system!”

“But that isn’t really accurate…nor does it really fit the ghost royalty theme.”

“.....”

“....”

“So? We’re doing fantasy ghosts then.”

In your opinion, it's just an excuse to make your costume as ridiculous as they please

“This is an early draft of your costume.”

“What!? Wait where are the actual clothes? I’m just seeing gold necklaces and bangles.”

“...That was the idea.”

“I’m not wearing that if there aren’t actual clothes underneath there.”

“...But it will ruin the integrity of the design and disrupt the choreography and–”

“Then hide it under the gold! I’m not going to be half-naked for the entire school.”

“...I will consult the President.”

You owed him a favor after that

Saying you agreed to this as an honorary member

But when you’re not having to fight Gill on your costume designs

You are helping the others

��June…this is just a dress.”

“Right, it’s a perfect occasion to wear it. And don’t my hips feel and look great.”

Adjusting the golden belt meant to hang off his waist you try to ignore how his poses requires that he touch you in some way shape or form

“Well yeah but don’t you feel like your fans would want you in something else?”

“Oh baby! You don’t have to worry, they love this sort of thing.”

And helping with their research

“Roman I know you never seem to run out of ideas to hang out but why a medieval diner?”

“It's for research! By the way, how do you like the food? I made sure the critiques were as positive as they could get.”

“Roman.”

“Yes?”

“Why did that waitress, compliment our relationship?”

“OMG they brought another plate of bread and for free? So cool.”

“Roman!”

Or helping organize their booths

“So Spencer what are you going for?”

“A kind of dunk tank except it drops on me.”

“Oh okay….this says that you’re not actually using water but…oil?”

“Yeah Lucoa suggested I show off my scars and muscles.”

“Wait you have those?”

“Hahaha very funny but seriously give me your opinion.”

“Oh wow….yeah, I think they’ll like it…no they’ll love it.”

“Oh really? Well, thanks!”

As if he didn’t already know

But eventually as the date comes closer it comes time to focus on your booth

But it seems that as an honorary member you don’t get to have much control over your own booth

Or any decision involving your event

“Hey Min what are you building over there?”

“Oh this is the art for your exhibit. Lucoa put me in charge of matching the gold from your costume to the setting around there.”

“Aw thanks can I help?”

“N-n-no!”

“Oh.”

“S-s-s-sorry the President gave us explicit instructions not to include you in the making of it. I’m r-r-r-r-really so sorry!”

“It’s fine Min, don’t worry about it.”

It’s just so apparent how little you would be included in your own activity no one really bothered to hide that fact from you

“Hey Gill this meeting on your calendar, I don’t remember getting your usual reminder for it.”

“That is because you are not invited to it.”

“Don’t be sad (Y/n)~Afterwards we can just come visit you after.”

“No no that’s okay I’ll just take the day off then. Catch up on homework.”

“Aw~ Don’t be like that we’ll come over to your house after.”

“No I’m not sad. I’m going to be happily doing my homework alone!”

“Putting that on our private calendar: Going to (Y/n)’s house an hour after the meeting.”

At the end of the day you’re just as surprised when the event begins and they shove you in the room under the stage with nothing but a warning not to move from the chair you’re in:

Part 2

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johannestevans · 10 months

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Hi, as an intersex trans masc person I was just wondering if I could ask/clarify a couple things about your posts about being referred to as "afabs"

This is entirely out of a desire to better understand other perspectives so I'm sorry if its a bother, it isn't intended that way

Is it that you generally dislike being referred to as afab because it references a gender that is not your identity, or is it specifically it being used as a noun that causes the issue?

If it is the noun issue, could I ask if you can elaborate on why?

I was under the impression that afab/amab were useful and accepted ways to refer to someone's physical sex at birth, which is what is relevant in discussion about pregnancy etc. Have I misinterpreted something here?

(I'm also autistic so idk if I've missed some tone issue or sarcasm or implication here, I'm just trying to understand better so I don't offend others)

I hope you're doing well and thanks for your time x

THERE IS NO SUCH THING AS "PHYSICAL SEX".

And even if there were, right?

Calling me an "AFAB", the implication is meant to be that BECAUSE I was assigned female at birth and had ~female parts~, that means I must have ~female parts~ now, as if these things don't change with time and hormones and surgery, as if because I was erroneously described as female, I am the same physically as I was as an infant, and therefore I share in common everything with anyone else who was also described as female at birth, erroneously or otherwise.

Of course anything to do with being "female" isn't my fucking identity, as a man.

AFAB and AMAB stand for Assigned Female at Birth and Assigned Male at Birth.

Being assigned male or female was an event that happened in the past. I was also a fucking baby at birth. I'm not a baby now, am I? Just because I was an infant then doesn't mean you would prefer to me as an ex-infant or previously an infant. That has 0 bearing on my identity as an adult. It's bizarre to bring it up.

AMAB and AFAB are perfectly useful terms to describe that specific event - the event at birth when you were assigned a sex, incorrect or otherwise.

What relevance or frankly, business, is it of anyone's what sex a ten-year-old was assigned at birth? A twenty-year-old? A forty-year-old? A seventy-year-old?

There are loads of trans people who never went through the wrong puberty, and have had various surgeries. There are plenty of trans people who have been stealth since they were kids, where many of the people around them never had any idea they were trans and/or intersex, and they just went through the puberties they were most comfortable with.

There is no "AFAB" or "AMAB" experience that is universal to everyone based on what sex they were assigned at birth. That is a lie, it is a fiction, and it's not even a convincing once if you actually talk to a variety of other trans and intersex people. Words to the contrary are generally just based in gender essentialist ideology.

What does it have to do with anything, except that some freaks basically still think of assigned sex at birth as what you "really" are, or having a big impact on your current identity in perpetuity?

In a few years, the abilities of surgeons around uterine transplants will have improved. Within twenty years, I expect we'll see more trans women having pregnancies, and in general more people carrying pregnancies after having womb transplants and other organ transplants.

Just say "people who can get pregnant". Just say "people carrying pregnancies" and "pregnant people".

Stop trying to imagine that someone's ~femaleness~ or ~maleness~ is what the crux of the matter is here. Stop trying to project the male and female """"""biological""""" bullshit onto people when it doesn't apply to them.

There is no such thing as universal biological or physical sex under male and female categories, let alone shared experiences based on those categories.

Just eliminate that shit from your mind. It's a fucking cancer.

#musings #anonymous #i'm not angry at you anon #but i am so tired of this bullshit and i hate when it feel slike people are jumping through hoops to keep calling me female #or to define me based on how i was supposedly once a girl or a woman #when i never was

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mrghostrat · 6 months

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ok OK listen. here are my latest streamer au thoughts before i try to hop off for the day:

i love "married couple madly in love that no one realises are together because they're so different" but i am also terrible at fic planning for established relationships, and my favourite part about aziraphale/crowley is the lead up and the pining

so what if......... "streamers who no one realises are roommates because they're so different" AND "roommates who are secretly madly in love with each other but are so focused on keeping their own infatuation secret they don't notice it's reciprocated until thousands of online strangers start to point it out" ?????

fic concept: crowley and aziraphale are two full time streamers living together. they have their own spaces. but they mesh bizarrely well as roommates, and have come to really enjoy the routine of eating dinners, grocery shopping, and spending their days off together. there's still some distance between them, that shy sort of "i want to show him something– oh his door is closed, i better not bother him," invitations are actual invitations rather than "i'm doing this and you're coming with me," and they're not a CrowleyAndAziraphale unit yet.

both chats are going mad trying to figure out why crowley's roommate's voice is so familiar, and where they've seen that red hair in the corner of aziraphale's screen before. there's conspiracy theories and a subset of shippers (stoked by both crowley and aziraphale's occasional penchant to sigh and vent about a vague crush they haven't named, but is definitely their mysterious roommate if you watched every stream and collaborated on an elaborate google doc to connect all the dots together) but their mods are the only ones who know they live together. (and ship it. of course they know about the crushes and ship it to death and are just watching with popcorn waiting for these idiots to figure it out)

some people piece it together with all the off hand mentions and mid stream tea deliveries, and more start to believe them when crowley drags aziraphale to a twitchcon event and they're seen being friendly in photos together. they're also aware of people constantly asking and guessing about their illusive roommates, but when crowley finally pops up on an aziraphale stream, both streamers are startled at just how insanely their communities react to the innocuous reveal.

nothing changes for aziraphale and crowley. they were never intentionally hiding the fact, so they just continue referring to each other in their normal vague terms. but now when a new viewer is like "who's your roommate?" long time subs with the lore will fill them in. and it very quickly starts to sound like "crowley lives with aziraphale, that wholesome kitchen streamer. someone's made a clip comp, you should go watch. it's adorable they're so in love" and crowley sees these messages like what the FUCK are yall talking about in here on this day, and bans a message for the first time in six months.

aziraphale of course sees none of these messages because he's a fuckin luddite and can't keep up with chat.

or. maybe he's just choosing not to acknowledge them. because if chat can see he's in love with crowley, does that mean crowley can see it too? and that is just unacceptable and terrifying to him, so he smiles and quickly starts explaining how to saddle stitch a book spine even though literally nobody asked

(anathema, newt, and nina have worked their way through the flavoured popcorn seasonings anathema's aunt sent her for christmas, and are now experimenting with homemade seasoning recipes together) (if maggie knew about all this, she would have put her foot down and demanded they talk to aziraphale and crowley about having a conversation)

#ineffable streamers #good omens #listen someone asked me for a longfic and i want to provide it #streamer au could be PERFECT

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shalotttower · 4 months

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Sweetcheeks

Title: Sweetcheeks

Fandom: Black Christmas (1974)

Summary: You've been getting these odd calls for several months now.

Word count: 2000+

Characters: Billy Lenz x Reader (female)

Notes: Yandere!Billy (I'm not sure if there's a point to specify it, seems like his normal state), stalking, voyeurism, explicit and degrading vocabulary, some regular Billy perversions, NSFW, noncon touching, implied noncon by the end.

You've been getting these calls from a stranger for several months, ever since you moved into the sorority house. When the phone rings, what you might hear is easy to predict: creepy panting accompanied by lewd remarks. There's a breathy, slightly raspy voice on the other end; Hello, sweetcheeks, whatcha got down them pants?

He calls you that, "sweetcheeks". Says your name as if it were the loveliest word ever. "Naughty girl," he croons, "let me lick your hot cunt". Nasty bitch. Angel. He has an extensive collection of nicknames, and keeps expanding it with every passing day. Some of them are quite creative, others made your skin crawl at first, but eventually you got used to his bizarre expressions.

He never gets tired of these calls.

The sorority girls named him the Moaner, because he does it quite a lot - moans. Moans and says obscene things, which make your face flush in a hot wave of pink.

"Did you think of me?" he asks.

Do you ever think of me?

"I could-" he groans those filthy words, and you want to wash your ears with soap, "fuck your brains out. Dirty whore. Your... mmm."

You slam the receiver down. It always happens when least expected. In the middle of a conversation with other girls, during study hours, when you're cooking or getting ready for bed, he calls. There's no pattern, so it's impossible to anticipate; normally you just answer the phone when there's no one else around or let others tell him to fuck off.

Today is almost the same as usual, with the only exception that you don't pick up.

What follows can't be described: the unbearable, insane trilling of the phone ringing without a pause. You don't want to go downstairs, there're finals, tests and assignments weighing heavily on you and no time to indulge the ever-breathing presence behind the line. So you don't. Luckily, a set of ear plugs from the local pharmacy helps a lot.

***

You don't bother answering for the whole week, yet despite your neglect he still calls as if desperate for something you can't place.

***

If only Billy could tell you how sweet you look when getting ready for bed. Through the attic floor cracks he sees every small detail of your routine, the room which is nice and smells of a woman - clean, soft with the hints of perfume, it makes him want to bury his face in your sheets.

If only Billy could tell you how exhilarating everything about you is. From the way you move through the day to the sound of your bare feet padding on the wooden floors in the evening. His favourite part is when you shake off your jeans; it's a clumsy movement which makes your ass wiggle.

Billy has a small box where he stores the pieces of your life. There's a receipt from the bakery, two pencils, a silver chain that broke off from your neck and he grabbed it like a treasure, a lip balm. You are all his, every bit of you in those little things you leave behind, even if you don't know it yet.

He knows so many things by now. What time you usually go to shower (late at night when all other girls are asleep), what you are going to wear in the morning (he saw you ironing a blue fluffy sweater and a checked skirt). He knows what's in each of your drawers, from cosmetics to panties, soft cotton that smells like laundry detergent.

The box is hidden carefully in the dusty corner of the attic. Sometimes he opens it, caressing the items you left so carelessly on the desk or bathroom counter - they burn his fingers.

You have a mole under your left breast, a beauty mark on your inner thigh. He also knows that you haven't been answering his calls for a week.

Engrossed in your books with sticky notes, you don't even pay attention to the ringing when he's trying so hard. Too bad Billy can't read, letters dance before his eyes, mocking him with their squiggly shapes; maybe he'd know what exactly is keeping you so occupied if he could. He heard some girls talking about upcoming finals but didn't understand what that meant.

Billy knows how to handle a girl who doesn't answer the phone, a naughty, mean girl who ignores him and gets under his skin like the itch he can't scratch, irritating, driving him crazy.

Patience is a virtue - that's what they told him in the looney house, but it must've been a lie. Patience won't bring you closer, he thinks, sitting cross-legged on the attic floor with a phone clutched in his palm. Patience won't help him touch you, lick your soft skin and hear you moan for him. In the cramped space smelling of old wood, dust and cobwebs, patience only leads to days crawling by like sluggish worms.

He knows how to handle the girl who doesn't answer his calls, but you do look tired, the shadows under your eyes are too heavy and prominent. Billy watches you rub your temples for the fourth time in an hour, yawning. He's seen this gesture before, saw you massaging the back of your head after reading for too long.

He likes watching you when you think no one's looking, because then you're most honest. Just you.

Maybe Billy will let you rest. Yes, maybe...But his hands itch so much. Itchy-itchy-itchy when he holds the phone. He wants to dial your number again, listen to your breathing and tell you something that will make your voice waver in confusion, just like that time when he asked what sounds you make when touching yourself.

He strokes the cord and imagines when you'll finally start picking up again. You'll say your name and ask, "Who's this?" and Billy will laugh, because you're silly, so silly and should've known it's him all along.

***

When did it begin to snow?

You remember the sun peeking from behind the clouds a few days ago and now there's nothing but whiteness outside. White paths, white street lights and white flakes melting on the glass windows. The kitchen feels quiet today, walls drip with the evening chill which crawls inside your veins; it's a week before Christmas and the radio is playing jolly songs about sleigh bells and presents.

Something's been off lately.

Another pair of your favorite socks is gone; you bought five, but three vanished without a trace. Maybe you lost them, maybe they got mixed up with others' laundry. Yet you distinctly remember washing the two and putting them away in the drawer. Usually you're not that forgetful, but perhaps it's finals stress shows.

You glance at the clock - past six - the sorority house is mostly empty, everyone's either in the library or went home for Christmas. The last few hours passed in decorating the living room area with tinsel and ornaments, you even put a wreath on the door. A festive mood is slowly seeping in, and all that's missing is a tree. You know that one should be in the attic, Allison told you there's a lot of stuff up there. The house is old, and whoever owned it in the past had a lot of things, from clothes and books to trinkets, all stored away in cardboard boxes and plastic containers.

Sturdy and narrow, the attic ladder is hanging down to the hallway, beckoning with its crooked wooden rungs. Allison mentioned some odd noises coming from there sometimes. Probably rodents. "Go take a look, girl," she laughed and made spooky sounds, wiggling her fingers. "But don't tell me if you find something nasty, I don't wanna know about it."

Your eyes wander over the ceiling and stop at a small trapdoor. There are rusty hooks holding it closed, and you wonder if it's safe to go up alone. It's probably dirty, a real mess, but the living room looks empty and unfinished without a Christmas tree.

Just a quick look. As long as there aren't spiders swarming the corners it'll be alright.

Everything's dark up there, nothing moves and the sound of your quiet breath is the only thing breaking the silence. You pull a flashlight out of your pocket. Flick. Nothing. Stacks of boxes crowd the space, pressing together, on the side of a particularly large container is scribbled: BOX 23. You look through the labels - toys, photographs, china, books - dozens and dozens of them, some haven't been opened for years.

Dirty. Stuffy-dusty, Billy's saliva gets sticky, leaving wet stains on his sleeves as he wipes his mouth. He can see you from where he's hiding. It's hard to breathe. Harder when you bend over to open a box with Christmas decorations; you've got nice thighs. Nice legs. It's so good to have you here, sweetcheeks, you won't leave soon, pretty kitty. Dumb bitch. Sweet angel. You really should've stayed downstairs, in the warmth and light of the fireplace, instead of crawling up here into the darkness.

Into him.

You go through the attic space looking for something, and Billy thinks that your soft slippers will be covered in dust after you're done poking around, all filthy, so messy. But it doesn't matter, Billy will clean you up later with his tongue, and you can sit on his blanket while he licks your hot cunt till you scream.

Billy knows exactly what kind of sounds you'll make.

He's heard them countless times already.

A sudden clank makes you jump. Your heart flutters, but there's nothing except for shadows dancing on the walls under the ray of your flashlight. Maybe a rat? Oh, there it is. A green plastic branch of a fake Christmas tree is sticking out from the nearest pile, just what you were looking for. You tug at it, trying to free it from the clutches of old furniture and junk, but the thing is stuck tight.

Billy wants to grab you. Wrap his arms around your waist, press his face to yours and whisper in your ear that you shouldn't worry about the Christmas tree anymore, because now you're going to stay forever and ever with him. He'll let you stroke his cheek and kiss him softly on the lips before carrying you down the ladder to celebrate together. Billy will take care of it, he's always liked Christmas; there was a time when everything was different, a man dressed up as Santa brought gifts, he even remembers what he got - a shiny red truck and a candy cane.

The flashlight slips from your grasp and rolls over the dusty floorboards. You curse, crouch down and reach for it though the hole between the boxes.

The trapdoor shuts close with a loud thud.

Your hand freezes.

There's a breath. Not yours, it tickles your fingertips and the skin of your palm like a feather; it shouldn't be there - you scramble away from the darkness. Or try to. Something warm catches your wrist in a vice grip, pulls and next you're tumbling forward, right through the hole with Christmas ornaments spilling everywhere.

"Nasty piggy," says someone's raspy voice, "why don'tcha pick up my calls anymore?"

In the dim yellow of your flashlight too far out of reach, you can barely see anything, only glimpses of dirty auburn hair, brown eyes and a green stretched jumper.

It's not a rat in the attic, you think. It's not a rat, he smells like a wet dog and has hot lips which press into your throat. His hands shake as they travel up your sides, touch your breasts through the sweater, squeeze, and then he moans.

You've been getting these calls for several months now, from a stranger who pants on the other end of the line and makes obscene remarks. And you know him by voice, the one who likes talking filth and making you blush every damn day.

"Santa brought presents," he whispers in your ear. A hand slides down between your legs and cups your mound through the fabric. "Merry Christmas, sweetcheeks."

#black christmas (1974)#billy lenz #billy lenz x reader #shalott fanfiction #fanfic #slashers #slasher fanfiction #yandere #I'm late and I don't care #it's Christmas

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jahnavisurenda-21 · 2 months

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Hazbin Hotel||Alastor X Reader||Stress Relief

Take a deep breath, before you yell at some poor face who just happens to have the misfortune to walking in to one of your days, where everything seems to be going south.

This seemed to have taken one of the most bizarre turns you could have ever imagined, you had no idea why you had agreed to such a trivial, petty matter.

Oh! Now you remember it was Charlie, who had clasped your hand looked at you with the doe eyes which reminded you of some of the Korean shows you watched as a teen and young adult.

You would admire the eye makeup, the most because once your dad who had been a makeup artist had told his philosophy of makeup to look absolutely flawless, the eyes and lips should be standing out the most.

Totally irrelevant, you didn't understand the point of recalling this faint memory of your dad. You wished you could just go back to your suburban house, in the mountainside feel the spring flowers touch your skin again, you can't believe you once hated them.

Well, you always, miss what you once never cherished and lost.

"Coming this far, can't believe all the messed-up hotel mess is on Y/n." Angel dust once told Alastor, "The civil examinations study there and study even after your dead!"

"A what now?" Alastor questioned, "Oh! you didn't know? Not very bad now, are you?" Niffty asked, climbing on Alastor.

"What exams?" Alastor had asked once again, pushing Niffty from his shoulder,

"You always are the last person to know about anything are you? Don't you have like special powers or something which you can spy on anyone?"

Alastor looked at them like he was just about to lose his smiling grin, but of course smile is the best makeup.

"So, you know right Heaven is facing some economical crisis they spent so much time providing the 'perfect after life' guess the angels forgot money doesn't exactly grow on trees." Angel said sarcastically. But some hints of satisfaction could be made out.

"How exactly is this related to Y/n now?"

"You seriously don't know anything." Vaggie interjected, "When you had mysteriously run of in one of your 'expeditions' Adam the asshole came to the hotel, not for the execution apparently in the weekly magazine or something in heaven there was about a mysterious economist, or a business manager who was really good at managing expenses and could stabilize the afterlife."

"Well that turned out nicely did it not?"

"Ugh!" Vaggie hit her head, "No you egocentric, piece of shi--"

"Don't try that with me." Alastor warned,

"Yeah yeah she's really good." Angel finished, "It was tracked to Y/n, now heaven knows that Y/n is still choosing to be in hell, Now they want her there in heaven."

"To help them manage there life."

"Y/n has to write a civil exam the hardest one, or else they would attack the hotel."

"Well they don't know who they are messing with."

You sniffled, "Can't do this anymore." You murmured, "Want to die."

"Now my dear, is that a word you should use when you are literally saving the hotel?" Alastor appeared like the shadow, like always.

"Alastor?" You slowly poked your head from the blanket, "Why dear you're a mess!" Alastor said moving next to you on the bed,

"Can I put my head on your lap?" You asked, he nodded cheerfully.

"So why did you agree to this my dear?"

"I didn't want to fail everyone the extermination is already scheduled earlier than expected I didn't want to crush Charlie's dream."

"You're working really hard, without sleeping, isn't that concerning? It's concerning me."

"Thank god your here!" You said,

Alastor put a hand on your tear-stained cheeks.

"It's time for a little rest. Dear."

"I can't the exam is in three more days I think, I don't know how time works in hell."

"If That Adam guy keeps bothering you, I'll just remind him why I am here."

You laughed, "I'm sure you will."

You kissed his cheek, "Thank you."

"Never forget to smile my dear, and now take care."

He switched of the lights, and saw you instantly hold him close before cuddling up to him, he really knew how to make you loosen up a bit.

#lovestories #romance #alastor fanfiction #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor the radio demon #alastor x reader #alastor x you #beauty #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel fandom #hazbin alastor #alastor #radio demon #the radio demon

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rendy-a · 10 months

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I feel like looking at the 500 followers event Idia would bring back ptsd from ghost marriage event...

So, anyway! May I request In a self aware au reader asking Idia out for a dance, because they're low key anxious that he'll be stolen again (that little mf didn't show up after the 100th pull for me T-T)?

Thanks ahead!

~~~🌟🎃

That is so harsh when you miss out on the event SSR at the 100th pull! It’s not yet happened to me, but I’ve been taken to 100 a few times. (Lilia twice! That scamp!) I’m just glad EN is getting the 200 pull guarantee before Glorious Masquerade!

The most interesting thing about this goodwill dance business was meeting students from other campuses. You hadn’t felt that way in the beginning but, as they spent more time at NRC, you’d gotten used to seeing them around. Once their bizarre attention toward you cooled off, you found it refreshing to interact with new people, especially the girls from Fair Maiden Academy. There were just things you could talk about to girls that you’d never dare bring up to the guys.

“Ooh, you know what might be fun?” you begin saying to your new friends from FMA, “We could go over the courtyard at Pomefiore. They have this well there that is perfect for shouting wishes into!” Your friend Ace would have laughed right in your face had you said something sappy like that to him but the girls of FMA were another story. “Really? Oh my! That does sound fun!” one of the girls exclaimed. “I just love making wishes,” sighed another girl in a dreamy tone. So, you accompanied the gaggle of girls to the wishing well to deliver your wishes to.

When you arrived, one particularly silly girl asked if you intended to make a wish. “Oh, I don’t know…” you trailed off. The girls gathered around and insisted that you were the only one who could properly demonstrate how to use the wishing well. “Oh please, Prefect,” crooned the silly girl, “I think it would be so educational for us to see how YOU deliver your wish.” Oh, you’d forgotten how intensely interested people were in you, what you thought and what you did. “Ah, I guess so,” you awkwardly replied with a hand on your head. So, you approached the well and made whatever nonsense wish came to mind, “I wish Grim would remember to brush his teeth after eating stinky foods.”

It was a foolish wish, but all your new friends nodded and said what a wise and useful wish it was. “Oh,” said the silly girl, “I wish I could make such a sensible wish, but I know I’ll just end up spoiling mine on frivolous things like True Love!” You shake your head with an exasperated smile, “There is nothing wrong with True Love. In fact, I think that is a perfectly nice wish.” You yourself had enjoyed a daydream or two since you’d arrived in TWST. How could you not when it was inhabited by boys handsome enough to be characters in a game. There were times when you felt like getting closer to one or another, but you always held it in. After all, you were a player of a game, and they were game characters; the whole thing was just strange. That didn’t stop you from enjoying a look now and again.

Emboldened by your support, the silly girl went up to the well and made her wish for true love. “I wish, for the one I love, to find me today.” You smiled kindly at the girl and gestured for her to step back only… “And! And! …I want him to be at least 180 cm tall with an air of nonchalance! Ohh, oh! And healthy and lustrous skin, you know? He’d look at me with those lidded eyes and give a charming smile. I’d be mesmerized by his bright and shimmering hair before being captivated by his lips, so arresting that you just have to kiss them! From head to toe, the Perfect Prince!” Then she backs away from the well, holds both hands to her chest and makes a screaming sound you could only label as a squeal. It was rather shocking.

“Ooookay,” you trail off with a wide-eyed stare. That was a little much for you but no one else seemed particularly bothered by it. The other girls took their turn whispering their wishes into the well and hearing their dearest dreams echo back to them. You smiled at each of them as they wished but truly you were distracted. Something about this whole thing was itching at the back of your mind. It felt like you were overlooking something important. It was an unsettling feeling that caused you to beg off on your friends when the wishing was done. You left to walk home alone and think about what you had missed.

You arrived back home at Ramshackle dorm and entered the foyer. You shrugged off your jacket and took off your shoes. When you pass into the living room, a voice greets you from above. “Hi guys,” you smile up at the floating inhabitants of the dorm. You plopped down on the sofa and spaced out. Something about this felt familiar. You, Ramshackle, ghosts…YOU, RAMSHACKLE AND GHOSTS! How could you have forgotten the Ghost Bride? She burst onto campus and declared Idia of all people was her perfect prince. She had a long list of ridiculous requirements he supposedly met, and those requirements reminded you unsettlingly of the wish your silly friend from FMA had made.

It was just a coincidence, right? That couldn’t happen again, could it? You pictured Idia at the dance being cornered by a crazed extroverted girl shouting and squealing about her perfect prince. It was an unsettling idea. Idia would freak out and his hair would go crazy; everyone would stare, and it would only get worse. What sort of impression of NRC would that leave? Plus, you’d hate to admit it, but you were sort of fond of the shy dorm leader of Ignihyde. Fine, you would just have to play the knight and rescue this unusual ‘damsel in distress.’

Your plan was simple, you’d find Idia and keep him away from the girls of FMA. It shouldn’t be hard with the way Idia would avoid crowds. Maybe he wouldn’t even be here tonight, you think as you scan over the ballroom venue. The gardens were lovely and the magically created dance floor the Third-Years made was glowing in the moonlight. But that wasn’t the only thing glowing. There was a blue glow coming from a distant alcove and it appeared you weren’t the only one who’d noticed. “Wow, your hair is so bright,” the silly girl from FMA said moving deeper into an alcove hidden from your view. “I insist on a dance!” you shout as you run over, pushing past the FMA girl. When you round the corner though, you are stopped in your tracks as you see Ortho floating in the alcove. “Oh,” you stammer lamely, “I thought you were Idia.”

Ortho looks at you happily and exclaims, “You were looking for my brother, Prefect? He’ll be so happy! He is quite the fan!” The confused FMA academy girl just looks on with a little smile, “What now?” You laugh and wave your hand in front of your face, “Ah, it was just a misunderstanding.” The girl smiles and gestures to Ortho, “I found my prince! He’s a little young but I’ve waited this long!” Then with a smile she turns back to Ortho and swings him around in a simple dance step. You embarrassingly hurry away but by the time you reach the end of the alcove, a voice reaches you, “He is in his room, Prefect. He couldn’t make himself come. I think he’d like it if you’d visit him though. He was looking forward to seeing you in your formal wear. He said he had to get a glimpse of a rare event costume if it was the last thing he did.”

You left the alcove and smiled politely at those watching you exit with interest. Everyone seemed to want a piece of your attention tonight. The disappointed looks when you turned down a dance or offer of a drink tugged on your conscience, but you really didn’t feel like risking some event trigger in the middle of this huge dance. The last thing you need is to start some random isekai event like ‘I met the crown prince at the party’ or whatever. Avoiding everyone was causing you such stress though, that you suddenly realized that you’d rather just leave early. So, you quietly back around a corner and slide through a door into a classroom hallway. Once out of view, you took off running toward main street and away from the trials of Crowley’s party. At the end of Main Street, you passed the mirror chamber. Here you hesitate, inside was a path that would take you to Ignihyde, if you choose. You had no obligation to go, and you were tired, yet you still found your gaze locked on the doorway. You laugh to yourself, ‘Well, here it is, the time to make a route decision, after all.’

You knocked on the door but there was no answer. Of course, there wasn’t an answer. This was Idia, he wasn’t about to answer the door. You tried the knob and surprisingly the door opened. Inside, Idia was playing a dancing rhythm game with a set of headphones on. He was so focused on the game that you were able to take several steps inside the room before he noticed you. When he did, he quickly flung off the headphones and seemed to cower in on himself, “Ahhhk!” You look at him curiously, waiting for him to ask why you were there or order you to leave his room, but he doesn’t say anything. Finally, you tilt your head towards the screen, “I love this game. May I have the next dance?” He still did not speak but the expression he makes causes you to think, ‘That silly FMA girl was right, he does have a charming smile.’

Idia felt like he’d passed the night in a dream. He hadn’t needed to attend that awful extrovert torture they called a dance and he’d gotten to see the rare Player Formalwear in person. Not only that but he’d had a dance (several even!) with the Player. He felt like this dream would end come morning, so he had to make the most of this magical night. “Th.there is another game I like. We..we could play it…IF YOU WANT!” You looked at him encouragingly, “Sure, what sort of game is it?” He feels a wave of euphoria wash over him that you hadn’t immediately rejected him, “Oh, it’s a great game made for two. You can be my Player 2, if that’s ok.” The sweet smile you gave him when you accepted was all he needed. He’ll save the video feed of tonight and replay this voice clip on repeat tomorrow. “Sure Idia, I’ll be your Player 2.”

#500 follower event #twisted wonderland #yandere idia shroud #tw: yandere #twst wonderland #yandere idia x reader #yandere idia shroud x reader #self aware au

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ssentimentals · 1 year

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first crush {choi seungcheol}

pairing: seungcheol x fem!reader

prompt: 'you should pay rent of how much you live in my head.'

warnings: none, it's pure fluff as usual

seungcheol is with his friends at starbucks and they are discussing something, but he’s not listening, not really; his whole attention is focused on you and when that happens, everything else kind of fades into the background for him. you are standing not far up the queue and he already knows you are going to order one cappuccino venti with a small smile and always, always a polite 'please' and 'thank you' on your lips. he already knows you are going to glance at the caramel waffles on the counter, bite your lip in a debate whether to buy them or not and for whatever reason you always decide against them despite your obvious desire and it makes seungcheol sad every single time. for the last two months he has to resist the urge to come up to you with whole pack of those waffles, the only thing that’s stopping him is that you two are… nothing, in reality. not friends or at least acquaintances, not enemies, not strangers - just two people who have decided to take Economy 101 and now are suffering the consequences of that action.

seokmin, ever the gentle sunshine, nudges him with: 'some people find staring creepy, so maybe you can-'

'seok is trying to remind you that you have balls, so man up and make the first move,' jeonghan interrupts, grinning. 'we are not letting this one slide, my friend. it’s your first crush, after all!'

and that is exactly what makes everything bizarre for seungcheol - you are his first crush. he never understood what 'crush' even entails, because he never really found anyone particularly appealing or maybe he just never bothered with relationships being too focused on his studies; 'crush' never happened to him in that big sense, when one actually feels something close to the word that starts on 'L''. he did have his share of dates but nothing turned into something serious and no one stayed in his head the way you managed to do without even trying. seungcheol likes his routine and these unfamiliar feelings towards you were not part of it, which annoyed him at first but then he just accepted that thoughts about you became part of his day. his friends obviously noticed this change in him and got incredibly excited on the prospect of him finally having a crush on someone. ('it’s really not that big of a deal,' cheol tries to reason but they don’t even listen to him. 'you having a crush happens like once in a blue moon, of course it’s a big deal!'). so yes, he has a crush. he doesn’t really understand how others are not like him as well, because surely he can’t be the only one who notices how you stand out from the rest? it was intimidating at first but when he realized that you are single and no one is actively pursuing you, he relaxed and— did nothing. horrifyingly paralyzing fear of rejection stopped him from trying anything out (that one time when he came up to you with a question about upcoming exam does not count). which is also not seungcheol’s style, and it’s again unusual, unfamiliar, bizarre and oh god, he hates it.

'seat next to her is the only empty one,' seokmin notices and seungcheol doesn’t miss him and jeonghan sharing a knowing look. 'um, i suddenly remembered-'

'don’t you fucking dare.' seungcheol grabs both of them by elbows but he’s not quick enough.

'we have to go, my mom’s friend’s fish was left unattended, you see?' jeonghan’s eyes are sparkling with mischief and he pats cheol’s back in a mock comfort. 'but you said it yourself, atmosphere here helps you to focus better and you have to finish that paper, right? so stay and me and seokmin have to go.' little shit grabs seokmin’s hand and pushes him towards the exit. 'and remember cheollie - you have balls!'

cheol glances at your direction and you look too engrossed in the book to notice anything else, so he's a little relieved on that one. he quickly orders his usual americano and with zero hesitation also grabs two packs of caramel waffles, ignoring how his heart decided to gallop out of his chest at this moment. every step towards your table feels like a battle within himself and by the time he reaches you, seungcheol is mentally exhausted and his brain turns into mush because when you look up, all that comes out from his mouth is a rather rude 'that's for you' followed by thrown waffles in your direction. he realizes what he's done only seconds after but it's already too late: you look startled in a very, very unpleasant way. shit.

'shit,' he vocalizes, making you look at him again. 'fuck- i'm sorry for throwing them at you, i was going to- that was very rude, wasn't?' you nod and he sighs, resisting the urge to bump his head at the table. 'i'm sorry, i didn't mean to do that. shit, i really wish i could control myself better around you.'

his mouth finally shuts up and after a minute of a charged silence, you gesture at the empty seat in front of you. 'you wanted to take that one?'

seungcheol mutely nods, unmoving. you are looking at him like he's weird and he is, that's the thing, but you were not supposed to learn that right away. he hesitantly pulls up the chair and as you don't protest, he equally hesitantly sits on it, pulling out his laptop from the backpack. 'i'm sorry again,' he mutters and carefully slides waffles towards you. 'these are for you. i'm seungcheol, by the way, in case-'

'i know your name,' you interrupt quietly, raising your eyebrow. 'we are together in Economy 101 class. we even talked once, i think.'

'we did.' he confirms and again taps on the waffles. 'i notic- i mean, anyway, these are for you.' when you look at him with a very obvious question, he adds: 'just thought you would like them, you know.'

'you bought these waffles because you thought i would like them?' you ask, puzzled.

seungcheol nods. you are silent again and honestly? he's on a low head start of just sprinting the fuck out of here, because this might be the most awkward and embarrassing interaction he ever had in whole life and-

'think of me a lot then, seungcheol?'

he looks up in shock. you don't look mad - there's humor in your eyes and question is asked in a more teasing manner than anything else. corners of your lips are turned upwards and it looks like you are trying your hardest not to smile widely. you sound confident but he sees light blush dusting your cheeks and you're not fooling him, you are nervous too. seungcheol sits back, smiling.

'you should pay rent of how much you live in my head.'

your eyes widen a little and you duck your head, making him grin widely. your shoulders shake with a quiet laughter and seungcheol's mission instantly becomes to get out of here and hear your loud laugh, be the reason of it. when you look up, you are smiling and he feel his heart thump loudly in his chest. ah, so this is what differentiates 'crush' from everyone else. you are smiling at him and just this gesture makes him happy, just this is enough.

'i can take payment in different ways, by the way. i'm flexible like that,' he says, grinning.

'oh really?' you ask, smiling as well. 'what are the ways of paying?'

'giving me your number is the one that i feel most inclined to at the moment.' he unlocks his phone and slides it towards you. 'rest can be discussed.'

he refuses to acknowledge how adrenaline practically pumps through his veins as you enter the digits. you give it back to him and he calls instantly, lightning up when your phone starts buzzing. you laugh, shaking your head in amusement: 'you thought i'd given you a fake number?'

he shrugs, smiling. 'it's always good to check.' he then looks down at another pack of waffles and slides them to you as well. 'these ones are for you too.'

your smile is sincere when you accept them and your quiet 'thank you' warms his heart. he's too excited to concentrate on any work right now, so he stands up, ready to share great news with his friends. 'i'll text you,' he promises, gathering his laptop. 'please reply to me.'

you laugh loudly at this and he smiles. mission completed. 'i will, i promise.' you say. 'see you, i guess?'

he nods. 'see you very soon,' he confirms and runs away with a light heart and a huge smile on his face.

a/n: ah it's almost Christmas! hopefully you are all in a good place and are enjoying it to the fullest <3 here is the link to my other works, check them out as well! - nini

tag list: @pearlygraysky @woozionascooter @smalliechelle @jaetaimjadore @yeow6n (let me know if you want to be added!)

#choi seungcheol #seungcheol imagines #seungcheol x y/n #seungcheol fluff #seventeen fluff #seungcheol x reader #seventeen reaction #seventeen imagine #seventeen scenarios #seventeen seungcheol #svt seungcheol #scoups fluff #scoups #scoups scenarios #scoups seventeen

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jacksgreysays · 2 months

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Prompt: The Jashin cult incident did not result in the Gardens universe, but rather caused some wibbly wobbly time space stuff to happen, resulting in the hammerspaces of various AU Shikakos to merge/converge. A young Shikako now has access to the hammerspace of Shinobi War veteran Shikako. Her teammates are baffled by her seemingly bottomless supply of water scrolls and explosive seals.

So, here’s the thing: I’m not actually doing an ask box event at the moment. But I’m also not going to say no to a cool prompt, with the understanding that once you send something to me they are up to my (wild) interpretation on how/if to fill them. All that being said, letmebeawalrus, I do think this prompt is super cool. I also, immediately, went sideways with it for several reasons which I will list under this tiny ficlet:

This is not the first time she has used the Space.

When she was younger, she would reach into the Space and pull sweets seemingly out of thin air for herself and her brother and her friends. Whenever she misplaced a pen, there seemed to be an endless amount available to her with a twist of her hand. For cloud watching sessions turned stargazing, she could provide blankets to make those times last longer.

This is also not the first time she has put something into the Space.

Motivated she may be, she was still Nara through and through, and carrying things was so much easier when she could stash it away without bothering with pockets or pouches. Food maintained its temperature, flowers never wilted, everything forever fresh in there. She’s the undisputed best at hiding things.

This is not even the first time she has felt compelled to put specific things into the Space.

It’s funny how much the Academy teachers twitch as they see her make explosion tags during classes but can’t figure out where they go—not knowing that she’s making them for the Space, for other versions of herself who don’t have as much free time as she does. She asks Mum if she can borrow the camera, promises to be careful, takes pictures of her family, her friends, the deer herds, clouds, and other serene things. Mum has also gotten used to making twice as much gyoza, bemusedly but indulgently watching her daughter stash away four for every one she eats, and even writes out a recipe card even though they always make them together.

But this is the first time that the Space has needed something so much more… challenging. Shikako knows, without any words, that she is the youngest with access to the Space: she has the kindest, least stressful lifestyle which means she has more opportunities to contribute to the Space than the others. And as the youngest she also knows she is the earliest in the timeline, which means that she may be the only one who can get this for the Space, for the other versions of herself that needs this.

So she will do it. She will. It just sucks that it involves talking to strangers and asking them for a bizarre favor for which she can’t explain. The first step is not too bad, theoretically, it’s just talking to Sasuke: they’re not friends, necessarily, but ever since she knocked him out during taijutsu class, he seems to respect her more.

That will probably go down the drain after this.

“I need to meet your cousin Shisui.”

So, letmebeawalrus, my brain actually wanted to do a twist on your prompt. Although perhaps it’s just the B-sides of your prompt rather than a twist. Of course it is still very impressive that young!Shikako has access to endless water scrolls and explosive seals and other things which she should have access to (perhaps at one point she pulls out the Sword of the Thunder God, just says whoops, and then tucks it away into the Space) but I kind of wanted to look at it from a “what does young!Shikako bring to the Space.” Because she does have the most free time—and I think it’s been established that she figured out explosive tags in the Academy—so SHE could be the source of the endless explosive tags for all the other Shikakos who don’t have the time (and you can’t tell me Shikako isn’t constantly multi-tasking during the more academic lecture-based classes.) But then I also thought about how, young!Shikako has in addition to free time, access to people that the older Shikakos wouldn’t. For feels, I wanted to throw in the camera and the qyoza (because there are some Garden Shikako who have been stranded from a Konoha that resembles home, they may have found a Konoha, but not one that has her family and friends in it, alive and unharmed) but then in a strategic way I also realized young!Shikako may be the only one with access to a living Uchiha clan. The Space compelling her to put stuff in is largely benign—and I think because of spacetime wibbly wobbliness, it’s not as if she has a counter to get the thing, just that she has to eventually get the thing (as far as other dimension Shikakos are concerned, they don’t perceive how long it takes between needing a thing and pulling it out from the Space—it’s basically a crowd-sourced version of the Jacket of Useful Things except that crowd is herself from multiple dimensions.) I only ever witnessed this in fanfiction form, but I know there’s a fantasy book (series?) of… not Practical Magic, but sort of adjacent in that the protagonist kind of has an urge to collect things with the vibe that at some point someone will need this thing and that they will be able to give it to them and it is considered magic I think? I also couldn’t find the fanfiction that I encountered it in, so I can’t even link that. But that’s the vibe. I THINK, there is a version of Shikako that needs something from a living Shisui—or, perhaps, if we want to get more complicated there is a version of Shikako that needs something from a living Uchiha clan in a decade, so in order to make sure that will be available, the Space is compelling young!Shikako to intervene such that there will be a living Uchiha clan in a decade? But I don’t think the Space can reach that far--and so young!Shikako who is the only one pre-Uchiha Massacre is the only one who can get it. What that thing might be, I have no idea. Anyway, letmebeawalrus, hope you enjoyed.

#jacksgreyson #letmebeawalrus #fanfiction #writing #brainstorm #dreaming of sunshine #the many gardens of shikabane-hime #shikako nara #asks #prompt response

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alicenttully · 1 year

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"Men would say she had my look."

There's something about the way Sansa looks like Catelyn, an accident of birth that she isn't rewarded for.

Firstly, it's a source of Arya's resentment towards her. Arya already resents her older sister for being "perfect" without having to try whereas Sansa resents Arya for not trying enough in her eyes. Both are wrong. But anyway, to Arya it's bad enough that Sansa is already ahead, does she have to look like Catelyn too?

It's the cause of Littlefinger's obsession with her. He has her framed for murder because he doesn't want Cat's daughter to rely on anyone else but him. He is a grown man contenting himself with forcing kisses on a thirteen-year-old girl because he knows he can't force himself into her bed yet. He is going to die.

Lysa, who could have taken a chance to make amends after realizing- "My god, what have I done", when she learns that the sister, she tricked into going to war with the Lannisters is now dead after she and Robb- the nephew Lysa held when he was hours old at Riverrun- was butchered at a wedding by them. She could have chosen to see Sansa as a way of honoring Catelyn's memory. Instead, all she sees is how much Sansa looks like Catelyn. Too much. And it's not because Sansa is wanted for murder. No, in the end it turns out Lysa is more bothered by the fact that Sansa is the spitting image of the woman who Lysa thinks tried to steal Petyr away. And she tries to murder her traumatized niece. She dies because of it.

Sansa is beautiful because she looks like Catelyn, in the same Arya will develop Lyanna's wild beauty because she looks like her lost aunt. But Sansa being beautiful is literally the reason why Tyrion wasn't forced into marrying her. He had a choice, and he chose Sansa because she's beautiful. She's forced to marry her enemy because he was literally attracted to her and decided he'd rather have the beautiful child instead of the plain, older woman. As much as Joffrey hates Sansa, the text shows him lusting after her because of her looks. He assaults her and would have graduated to rape if he survived his wedding and Sansa never escaped Kingslanding. Let's not forget the awful way the Hound treats her.

So yeah, with all this background/context I'm just going to find it really cathartic when Sansa is reunited with people who will find it bittersweet seeing Sansa because of how much she looks like their lost mother/sister/niece. You can't tell me Arya and Bran won't get emotional at seeing how much Sansa looks like the mother they miss, in the same way, Sansa won't get emotional over how much Arya looks like the father they miss?

I also love it because with the whole "how will Sansa prove her identity without Lady"- um BECAUSE of Catelyn. She is the spitting image of Catelyn Tully, wife of Ned Stark. Lady of Winterfell for 15 years. The Northern lords damn well knew she was.

I love it because in the end Sansa looking like Catelyn is going to work in her favor. The very thing that this fandom has bizarrely used as one of their pieces of "evidence" to argue is that she isn't really a Stark (even though in the books none of Cat and Ned's kids look like Ned except Arya) because she has Tully looks... will be the very thing to validate her Stark identity.

#sansa stark #asoiaf #a song of ice and fire #im having sansa feelings tonight #anti tyrion lannister #anti sandor clegane #rape tw

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ddarker-dreams · 1 year

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Ataraxia.

Yan Xiao x F Reader. Commissioned piece.

Warnings: Yandere themes, unhealthy relationships, implied kidnapping and isolation. Word count: 2k.

You think you may live in a painting.

It sounds like a romantic notion if taken at face value. The idyllic beauty that surrounds you could inspire the most prose-averse individual to take a brush to paper, creating line after line of wondrous descriptions. Blades of emerald grass, running streams with water so clear one could see the smooth pebbles resting at the bottom, white clouds as puffy as cotton floating without a care in the sky. There’s wildlife in abundance too. Frogs make a perch of the numerous lilypads dotted throughout, fish swim in their crystalline exhibit, and birds sing the same melody as if they shared sheet music.

If you dared to venture to the edge of this canvas, an invisible force would inevitably block your path. The tall stone peaks in the horizon hinted at more, an empty promise. You could only go so far. Out of curiosity, you once threw rocks to test the boundary and found they were granted passage. Other materials followed the same logic. Where they ended up, you hadn’t the slightest clue.

All you know is that they’re freer than you are.

Presently, you sit crisscross on the edge of this elaborate hoax crafted with adepti magic. The grass which never grows or withers brushes your bare thighs, the sensation far from unpleasant, for the unpleasant does not exist here. The temperature is always moderate; the breeze, always soft.

Perfect, perfect, perfect.

So sickeningly perfect.

Taking in a deep breath, you ready yourself for the trial ahead. Delight in it, almost. You tire of these calm waters. You long to see ripples, towering waves strong enough to capsize ships.

“Xiao.”

The intended effect is instantaneous. There’s a culmination of energy, wisps of dark black and green, solidifying into the image of a figure you once read about in history books growing up. Gauging his mood is impossible, so you don’t bother trying. You stare straight ahead, into the false sunset which hides behind mountains that might as well be mirages.

“Did you need something?”

The clipped, almost business-like tone he uses once made you wonder if you were a bother. Time dispelled this notion and made way for a bizarre truth. He acts this way because you put him on edge. You cause his mind to wander in directions he never knew it could traverse. In truth, you might understand why you’re here better than he does. Your scant wardrobe was your first hint — every garment shows a surprising amount of skin. Low-cut collars, skirts stopping over your thighs. Then there was the staring, the peculiar gift-giving, and what you assume to be attempts at small talk.

He’s courting you, whether he knows it or not.

This is something you can work with.

“I was hoping you would come sit with me,” you pat the empty spot beside you. “Unless you’re too busy?”

There’s an intentional lilt in your voice — you let it grow smaller, almost as if his potential rejection would hurt. He has an out, but it’d come at a cost. He’d be dissatisfying you in some way when you haven’t done anything to earn it. He likes to please you, you think, if the countless trinkets he’s wordlessly left in your room are of any indicator. Whatever you pay the most attention to, he brings more of. It’s a silent give-and-take that neither of you acknowledges.

No, you preferred to store the information away for later usage.

After giving it some thought, he situates himself where you motioned. You can see the tension in his taut muscles, clear as day. A beat of silence passes. Now that you’ve confirmed he isn’t going to run away (as he had in the past when you came unexpectedly close), foreign confidence fills you. You’re putting together the puzzle that is Xiao piece by piece.

“It must be getting close to this year’s Lantern Rite,” you give him a closed-mouth smile. Xiao’s diamond-shaped pupils flicker down to your lips, then back up again, his face temporarily giving the impression that he’s in pain. He regathers himself in the blink of an eye. “Are you looking forward to it? It always ends up being such a spectacle.”

Xiao inhales sharply. “It… has already passed.”

“Oh.”

You curl into yourself. Not enough to send any alarms ringing in his head, since he never knew what to do with himself when you cried. The threat of tears is more effective. He shuffles slightly, betraying his growing unrest, yet doesn’t grumble a lackluster excuse and leave. Hopefully he doesn’t catch how relieved that makes you.

Unbeknownst to him, you’re aware that Liyue’s hallmark event has finished. You’ve been dutifully tracking the days in a little notebook he gave you. Bringing it up and being let down is your way of setting the stage. Earning some sympathy, no matter how tiny a grain it may be. For your ultimate design to come to fruition, you must use every resource available.

“I can get you a lantern, if you want one.”

An olive branch. His eyes silently plead with you to take it, rather than scorn the concession as you had in the past, foolish creature that you were. Playing rough never got you anywhere. That’s why these days, you’ve taken to playing nice.

“I’d like that. Thank you.”

He nods, undoubtedly grateful that you didn’t choose to linger on why you couldn't see this year’s Lantern Rite. Your mind wanders — you recall overhearing village wives giggle about how they use their feminine wiles to win over their husbands on sore subjects. In a way, you suppose that’s what you’re doing, but what you long for is such a simple goal. To even label it a goal feels wrong.

What you want more than anything, is to go outside.

Into the real outdoors, not this fake, implausible rendition. A mockery of reality.

You speak his name again, for you know he likes hearing it from your lips.

“We’ve fallen into a good routine, I think. I know I had a rough time, way back in the beginning, but I see things differently now. I feel different too.”

He frowns, cautious of where this could go.

His curiosity wins in the end. “Different… how?”

“I was scared at first. I didn’t know what was going to happen, if I was in danger or not. That didn’t last long though, right? I learned you want to keep me safe. When I realized I wasn’t in danger, I stopped being difficult,” you lean in, gazing up at him through your eyelashes. “Since I’ve been good… would you hear me out on a request? Just one?”

The slightest blush dusts his cheeks at your closeness. “I’ll listen. You shouldn’t get your hopes up, though.”

As if he needed to remind you.

Your heart whirrs to life within your chest. This is it, there’s no turning back now. The outcome of this interaction will bleed into your future.

“I want to see the real world.”

Emotions pass over his countenance in quick succession. Confusion, surprise, and then mild indignation. You’re broaching a taboo topic. He knows it, you know it too. The Yaksha must be using every ounce of his strength not to immediately shut the subject down. He clenches his jaw tight, yet keeps his lips pursed, allowing you to further plead your case.

“You want to keep me safe and— and I get that. I really do. I’m sure that during your long life, you’ve encountered evils I couldn’t even begin to fathom. Despite that, you’re still here, because you’re strong,” in a bold act, you place your hand to his forearm. His muscles stiffen beneath the touch. “It doesn’t have to be long. Thirty minutes. Fifteen, even. You can choose the time, the place. Just… please, Xiao.”

“You’re… asking for a lot.”

“I know.”

“Do you really?”

You fight the urge to shrink back at the sharp inflection in his voice. Sensing this, he sighs, tearing his gaze from you and staring ahead. “If it’s a change in scenery you want, I can manage that. So long as it’s in here.”

Another olive branch. Held out more tentative than the last, above an ever-growing pile you yearn to incinerate.

“That isn’t what I want,” you say, licking your dry lips. This gets him to look at you again — out of the corner of his eye, but you digress — an idea forming as a result. If anything remains of your pride, surely this next query will do away with it. “If you do this for me… maybe you can get something out of it.”

You press the swell of your chest against his arm. He snaps his head in your direction, the blush that’s ever-present on his face whenever you’re around spreading to his ears. Touching him feels wrong. Repulsive, even. You’re giving him what he wants when he’s taken everything from you. Freedom, autonomy, and any chances at a regular life; these essential tenets will never be yours again. You have to barter for their cheap imitation.

“I can smile more. Wear whatever you’d like. I can welcome you when you come home after a long day, run to embrace you, wipe the remnants of blood off your face. I’d dote on you and you could dote on me. I’ll let you. You can hold me to this.”

A shaky hand rises to cup your face. You will yourself to stay still, to prove your resolve, no matter how nauseating it is to be in physical contact with him. He’s fixating on your lips again. The air around him is thick — a consequence of his karmic debt — which causes your ears to ring and your head to ache from pressure.

“I didn’t bring you here for that.”

You wonder if that was intended to convince you or himself.

“I made this place for you. Nothing can go wrong here, there’s no risk of you being harmed. Mortals… mortals are fragile. It takes almost nothing for you to get hurt, or sick… and then…”

He can’t bring himself to finish the sentence, but he doesn’t need to.

You’re losing him. Losing the chance for a rough gale to take your breath away, or witness a thunderstorm with booming thunder and threatening clouds. This isn’t living, this is existing. Trapped within a frame where everything is in perpetual stasis. Nothing grows, nothing changes, it remains as it has been and always will be. Your mortal existence he goes to such lengths to coddle isn’t meant for this.

In the distance, a finch sings. You’ve heard the song enough to commit it to heart. Without the passing of seasons, the wildlife never changes. The stars don’t reveal new constellations. The moon is always full. The frogs sit in the same place, the fish move in a predictable loop. Once you start noticing these details, you’re cursed to catch them everywhere.

“I’ll still get you the lantern,” he reluctantly draws away from you. “You can release it here.”

You look up at the sky. At this time of day, there’s always a cloud that looks like a silly little mouse. You found it cute at first. Then you saw it again the following day. Then the next. And each day after that.

You hug your knees to your chest. “Don’t bother. There wouldn’t be a point.”

He quietly says your name and you ignore him.

You don’t know why he’s sticking around. Whenever he’s upset you before, he’d leave at the first opportunity, rightfully finding the situation beyond his abilities. Is it because he got so close to what he truly wants, the ugly truth hidden deep beneath his claim of keeping you safe? You’d prefer it if he came to grips with the fact. Then he wouldn’t have to bother with all the lies. He isn’t very good at it, anyway.

“You said you can change the scenery here, right?”

He nods.

“Please get rid of the birds, then,” you mumble. “I don’t think I can take hearing them for much longer.”

Xiao considers you for a long moment. “Alright. If that’s what you want.”

It isn’t, but if you’re forced to occupy this constructed wonderland, it might as well look as barren as it feels.

#xiao x reader #yandere xiao x reader #yandere genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x reader #yandere #yandere x reader #commissions #my stuff

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sparxaf · 6 months

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The Inscrutability of Alex

So I might be working on an S7 Alex fic. I mean, I'm probably not working that. But I could be. Maybe. Anyway, for mysterious reasons, I decided to replay the current episodes because I found myself confused by a couple things with Alex. And a second playthrough left me even more confused. I sent @mrsbsmooth a nearly three minute, babbling voice note, asking her if I was missing something, because I cannot figure out how to write him.

This character is described by multiple others as having "golden retriever" energy. Something he absolutely does not have. I'd say he's not even that playful. It's just bizarre for anyone to say that. Nothing about him is overly energetic. Both Raf and Bryson are much better described like that. Alex has the most whistle-whilst-mowing-the-lawn-in jorts-dad energy ever. Golden retriever he is not.

So okay, his energy doesn't match the description. That's not a huge issue on its own. But like...who is he? He says he's not cocky, just confident.

Hmmm. Never is a strong word, innit?

Now, a less cynical person might say that Fusebox is just writing a realistic depiction of someone who is unaware of his own cockiness, but since I am a cynical asshole, I'm saying that Fusebox is not in the business of nuance. They make the same amount of money whether they spend the extra energy to give it depth or not. So they're never gonna bother with that. This is just inconsistent writing. Now, we all know that Alex's most overtly acknowledged trait is his desire to "Take things slow." He says he's looking for the one, and he's not gonna rush that. He knows things move fast there, but he still wants to take his time. He didn't kiss Estelle on the first night. He was uncomfortable with Summer being so forward before he knew anything about her. So how does a guy who takes things slow answer a question from a virtual stranger about what he does for a living?

A dirty joke. Yes, very much setting the tone for his lack of cockiness and his desire to take things slow 🙄 Though I do enjoy MC responding with "Very presumptive, but good to know." 😆😆😆 Not to mention, when he finds out you can snog during the icebreaker, he's not like, "Um too soon." Instead his eyes light up like he can't wait. It's so baffling. So let's say maybe he's just a slow mover who is also really flirty by nature. That feels like he's sending mixed signals at best and manipulating you at the worst. Now this one really threw me for a loop. There's a gem scene where you can ask the boys to tell you something cute about themselves. Alex tells a story about having a crush on a gym bunny and how it led him to weightlifting in order to ask her out. But he kept putting it off and by the time he finally got the nerve, she was already dating someone. So he learned not to hesitate. He learned to just go for it.

Um... what? That's a strange perspective to have for someone whose entire ethos is "Take it slow." Now, I'm aware that he is very straight forward with MC about where his head is at, so perhaps he just meant that he doesn't waste time letting someone know he's interested, but he still wants to take the relationship slow? I don't know. Last, but not least, on night one, you couldn't even kiss Alex (unless I'm misremembering). You could only snuggle. But on night two, Alex says he still wants to take it slow, but he wants to a little something. So the game gives us some options. And the first choice was to do bits. Now, this might be my fault, but I assumed that "bits" in this case would be some kissing and making out. Heavy petting. Maybe some under the clothes touching. But, to my utter shock, no it's not just a heavy make out sesh. Nope. He finger blasts you. He straight up bypasses the face lips and tiddies, and goes straight to rubbing the bean and shoving a digit inside of your person. It's an awfully intimate act for someone like him who's only been alone with you three times, and beyond challenge smooches (if you chose to even take those), has still never really made out with, nor kissed you privately. I would like to clarify that I'm not judging how fast or slow anyone goes in their personal lives. But I am I'm judging this character's pace in relation to the things he's been saying about his pace.

I wrote most of this before the last batch of episodes so I'll only lightly touch on the fact that Alex seems nearly ready to ask you to marry him the day after bringing you to the villa. So "taking it slow" really went out the window altogether.

Long story long, there are aspects to Alex I like. I mean, I'm writing him right now (OR AM I?) so it's not all bad. But it's really hard to attempt any canon reinterpretation, when I can't even sort out what canon is.

It just doesn't make sense. Is he cocky or not? Is he a slow mover or does he believe in not wasting time? Is he an inner city gym rat bro, or is he a home-on-the-range papa who wants to build you a cottage, and make babies? Is his whole "slow burn" thing some kind of manipulation to hide that he's a fuckboy (which would be hilarious) or he's just very badly written?

I love a good, lively conversation, so go ahead and let me know your thoughts. But for those who are rather... overly invested in Alex, feel free to yell at me about his perfection and how wrong and dumb I am. I look forward to deleting your vitriol.

#litg fanfic #love island the game #litg s7 #litg stick or twist #litg alex #litg alex makes no sense #does he take it slow or not?#finger-gate

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lovelyyandereaddictionpoint · 1 year

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If it’s not too much of a bother could I request a Yan! Vincent, undertaker, Sebastian, Claude, (and maybe Joker) with a Neytiri! Reader from Avatar (2009) if you have not watched the first or second movie then you can decline this request if you wish.

Neytiri Reader | Yandere Black Butler

Well if being 3 meters tall wasn’t enough to make you an oddity it’d be the blue skin and carrying a respirator around. You’re either the attraction of some side circus show or living as an outcast struggling to grasp the English language and bizarre culture:

Vincent Phantomhive

“Oh, oh my–you’re a vision of beauty.”

He doesn’t fall immediately

Its a matter of interest

Of course, a blue sentient creature walking around is something The Queen most certainly has a problem with

And he most certainly can’t leave you to the whim of ill-fitted criminals

“How about you stay with me…you understand me, don’t you? I’ll give you a home.”

Eventually, fascination will turn into obsession as you continue to amaze him with every passing day

It kills him when he can no longer keep your existence a secret

But he’s going to try his hardest

“You’ll stay with me, won’t you? Even if it means burning with me, right?”

Undertaker

“My my! Never ‘ve i seen a bean like you before. It be a feat to fit you for a coffin!”

You’re his latest case study

Even when threatened by your makeshift arrows he laughs

“My my! The rose has thorns!”

He does so enjoy seeing how you do things

Your inclination to nature and just all the nuances unfamiliar to him

But he finds the most enjoyment when you begin to be pursued

Either by avid mobs or determined showmen

He finds a newfound pleasure in eliminating them

“You all must be interested in coffins for yerselves. Its a shame I’m using all my wood for someone else.”

Sebastian Michaelis

“Well young Master, you’ve already invited a giant demon hound into your home I doubt whatever they are will be that much of a stretch.”

Your anomaly status garners his interest as it does anyone

But he relishes in the knowledge he has of you

Especially beyond your basic respiratory needs

Your habits, the English words you understand, your inclination to nature

“I for one quite enjoy their presence. They're almost better behaved than you, young Master.”

It just the cherry on top that you happen to attract the perfect dredge to defeat feast upon

“Come on then, we must be done by dinner.”

Claude Faustus

“Oh dear, must I care for another than your highness.”

It’ll be Alois’ interest rather than his own

Set to watch you learn the world as Alois presents it

Not on his watch

“Here when you drink, hold it like this…saying this now I realize that you’re hands dwarf the silverware. My apologies.”

You become an outlet

A blank slate he can enjoy be in the company of

When his plans are set in motion he’ll be sure to put you in a role he appreciates

“Now all you have to is stand still and play your part. The one I want for you”

Joker

“...Don’t I know just the place for you!”

He’s thrilled to add you to his circus

Only realizing that you're not as animalistic when threatened

“H-hey! Don’t get cross with me, this is just a precaution!”

When you two find a rhythm he discovers his hatred

His hatred of others wonder

He wanted to be the only one to give you that

So as long as you’re still oblivious he’ll begin restricting you

Locking you away as soon as the curtains close

“Come now Sapphire, we need your rest. Most of all.”

#yandere black butler #yandere kuroshitsuji #yandere joker #yandere sebastian #yandere sebastian michaelis x reader #yandere sebastian x reader #yandere sebastian michaelis #yandere undertaker #yandere adrian crevan #yandere vincent phantomhive #yandere vincent #yandere x reader #yandere x you #lovelyyandereaddictionpoint #yanderexrea #yandere #yanderes #yandere claude faustus #yandere claude x reader

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