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zephyrchama · 2 days

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(obey me!) moments where they fall in love with you all over again

---01

It’s dinner, and you’re talking about mundane things that happened during your day. You saw a cool bird, got some gum stuck on your shoe, and bought a new flavor of toothpaste to try. Everyone is listening intently. If only they would pay this much attention in class.

Lucifer knows the way his brothers look at you all too well. It’s a look full of respect, admiration, and fondness. It’s a look that’s often reflected on his own face when in your presence. At first he never really understood why you put up with his siblings, as the option to ignore them and be on your way was always there. Yet you continue to make time for them anyway. How unusual.

Moments like these where everyone is together and you don’t treat them as the Seven Rulers of Hell, you just treat them as your dear friends and family. That’s what makes Lucifer soft. He tries to imagine a long future of things staying just like this.

---02

Mammon’s hesitant to lend anybody money, even you. It takes a few minutes to butter him up and fluff his ego before he relents. At last, he hands you the crispest bill in his wallet. “Don’t spend it all in one place,” he kids, knowing full well he’d do just that if he was in your shoes.

He’s curious what you plan to buy. It never dawns on him that you have no intention of spending the cash. Half an hour later, he finds it on his desk. The exact same bill, now creased and folded neatly into an origami bird.

He picks it up to wiggle the little paper wings, entranced, then looks around frantically and catches your eye. A playful smile graces your face and tugs at his heartstrings.

---03

Leviathan is not typically one to make mistakes when it comes to anime. But even he’s not perfect.

He had it set in his mind that the new show premiered at 6:00pm, which left plenty of time to prepare the ultimate solo viewing party after school. He was humming quietly to himself when you walked over. “Isn’t your show starting soon?”

You specifically took an interest in his hobbies. You remembered that it started at 16:00 (four o’clock), not 6:00. Leviathan wondered, how could he make such a egregious mistake? You were the one who dashed back to the House of Lamentation at full speed by his side. When your human stamina started failing, he unconsciously picked you up so you’d both make it in time. You made it with two minutes to spare.

Sweaty and out of breath, still in uniform, you were able to watch the premiere together. It wasn’t until after credits rolled, you went elsewhere, and the live reactions on social media started calming down that Levi realized what a big deal this was to him. What a big deal you were to him.

---04

Satan wasn’t expecting you to be spacing out in his favorite armchair. He had plans to read in it that evening, and considered asking you politely to move. But the way the lamp light shines on your skin, the thoughtful expression on your face while pondering ideas unknown. The way your lips part ever so slightly and your eyes gaze off into nothing. It captivates him. You look like a painting. His breath gets caught in his throat, and in clearing it he manages to break your trance.

“Oh, hey. Welcome home, I didn’t realize you were there.”

You go to get out of the chair, but Satan insists you stay. It doesn’t look right without you anymore. He doesn’t feel right without you anymore.

---05

Asmodeus does not have wardrobe malfunctions often. His outfits are of the highest quality and a lot of care goes into putting them on. Still, things happen.

When his fans rush forward out of nowhere, sometimes they are successful in tearing his clothes. A fistful of shirt here, a mouthful of pants-leg there. Being in the center of a lust-fueled stampede can make even the most collected people lose their minds, but you are steadfast. You shout at the rabid demons, shaming them for their disrespect. You believe you can chase them off all on your own, not knowing that the Avatar of Lust behind you is exuding a killer aura and warning his fans to back off with a powerful glare.

As you sloppily stitch up what remains of his shirt so he can walk home without the incident repeating, Asmodeus is smiling from ear to ear. You’re so focused on genuinely helping that you don’t even notice the bedroom eyes he’s flashing. The scene of you waving your arms and trying to chase off a pack of demons as if they were stray pigeons is permanently ingrained in his memory. Just as your existence is ingrained in his soul.

---06

Beelzebub knows what he likes. He knows what will catch his interest and is pleasantly surprised when a new one crops up.

One thing he likes is you. Another is food. Both are in the cafeteria. He piles a tray high with carbs and goes looking for you at lunch time, finding you seated in the middle of a long table at the edge of the room. He calls your name.

It’s unexpected, the way you quickly swing your head up mid-bite. Your cheeks are full and noodles dangle from your mouth, sauce dripping back onto your plate. Your eyes light up as you look at him from below. It makes him stop in his tracks, causing several shorter demons to walk into him. Such a simple action, yet so profound. You hurriedly chew and offer him a seat while Beelzebub powers through his emotions. He takes a seat across from you to offer a napkin, wondering when he’ll see that face again.

---07

It’s late, far past everyone’s bedtime. Yet Belphegor forgot to tell you something during the day and decided now would be a great time. When you don’t respond to the quiet knocks at your door, he lets himself inside. Your sleeping figure looks too comforting to resist and he gets the brilliant idea to crawl into bed with you to whisper in your ear.

The problem is, as soon as he lifts the covers, you fart. It’s loud. You don’t move an inch, remaining fast asleep and ignorant of what just happened.

Belphegor freezes in his tracks to process it, but is soon doubled over on the futon laughing. The vibrations wake you. You sleepily open your eyes to see who is in hysterics and ask the obvious: “what?”

Belphegor is laughing too hard to tell you. He doesn’t want to tell you. It’s too priceless. You groggily smack him with a spare pillow and it makes him laugh harder. While he loves to look at you, that week it becomes difficult for him to meet your eyes without erupting into a fit of giggles.

#mc in satan's part is thinking about something weird like “friendpilled visitmaxxer” while satan's undergoing his own mental renaissance #i came up with ideas for all the side characters too. that sounded cute. maybe i'll write it. I didn't because...#i have a bad cold! achoo! should've written this in past tense for my sanity but my head is all blehh. i hope this stuff makes sense. woooo #you know it's a bad cold when i write in [shivers] /present tense/ (jk but it's difficult for me to keep the tense consistent)#note to self: tumblr's html color designation for yellow is phoebe #colds suck. i wear a mask daily and still got really sick so take care y'all.#obey me!#obey me #obey me brothers #obey me shall we date #omswd #obey me x mc #obey me x reader #obey me fanfic #obey me imagines #obey me scenarios #obey me mammon #obey me lucifer #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me fluff

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babsisbakery · 9 hours

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Part of the Aftermath

Lia Walti x fem!reader (part 2 of How far will you take it)

All Lia could do after reading the letter was to cry. She has never been such a big mess. She was full on sobbing her soul out. It didn't take her long to realise her mistakes, all the times she mistreated you. Every memory with you replayed in her mind. If only she had cherished them instead of taking you for granted. Some part of her consciousness told her, it doesn't matter you will stay with her anyways. That you wouldn't be able to live without her. That your life circled around her, and to some extent it was true. That she could toy as much with you as she pleased and you would run along with it. Was this the devil on her shoulder, who didn't have her best interests in mind? Or was this her ego and narcissism speaking? How was she so blind to your suffering? Well there is a simple answer to the last question, you were brilliant in adapting to people and their energy. But you also could hide your emotions and switch from sad to seemingly happy in an instant. You yourself couldn't differentiate between fake and real smiles anymore. When you were alone, it switched back to your real emotion. To the fatigue brewing in your heart and stomach of pretending.

The tragedy of it all, always behaving as someone you aren't. It took a toll on you. Additionally Lia’s game of cat and mouse wore you incredibly out. Late nights up, crying in bed, quietly, while Lia lays next to you. She never noticed, she probably didn't care either. But you would have done anything to make your girlfriend gleeful. It showed. You sacrificed yourself in the process. Lia enjoyed your company, your devotion without giving the same in return. It's how she thought you'd like it. Let's be real, she didn't truly believe that nonsense. But with this mindset she could sleep without a worry at night, to not stay awake as you do. She didn't have to face reality in a way, she took a liking to having an idyllic life, at least for her it portrayed as such. But the colours of the painting began to fade, turning into greyish tones, the livelihood of it seemed to cease.

Lia had sucked the real person out of you. You didn't stop her until your best friend joined the club and talked some sense into you. At first you didn't listen, well until Lia reached the end of your patience. The last argument was a huge deal for you but Lia waved you off. “I don't want to talk anymore. We will talk later.” But later never comes as we know. She disappeared on you for three days. Didn’t return home. Her actions inspired you to write the letter and camp at your bestie's house. Because only fools stick around when the love is all gone. The love appeared to have vanished into thin air. Puff and it was gone. However love can't just vanish out of nowhere, it took its sweet time torturing you. The tortured poets department would have hired you immediately. Making you look like a joke. And Lia was the clown who told it. Forming the joke to her benefit, stretching it out, prolonging the inevitable: finishing the joke and being done with it. But she wasn't done with you per say. Deep in her heart she sensed longing for you, she got a taste of her own medicine when arriving at an empty home. Not seeing you at training spurred questions to arise. She worried about your well being, which was something new or at least so it seemed.

The sorrow of potentially losing you forever overtook her. With each passing moment the wheels in her head kept turning, trying to figure out what to do, she still had a chance to make it alright, to fix her miserable life. Most importantly to fix her relationship. To fix your broken heart, to make amends with you. To ask for your forgiveness and start a new era. An era of commitment and unwavering love. To love you the right way. Simultaneously to be the girlfriend you deserve and the better person she can be because of you. The question is will Lia convince you to stay or will she set you free to be at peace? Which path will she choose?...

#woso #woso imagine #woso x reader #arsenal women #lia walti x reader #lia walti imagine #lia walti #arsenal wfc #awfc x reader #awfc imagine #awfc

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vickyvicarious · 2 days

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Dracula's actions today were interesting. His attack on Jonathan definitely was not what he intended on going in to his room. I think he wanted to make him jump, yeah, to spook him a little. He wanted to touch him more, continue being creepy in that way also. But I think he intended to spend more time in his company, continue to play the social manipulation game. I wonder if he wanted to be around when Jonathan discovered the locked doors... watching him panic at the realization that he's a prisoner but be forced to try and hide it because Dracula is right there would be absolutely the sort of thing he'd love. (I just can't picture why Jonathan would be trying different doors with Dracula right there. Maybe if he was 'working' in the library and encouraged him to walk around/explore as Dracula was too busy to be good company, then snuck up on him again as he's in the middle of learning how many/which doors are locked? But I dunno.)

Regardless, either Dracula's very thirsty or Jonathan looks very tasty (I suspect both) because he lost all control the second he saw his blood:

When the Count saw my face, his eyes blazed with a sort of demoniac fury, and he suddenly made a grab at my throat. I drew away, and his hand touched the string of beads which held the crucifix. It made an instant change in him, for the fury passed so quickly that I could hardly believe that it was ever there.

I don't even think this means Dracula didn't know about the crucifix. Probably not before now (and probably Jonathan just made some general statement about receiving gifts from the local people rather than naming the innkeeper lady), but not necessarily. After all, if Jonathan was still shaving he probably wasn't fully dressed yet, and anything worn about his neck should probably have been at least somewhat visible. I think Dracula just got tunnel vision at the sight of blood, and that could go whether he knew the crucifix was there or not. The instant he touches it though, he comes back to himself, and puts on the friendly host mask again.

His first instinct is to get rid of the evidence, and he does so in a way that once again is subtly insulting to Jonathan (implying he's vain here, before implying he was stupid) as well as some larger group of other people (men in general here, before it was 'peasants'). But it's also really over the top and I think despite the jolt of the crucifix, he's really struggling to maintain his control over himself. Hence flinging the mirror out the freaking window and then fleeing. Not just the room, either - the entire castle. This becomes apparent when he returns some time later through the front door: "I heard the great door below shut, and knew that the Count had returned." I really wonder where he went, what he did while gone, and exactly how long he was gone... Even after his return, he keeps his distance from Jonathan initially. Jonathan has to seek him out, or maybe waits until mealtime to talk to him.

The goitre in the surrounding area implies Dracula has been feeding, but everything about his actions today really suggests he has been starving himself recently. Based on other stuff in the book, I don't think it can be possible that vampires always lose control of themself so much around the sight of blood. Also, his face immediately becoming angry... maybe part of that is just his hunting expression, but I wonder if a part of it is Dracula's frustration that once again things aren't going to plan with Jonathan. I wouldn't be surprised if he felt angry at him (how dare he bleed at me and ruin my suave game?!) and a little part of the way he throws the mirror away so violently is to punish him for being so 'provoking' or whatever.

#dracula daily #count dracula #but also. today proves that ANY kind of high emotion winds up dangerous in dracula #he gets too hungry? rage and physical aggression #he gets too excited? intense ranting and threatening body language #he's SCARY to navigate interactions with

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television-overload · 1 day

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of our own making

(an X-Files fanfic)

Chapter 15/34 - nature/nurture

[Read on AO3]

Krista is a lovely young woman. In her second year at Georgetown, with plans to get a Master's and a PhD after her undergraduate studies, having a child really isn't in the cards right now, nor would she be able to financially sustain the situation in a few years time.

It turns out, the previous couple she'd selected ended up getting pregnant themselves and had to back out, which was just an added stressor for Krista who was trying to focus on her studies, knowing finals season would be approaching sooner than later.

Mulder and Scully are more than willing to step in, and by all accounts, their meeting with her went… well.

Really well, honestly.

Scully had bonded with her over their shared Alma Mater, and even happened to have taken the same introductory physics class as her with an ancient professor who is somehow still teaching after all these years.

Mulder, on the other hand, shares her interest in sports. It seems Krista had been quite the track and field athlete in her high school years, and also won State as the pitcher for her varsity softball team her senior year.

They left the meeting feeling beyond hopeful, something they were unaccustomed to but were slowly beginning to come to terms with, finally.

“I think she really liked us, Scully!” Mulder says, glancing at her excitedly from the driver's seat of the car on their way home. “Can you imagine? If this works out, in less than six months, we'll be parents!”

“It's a scary thought, isn't it?” Scully asks, unable to suppress her own smile.

Scary, and about a million other things, Mulder thinks.

“The good kind of scary,” he says decidedly, and he delights when she nods in agreement, setting aside her skepticism for a moment.

“Yes.”

The drive back to their apartment goes quickly. The place near campus where they'd met up for lunch isn't far from her building at all, and if it had been a little warmer out, they might have even walked. Mulder puts the car in park and circles the vehicle, holding out his hand for Scully after she closes the passenger door, and her hand slides easily into his.

This is something they do now—holding hands. At some point in this process, the occasional gesture of comfort had turned to a casual, almost everyday thing, and Mulder isn't going to complain.

Maybe it was the need to keep up appearances as a married couple that made them do it. After all, in certain areas of their lives now, it's expected. With the adoption agency, with the birth mother… Their relationship, while close, is not one that fits into the mold of the wider public. It's easier to express it in this way for the benefit of others, rather than their usual way of showing affection.

On the other hand, maybe something between them really had shifted. He wouldn't soon forget how Scully had leaned on him, both literally and figuratively, after Pfaster. A year ago, he's not sure she would have trusted him like that, and in hindsight, she was right not to. He hadn't yet earned her trust back, and he'd regret ever breaking it in the first place for the rest of his life.

But she trusts him now. She lets him hold her and care for her and believe in her—believe for her—like he's always tried to do.

He will always consider standing by her side to be one of his greatest accomplishments in life. More than anything he has gained from his time on the X-Files, he has gained a friend. Someone who truly understands him.

He doesn't know what he could have done to deserve her.

Maybe he will always battle these feelings of unworthiness, thinking he could never be enough for her, but it's far too late for him to let go now. Losing her would end him. It's why he had been hesitant to accept her proposal to try IVF in the first place. Every curveball life throws at him is just another thing that could potentially rip their relationship apart. He tries his best to keep those “surprises” to a minimum, but every so often, the opportunity presented is too good to pass up.

Sometimes, he has found, it's worth the risk.

He hopes it will be, in this case. They're so close to achieving what she—they— have longed for for so long, but there's still room for error.

The best he can do is keep moving forward. Stay the course, and pray for fair seas up ahead.

He thinks her father might appreciate his sailing analogy, but then again, he probably would have hated him regardless of his use of sea-based figurative language.

In the hallway, an older woman smiles at the two of them, and Mulder forces a polite smile back at her. He knows what her neighbors must think. They've seen him around for years, and he's even met a few of them in passing. But now he lives here, and his name is even on her mailbox next to hers. There's not much he could say to dissuade their gossiping at this point.

Scully opens the door, turning on a few lights as they shed their coats and put them away. The adrenaline that had fueled them before in what was possibly the most important meeting of their lives has left them exhausted, and he happily follows Scully toward the couch in the living room.

A lazy day is just what they need. Things are out of their hands now. After weeks—months —of preparation, they have done all they can. Now, all there is to do is wait.

It's almost routine, at this point, when they share a couch. Scully curls up under a blanket, her head against a throw pillow, while Mulder fishes the TV remote out of whatever crevice he inevitably left it in last time. He has to move her feet a little to sit down, but as soon as he's situated, he lets her rest them up against his leg.

She's somehow always freezing, but he doesn't mind.

He sets a Knicks game on the screen at a low volume and leans back, his head lolling against the backrest.

There’s something about staring at the swirling patterns on the ceiling that lends itself to deep contemplation. The muffled sound of the TV does too, but maybe that's just a him thing. He closes his eyes, thinking through the day's events. Thinking of the future.

“I feel for anyone in her position,” he says, the thought escaping him and breaking the comfortable silence that had fallen. He can sense Scully is still awake though, so he continues. “It can't be easy to give up your own child, especially when the circumstances are out of your hands. But, in this case…”

He's thought of this a lot, lately. About how one person's misfortune may well be another’s salvation. It's a hard dichotomy to grasp.

“Well, it's a good thing for us, anyway,” he finishes, placing a hand over Scully's ankle. “We might actually get a chance to do this.”

“I hope so,” she murmurs into her pillow.

He opens his eyes, glancing down at her in her restful state.

“We will. I have a good feeling,” he says with all the confidence he can muster. It feels odd, this hope, but it's as real and true to him as the love he carries for his partner. “Wow, it's been a while since I've said those words.”

She breathes out an amused chuckle, curling further into the cushions before she responds.

“For once, I'm inclined to believe you.”

His lips curl in a smile and he playfully tickles her foot.

“I've never been so happy to hear you say that, Scully.”

He knows he should let her sleep, but there are just too many thoughts running through his head that he can't restrain himself. There's a whole world of possibilities about to open up for them. It's exciting and terrifying all at once, and she knows he’s a compulsive talker in those kinds of situations.

He's thankful that she hasn't grown tired of him already and moved to her bedroom to take a nap instead. If they were really husband and wife, that wouldn't stop him. He'd still be able to talk her ear off all night long if he wanted, or until she kicked him out on the couch.

“I can tell you want to say something,” Scully says knowingly, smirking up at him out the corner of her eye.

She knows him so well.

“You think I could coach little league?” he asks, speaking his thoughts aloud. “I mean, I know the kid’s still like the size of a banana, but in a few years’ time—”

“I think that's a great idea.” She turns slightly, adjusting her position so she can see his face properly, and the ridiculousness of his own question causes his cheeks to redden. But Scully takes him seriously. She always does. That's what makes her different from everybody else.

“We have a lot in common with her, you know,” he says, his fingertips massaging unconsciously into her lower calves. “With Krista. Brainy and athletic, all rolled into one. It'll be like having our own little über Mulder-Scully.”

“Don't make me start a nature versus nurture argument with you,” she says, rolling her eyes.

“I'm a psychologist, Scully. I could make a pretty strong case either way.”

She smiles, shaking her head in what he likes to think can be called fond annoyance. They fall silent, eyes locked in a gaze so heavy that he starts to feel a little drunk. The way she mesmerizes him might be worthy of opening an X-File someday. Just to investigate.

“We might have just met our baby, Mulder. Isn't that crazy?” she says, shifting the conversation suddenly in a more serious direction. There's awe in her voice, and he feels it too. “To have been within five feet of this person we'll know and love for the rest of our lives?”

It isn't like Scully to be so optimistic. She's always lived her life believing that to speak your deepest desires aloud is to make yourself vulnerable. Part of him is surprised that she's not being more cautious now with getting her hopes up, but seeing her this way?

He likes it. He likes it a lot.

Maybe he's finally rubbing off on her.

Her arm pops out of her blanket and she reaches for him, drawn to him like a magnet. He happily entwines his fingers with hers, his thumb stroking over the back of her hand.

“I can't wait, Scully.”

~~~

Lovely tag list ♡: [if you would like to be added or removed, let me know!]

@today-in-fic @ao3feed-msr @agent-troi @angegova @baronessblixen @calimanc @captainsolocide @clo-thespin @cutemothman @danasculls @deathsbestgirl @edierone @enigmaticxbee @figureofdismay @frogsmulder @gillian-anderson-in-the-tardis @hippocampouts @invidiosa @monaiargancoconutsoy @msrafterdark @numinousmysteries @primrose19 @randomfoggytiger @skelavender @skylarksong @stephy-gold @teenie-xf @the-redhead-in-a-dress @vincentsleftear

#msr #txf #x files #xf fanfic #mulder and scully #my fanfiction #fox mulder #dana scully #of our own making #ooom #msr adoption fic #adoption

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wickjump · 13 hours

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soz about ranting in ur ask box a little but i want ur opinion on underverse and i want to share my opinion of underverse to the world

im gonna start with,, does anyone else find underverse to be more and more boring?? i mean, shouldn’t really be saying that because the only reason i got into underverse was because classic was the mc and i really only liked classic back in 2018,,, but.

like, idk. i really feel like its lost that spark, and i feel like it fell off after it strayed away from classic actually BEING the mc. the last two episodes were really only introducing more characters and then oh no they fight with little content being about the ACTUAL main plot

i feel like it goes to show that some utmv fans only care about exciting and interesting content instead of good storytelling + plot that actually comes with it. all i got from the latest episode was,, well. “fatal error shows up oh no then ink + cross fight them and cross dies but revives” AND THAT WAS ALL PEOPLE TALKED ABOUTTTUHH. nothing about ink encountering classic again at the end, just the fight sequence. 🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️ same with 0.4 i feel like its only there for the fight sequences. like,, wheres classic my stinkabutt!!!!!!!

sigh i sort of feel like im just being sort of petty about this??? but genuinely i think its fallen off and im really only waiting for the next episode just for classic.

// also unrelated but ur so right for handplates being one of ur fav aus its so good

TY I NEED MORE HANDPLATES APPRECIATION ZARLA DID SO GOOD WITH EXPLORIJG HOW TRAUMA CAN AFFECT PEOPLE UGH

anyway warning for me talking about a lot of stuff concerning writing because i’m a neerddddd. pls read all of it tho 🥺 i prommy i’m not preachy i just speak a lot

anyhow, honestly that opinion is so valid. i believe though that the next episode of underverse is getting back into the plot, and i trust jakei to finish it in a tasteful way. it’s a lot of buildup right now, and as a story writer i’m aware that ‘filler’ can be beneficial and either used to make plot points seem less rushed or back-to-back, introduce concepts and characters that will be important later, all of that.

while it has its flaws, jakei is the sole animator and it can be hard to animate all of that on your own and come up with good storylines as the sole writer as well. even with help doing this is difficult and i respect her for it—especially considering how much other stuff she’s doing on top of that. i have some of my own gripes with it of course, but it’s really well in terms of animation quality and one of the things that keeps the fandom going, which i can also respect. the utmv fandom has always had terrible literacy so i don’t blame jakei for that part.

shows, and stories in general, have genres, and underverse’s genre can fit under action given the fact it, at its earliest, had a fight scene. it’s nothing new for it, just maybe longer as the episodes have gotten longer. this is valid to dislike though, or to find too much of, it’s why it was difficult for me to get through epictale’s comic; it was so action-heavy it felt like i had no time to breathe, and i can understand underverse giving you the same feeling. i believe the episodes featuring more fighting than not serve as build-up, the same way plenty of other series do, getting you prepared for a big scene featuring characters or concepts shown in previous fight scenes or winding you up. or it could serve as a pretense for an episode featuring minimal fighting scenes, sort of as a ‘here’s the action quota, time for less of that’.

underverse losing its spark is something i can definitely understand as well, though it has taken place over 8 years and the story and jakei herself have changed a lot over that time. the original intent of the series has definitely been strayed from, and cross as the focus rather than classic as he was in earlier episodes was something i wasn’t exactly hyped about (i love classic sm too,,,,, why is he never the focus of anything,,,).

my theory for why it’s lost it’s spark to you (and many others, myself included, though i’m still a huge fan of the series) is that our primary antagonist hasn’t been seen in a while, instead having mini antagonists filling his place while he works in the background. which would work in a longer series, but underverse isn’t that. it’s a series of mini movies with ten total episodes ever being released, in such a short time build up is hard to make and there are times where it feels it’s taking too long and that we’re running out of time.

originally in underverse, ink was our antagonist before it switched to xgaster. but ink doesn’t act as an antagonist anymore (and doesn’t exactly have consequences for his actions), and xgaster isn’t seen nearly as often. neither is xchara, who’s my favorite character and was a huge appeal early on, working dynamically with cross and providing more interesting plot points. our placeholder antagonists are nightmare (who i’m convinced will have a much higher role later on), killer, and fatal error, and the latter doesn’t have any connection to the story yet, so it feels he was thrown in there for the sake of action.

this i admit isn’t my favorite thing, but i hope it changes later on. i believe it’s around the time where things are ‘all coming together’ in the series, where stray plot points will reveal why they’re tied into everything else, though only time can tell for that. also swap and fell dying was frustrating because i loved them and i feel they could’ve been much more useful characters in the series if they weren’t killed off.

the atmosphere of the au also changed, expanding from ‘au to au’ to the multiverse as a whole, which can also serve as a reason for why you feel it’s changed a lot. the art style change couldve also influenced this, lineart from thick to thin is something that actually alters how people view a piece of media a lot more than people think!! it’s such a far cry from what it started out as, and while i’m super proud of jakei for being able to do all of this, i’m personally not too fond of change. characters relationships have altered, dream and ink (previously shown has friends) have scarcely interacted since, ink hasn’t reaped (rept???) what he sowed, and plenty of plot points were made and presumably just won’t show up again.

but ultimately, writing a story is a complicated process and jakei is only one person, so it’s flaws aren’t something i blame her for. it’s a lot of work and i admire her for being able to do all of this, it’s something i could never dream of doing. it’s easy to criticize a story but so hard to make one. plus, it’s been like, what, 8 years now since it all started? so i doubt jakei has had the same plan for underverse in mind all that time, for beginning to end.

tldr i agree but there’s a lot of nuance with storytelling and jakei is the sole writer AND animator of the whole series so she can’t be expected to be perfect with it all

#TELL ME IF I WAS WRONG BTW #AT ANY POINT DURING THIS #IM NOT SMART #AND ITS ALSO 1AM #underverse #analysis #underverse analysis #utmv analysis #utmv #undertale #sans #cross sans #xchara #xgaster #ink sans

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rollinouttahere-writes · 3 days

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I SAW YOUR POST AND I ALSO LIKE PAULIE SM!! HE'S JUST SO CUTE <3 With that, I rlly hope u write a one shot of how he would react with a s/o whose love language is physical touch. Hope u have a nice day and I rlly rlly am a big fan of your writings, you're so amazing 🥹💗

Touchy

Paulie x GN!Reader

1k words

Dating someone like Paulie was an interesting experience. He was far from the most conventional boyfriend you’ve ever had, but that helped to endear him to you. It was funny how flustered he would get over the littlest things. Wrapping your arms around him would turn him bright red. Kissing his cheek would have him flailing and acting like you just accosted him, only to gently trace his fingers over where you kissed him once he thought you weren’t looking.

Simply put: he’s adorable.

There was a slightly less cute quirk of his. It leaned more into being funny. His ongoing evasion of debt collectors was more than a little amusing. It could get annoying when he abruptly ducked out in the middle of a date because he got spotted, but you’ve learned to roll with it. Watching him jump through hoops and hide in odd places never failed to make you chuckle, so you found it easy to forgive the transgressions.

Tonight, though, it did scare the hell out of you. It was late, and you were just about to head to bed when you heard the window in your kitchen get opened and saw someone coming through it. You damn near cracked Paulie over the head with a frying pan before you realized that the person crawling through your window like a raccoon was actually your boyfriend and not a robber. He’s lucky you recognized the way that light reflected off his goggles.

Unsurprisingly, his reasoning for doing this was because he was on the run again and hoped to lose the loan sharks by hiding out in your home until they either passed or gave up for the night. You were happy with this, despite the late hours. It wasn’t often that you could get Paulie to overlook the intense scandal of it all to visit your home in the late night hours like this. You would have fun teasing him about this later.

For now, though, you contented yourself with cuddling up to him on the couch with your legs thrown over his lap. Your arm was propped up on the armrest, with your chin resting on your fist. Your other hand busied itself by playing with the hair on the nape of Paulie’s neck.

Paulie had one of his arms resting on the back of the couch, and his other hand rubbed up and down your thigh absentmindedly while complaining about his debt as if he hadn’t been the one to take out those loans and is the true victim in this situation. “I keep telling them I’ll pay it back when I have the money! I don’t get why they can’t just wait.” Paulie huffed, exhaling the smoke from his cigar.

“How long have you kept them waiting now?”

“That’s irrelevant!” Paulie’s face tinted red and he shot you a glare that was dripping with embarrassment.

The glare does nothing to intimidate you. You chuckle and start gently scratching at his scalp, making him shiver under your touch. He groans and makes a half-hearted attempt to swat your hand away. He grumbles under his breath, “Quit trying to seduce me.”

That made you laugh. “Trying? Given that you’re my boyfriend, I think I’ve already succeeded in doing that.”

His hand moved from the back of the couch to clamp over your mouth. Much to your amusement, his ears were tinged red. “You know what I meant!” Smoke puffed out of his mouth as he huffed. You smirked against his hand, and his eyes narrowed at you, wondering what you were up to.

Covering his hand with your own, you gently kiss the palm of his hand while maintaining direct eye contact with him. His entire face and neck turned ruby-red and he wrenched his hand away like you just bit him. He sputtered for a moment before shouting in a humorously high-pitched voice, “You harlot!”

You cackled at his embarrassment. Making him flustered was the highlight of this relationship for you. The hand you were previously using to play with his hair moves and pinches his cheek affectionately, “Calm down, baby. I’m just teasing you.”

“I know! That’s the point! You’re always teasing and trying to tempt me like a siren!” His voice was loud, but lacked any real weight behind it. Paulie was the definition of all bark, no bite. For you, at least.

Another smirk spread across your face. You lean forward, “You can’t mind it that much, sweetheart.”

Paulie grumbled and averted his eyes, “Of course I mind. Why else would I be telling you off?”

“Are you sure? Because the fact that your hand is still stroking my thigh is sending me mixed signals.”

He stiffened and looked down. His grip on your thigh tightened, but he distinctly didn’t let go. Paulie drummed his fingers on your thigh and ground his teeth as he floundered to save face, “It’s not my fault you’re walking around looking like this. You put your legs in my lap. What else am I supposed to do? Especially when you’re wearing such tiny shorts. They aren’t covering a damn thing.”

You cocked your head to the side, feeling confused as to what he’s talking about. “Shorts?”

It was now Paulie’s turn to look confused. “Yeah, shorts. You’re definitely not wearing pants right now.”

“I was just about to go to bed when you came in. This is all I wear to sleep.” Grabbing the hem of your oversized sleep shirt- that you stole from Paulie- you lift it up, revealing that you’re just wearing underwear underneath.

The cigar in Paulie’s mouth falls onto the couch as he stares at you slack-jawed. Before you can so much as blink, he’s yanking your shirt back down while shrieking like a scandalized grandmother, “Harlot!”

Again, you laughed at his distress. You loved every second of his extreme reactions. It’s not as if he actually disliked any of this. Afterall, he hasn’t thrown you off his lap yet. Or let go of your thigh, either. He wasn’t fooling anybody, much less you. He loved this just as much as you did, he just hasn’t figured out how to say it out loud yet.

#paulie one piece #paulie x reader #one piece #one piece x reader #one piece x y/n #one piece x you #reader insert #x reader

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grapenehifics · 2 days

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Countdown to Chapter One!

My fellow Obikins: I am very, VERY excited to share my next fic with you. Some of you may remember a fic of mine called An Uncivil War, the first chapter of which I posted on AO3 almost exactly a year ago, in May of 2023, and wrapped up that July. At the time, I mentioned to a number of people in the comments that I was already partway through the sequel (An Uncivil War is listed as part one of a three-part series, Can't Stop the Suns), and that I hoped to have Part II ready to go by end of 2023.

Well, that obviously didn't happen. I started looking at February 2024. That didn't happen either. I pushed it to April. April has come and gone. May, though! May I am going to make happen! May 27th, 2024, to be exact. Chapter one of Pick Up the Pieces, a.k.a. part 2 of Can't Stop the Suns, a.k.a. the sequel to An Uncivil War, a.k.a. the thing I have been writing on and off for more than three years now, is going up on AO3. (Excerpt and way more ramblings below the cut.)

A) I wanted to make this announcement in advance because I'm just really excited to share this fic. Parts of it I've posted on Tumblr as WIP Wednesdays, but most of it I've tried to keep under wraps until it's ready and, frankly, I really want to talk about it!

B) @palfriendpatine66 specifically asked for a heads-up before I started posting, but I figured I'd share publicly in case anyone else has the same desire to read (or re-read) part one before starting part two. May 27th is the day!

I do want to say, though - prior knowledge of An Uncivil War is NOT required to understand or enjoy this fic. If you haven't read An Uncivil War, I would really love it if you did! I'm enormously proud of it and love, love, love talking about it. But I also don't want anyone to not give Pick Up the Pieces a try, assuming they were otherwise interested, because they're worried they won't understand what's going on. If you want to jump in, make sure you read the tags and the summary, and by the time you get to chapter three you should have a pretty good grounding in what happened previously. Obviously there are some little details here and there you'll miss but for the most part you should be okay. I did try to make it as accessible as possible.

C) Thirdly - mostly as a reward for reading this far - I thought it would be fun, over the next three Wednesdays, to give a sneak peek of one of the later chapters, because I've really missed doing regular WIP Wednesdays for this fic (for the aforementioned secrecy reasons).

The main part of the fic is set during what would have been the final year of the Clone Wars, except we take a departure from canon during the season 5 episode The Wrong Jedi and diverge off-course from there. Mixed in with that, though, are flashback chapters, covering some portion of Anakin's years as Obi-Wan's Padawan, which have just been a blast to write. They go in roughly chronological order, and this one in particular is set when Anakin is 17. I'll post a little bit today, the next part a week from today, the final section the week after that, and then you'll get the rest of it when chapter ten goes up in the actual fic :)

Chapter Ten preview starts below:

“Uh…” Anakin looked down at his cards and bit his lip. “Hit me?” he asked tentatively. The three other players around the table blinked slowly back at him. He reached out and flipped the top card of the table deck over, letting the rest of the players see it. “Damnit,” he hissed through his teeth.

“Tough luck, boy,” boomed the Besalisk on Anakin’s right, the one he was most worried about getting a peek at his cards. “That makes twenty-two.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Anakin snapped, frustrated. He tossed his cards face-down in front of him. “Don’t remind me.”

Anakin was losing, and quite badly at that. He really needed to slow down and stop the bleeding or Obi-Wan was going to catch him not only gambling, but totally out of credits, too, and he would not be happy about it.

“I’m going to take a break,” Anakin said suddenly, standing up so quickly his chair squeaked. “I’ll sit out this round. Be right back.” He scooped the (very meager) pile of credits he had left to his name into his hand and pocketed them before walking away. What he really wanted to do was take a quick minute to check the chronometer strapped to his wrist without any of them seeing him do it, but needing to take a walk was as good an excuse as any.

He didn’t leave the Castle (Takodana was a little too humid for Anakin’s liking), just took a slow lap around the edges of it, checking out the other gambling tables, the billiards games, the tourists, the regulars, the spacers, the spice runners, the spice addicts, the smugglers. The people who, if he hadn’t become a Jedi, probably would have been his friends and his enemies, his rivals, his contemporaries. His lovers, maybe.

The lower levels of Takodana Castle had once been an ancient Jedi temple, a fact Obi-Wan had mentioned rather a few more times than strictly necessary on their trip over from Coruscant. It had been built on the site of an even more ancient battleground, where Jedi and Sith had fought one another centuries – maybe a millennia – ago. The Jedi had won, that time, and built the original Takodana Temple as a kind of memorial. Anakin let the tips of his fingers trail over the wet, warm stone walls as he walked, feeling to see if he could catch any whispers of the old voices. Old hurts, old betrayals, old war wounds…

He had started doing this thing, about a year or so back. He had discovered, largely by accident (not that Jedi were supposed to believe in accidents, just The Will of the Force, and all that), that he could, rather paradoxically, up the ante on his meditation skills by upping the ante on his distractions. He’d been filling in for Obi-Wan, who was supposed to have been taking a turn sitting in with a group of the youngest Younglings but had been called away at the last minute (or so he had said, at least; Anakin still wasn’t totally sure he believed him). Anakin had tried to keep to the Younglings’ schedule, which included a quarter of an hour of daily mandated meditation time. Younglings not being particularly good at meditation (they were worse at it than Anakin was, which was really saying something), they’d lasted only about half that time before starting to get fidgety. It had started small – a few coughs here and there, a couple of giggles, wiggling on their mats – and then had progressed from there to full-blown chaos. Anakin was supposed to be setting an example, though, and was determined to sit still, keep his eyes closed, and ignore everything that wasn’t an outright cry for medical attention until the allotted time was up.

What he had found, though, was that it was actually one of his better meditation sessions. The noisier the room got, the more relaxed Anakin got. He’d eventually opened his eyes to find one Youngling on his lap, another chewing on his Padawan braid, and a third hanging from the ceiling rafters, but had felt…calm and at peace and a little floaty, but also grounded, connected to the Force, the air, even the children. He’d asked Obi-Wan about it later that night over dinner. Obi-Wan had suggested they meditate over it, which made Anakin roll his eyes because he already had meditated today, that was the whole thing he wanted to talk to Obi-Wan about, and how much meditation did a person need every day, really? But after they ate he’d dutifully sat down across from Obi-Wan and closed his eyes anyway. Obi-Wan had reached out and taken Anakin’s hands in his, which almost made up for the double meditation session. (Almost.)

And then, just as Anakin was starting to settle into something resembling regulating his breathing, something hard and poky had slammed into the side of his head.

“Ow!” he’d said, reflexively, and opened his eyes. Obi-Wan’s datapad was lying on the floor beside him. Obi-Wan himself was still sitting serenely, holding Anakin’s hands.

“What the kriff did you do that for?” Anakin demanded.

“I’m sorry,” Obi-Wan had said, without opening his eyes, “I thought you said you liked having distractions while you meditated.”

“Not painful ones!” Anakin shot back.

“Apologies.” The holopad, from the floor, flicked on and started replaying whatever the last thing either of them had watched on it, which happened to be a nature documentary about tee-muss. “Is that better?”

Anakin grumbled about it, but he had, sort of, asked for this, and admitting defeat now would be both embarrassing and would necessitate him letting go of Obi-Wan’s hands, so he closed his eyes and tried again.

Of course, the first thing he had to do was release the pain in his head into the Force, but once he’d done that, he found that, once again, sifting through his distractions was easier when he actually had distractions to sift through. He let the migratory patterns of wild tee-muss go, and felt Obi-Wan squeeze his hands. “Good, Anakin,” he murmured softly, so quietly Anakin almost couldn’t hear him over the documentary narrator. “That’s very good.” (Anakin had replayed the moment in his head, putting that voice of Obi-Wan’s into different and much more…naked contexts, so many times since then that he could get hard just thinking about it, now.)

So Anakin had started to experiment, on and off. He turned the holoprojector on in their rooms while he was meditating. He sat in the corner of the refectory and meditated during mealtimes. Once, he tried meditating during galactic history class, but his teacher had ratted him out to Obi-Wan and Obi-Wan had told him not to do that anymore. And, now, he wanted to see if he could do it while inside Takodana Castle on a bustling summer afternoon.

To be continued next Wednesday!

#obikin #wip wednesday #an uncivil war #pick up the pieces

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themysticaldrumstick · 3 days

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I think my mc accidentally smacked E with a school door while running late so they just lay on the ground holding their nose while this tiny, energetic fluffy blond haired girl is just blabbering and apologizing a thousand times over their head. Then the next day they come to find E with half burned cookies as an apology.

I'm feelin a lil silly today, so you get a drabble, you lucky goose(jk).

----------------

"Fuck-" You curse loudly, stumbling past the person, almost slamming into them in your hurry. It was eight-fifteen, to be exact, and you were late. Very late. Mr. Bobbs already had your ass in a stitch for losing your grade, and now this? It was basically a recipe for disaster and this was not a risk you were willing to take.

The person falls, unable to regain their balance-- all their books falling down on the ground, along with a box of cookies. Their glasses tosses from the impact, away from their face, and a low groan escapes them.

Your cheeks burn in embarrassment.

"Oh my God!" You remark, eagerly helping them up, as you cringe mentally-- wincing at the little bruise against their arm from the friction of their fall against the floor. Your foot taps anxiously-- a mix of regret and shame pooling in your stomach.

"I'm so sorry, I'm such an idiot, sometimes, I can't believe it--" You try to explain, but they waved you off, picking up their glasses.

"All good. I'm not dead." They reply-- you're somewhat surprised at how.. rich, their voice sounds. They seem similar to you in age, obviously a student, judging by the books on the floor, but their voice? It just sounds so.. mature. You don't know whether you're turned on or weirded out.

Either way, you don't care. You cannot care because Lucifer out there, is waiting to murder you, four classrooms away, and not to sound abnormal, but unlike usual teens your age, you really, really love your existence.

"I'm really sorry." You repeat, blabbering apologies nonstop, impatiently in your hurry. They open their mouth to respond, but you're too desperate to care, so you ignore them and run, waving a hand back, as you yell, "I'm sorry again! See you later!"

And needless to say, of course, you end up in detention because Bobbs hated anyone with boobs.

However, it does seem like a blessing in disguise because you seem to find out who you had bumped into earlier, from all the gossip around. Their name-- rather common, their face-- rather unremarkable, but it seems to click something for you. You also hear that some friend of theirs(apparently, who loved cookies) was supposed to get a box from them but didn't.

You bite your lip in guilt when you remember the cookies that crushed against the floor because of that fall. Maybe it's the sheer will that drives you, or the prospect of meeting a hot stranger your age, that your hormones really seem to respond to-- you bake that night.

It's messy and chaotic, and you end up crying on your kitchen floor, feeling like a total failure for messing something that's supposed to be easy. It comes out all burnt, the harsh smell of vanilla and salt coming from it. You scrunch your nose. It's disgusting but, it's the only option you've got.

But, they pleasantly end up surprising you when a large smile curls up on their face as they accept the box of burnt cookies from you. Just from the sheer kindness of it.

You're embarrassed, but they don't seem to mind, as they take a bite of the cookies. "It's.. interesting."

"It's burnt." You mutter, looking away with a sigh. "Baking isn't my forte."

They raise an eyebrow, leaning close-- your cheeks burn in embarrassment, but they seem more inquisitive than flirty, so you push the thoughts away. "Then, what is?"

And, that.. was, well, the beginning of your friendship with your ex-partner. Not very compelling, not very interesting, not very thrilling. And even if you hate them, now..

..You cannot deny one thing.

They definitely knew just how to steal your heart back then, even if they pretended that they couldn't. Even if they pretended as if they were clueless. E knew it all.

And they knew it all too well.

#asks #7DIP #i did a thing #a shitty thing but a thing regardless

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mochalate · 4 hours

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[3] new notification!

msby!atsumuxreader || w/c: 1.1k + 1 min of video (yes, video.) chocolate chip cookies are the way to a guy's heart. (everyone knows that!) a/n: wow I thought I wouldn't post anything this week, but one really good chocolate cake later, I felt alive. Perhaps Atsumu and I are more similar than I thought. 🔔Please use full screen for the video!

[<-chapter 2][chapter 4->] ||[start from intro][masterlist]

Back when you were still at university, you had a part time job at the campus gym. Legally, you weren’t allowed to call yourself a nutritionist at that point, but that’s what you did. It was never anything complicated— the hardest thing had been managing expectations.

No, you won’t have noticeable muscle definition in a month.

Yes, you’ll need quite a bit longer than a week to lose ten kilos.

That will give you results, but perhaps a more sustainable plan?

So yes, expectations. You’re in a career chock-full of them. You’re good at managing them. Even when it’s hard.

Or so you’d thought.

Can I keep starin’?

(Could it really be that easy?)

With four words, Atsumu Miya had ripped open the top of that flimsy cardboard box you’d oh-so-carefully stuffed your expectations in, and now you were struggling to (convince yourself to) put them back in. For the last few hours, you’ve been fiddling with that metaphorical scotch-tape, not quite daring to believe he could be interested in you— and yet unable to let go of that fantasy.

Was it a fantasy?

You can still picture his flushed-red face, the anticipation and anxiety in his eyes. It wasn’t the kind of look you expected from a flirty joke.

Or…

It's when Osamu has to stop you from trying to grab the piping hot handle of a cast iron pan for the second time that you realise you need to come back to your senses.

“Osamu,” you ask, timidly. “Can I ask you something? It’s about Atsumu.”

Osamu turns down the flame on the burner, and looks at you. His face is neutral— some people went as far as calling those droopy grey eyes of his ‘expressionless’, but you preferred to think of them as steady. Osamu always said it like it was.

He’s going to give you the reality check you so obviously need.

“How stupid am I for thinking I have a chance with Atsumu?”

You brace yourself for a scathing reply. Perhaps, ‘Next time, I won’t stop ya from burning yourself.’ Or maybe, “That oaf? Sorry, the only thing he’s attracted to is balls. Volleyballs, that is.”

What he does instead, is sigh heavily, and a little exasperatedly.

“Did ya two idiots finally figure it out?”

Your heart skips a beat. “What?”

“You heard me,” Osamu says, turning up the flame once more. He stirs the simmering broth as he speaks. “He’s been actin’ stupid all week. And you’ve been actin’ stupid around him for a while.”

Oh. Oh.

There’s no way you’re ever putting those expectations away ever again, because that stupid box is all soggy at the bottom now. Soggy, because the raging mix of relief and happiness swirling around in your chest— the weight lifted off your shoulders because you don’t have to pretend anymore— is making you tear up.

Osamu hears you sniffle.

“Aw, c’mon,” he says, tapping off the broth and setting the spoon beside the stove, “you know he isn’t worth cryin' over.” There’s a cheeky grin on his face, as he brings his large hands up to your face, wiping away the tears. “Want me to beat him up for ya?”

(You think he really might be your best friend.)

“You’re just looking for an excuse to!” You say, pulling his hands away as you laugh.

He holds them up in mock defence. “Hey, two birds and all. Are you going call him?”

You’re already scrambling inside your purse. “I… think I forgot my phone at work.”

He clicks his tongue. “I take it back, yer perfect for each other.”

“Hey!” You say it indignantly, but his words make you feel warm. Perfect for each other. “Can I borrow your phone? Would that be weird?”

“He’d make it weird,” Osamu scoffs. “Just go over.”

“I— I should bring him something.”

He makes an amused expression. “Okay.”

“I don’t know what.”

“Are you asking me for help?”

You make your best puppy face. “Please?”

Osamu sighs. “Well, he’s been complainin’ about those raisin bran cookies for weeks now…”

“I think it would be best if you don’t say anything. Just let it blow over,” the publicist says. She’s using the speakerphone, and her voice sounds far away. Atsumu can hear the clack of keyboard keys in the background. “I mean it, Miya. Log out of everything. No, uninstall everything.”

“Don’t ya trust me even a little bit?” Atsumu asks. He tries to sound teasing, but his heart isn’t in it.

“No,” she says bluntly. The call goes blank.

Atsumu collapses back on to his bed, legs hanging over the edge. He holds his phone up over his face, staring at the ‘call ended’ until the screen turns itself off, and then sighs heavily.

It’s not that he’s worried. She was right, it would blow over. But it would happen again. And he knows that each time, it would chip off a little piece of you; and eventually leave your edges jagged and rough enough to cut.

You’d resent him for it.

Atsumu unlocks his phone. It’s easy enough to find those pictures of you and Osamu again.

You look so happy.

He doesn’t think he was being delusional earlier, he knows there was something more than plain embarrassment in your eyes when you’d looked at him; and yet, he can’t shake the thought that he’s being selfish.

The photo is cropped awkwardly, and he knows you and Osamu are close, but he can’t help but feel disheartened, and then hate himself for feeling like that. Were you two actually seeing each other? Was he meddling in his brother’s happiness, your happiness? What did he have to offer that his brother didn’t, save for the scrutiny of strangers?

The phone buzzes.

His eyes flick up to the notification bar. It’s a DM request from one of his new-found confidantes.

(Well, it's not like I've got anything better to do.)

In that brief moment, Atsumu understands his mother, and her panic at the state of the house when guests were imminent. He even understands, as he turns a couple of the trophies he has on display a few degrees to the left, why she would go around adjusting her many throw pillows in those last few seconds. That time seemed to stretch endlessly.

And then the doorbell rings, and time seems to somehow come to a stop and rush forward at the same time.

Atsumu stumbles on the carpet as he rushes to open the door.

And there you are.

“Hey, Atsumu,” you say, fiddling with the lid of the plastic container in your hands, “can we talk?”

(Wow, he thinks for some reason. I think those are cookies.)

Osamu walked her over because the publicist was calling around to find her, when she couldn't get a hold of reader on her number. He was worried about her going alone. What a prince. Divider @/cafekitsune Tweet images edited from here and Shokubutsu Zukan (by Tsutsumi Kakeru). Had a hard time finding the source for that image lol, it's been used in SO many fic headers. Each time I reverse image searched, If found a slightly less cropped version until it ended as the full page. and then i had to google translate this russian pirated manga site. next chapter will be the last + I will post a little bonus from the osamu POV. :)

#atsumu miya x reader #miya atsumu x reader #atsumu x reader #haikyuu x reader #my fic

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