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#or what she Sees as a failure… a failure of her own strength :(
novantinuum · 2 months
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you can’t choose what stays and what fades away OR Reunited Alt POV fic? (I am eyeing doing that tag myself except. *glances at WIP folder*)
I am wiggling about my SU wips most of all, so I’mma selecting Reunited Alt POV fic (which LMAFO I need to come up with a banger of a title for so desperately, this one is like 2/3rds done so. Yeah.
This is a simple one to explain, it’s just the battle in Reunited but from Connie’s POV- thus, it covers everything that happens while Steven gets knocked into unconscious psychic ghost zone. Or, at least, my take on what happens. But uh… yeah. Watching your friend get absolutely trampled underfoot is inherently traumatizing, and I don’t think we as a fandom talk enough about this moment and how it might’ve impacted specifically Connie. Also I genuinely honest to god think Steven was seriously hurt from this- and that some of the fractures in his bones we see in SUF were from this strike- and that the reason he took so long to come to in “psychic ghost zone” even was that all his body’s energy was being routed towards Intense self healing. So keep that in mind re: snippit below:
_
Garnet keeps a watchful eye for any incoming projectiles as Connie skids to a screeching halt next to her friend’s comatose body lying limp in the sand. Okay. Okay. Here he is. Now all she’s gotta do is… carry him to a safe distance. Steeling her core in preparation, she squats down and tries to leverage herself to scoop him right up. Her legs, though… in the midst of her terror, her legs are simply too wobbly to bear his mass, and after one valiant but failed attempt she’s scared she’ll hurt herself (or him!) trying again. Which means… she’ll just have to drag him.
“Sorry—!” she says with a faint hiss of regret as she grasps both of his arms by the wrist and starts to pull him across the battle-swept sands. Sure enough to her suspicions, one of his shoulders definitely doesn’t feel like it’s aligned in its socket right, and she worries that yanking him along like this will only serve to further exacerbate it. Still, what other choice does she have? 
What choices do any of them have, all tangled up within the fallout of this thousand year war?
Ever-diligent in her role as lookout, Garnet circles around a few more times as Connie drags Steven off the battlefield, towards what remains of his house. She’s grateful for her help. Truly so. It allows her to focus her energy on protecting her best friend instead of constantly having to keep an eye out for stray attacks from the Diamonds. And boy, oh boy— she digs her heels into the sand, spent muscles all but screaming for her to rest, to drop her load and continue on alone— will her body need every last drop of energy she’s got. That’s why relief surges through her heart with all the ferocity of a tidal wave when Mr. Universe’s frantic voice comes into range once again. Because it means she’s here. She’s succeeded. She’s pulled him all the way to the base of the stairs, out of the way.
The exhaustion hits immediately. Huffing for a lungful of air, she drops the half-Gem’s arms to the ground and collapses to her knees. For an extended moment, the unwanted melody of warfare rings through her ears like canon fire. She can’t move. She can barely even breathe. She swears her friend’s dad is trying to say something to her— can feel his hesitant touch brushing against her shoulder in what barely counts as a whisper— but she can’t even manage to distinguish a single word. Her eyes brim with fresh tears, every last sensory input overloaded. It’s all too loud. It’s all too damn heavy. It’s all too—
“Connie,” Garnet pushes through the static with astute authority. 
She snaps her head up, her eyes flitting between the Crystal Gem leader (currently kneeling at her side) and a still panicking Mr. Universe (clutching his unconscious son’s hand). Her breath settles, slowly but surely. Her fingers twitch, tracing shallow patterns in the sand. The ringing lessens.
“Thank you,” she continues, pushing herself back to her full height. The long skirt of her wedding outfit flares behind her as she glances back towards the chaos of the battle. “For protecting him where I couldn’t. Now, keep watch. If they poof all of us, promise me you’ll evacuate the beach.”
“I-I… of course,” Connie says, her gaze still wet with terror and barely contained grief. “But y-you… you don’t really think you’ll—?”
Lose, is the word she can’t bring herself to say. Surely you don’t think you’ll lose?
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pianokantzart · 1 year
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YES! GOOD! I’m going to just going to analyze the whole dinner scene, because it’s one of my favorite parts of the movie. 
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Mario and Luigi walk in, and immediately the whole room lights up to greet them. Despite everything that follows, one thing is clear: The Mario Brothers are happy to see their family, and the family is happy to see them. 
The whole family confirms that they watched their commercial. Everyone except their mom insists the commercial was a bad idea, but the fact that they all watched it speaks to the fact that there is no indifference regarding Mario and Luigi’s dream. They’re eager to see where this endeavor leads, even if they think it’s going to end in failure. 
The moment Mario and Luigi sit down at the table, their uncles begin laying into them like it’s open season on financially struggling plumbers. Just full blown, no-holds-barred roast mode on their nephews.
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Mario is on the defensive, but he doesn’t get angry, he’s just trying to argue his side. Clearly this is typical behavior for Uncle Tony and Uncle Arthur. They’re loud, overly honest, and obnoxiously confident in their opinions. Uncle Arthur, thankfully, has his wife to keep him in check. Uncle Tony, however, who is seated next to poor Luigi, is an absolute menace.
Luigi ignores all the teasing. He is only interested in getting food, but this is not an easy task. Tony’s verbal arguments are all directed at Mario, but Luigi is the one who gets prodded and shoved around, and that makes getting dinner next to impossible.
Luigi attempts to serve himself salad, attempts to ask for a roll, attempts to eat the mushrooms being put on his plate, and at every turn he’s either pushed away or talked over. He is clearly very soft spoken compared to the other men in his family, and never quite had the strength to stand up for himself... after all, everyone means well, they just lack self awareness. It isn’t worth the fight. 
Thankfully, Luigi’s mom comes to the rescue, and puts a bowl of soup in front of her boy. She’s the queen of the caretaker role, making sure all the loose ends are tied up and that everybody eats.
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But on the flip side, it’s interesting to note that once the uncles start tearing into Mario, Mario’s Dad serves him up a plate of food. He may have just been serving the person next to him because that was the polite thing to do, but I have a theory...
I think that this wasn’t the first night that Mario and his uncles went at each other. I think Mario’s Dad read the room, and figured that if Mario was going to spend dinner playing defense, he should at least remember to eat while doing so.
It also speaks volumes that Mario’s Dad doesn’t voice his disapproval until Mario asks for his opinion. Before then he avoids the subject and lets everyone else do the talking, but so long as he’s being questioned directly, he can’t help but be honest.
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“I think... you’re nuts. You don’t quit a steady job for some crazy dream.” This sounds like a voice of experience. Mario’s Dad has the figure of someone who has worked physical labor for a good portion of his life (look the size of those arms). He may have had dreams of his own when he was younger, but he had a wife and kids to worry about, and family took priority. 
Speaking of family taking priority: “... and the worst part? You’re bringing your brother down with you.” That settles it. The conversation has gone from a casual roast session to dead serious. The entire room falls quiet as Mario puts down his fork and storms off. 
“What’d I say?” Everybody at the table (except the niece, she’s long since checked out) gives Mario’s Dad different versions of the look™. Uncle Tony and Uncle Arthur have the same “Jesus Christ bro, you didn’t have to go there” expression, and Luigi just looks hurt on Mario’s behalf. His Dad, however, is just confused.  
He didn’t get the gravity of what he said. His relationship with his own brothers– loudmouthed schmucks who call their own shots – is completely alien to what Luigi and Mario have. He probably knows Mario is protective of Luigi, but he doesn’t realize the depth of responsibility Mario feels for him. Anyone can see that Luigi is loyal to his brother, but Mario alone knows how loyal he is, and the implication that he’s betraying that loyalty is intensely painful. 
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I doubt Uncle Arthur and Uncle Tony truly relate to Mario and Luigi’s relationship either, but they’ve probably teased Mario enough to understand one thing: bringing Luigi into it is a line you do not cross.
Conclusion:
There is a lot of love in the Mario family.
Uncle Tony and Uncle Arthur are definitely the most insufferable of the bunch, but there is no malice in their teasing. While they are brash and overbearing, it’s all in good fun, and they get visibly uncomfortable when things go too far and someone actually ends up hurt. 
Luigi seems to take after his mother; kind, nonconfrontational, and happily invested in a supporting role. While his Mom cares for and assists the family, Luigi cares for and assists his brother, both emotionally and in his business ventures.
Mario, in the meantime, takes after his Dad, who appears to be the oldest of the three brothers. He doesn’t always think before speaking, but he isn’t constantly running his mouth like Arthur or Tony, and acts with the gravity of someone who bears a lot of responsibility. He doesn’t quite “get” his sons, but he knows enough to see that Luigi follows his brother everywhere, and Mario does not always think before jumping into things. Despite what Mario may believe, his Dad doesn’t see him as a “joke” so much as he sees him as an impulsive young man who doesn’t grasp the consequences of his actions. But Mario does understand the consequences of his actions, he just dreams big, and... thanks to Luigi... actually has the support he needs to pursue those dreams. 
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sorcerous-caress · 7 months
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Hello!! I love your writing 😍 Would it be okay if you wrote Karlach, Lae'zel and whomever you wish with a tiefling!Tav that loses both a horn and an eye during a battle and can't quite find balance in their fighting afterwards bc of it?
Reacting to Tav losing a horn/eye
[Hurt/comfort, fluff, angst, nb!reader, Tiefling!reader]
[Karlach, Laezel, Wyll, Halsin]
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Karlach
She swears she can still hear it, your agonised scream, the splatter of blood, the crunch of bone being torn apart.
As if the world slowed down for a moment, an eerie quietness surrounding the battlefield for the uncomfortable stretched out seconds. Your companions turning to look at you, clutching your eye with your back hunched.
Dread filled her stomach, one of your horns laid on the bloody floor next to your feet.
She doesn't remember the rest. Only when she stood atop the burnt rubble of what used to be the battlefield, did the all-consuming rage fade away from her mind.
Karlach is immediately at your side after, apologising for not being there sooner.
She's by your side as you heal, making sure to bring you anything you might need. As your struggles to adjust to combat again in the aftermath become more and more evadint, she is one of the first people to suggest fully leaving combat to her.
Yes, you are capable. Yes, she has seen how strong you are. But sometimes life just doesn't go the way we plan it. You can relay on her instead.
You don't have to go back to the cruel world. You can let her take care of it. Karlach really can't afford losing you. She'd claw her way up the heavens and steal you away if your fate took a turn to the worse.
Laezel
She completely disagrees with Karlach. This is nothing but a minor setback if anything. Laezel completely has faith in you to relearn how to find your balance, and she'll teach you if she has to.
As long as you can still stand on your feet and carry a sword, then you can fight in her eyes. She will give her sincere apologies for letting you down in battle and not doing something before enemeis got the chance to best you, but besides it, you'll get no pity from her.
Why is everyone acting as if you died? You're clearly still the same strong and capable person she knows. If anything, each scar is evidence of how your enemies' failure to put you down, you should show your broken horn with pride.
She has enough self awareness not to impose her views on you, no matter how much she thinks her companions are being dramatic and oversensitive, is she noticed you being fully uncomfortable with her approach she will take her leave from your bedside.
But you got fed up with people infantlising you, then she will be the first to 6pull you back into an intense daily training routine until you regain your footing.
Wyll
While Karlach and Laezel were too busy arguing about your own fate, Wyll was there for you throughout every stage of healing. He knows what it's it like losing an eye. He can relate to the horror and dissociation that happens whenever you look at the mirror to see a piece of yourself missing.
He still hasn't gotten used to his own horns himself, and losing one of yours must have been painful to bear. He will stay by your side until you feel better, no pressure to discuss the future or your fighting abilities or anything.
Wyll will make sure you don't feel alone, that the dark thoughts don't consume you too much. Share you worries with him, let him help carry your burdens, please. It kills him seeing someone so dear to him suffer when he can't do anything or help.
Halsin
His heart breaks, seeing you coming back to camp limbing and bloodied that day. He prays to Silvanus to ease your pain as he takes shift with Shadowheart to nurse you back to health with healing spells.
Nature can be so unforgiving sometimes, to some animals, losing an eye or horn can be a death sentence.
But he has seen even the most withered of plants suddenly flourish and regain their strength, he has personally stayed up countless nights to care for the weak kittens that their mother refused to even acknowledge.
He has seen them grow, nurtured them into a strong healthy state.
Don't surrendered to the darkness, when the abyss starts whispering about how this is your end and how your potential was wasted you yell at the abyss, bite, claw and fight your way out of this rut.
True strength lies in the heart, give yourself time to rest, and don't rush your healing. Eventually, you'll be back on your own two feet with a new view on the world before you can realise it.
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st4rbwrry · 1 month
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━━━ 𝑝𝑟𝑎𝑦 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑐𝑎𝑡𝑐ℎ 𝑚𝑒. a.h
warnings 𑄽𑄺 6.4k. fem reader, lowercase intended, she/her pronouns, murder mystery, aki is a chef, oral [ f + m.], sneaking away, marijuana use, praise, fingering + finger sucking, aki's tongue is pierced, sexual acts happen quick, mentions of depression, brief mention of emotional/physical abuse, reader is desperate for help/attention, parental neglect, grooming, minors aren’t allowed.
━━━ ꒰ 𝑚𝑜𝑐ℎ𝑎'𝑠 𝑝𝑟𝑒𝑡𝑡𝑦 𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑔ℎ𝑡𝑠 .ᐟ ꒱ ; another old piece of mine i never fully finished and now posting yrs later!
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“okay, i'm out!" aki is shouting as he tosses his white chef coat over his shoulder, book bag on the other, the cool breeze of spring blowing through his raven hair the minute he opened the tall glass door that led to the front of the restaurant. his friend, also a coworker, is busy, in the mix of gathering dirty dishes and clearing trash bins but still sends him a farewell, a quick, 'see ya tomorrow. good job today!' till he's off to his bus stop. he was thankful he got out early, just before five in the afternoon meaning the sun hadn't set yet.
he sighs, extremely worn out, in dire need of a steamy hot shower and a greasy pizza while laying in the comfort of, finally, his own apartment he worked entirely too hard to gain. the commute to his place in brooklyn, new york became rather annoying due to rush hour traffic at this time. having to take the bus then switch to the 'n' train, hopping off and walking fifteen minutes until he finally reaches his destination. his second goal was to afford a vehicle to save him money instead of wasting it on expensive monthly metro cards.
aki's lived here his entire life, growing up in the bronx, not much different. he loved new york, but not their uppity expenses. the fact that he's paying nearly two grand for a 600 square-foot apartment with no in-unit laundry nor a gym at that, was nonsensical. did he want to reside here forever? yes. he'd feel homesick if he ever were to leave. having the opportunity to travel seemed like a much better alternative, that way he'd still have his home but be anywhere in the world doing what he loved, and that was cooking. aki hayakawa was twenty-six years old, earning his master's in culinary arts at the culinary institute of america, also known as the C.I.A.
his ultimate dream was to open his restaurant, which he would name after his tragically deceased mother. a terrible accident in which he dreads the memory of. falling endlessly into a black hole, hearing nothing but the sound of his own fear, the breaking of his bones when it interacted with brick interior, the feeling of his heart thumping excessively against his chest as he continued to drop deeper like a rock that was chucked down an empty well. this emotion he knew all too well; failure. when he lost his mother, it felt as if the world crumbled beneath him, malicious dark vines slithering up to grab him by his ankles and pull him down a bottomless pit of nothingness.
he tasted the agony, the anger, the sadness, and even the hate from the fact that she was gone and never coming back. countless tantrums, anxiety attacks, and depression summed up the apathy of it all. it took him six years to realize that drowning in pain would never help him gain the strength that he knew she wanted him to have. by letting her witness the pain he was going through from above, he was hurting not only her . . but himself. so to overcome the tragedy, he kept himself busy with cooking. going to school, earning his degree, and the current job he had with his best friend since middle school.
school was probably the greatest thing he'd ever done to reinvent who he was as a person. cooking is a delicate yet challenging obstacle to undertake, yet, it's so therapeutic to him. the nature of it all, being able to witness what he can do for many people, bring laughter and happiness—it's a beautiful thing. when aki was small, he and his mother would give back to people all the time. whether they were donating clothes to the homeless, or feeding small pigeons pieces of bread on a sunny day as they flew to the gray pavement, awaiting a feast. they always cared about others. they would experiment a lot, going to food markets just to come home and whip up a good meal which they would then donate to the less fortunate. that's when he learned how humble he felt to give back to those in need.
he wanted to show his mother his achievements, to push himself and become a world-renowned chef, just like gordon ramsey—without the aggression. he wanted his name plastered on articles for his extraordinary talent, talked about on tv, in fact, given his own cooking show on foodnetwork. aki grew up watching that channel, an obsessive enticement his mother could never break the young boy from. he was making recipes at the age of twelve, and learned how to cook at eight. eggs were the first thing, usually everyone's first, then as time progressed, he grew from simple pasta dishes to revitalizing gourmet meats, and anything french. just recently he schooled himself on how to create wine. every day he learned something new, and that was the beauty of culinary.
"hayakawa! come here!" star yells as soon as she sees the tall man emerge through the front door, ready to start his morning shift, raspy voice laced with slight panic, instantly making the man run to her out of worry.
"what's wrong?" he furrows his brows.
"look who just fucking walked in," she grabs his bicep, pulling him closer to the front counter. aki curiously follows where her finger points, seeing a slim man with black curly hair dressed properly in a white and black suit. silver and sapphire rolex on his wrist, his pale green eyes scanning through the lens of his glasses at the menu while he sips his water. expensive.
"i have no idea who that is," aki blinks, making star gasp.
"he's alexander bodari, one of my favorite authors of all time. remember the novel i told you i was reading, about this girl who was kept in this lunatics basement and almost murdered?"
aki's eyebrows raise. "the book dylan bought you for your birthday, right?"
"yeah! that's him. oh my fucking god, i'm so nervous, whew," star begins to fan herself, nearly having a breakdown. aki grabs her shoulder and chuckles.
"chill out, star. you don't have to serve him if you don't want to."
"of course i do! i just. . . can't," she frowns.
"you can, you've done it many times before. this isn't the first celebrity we've come across."
star sighs, nodding. "you're right, i can do it."
"good girl," aki smiles, patting the top of her head. star catches his wrist and scowls.
"fuck off."
"aki," another voice calls to him, this time it's the head chef, also known as his boss. aki greets him with a small, 'good morning, chef' before waiting for his response.
"i'm guessing you know that alexander bodari is here," lane says, arms crossed over his broad chest. aki nods. "i want you to cook for him."
aki and star share a glance of shock.
"uh, why me. where's dylan?"
"he's not feeling well so i gave him the day off. you're the only one here that's near his level, and he's a higher-up man, so i want you to cook for him. star will cater to his needs. we're kinda short-staffed today, and i trust you two will handle it properly."
"yes, chef," they say in unison.
star was only a waiter, working here for four years while aki earned his position two years into her time. the last thing the woman could do was cook, ironic since she worked in a restaurant with very talented people. lane would've asked her in a heartbeat if she was as skilled as aki. aki was known for making dishes at the top of his head, so if anyone asked for a special, he was the one to ask. before they began to serve anyone inside, aki gave star a small prep talk before sending her out. eventually, she got through with taking his order without stuttering or sweating. when she walked back into the kitchen, actually shoved the doors open with a joker smile on her face, aki cocks his head at her.
"you—"
"he wants your special!" she screams, doing a goofy dance, and skipping in her spot.
aki's face drops. "are you deadass?"
"yes! when he was looking at the menu, he saw your four courses on the back and chose your mom's stew! fucking a, man!"
aki is still frozen, weakly giving star their signature handshake, smile slowly easing onto his face. "my mom's stew? seriously?"
"yeah. chop chop, get to it."
aki was persistent. no one's ever ordered his mother's stew, which made this day very special for him. even if the dish was only on the menu for a month, it still meant a lot to him. he made sure there were no distractions, taking a tender chuck roast and cutting them into cubes, seasoning them well while throwing in worcester sauce, balsamic vinegar, garlic cloves, bay leaves, and beef broth. making a slurry with flour and water to thicken the stew. adding onions and potatoes. it was a simple yet fulfilling dish he looked forward to every sunday.
"deep breaths," star whispered as she carried the steaming tray of stew plated professionally on a porcelain oval-shaped bowl. in a way, it felt like she was telling not only herself but him. it's a rarity that people order his courses, and serving this to an author, a bestseller, a man worth millions, made him giddy. he was cheesing like an idiot, pushing star out the double doors to the dining area.
although as soon as she walked out, that's when doubt clouded his gut. did he put too many seasonings? is the meat tender enough? what if he doesn't like it? will he write about it on his author blog? god, he hoped the potatoes weren't hard. he had only tasted the broth, it tasted just like his mother's. what if. . .
"aki," star walks back in, an even wider grin on her a-symmetrical face this time. he blinks, realizing that he's been standing here for three minutes now. "he wants to see the chef."
he's dumbfounded. "me?"
"no, lane. yes, you!" she's squealing like a girl, and sometimes he forgets she is one, even underneath her blunt features and boyish sense of style.
he's clearing his throat now, strolling mindlessly towards alexander bodari's table, greeting himself and waiting for his constructive criticism.
"you're aki hayakawa?" the man questioned, lifting his glasses back onto his face.
"yes, sir."
"i just have to say," alexander chuckles, softly clapping his hands. "this may be one of the best stews i've ever had."
the tenseness in aki's shoulders relaxes, and he's sighing with relief, alexander noticing and laughing. "i'm really glad to hear that, sir."
"did you create this on your own?"
"it's actually my mother's recipe. it's my favorite. every time i make it, it reminds me of her."
"that's really ironic because this reminds me of the stew my mother used to make," he grins. "yours is the first that i haven't seen carrots in."
aki laughs. "my mom hated cooked carrots."
"mine did too," he fixes his collar. "is this your restaurant?"
"no, no. i'm just a cook here. i plan on opening my own soon. i already have my master's."
his brows raise. "wow, that's amazing. wow old are you?"
"twenty-six, sir."
"well, you're definitely going places," he compliments and aki feels even more satisfied. "say what, i'm having this pre-book release, about a hundred guests. i was wondering if you would like to cater the party. i'll pay you however much you want."
it's like the whole world collapsed on his chest. he'd never gotten an opportunity like this, especially this big. to cook for so many famous people at once was a blessing. he could really show off his skills if he took this offer . . . and did. after thanking him, exchanging contacts, and then handshakes, aki lets the man finish his meal before jogging back into the kitchen to scream about it to aki, lane, and the rest of the crew. alexander offered star to come along to serve, but unfortunately she couldn't, seeming as she'd be out of town for family matters that day.
alexander, of course, knowing she was a big fan signed a copy of his book she already had in her bag and letting her know she could help the next time he had an event. that made her happy enough. the two of them couldn't wait to finish their shifts today, taking the train to star's place and planning dishes all night, even cooking them to get them just right. alexander was hosting the party at his penthouse down soho. and aki had a week to prepare himself.
୨♡୧
cashmere sweaters, silk gowns, and jewelry that most likely cost more than his savings account roamed the lovely terrace of alexander bodari's home. every inch of it screamed filthy rich. rows of tables were set outside, the dark night sky making the moon shun brightly amongst the glass centerpieces filled with calla lilies and moss. white cloths, sterling silverware, and porcelain dinnerware. the terrace itself was elegant; freshly cut bushes trimmed as squares, a marble three-tiered italian water fountain placed in the middle. roses, dandelions, tall plants ranging from bamboo, snake plants, and pothos. alexander was very in touch with nature and his spirit. it's crazy he writes about the things he does.
speaking of, the book he was presenting that would be released in august was titled, 'to riven a magnolia.' he wouldn't quite reveal what it was about yet, wanting it to be a surprise, but did read an excerpt from the novel. aki only paid half attention, big words throwing him off plus he wanted to set the food table properly so guests could take what they wanted after his reading. aki didn't go all out since only seventy-two people were available to make it, and he didn't want any meals that would make anyone too full to converse, so he kept it simple yet exquisite. each guest received a slice of japanese fluffy cheesecake with a side of strawberry and mandarin orange tanghulu. beef wellington, and a six-sided cream garlic bread.
he received praise all night long. people gasping and thanking him for the food, giving him all sorts of compliments making the man blush like a child. at one point he held both sides of his face in his palms when a woman and her husband approached him to talk, way too shy, and the woman flirting with him didn't make it go away. eventually, her husband dragged her out of his sight. the night went on, classical music played as people sipped their champagne and talked about their wealth, their yoga classes, their thousand dollar dogs, golf, marketing . . . aki hopes he never becomes this way.
as he's pouring an elderly lady a glass as she rambles about baking, he notices a woman he's barely seen all night. he's disoriented, eyeing this girl leaning up against a vintage roman painting reaching the ceiling once the lady departs. brown eyes; the first captivating part of her body he captured. they appeared lonely, bored perhaps as they scanned through the crowd of people, soon landing on another pair, his own. the godly woman stared at him longingly. aki had no business nearly losing his shit under her gaze. wow. she was truly stunning.
one feature that stood out the most were the freckles scattered from the bridge of her nose to the swell of her cheekbones. pretty. her black hair styled protectively in butterfly locs that grazed her collarbones, seeing the industrial piercing hiding behind a piece. her lashes were long, naturally extended. heart-shaped lips were full and pouty, the upper lip brown while the lower, salmon pigmented. an emerald satin mini dress loosely clung to her alluring brown skin. cowl neckline, ruched waist, and an open back partially revealing the red dragon tattoo painted on the side of her hip. black suede gucci heels strapped prettily around her ankles, showcasing her white painted toenails. a three layered gold necklace on her chest. this woman, you, were the rationale of celestial.
it was the moment you smiled at him, tilting your head slightly to the side while tapping your ombré acrylic nail amongst the glass of your champagne, calling to him while he thoughtlessly followed, that aki would realize he had made one of the worst mistakes in his life.
"you're pretty."
it's the first thing you say when he walks towards you, offering a piece of cheesecake with a cheeky smile. aki is taken aback, chuckling nervously, palms already clammy the minute he approached you.
"pretty?" he's perplexed.
"that's what i said," you say, taking the gold fork from his palm and cutting a slice to taste, widening your mouth while maintaining eye contact. the man swallows.
"uh, i've never gotten that before. thank you."
you're too busy eyeing him to say a thing. even if he dressed in simple black skinny jeans and same color tee, a silver necklace tucked beneath his shirt, sable combat boots, and a white apron around his waist . . he looked damn good. his eyes were blue, somewhat smoke gray, dark hair long and straight, the top half tucked into a small messy bun on the back of his head. a few loose strands swaying around his cheekbones. he was tall, shoulders broad, forearms and hands slightly veiny. you gazed at his hands holding the plate for you, wide and rough, fingers long.
"you don't seem to be enjoying the party," he says, knocking you out of your daydream.
you hum with displeasure. "he's a fake."
aki furrows his brows. "sorry?"
"alex, he's unoriginal. most of his novels are stolen by people he pays to keep quiet," you side-eye him while downing the last drop of your champagne, slowly licking your lips. his eyes flicker there for a split moment.
"how do you know?"
the question makes you quiet, tapping your glass. "think of it like this; everyone starts off as a cocoon. eventually as time goes by, we evolve into butterflies. the cocoon represents our innocence; the purity and unawareness of what's to come in life. once we sprout into butterflies, we become tarnished, facing the real world and learning to adapt to its cruelty. life can be beautiful, but it's always painful no matter how happy or dismal we are. it's our choice to fly in the direction we want for ourselves even when the harshness of life beats us down. butterflies only live for so long. we disintegrate after inhumane amounts of stress, loneliness, or tragic events that take a toll on us, removing the power of staying beautiful. we show beauty to the public but don't feel it when everything around us is falling apart. but we can't make life harder on ourselves by dwelling on what we can't have rather than pushing for what we can have."
aki is speechless, half-understanding what you meant. "are you saying alexander is a butterfly that can't fly?"
"he's more like a mosquito, latching onto those who want to sprout into a butterfly but sucks the nutrients from them for his pleasure. he's a fraud. he'll never be a butterfly because he simply can't."
"did he steal from you? is that why you resent him?"
"no," you bluntly state, although aki doesn't believe you.
he takes the fork from you, cutting you another slice before holding it towards your lips, waiting for you to bite. you looked like you needed it. the drowsiness in your eyes may have indicated that you were tipsy. you giggle, shaking your head before he feeds you, your big eyes captivating him more. "is there something you want?"
"you."
aki nearly chokes and he's not even the one eating, your bluntness throwing him in a spiral of emotions.
"am i beautiful to you?" you lean closer, aki swallowing, scanning his surroundings. most of everyone remained in the living area, the two of you far behind a wall near the glass door of the terrace. he could smell your scent better, a sweet smell of caramel. soft skin shimmering with glitter.
"very."
"so what's stopping you? you got a girlfriend or somethin'?"
"n-no, it's just. i barely know you."
"that's part of the thrill," he watches as your small wrist turns and your palm is flat outward. "come upstairs with me."
like any man would, his feet walked on their own, stupidly following behind you up the black marble staircase, hand in yours as his eyes watched your hips switch.
"what's your name?" that should've been the first thing you asked, idiot.
"[♡]."
"i'm aki."
"i know who you are."
that's right, alexander introduced him to everyone after his reading right before supper. things felt like they went too quickly. aki didn't know who he was at this moment, completely floating out of his body and letting you take over like a spell. he was entranced. one thing leads to another, you're locking the door to one of the four bedrooms here. aki's sitting on the bed while you walk around, talking to him more about anything. his age, his aspirations in life. nonsense, basically. until he notices something.
a room with an open bay window revealing the late-night city of new york, stars in the sky, skyscrapers high. the breeze is warm, the air making the fabric of your dress rise just enough for him to catch a glimpse of the pink thong you wore. he's gulping, your legs shifting and a grin coming on your face as you see the tint of red blush across his cheeks. you're leaned against the window, toes pressing into your other foot, a gold anklet with the first letter of your name clasped on your skin. your shoes were off, and in between your two fingers sat a blunt, maybe about three inches now since you were too busy talking, letting it burn away.
once you flick it out the window, you fully turn to face him, sharp nails skidding up your thighs teasingly slow until the hem of your dress rises fully, and he's staring at the belly button piercing you have. your thick thighs, your curves, and your nipple when you moan and lift your arms to stretch and one of the straps falls down your shoulders.
"oops," you're pouting, and aki's had enough. he got it now. he understood why you wanted him to come up here. the liquor buzzing in your veins, and going straight to your clit like a drug. you wanted him the moment you saw him. you needed him, for more reasons than one.
aki was always one to put a woman's pleasure before his own. so when he saw you drop to your knees to crawl towards him, dainty hands trailing up his clothed thighs until you're undoing his belt and he's biting his lip. . . he was drawn in further. pulling him out of the confinement of his jeans, holding his pulsating dick in your hand, darting your tongue out, and pressing it flat to the aching head. he's squeezing his eyes shut when he's deep in your throat after a while, moaning around him and twisting your hand along as your mouth glides. his hand is in your hair, gathering some of it in his large fist while leaning back a bit to see those gorgeous eyes of yours stare into his, slightly watery. he liked that. he liked you.
"nnn, baby. like that," he's throwing his head back, jaw slacked as he tried to keep his voice down, not daring to let too much slip out regarding the guests below them. eyes back on you, he's watching as your hips gyrate in the air, desperately needing to be touched.
it's so foreign, this level of intimacy. it's been so long since he's had his dick buried deep in anything. sure, he masturbates like any other human being, but it's a rarity. he's so consumed in work that by the time he goes home he's knocked out in slumber, not even thinking about grabbing his fleshlight to fulfill his pleasure. the last time he had sex was at the beginning of his freshman year of college. it was some girl in his cutlery class who invited him over for late-night drinks, leading to more than just that. it was frequent until he realized he was failing courses because of the distraction and had to get back on track, so, he called it quits.
now he's pulling you up, feverishly pressing his lips to yours in a messy kiss, lips smacking, tongues bumping. you're keening when his thick fingers clasp around your throat as you straddle his waist, clinging to his shirt you eventually pull over his head. it's as if the both of you forgot that people were here and might hear you, but neither of you cared. aki's not even scolding you when you're moaning too loud the second he has you beneath him, your clothing still on, barely, and his jeans and briefs clinging to his ankles, your knees to your chest as his hot mouth latches around your puffy clit, back arching off the plush mattress.
the metal from his pierced tongue rushing against you as he holds the back of one of your thighs to keep them up, grunting and swallowing your arousal. you're whining so much it has his dick twitching, pulling on his hair not helping either. you're rocking your hips with urgency, legs twitching after he lifts his head to spit, collecting his saliva with two fingers before curling them into you, holding your stomach down while he shakes his fingers. that alone has you convulsing around him, tears in your eyes as you whimper his name and squirm helplessly, his lips kissing your inner thighs.
coming down from your high, aki's already propping himself behind you, turning you on your side while he laid on his, leveraging your head with his forearm underneath your neck, fingers in your mouth you suck while glaring at him. he curses, monotoned voice rasping, "don't do that."
"do what?" you hum, wrapping your lips around them again and moaning.
aki clenches his jaw, lifting your right leg to open you up before slipping inside, hearing you gasp as you adjust to the stretch. both of you groan in unison, turning your face to the side to kiss him while your nails clawed at his hip, then his ass as he rolls into you, too horny to be gentle and snapping his hips hard against your ass, grunting, "i heard you, girl," and drilling faster. your eyes scroll to the back of your head, aki swallowing the breath out of you as he sucks on your bottom lip and chokes you, the two of you whining in each other's mouth, muffling the noise although the skin interaction didn't cease.
he's brutal, a different person when in this form of bond. dropping your leg and reaching between to rub at your clit, heavy breaths on your neck as he hides his face there. you can easily smell the citrus scent of his shampoo, his scent overall a main attraction when he stepped toward you. . . like lavender. when he's nearing his climax, he gropes your chest, slurring, "be a good girl and cum all over me, baby. can i feel it this time?" and you nod, doing just as he says, his taunts and praises making your gut swim with butterflies.
you try not to scream as he licks and bites your neck sloppily, dazed. instead, you grab a pillow nearby and stuff part of it in your mouth, aki's face hovering over you as tears leak from your eyes and you cum hard, harder than you ever had. aki holds you close by your waist, taking a few more pumps before he furrows his brows and slowly pulls out, cumming on your flush skin with a hiss. by this time, his hair had fallen down his face completely, and even in your fucked out state, you reach up to rake through it with a lazy smile. aki chuckles, kissing your forehead before building the strength to find a cloth to clean you up. luckily, there's an en-suite bathroom, giving him access to warm water and toiletries.
fixing his posture in the mirror, he's rubbing his face and adjusting his clothes to appear as he did when he arrived; neat and professional. although what he just did wasn't so classy of him. he fucked some woman he barely knew at a millionaires home. work, he was working. not here for personal pleasure. he wanted to slap himself for being so easily enraptured. no one had to know about it. he only hoped not a soul downstairs heard what went on.
he's good to go, done scolding himself and turning off the bathroom light before stepping out. he finds you perched up, sipping a miniature bottle of crown royal you found in the bedside mini-fridge, sniffling your nose and blankly staring out the window. aki comes forward, gently grasping your thigh and gliding the wet cloth over your skin, the silence awkward.
"dandelions.”
aki's eyes slowly drift to your face, staring in confusion. "what?"
he notices how eerily slow tears built up in your eyes, gripping the bottle harder before exhaling. "dandelions," now you're finally looking at him, the coldness on your face making him anxious. "that's where his body is."
your voice is like vanilla. it's one thing about you that he grew infatuated with. it's one of the many reasons he was captured by you, brought to where he was now. standing at the bedside as he watched tears pool down your broken face. body? what body?  he grew cold, nervously eyeing you as you sniffled, standing to fix your hair, dress, and walking around the bed to slip back into your heels.
“wait," he goes to grab your arm when you try to walk out the door. "what the fuck are you talking about?"
the deadness in your eyes scares him even more, and he's panicking when you say, "alex."
“alexander?!" he shouts, dragging you away from the exit, hands on either side of your shoulders as he eyes you, his own wide. heart pumping drastically. "what did you do? where is he?"
"by the dandelions on the terrace," blunt, again. as if you aren't phased at all by his reaction. "follow me."
he's stunned, unable to fully process what you were telling him. he already assumed the worst when the term 'body' came to light. though his heart raced heavily in his chest, his feet blindly dragged in your direction. cautiously watching your every move in case he had to protect himself. fuck, he didn't have any weapon. then again, he's sure he could easily handle you, knock you out if he needed to. lock you in a closet and alert the hundreds of guest just below their feet. that's right, there are still people here. and if you mentioned alexander, how the fuck and when the fuck did you have the time to . . . kill him? 
"[♡]," he began to speak your name, but your head was in the clouds, ignoring anything that came out of his mouth as you cut into a passageway that led to a grand master bedroom, then facing the terrace you spoke of. he was nervous, your neck turning to eye him as you step onto the gravel, blankly staring down at something. he couldn't see from where he stood, matter of fact, he didn't want to see.
"he's here," you say. "he's here."
aki has no choice but to advance forward, wanting to squeeze his eyes shut from the upcoming scare of a human’s body. and not just any human, the alexander bodari. a flaccid arm sticks out from beside a bush, palm facing the sky, details of a struggle bruised into his hand as the skin in the area seemed peeled. aki’s heart drops the closer he gets, hand covering his mouth as he stares down at the lifeless body laying in a pool of blood. the aluminum wire draped around his neck stained with blood gave aki the answer he needed when it came to the cause. you strangled him to death. the question remains; who are you and how were you affiliated with alexander? most importantly, why’d you kill him?
“i don’t understand,” is all he can get out.
“the proof is in his first novel,” you utter, and he’s still confused. “the story about the woman who’s trapped in the psychopaths basement? it was about me.”
aki couldn’t grasp the thought of you being the woman from the novel star always talked about. that you had been the victim of his story. that it was a real life phenomena. that he met you, slept with you, and now you want him to, what . . . cover up a murder in a house filled with two hundred guests?
“he painted this image as if he was the most prestigious man on the planet. he made money off of real events. events that played out by torturing me, and using me to get his ‘creative juices flowing.’ he needed a test subject. he was a sick man who deserved to die,” tears pour down your face, the anger in your tone thick and pent up from years of pain and sorrow. “he was my father’s partner. my father despised me simply because of my resemblance of my mother and my rebellion against him. when he died from heart failure, in his will, he married me to alex.”
“that’s fucking. . . sick. i didn’t think that was possible in this day and age.”
you scoff with agreement. “yeah. he watched me grow from a preteen to making me his wife. sick bastard for sure.”
aki wants to vomit from this information. still unable to wrap his head around any of it. his hands sit on his hips as he stares up at the sky and blows a raspberry, try to keep his nerves together. you watch him with sadness, and maybe regret. you weren’t intentionally planning for this to happen. though part of you wanted someone to save you. to see the real you and rescue you from this torment.
“i know this is probably the last thing you expected to happen. i apologize for dragging you into this. i just didn’t know what else to do. i felt hopeless. and i refused to let his popularity run by making another fortune of a sick novel.”
“did he attack you?” he asks.
“he didn’t,” you clarify. “i think i just finally snapped. granted, tonight of all nights wasn’t the correct setting.”
aki makes a face that reads ‘fucking clearly’ as he rubs both palms down his face. he doesn’t know whether to run and call you insane or feel sympathy for a victim. but, murder is murder. and now, standing here with you, that’d make him an accomplice. as scary as that was, he couldn’t risk his future career. but he was stuck in a pickle. he wanted to help you.
“there are clear signs of struggle, so we have to make it look like an accident,” aki suggests, but immediately, you shake your head in disagreement.
“they won’t believe that. he’s one of the wealthiest men in new york. it’ll be a huge investigation.”
“then the only answer would be to tell the truth,” he finalized.
“the . . truth?”
aki nods, pulling you toward him and stepping away from the body, chills still going up his spin and goosebumps on his arms. “listen to me, you can tell the world exactly who you are and what he’s done to you. you have proof. transactions, marriage certificate, i’m sure there’s documents for days in his computer that can prove what he’s put you through. there’s evidence somewhere.”
“and if i tell the world, who’s to say they’ll believe me?”
“i believe you,” aki says. your eyes fill with hope, and thankfulness. “people will have their opinions, but we know the truth. do you have anyone else that can be your alibi?”
you think long and hard, until it hits you. “the maid. she’s been working for him ever since i moved in after my father died. she’s fed me, helped me heal wounds . . even get rid of his unborn child i lost after too much stress.”
“jesus christ,” he bows his head in disbelief. “where is she now?”
“luckily, the kitchen. the woman with the braided red hair. she promised me she’d always protect me. after his book succeeded he became nicer to me, gave me a ‘real’ marriage. she was like his mother, always scolding him when he raised his voice at me or wouldn’t let me live my life. it’s all so depressing.”
“okay. it’s okay, you’re going to be okay,” aki comforts you as you begin to sob once again, cradling your head in his chest.
the night ends in the blink of an eye. aki takes you into another room and wraps a blanket around you as you sit on the edge of the bed and wait for the police. he finds the woman you spoke of, pulls her to the side and informs her of the tragedy above. she herself looks relieved. not at all shocked by what played out, as if she knew you’d go through with it. aki guesses he truly was a horrible man. and to think he would’ve worked for him in the future. the police arrive shortly after the woman goes to check on you, insuring that everything would be okay, and that she’d stick to the full story. the police instructs everyone the leave the premises, aki being questioned for a full hour, this home becoming a crime scene, and all of their faces full of black ink on the daily news the next morning.
aki will never forget the chilling smirk on your face as they removed alexander’s body from the terrace. it was . . haunting.
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liveontelevision · 9 days
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Suffer Pt. 6 | Lucifer x Reader
The first parts! ;) Pt. 1 / Pt. 2 / Pt. 3 / Pt. 4 / Pt. 5
A single anon request and a 56-page Google doc later, this is the last part, my friends. Thanks to everyone who's been so invested in this, this turned into a bigger project than I thought it would lol But! I'm so glad everyone's been enjoying it, and I hope y'all like the ending! I'm sorry for all the cliffhangers along the way haha (not really)
An extra thank you to the anon who requested a simple babysitter fic and ended up inspiring this whole deal!
♡♡♡
It’s almost been a year since you arrived to the hotel. You arrived when the building was in less than pristine condition, and just a few new guests had arrived. It was a few days after you saw Charlie’s interview on the news, that being what brought you in, despite it’s failure. You were just happy to see her face after all that time. Yet, above the cluttered space and the holes in the walls, there was a more malevolent scheme being hatched.
Any soul who might pass the princess’s room would be bombarded by curses, screams, and growls that sounded less than human. So, most the hotel residents decide it best to avoid that corridor. But not our trusty hotelier. His hand reached for the handle, after deciding that making a bold entrance might not be the best idea. His motion was put to a quick halt by a flurry of curses coming from the other side of the door. Alastor didn’t realize Charlie held such a..colorful vocabulary. Despite that, he went on.
He was greeted with a sight that, unfortunately, wasn’t new to him. An intricate web of red thread connected to pins, all scattered across a once pristine wall. It all connects a collage of images, some that he recognized, some that looked like nonsensical scribbles. The view is obstructed by a furiously pacing princess of Hell. Mumbling completely incoherent complaints, she doesn't notice the opening and closing of her bedroom door.
Alastor, being the sadist he is, props his stance with his microphone, his forced smile unmoving. He enjoys the view for a moment before finally clearing his throat to bring her attention to him. She nearly stumbles over her own feet, ready to scold him for materializing into her room, despite the fact that she was just too out of it to see him walk straight in.
“Al! Good! I need another pair of eyes, come here, come here, look!” She approaches him faster than he expects, and he’s ready to reel away, but is unfortunately hooked around the neck with Charlie’s disturbing strength. With an arm around his shoulders, she drags him forward to examine the wall, as if it made sense to anyone other than her. She starts talking nonsense, again. Something about friendship and Heaven, things he never really cared about. Things he usually tuned out whenever they came up. He only seems to partake in the conversation once he heard your name.
“Alastor.. She’s one of our first guests. I honestly can’t believe anyone showed up after that terrible interview I had earlier, I’m worried i’ll mess things up, again! I mean, all of Hell already thinks i’m a joke.. I just- really need this to go well.” Her mood seems to calm, but to a state of despair. Alastor let’s out a symphahetic awe, patting the top of her head.
“Aw, our poor princess. I understand your concern, my dear, this hotel must mean quite a lot to you.” He faines a sympathy that only convinces Charlie because of her state of disarray.
“Of course it does! And she’s already so kind, I’m sure she’s close to redemption! Maybe this will be a quick one! A-and we don’t even know it, right? That has to be it!” She seems to be reassuring herself, only to be met with an unresponsive radio demon. She groans. Dragging her feet as she walks to the edge of bed, She sits down and lets her head fall into her hands. 
“I really need this to work. I’ll do anything for this to work..” It was a quiet mumble, muffled into her palms, but Alastor heard exactly what he wanted to hear. His grin twisted, something Charlie didn’t see, as he sits at her side. He gives her a quick pat to her back, in some form of comfort.
“Charlie, dear, I understand how much this little project means to you.. I do. And I want nothing more than to witness you trying as hard as you can to keep it up.” Even if it fails. Charlie looks up to him, the bags under her eyes suddenly very apparent. “How would you feel about a little deal? Just a small one, no souls on the line, I guarantee.” 
She’s been warned by Vaggie in the past. Actually, his entire reputation is enough to make her uneasy by the idea. but… 
“I-I don’t know. What did you have in mind..?” She asks reluctantly. He let’s out a chuckle that almost sounds sinister.
“Believe it or not, our little guest and I have a bit of a history.” You can barely call it a history. You served him and Rosie on occasion when you were working in cannibal town. “I’d be delighted to oversee her safety and process to redemption! It’s just as you said, she’s already a gem, Heaven is waiting for her, I can feel it. This will be a breeze for the both of us.” His offer comes off as sincere and touching to Charlie. It wasn’t like him to openly mention his relationships with other demons yet, the idea of you having a close friend throughout this process might just be what you’re missing.
“That’s so sweet of you, Alastor, but.. What do you want from me?” She has to ponder a moment before even considering letting this go on any further.
“Well, you’ve given me a roof over my head and.. A tower for my broadcasts.. Hmm..” He taps his chin, as if he’s in thought. “I’m not quite sure I’ll need from you at the moment, since you’ve just been so hospitable already.” He places a hand to her shoulder, the kind words causing her eyes to well with tears a bit in her weakened state.
“There has to be something.. Well, maybe we can both think this over, once I have a clear head.” She sighs her words, standing from the bedside. Alastor takes her hand and brings her to a halt.
“Oh, but I’d love to get to work as soon as possible, if I may be so bold.. I’m not quite sure what you could offer me in this moment… How about we work out the details, later?” He speaks as if he’s coming up with these words on the spot. He’s had this planned since day one, though. Any chance to get a favor from the princess, he’ll take. Charlie turns to him and sees the strange green glow surrounding their hands. She attempts to pull away, but his grasp is tight.
“Well.. I mean…” She’s still hesitant. He watches her rub her eyes. The still relevant exhaustion gives him a bit of hope.
“It’s simple. I’ll do everything in my power to keep our little guest comfortable and on the path to redemption, no acception. In return, I’ll ask of you one single favor when the time comes.” The glow only continues to swell with his words, and it's clearly making her reconsider. “It’s not as serious as you may think, Charlie. Just a favor between friends, really.” Friendship seemed to strike the right tone.
“I guess.. If it’s for the hotel… Okay, Alastor. It’s a deal.”
-
Back to the dreaded fight just a few months later. You're seeing red.
“Charlie! You made a deal with Alastor?? What were you thinking?” You’re scolding her at this point. The situation barely had time to cool down before your worries began to kick in. Her horns and ruby eyes are still present, she hasn’t even had time to calm herself from the previous display. Lucifer is essentially holding you back, a hand across your front as you try to approach her. It hurts you a bit. Does he think you’re some kind of danger to her?
..Are you putting her in danger?
Alastor is still propped on the ground. He holds a hand around his neck, in hopes of soothing the aggressive collar that had materialized around it just moments ago. You’re all keeping your distance from eachother.
“I-I wasn’t! I wasn’t thinking! It was after the interview! You saw it, you know didn’t go well! I-I had all of Hell laughing at me, laughing at the hotel- He was offering help, I have no idea why he’s acting this way, I swear..! I.. I-” Charlie’s demonic features start to recede when she feels a hand on her back. With heavy breaths, she looks over to Lucifer, who was standing by her side now, ready to comfort her. With a small hiccup, she falls into his arms, gripping his shirt tightly as she did. Her head fell to his shoulder, thoroughly staining his vest with her tears.
The room is uncomfortably filled with her silent sobs. Your heart aches too much looking at the touching display between father and daughter, and your guilt from snapping at her is making you fidget. That’s when you got to thinking.
The deal was for Alastor watch over you until you got to Heaven. For him to do anything in his power to keep you on the path to redemption. To prevent any behavior that might stunt that process..
“Oh.. oh, my god. You’ve been buttering me up this whole time.” You turn to face a still recovering Alastor. The realization grabs the attention of both Morningstars, they raise their heads to look towards the commotion. “The gifts, all the time we spent together.. Was because of this deal? Did.. did you ever actually care about me?” You grip at your heart, ready to rip it straight from your chest. He stands, brushing debris from his entirety.
“I doubt you’ll believe me after such a display of violence, but.. Yes. I did enjoy our time together, despite the requisite of being under my protection. It was quite entertaining before it was… tainted.” His hisses out his final words, contrasting the sweetness of it all. Tainted?
He was kind to you as soon as you arrived in the hotel. Despite the drama, you’ve been inseparable since. Things only got convoluted after.. 
“Under your protection..? Is that why you’ve been turning me away from Lucifer?! Fuck- it is! You’ve been playing games with me for months! Getting in my head..! H-How could you..” He hasn’t just been physically keeping the two of you apart. From day one, your mind was manipulated into thinking Lucifer never wanted you.
“Well.. not to defend myself, dear, but I was merely considering your redemption. I believe there’s some sort of sin in worshipping the Devil.” Oh, now he’s just trying to make more trouble.
“Oh, fuck you Al, I don’t worship him, I love him!” Your comical response seems to drive a shocked expression or two towards you. But you’re too upset to elaborate. You want to tear him apart. You want to see him experience as much pain as you’re feeling now. Luckily, you weren’t the only one. In a blur of a movement, Alastor was brought back to the ground with a thud.
A foot to his chest, Charlie has him pinned to the ground. Her fists are clenched, the aura surrounding her creates a suffocating heat.
“You took advantage of me, Alastor. You betrayed my friends, my family.. My trust.” Despite the demonic tones underlying her voice, it still sounds pained. You didn’t know she could do this, but her clenched fists become encased in fire. Just like her fathers’.
You’re surprised to see him lurking behind, but not attacking. After all you’ve seen, you were sure he’d have ripped Alastor’s head off at this point. His eyes widen, a display of fear you werent expecting. You follow his gaze to see Charlie holding a familiar angelic spear to his neck.
You hear an unearthly growl come from her chest, and before you can think, your arm is wrapped around hers. You can feel the resistance, realizing you had stopped her right as she was about to put an end to it all. Put an end to him.
“Charlie! Stop!” You yell out. You have to do it once or twice more, your words not quite reaching her yet. Once she turns to you, her eyes are still dripping with tears. “Charlie, don’t. This isn’t you. You’ll regret it, I know you will.. I know you.” You’re begging her to stop. As you feel the muscles in her arm start to relax, you reach for the spear and pull it gently from her hands. She releases her grasp without a fight.
You usher her off, glancing back to Alastor for a moment to see his wound had reopened from that. He had an obvious slash across his neck. You gulped, realizing how close she was to actually killing him. She places her hand over yours, where your arms are still linked.
Charlie let’s out a sigh, looking to her shaking hands, then clenching her fists. She looks to you, then back to Alastor.
“But.. everything he’s done to you… It’s not right, I’m not sure I can forgive him..” She’s speaking quietly to you.
“Well.. You don’t have to forgive him. But he doesn't deserve to die, Charlie.” You state the obvious and it makes her flinch. “And.. you should let him stay.” You hear a collective What? from the room.
“I know I know.. but… this whole place is about second chances. I.. think he can change. And even though, he is being such a dick right now-” Your voice is cracking, as if you can hardly believe your own words. “-I still believe it. You taught me that.” You smile up to Charlie. After a moment you turn your head to Lucifer, meeting his eyes. He looks more in shock than anyone, almost hurt by your act of mercy. You’re surprised by his expression, not realizing Charlie had slipped from your side to approach Alastor.
“She’s right, you know. I can’t forgive you, Alastor. Not yet, at least.. But you’re welcome to stay here, considering all the help you’ve done for the hotel.” She sounds stern, still not entirely convinced this is the right call.
“Yeah, some help you’ve been, you prick..” Those are the first words Lucifer has muttered in awhile. You approach his side to jab him with your elbow and shush him. Despite your scolding action, your presence only reminds him of your previous confession. He crosses his arms and continues to curse quietly, despite his flushed cheeks. Charlie steps closer to Alastor.
“You’re still here, because of her.” Charlie’s voice goes dark as she gestures to you. “That favor I owe you? Is letting you live. This deal is done, Alastor.” She hisses her words out. The intensity and anger radiating from two of the most powerful creatures in Hell is enough to leave even Alastor a bit weary. He nods, still gripping his wound that has been repeatedly opened these past few days. Other than that, he slinks away with barely a scratch. Lucky him. 
Once he’s out of sight, Charlie let’s out a groan and falls to her knees. With a unison call of her name both you and Lucifer rush to her side. You place a hand on her back, attempting to keep any displaced hair from her face. She leans into Lucifer’s chest, a heartaching sight of sniffles and apologies.
Before long, she seemed to exhaust herself. Curled up to his chest, Lucifer smiles, despite the circumstances of their closeness. He lifts his eyes just slightly to see yours. You look embarrassed. Before he has a chance to question you, you rise from the ground.
“You should take her to bed.” You say in a hushed tone, gripping your arms and making some distance. “She needs some rest after.. all that.”
“Sure, but.. are you-” He speaks just as softly, opening a portal behind him silently.
“I’m fine. I’m-” You let out a sigh, beginning to move towards the stairs. “She needs to rest, Lucifer.” You remind him.
“Oh- Oh.. Right, yeah.” He rises to his feet, effortlessly lifting Charlie into his arms and stepping through the portal. You try to keep moving. You try to not meet his eyes as the portal shuts, but you find yourself unable to go on. Once they’re gone, you cover your mouth, only making your labored breaths worse, but you’re desperate to muffle any cries. You feel yourself wobble in place, before seeing a portal open to your side. It leads to your room.
After stepping through, you silently approach your bed. Your legs suddenly turn led, and you're hitting your bed with a gasp. Your exhaustion is enough to keep your sobs to a minimum at least.
-
The feeling you have when you wake up is worse than any hangover you’ve had. With alcohol you can at least forget your troubles. But on this morning, you can vividly remember the previous night. You sit up, your body aching. You only wonder why for a moment, before realizing you had fallen asleep sideways across your bed, your legs still dangling off the side. You still need sleep.
You remove any uncomfortable clothing or accessories that had pressed marks into your body and return to bed. The right way, this time. Your pillows feel like heaven after all that’s happened. Heaven..
You try your best to sleep, you really do. Your body is essentially begging you to empty your thoughts just for a few more minutes. But your mind is sending you tossing and turning, any times you close your eyes, all you can imagine is everything you've done wrong. Your eyes drift open after trying to force them shut, and your eyes spot the radio on your nightstand. You sit silently for a moment, maybe try to close your eyes again..
Nope.
Before you have a chance to process every movement, you’re opening your door and thoughtlessly throwing the radio outside. You don’t care where it ends up, clearly. You were waiting to hear it break, into multiple pieces hopefully, before shutting your door. You’re met with a startled groan instead. Taking a moment to process that you had thrown an old-timey radio at someone, you stand at your door with a yawn.
The panic hits you. It could’ve been Alastor, assuming he stayed. It could’ve been Charlie, who doesn’t need any more conflict. You could’ve taken out Niffty as far as you know. Swinging the door open, your eyes see the radio first. They’re wrapped in your victim’s arms.
“Good catch.” You let out hoarsly, rubbing the sleep from your eyes to clearly see Lucifer.. It could've been worse. He let’s out a breathless thanks, clearly having the air knocked out of him. You definitely didn’t hold back with that throw. And it wasn’t exactly a lightweight radio.
“Er.. Sorry. I meant to say sorry.” You try to recover, your words are followed by another yawn. You watch him drop the radio into a small portal he conjured below his grip.
“Good morning to you, too. I was, uh.. about to check on charlie, but-” He’s ready for a conversation that you aren’t. You quickly shake your head, pulling your door in.
“Nono, I need some time.. To wake up. I’ll see you around, though.” You didn’t expect him to perk up from his words, but he does. His smile is infectious. You watch him give you a little wave before shutting your door. You lean against it, your smile that you had been presenting to him, leaves you almost immediately.
There’s so much on your mind. You scan your room, memories of Alastor popping up no matter where you looked. Every chat you’ve had in here, every moment you’d call him in for advice for clothes or accessories, all the nights you’d fall asleep listening to his voice. Your eyes stopped at your vanity seat. Draped across the back is a bittersweet sight, your gifted red sweater. You finally rise to your feet, quickly reaching for it and holding it tightly in your hands. You hesitate before bringing it to your nose. You’re not sure why. Why would you want to remind yourself of anything involving him? Did you think that same scent that’s brought you comfort so many times would have the same affect? You give it a shot.
Hesitantly breathing in, you’re immediately reeling back, throwing the sweater down to your ground. Your hand covers your nose, that sickenlingly sweet honey scent now smells like rotten flesh. Like road kill. You need some air. Digging out a different sweater, one you haven’t had to use in months, you decide you just need to walk around for a bit. The hotel was big enough that you could safely avoid any unwanted attention. Plus, you were sure Alastor’s pride was too wounded to freely roam the hotel. And his other wound.. You hope he’s okay.
You groan out loud, mentally cursing yourself for your sympathetic thoughts. You make your way down to the lobby, and are met with a surprisingly clean lounge. You scan the walls that were previously cracked, the carpets that should be stained with blood, then wonder where Vaggie’s suddenly conjured spear might have gone. What would have possessed Charlie to choose such a weapon.. an angelic spear? She didnt really want him dead, did she? She's emotional. And extreme. Like her father. You decide not to question it any further. It’s not like you were upset by the erasure of the previous night's events.
-
A day or two passed. Your mind seemed unwilling to accept the reality you're currently in. You're anxious, and paranoid to any sentence thrown your way. You're constantly looking around corners, checking all parts if your room before locking it for the night. Yet, if someone were to ask what was making you so nervous, you wouldn’t have an answer.
You found yourself taking those little strolls often, though. Keeping your body in motion, with only the sounds of your breathing keeping you company, seemed to clear your mind. It never helped come to terms with any seething pain you felt, but it cleared your mind at the least.
You'd pieced together a few things in the meantime. After passing the bar, where Angel and Husk were chatting, they would smile and wave, ask you join them form a drink, but you’d decline. Neither of them seemed to know about anything. Maybe Niffty cleaned the mess. Maybe Alastor asked her to. Before anyone could see the outcome of his mistakes.
You passed Vaggie in a hall, and she immediately looked concerned. She opened her mouth, an Are you okay? sits on the tip of her tongue. But then she looked at you. Your body only mirrored the fog of your mind, baggy eyed and wrapped in some blanket as you roamed the halls like a damned ghost.
“Hey, um- it's.. it's gonna be-" you held your hand up to her.
“I know. Thank you.” You smile, the action stiff, considering you hadn't used those muscles in awhile. Vaggie knew. That was fair, though. You were glad Charlie had someone to confide with. You walked on after she gave a hesitant goodbye wave.
One night, when your body had taken over and you were wandering aimlessly, you realized where you ended up. Not only were you standing in front of Lucifer's workshop, he had already spotted you through the window on the door. He opened it before you could fully take in your surroundings.
“Hey..” You let out softly. What else are you supposed to say? You didn’t come prepared. You feel embarrassed standing in front of him, realizing how much of a mess you must look. You're not even sure what part of your mind made you end up here.
He doesn't respond at first, another speechless moment letting your mind wander. He opens the door more, offering his space to you. You look at him and he smiles before you shuffle inside. You take in the sight. You haven't actually seen it, considering your circumstances after the hotel was renovated.
“It looks nice in here.” You say quietly, your voice cracking just a bit. You walk through, tracing your fingers along desks and tables, stopping and looking at family photos on occasion. You looked to Lucifer’s smiling face in a picture where he was lovingly holding his wife and daughter. How did you end up like this?
“Oh- um.. thank you, it's more than enough space for me, but, uh.. it's nice.” His voice sounds unfamiliar as it snaps you from your mindset. He moves to his main bench, which is slightly elevated by a platform that connects to the windowed wall. You eventually make your way around, standing near him.
“Are.. you… How are you..?” You listen to him struggle to form such a simple question, and yet you have an equally hard time trying to respond. Obviously, you were crushed. devastated by the betrayal and overwhelmed by everything else.
“I'm okay.” You reply thoughtlessly. It was your go-to answer. You hear a muffled chuckle and look over to him. He's blocking the laughter with his fist in front of his lips. Is he laughing at you?
“Sorry sorry, I just.. know that you're lying. You've done this before, don't forget how much time I've actually spent with you.” You want to scold him for acting so bold, for saying he knows you better than yourself, but..
You're leaning against the table in one moment, and before you know it, you're hoisted to sit on its top. You felt like a relief you didn't realize. Your feet were aching. How long were you walking the in the halls today? The sensation of his hands planted on your waist. to steadily bring you to the counter, lingered after he had removed them.
“I used to see you wandering around back home- at the mansion, I mean. usually after a tough day. But it's been a few days, so I just thought you might be-”
“Why are you so calm?” Your sudden question made him visibly finch. "You were tricked, too, you know. He tore us apart. How can you be handling this so well?” Your voice starts to turn agitated. You weren't sure why you were taking it out on himm, but you both knew in the moment that this was the first time you’ve let any emotion out since the fight.
“It's like some.. malevolent force is constantly tearing us apart. One moment I'm happy, I'm in love, I'm smiling- then the next, you're just gone. and everything else that keeps me sane goes with it.” You feel a flood of tears beginning to well. Tears that you should've been letting out days ago. “Is this some kind of fucking curse? Why can’t things just be easy..? A-Are we just doomed?” You're wiping your face clear, your words becoming sloppy and hoarse.
“Maybe.” Your head lifts to see him, still calm as before, but with a solemn look on his face. “But, we keep finding eachother, right? And all the good times.. they'll stay good, won’t they?” You nod your head reluctantly.
He approaches you, with a hand on your shoulder, he's wiping away tears with the other.
“Honestly? I'm not handling this well at all. You're right, the universe has done nothing but tear us apart and hurt both of us. And I’m just about ready to tear Alastor limb by limb. I want Charlie to be okay.. I want to keep you by my side and never let you out of my sight this time.” You see his emotions range throughout his words, his eyes flashing red for a moment. He calms himself down, running his hand down your arm to hold your hand. You don't resist.
“But, you made some good points back there. And I just thought.. if you're strong enough to let that prick live, after everything, then.. Maybe I-I.. I'm trying to be strong.” He sounds almost embarrassed to admit it, and the comment on your strength leaves you a bit red in the cheeks. “You've always been so strong, darling. I just wish you'd tell me how you're really feeling.. I miss talking to you. Not this.. empty shell.” His words stung and he knew it as soon as they slipped from his lips.
“W-wait, no, I mean..”
“It’s fine, you're not wrong.. Jerk.” You share a little laugh with him, the mood lightening for just a moment. “Lucifer, I'm.. I'm so tired.” You let out weakly. That barely scratches the surface of everything. It's as if your mind was boiling over, with all the thoughts of Alastor turning sour, and the thoughts of redemption suddenly in question, not to mention all those feelings of Lucifer that were repressed until just recently. You want Charlie to be okay. You want things to be normal, but.. you're not quite sure what normal looks like. You wish you could say all this to him.. it’s hard to put it to words. But you're trying. He makes you want to try harder.
You feel a gentle hand holding your cheek, bringing your blurred thoughts to clarity and meeting eyes that left you breathless. When was the last time you've looked in his eyes? A blush forms across his cheeks, your gaze seems to fluster him. He clears his throat, getting his mind back.
“You're not okay. But.. You will be. I promise.” With a wry smile, you let the weight of your head fall into his palm.
Your eyes meet. He leans in and you feel his arms snake around yout waist. Looking back, you're almost embarrassed by the way you leaned towards him, eyes shut, head tilted, your lips just slightly parted. You were startled by the feeling of his head resting on your shoulder. He only pulls you closer after he feels your breath start to deepen, his hands gentle across your back. You finally return his touch, digging your nose into the crook of his neck and gripping tightly at his shirt.
It used to feel like, if you let go, you'll never hold him again. God, how the possibility scares you. But.. it feels a little different this time. You weren’t worried about him disappearing, this time.
You’re so comforted by his presence, you let yourself fully relax to him. You open your eyes just slightly, blinking out some tears that still remained, thoroughly ruining his top. You pull away, meeting his eyes again.
You feel as if you were close to forgetting this side of him, but you recognize this face. You saw it the night you first kissed him. You saw it after seeing him at the hotel for the first time, then when he decided to sweep you off your feet for a little date. You saw it after every little date that followed. You realize he's never stopped looking at you this way.
“I love you, too.”
-
I had to put that worship the devil in there it just made me laugh so sorry if that seemed out of place lol
And not to fear my friends,
I plan on making a little epilogue about how everyone's recovering, and some sweet, yummy, fluffy goodness to top it off.
Again, Thank you all so much for your support! :)
I'll be working on some requests next, and some more vamp Luci! Kind of in love with that guy ngl
Taglist! (good lord I hope I got everybody )
( @vififofum / @thornwolfy235 / @tinywolfiegirl / @chipper-chip / @bat-boness
@misfitgirlwrites / @nayomi247 / @lonelynmisunderstood / @escapistoftherealworld / @b4ts1e / @hamthepan / @kyo-kyo1 / @looking1016 / @polytheatrix / @littledolly2345 / @lillianastuff / @yourlocalcryptidbee /@0strawberrysorbet0 / @themageofblood / @jayyyayaysblog / @floralsightings / @azmosposts / @8har0ley8 / @actuallyspiderwoman / @sirenetheblogger / @christineblood / @kaytemchugh / @cimadreamer / @simpdevil66 / @azmosposts / @m3ow1 / @acrazyartist / @redfoxwritesstuff / @4k1to / @meesachan / @corvusskid / @alientee /@xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx / @alon3lylov3r /@sapphireravensworld / @mjmdragons / @catticora / @the-maladaptivedaydreamer / @carrie0-1 / @shamblezzz / @cassandras-nest / @wendigonamecaller / @chirimeimei / @sapphireravensworld / @sillywormtrixareforkids
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baratiddyappreciator · 6 months
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Hey honey bun sugar plummmm!! Could I get a baki characters with a s/o who has a fat ass (me)
Why of course, thine blessed thiccness will be appreciated!
Baki:
He's more of a tits guy (mommy issues, we all know this) but he absolutely doesn't complain about a bit more cake either. Be it a bubble butt or just genuine cake, he does not mind in the slightest.
That is his ass, thank you very much, so catching others staring or trying to cop a feel will very much wind up in him dishing out swift justice. He's chill about most things, and he doesn't mind others appreciating you as a whole, you're stunning, he knows it, but when they're being gross and pushy about it, that's when he'll step in.
He's got a habit of grabbing people's hips when he walks passed them, he may or may not cop a slight feel with you though. He doesn't mean it to be creepy or pervy, but he can't help but admire the curves you graced him with.
He's got his own cake as well, don't forget that, so the two of you walking side by side out in public earns a lot of stares for many reasons, but the fact that the two of you combined are an entire bakery might also have something to do with it.
Kozue:
Girl is flustered. Literally everyone around Baki that she ever met was cheeked up, and she knows how to appreciate a good behind, but she's a lot more shy about it than, say, Chiharu or Katsumi.
Worried about wardrobe malfunctions? Not while she's around, she is on it. Doing it to be considerate? Absolutely, of course. But was she also watching your ass before the wardrobe failure? Maybe. Perhaps. Perchance, even.
She's the kind of person to look through clothes online and show her friends when she finds things that she thinks would suit them or that they would like, so if you mention wanting something to accentuate your butt a bit, she'll pull out an entire folder.
Lord help her if she catches you in swimsuits, she won't know what to do with herself. Does she admire openly? Does she touch? Please help her lmao.
Hanayama:
Firm ass admirer, but in private. Only he is allowed to admire your ass, that's final. You don't get to stand while he's sitting down, he'll pull you straight into his lap and keep those big meaty hands on your waist, trapping you in place. You don't get up until he lets you.
He won't spank you, but he will give you light taps every once in a while. Just know: he absolutely wants to wind up and slap the soul out of you, but he won't because he doesn't want to hurt you.
You wanna wear clothes that accentuate your butt? It had better only be for his eyes, he's not going to tolerate other people looking at your buns, those are his to admire.
There will be times where he just lays down with you, acts super sweet and everything, and then just grabs your ass. For no reason. It's like watching a cat stare at something on the edge of a table before they knock it off.
Admires your ass while clothed, and while naked. You aren't safe from him, even if you're sitting down, because no matter how strong or heavy you might think you are, you are nothing compared to his strength.
Chiharu:
A menace. He will walk up to you and smack your ass so gotdamn hard that you just won't know what to do beyond pass away on the spot. He sees nothing wrong with it, and he will continue to do this. There's no rhyme or reason either.
Are you getting nasty with him? Don't let him near your ass, because he will bite you, it will hurt, and you can't even get mad at him because he does it out of sheer love.
Steal his pants. I'm serious, steal them. Just walk out with them on, he'll practically break his own neck doing a double-take. They look great on you, and they're incredibly comfortable. It's a win-win!
Feel free to torment him by returning the favour by the way, he knows he can be a bit much, but he can take what he dishes out and more.
Katsumi:
Problem child. He'll use any excuse he can to get at you in general, he's very touchy. That being said, we have seen how efficient this man is at slapping things. He slaps you once and it's over. He slaps your butt and you're going to need ice.
He's also the kinda guy to bite your butt, for no reason. Fresh out the shower? Chomp. Trying to relax in shorts? Chomp. He doesn't even try to explain or justify it, he just does it.
Much like Chiharu, you can return the favour. Unlike Chiharu, he's going to play up every little bit of his response. Did you slap him back? Oh he's going to moan and whine, and by the time you get him to shut up, you're both laughing so hard neither of you can breathe.
He will try and get you into a karate uniform from the Dojo. Is it for personal reasons? Mayhaps. He thinks that it'll look good on you either way, either way he'll get a nice look at his precious in a karate uniform.
Jack:
I don't want to say that he doesn't care, but he just doesn't make a big deal about it. He thinks you're stunning and perfect just the way you are. Does he appreciate a bit more to hold onto? Sure thing! Is he going to start grabbing at you randomly? Not really, no.
Does he occasionally admire? Oh absolutely, he managed to bag you, he's going to admire you every chance he gets. He's a bit dense, but he's not blind.
That being said, if you dress up all nice for him, all of what I've previously said goes straight out the window. He is LOOKING (respectfully) and he is going to be touching, mentally prepare for that fact, because once he starts he's not going to stop for a while.
Lord help anyone that dares to even think of copping a feel or admiring while he's around. He may be pretty, but this man is a solid 8ft tall and has a natural glare that could kill an army.
Kosho:
Also doesn't make a big deal out of it, but you know that he loves ass just by looking at him. He'll admire, he'll touch, and if you're laying on your stomach, he'll use the booty as a pillow in a rare moment of relaxation.
If you really want to drive him wild (re: insane) then wear some tights around the house. He's going to behave himself, he swears, but if you bend over one more time he cannot be held responsible for what he's about to do.
Which is to say that he'll slap the soul out of you and then drag you back to the bedroom. Will you emerge alive? Who knows! He doesn't, and you probably won't either.
Kureha:
He cares, but he's a bitch, so he'll make it seem like he doesn't. That being said, he's so incredibly obvious about his stares and his little hand twitches while he definitely doesn't fantasize about grabbing a hand full that it's almost comedic.
He lowkey (re: highkey) worries about your back, so sometimes he'll just walk up, grab your waist and start rubbing little circles into the base of your spine under the pretense of being bored and wanting to see what you're doing.
He will buy you clothes and expects you to wear them, because he likes they way they look on you. Even if you only wear them around the house for him, he'll be pleased.
Why yes, he is jealous, how did you know? If he catches anyone even so much as glancing at your butt, he's going to glare them into another dimension.
Retsu:
Virgin monk is a virgin, and he was raised not to stare because that's rude. That being said, he can't help it, he thinks your butt is beautiful and he'll outright tell you that whatever you're wearing looks flattering. Has he said this while you were naked? Yes. Yes he has.
Once he gets more comfortable, he's all about grabbing and squeezing at your hips, thighs and butt, though it's all in good fun, he means well by it, and he absolutely appreciates you letting him do this.
He has such comfy pants, much like Chiharu, so you should absolutely steal them from time to time. You know those things are flattering, you've seen them on him after all.
If you ever want someone to watch your form while you're doing squats or lunges, he's your guy, because unlike the others, who would absolutely take this seriously and not just use it as an excuse to stare at your butt the entire time.
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lovelywritinglady · 11 months
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Rarities
Muzan Kibutsuji x fem!Albino!reader
Douma has been keeping you away from Muzan. He soon finds out and requests an both of you into the mansion. Because what demon wouldn’t be intrigued by a human that is sensitive to the sun. Angst, fluff. Reader is albino and therefore has the characteristics of albanism. Muzan is most likely out of character. This was a requested fic, however the original post kept deleting itself so I needed to scrap it and make a new one. Thanks to @cursetopia for requesting this it was interesting to write.
Your Pov
The room as cold and darkly lit as the only light was from a single candle on the far side of the room. Not that I minded absence of light as the sun was nearly umberable. I sat on my bed that master Douma provided me after "good behavior" or whatever that means. I can't leave or he'll kill me and my family and I can't risk that. How I long to see them, despite my apprearence they never hated me like the other villagers did. All they ever did was show me love. I curse the day that I was born. I stuck out everywhere, so its really no surprise that I was captured. In truth I hated myself and I despiretly wished I was normal because at least I'd have the chance at a regular life instead of being held captive by a demon.
The candle suddenly went out as I felt the room get even colder than before and I knew that he was here. His breath tickled the back of my skin and despite him randomly coming into my room, I forgot how to breathe.
"Ah you still get nervous when I see you, such a cute pet." He cooed that caused me to shudder internally. "You get to out today. My master wants to meet you." Douma spoke with annoyance
"Why?" I asked quietly
"You should know this by now, we demons are quite fond of humans that cannot be in the sun. Its almost like you're a demon yourself. Plus, your complextion is quite rare indeed. You're like a precious artifact." He cooed picking me up bridal style. I then suddenly found myself in a very large well lit room that seemed to go every which way. I was in awe as master Douma had never taken me to this place before.
"So this is the rare human that you have been keeping from me Douma?" A voice boomed overhead. I quickly shot my head up to see who this voice belonged to only to be met with gleaming pink-red eyes, that were somewhat similar to mine.
"Yes, my Lord Muzan this is her. Isn't she just ravishing, such a rare gem ought to be owned only by demons, don't you think?" My master cooed taking a strand of my snowy hair between his fingers. "She is my favorite pet." My master boasted.
"Tell me girl, how does the sun feel to you?" He questioned
"My Lord, the sun has always hurt my skin and I find it harder to see during the day." I spoke honestly and as respectfully as I could in a situation as nerve racking as this one. He nodded quietly and looked as though he was pondering something.
"She will come with me." Lord Muzan ordered suddenly.
"My Lord I have been taking care of this human for many years now, so she belongs to me." Master Douma spat. Muzan, without warning, then sent my masters head flying and I gasped at his speed and strength.
"Consider this payment for being an utter failure to me. I should kill you, but one of the upper moons was just killed recently, so I will be sparing you just this once." Lord Muzan demanded. Just as quick as it was gone, master Douma's head was now replace with a new one.
"Yes, My Lord." Douma bowed in defeat. He looked in my eyes and for the first time I noticed utter fear and hatred laced in them. I that look was not for me, but for the man that he called 'Lord.'
"Come girl." He ordered tunring from me and walking who-knows-where. I said nothing and followed knowing full well that if I did not, I might end up like master Douma, only I could not grow another head.
The sound of strumming vibrated the room and I felt the ground beneath me shift from up under my feet. As quick as a breath, I found myself standing in a semi well lit room that smelled like lavender and cherry blossoms. It was a rather large room with four doors, a large bed, bookcases filled with books, and decorated in many different fresh flowers. The room master Douma provided me was small and cold and most nights I had to bundle myself up just to feel an ounce of warmth. However, this room was engulfed with warmth, but not too much that the heat was overpowering. I looked upon the room freely until once more Lord Muzan was right in front of me and I found myself looking into similar colored eyes once more.
"This is where you will be staying from now on. If you should need anything on of the maids will see to it. If they can't, then your needs will be met by me. The room is connected to a house that you are free to wonder in. However, if you wish to go outside you must tell one of the maid that you are doing so. I will allow you to also see your family three times a year to keep you happy. They will also be kept safe as well." Lord Muzan spoke calmly
"Thank you, My Lord!" I nearly exclaimed at the thought of seeing my family again. "Forgive the question, but why have you gone to so much trouble?" I asked cringing at the fact that I even asked him this.
"I am not overly fond of anyone questioning me, but considering your situation I will allow it just once. Do you understand?" He quickly spat and I nodded my head showing my understanding as my words failed me. "You are here because you are a human worthy of life. Your unnatural hair is similar to that of a demons. As is your skin that is pale and lifeless yet beautiful. And your eyes that share a similar shade to mine, make you worthy of life and my protection. You, girl, are the very definition of a rarity and something that must be protected from humans and demons alike." Lord Muzan procalaimed stepping closer to me with a look in his eyes that I couldn't understand. I could feel his breath hit my face and I felt small as he towered over me. I was shocked to say the least as no one has ever truly told me I was worthy of life, not even master Douma. I slightly winced at the realization that other humans were trash to him, but I can't argue with him or else I would most likely suffer. "I must go now, there are things that I must attend to." Muzan spoke and just as quick as I met him, he was gone.
I let go a shaky breath that I was holding and walked over to the bed. Throwing myself on it I sighed in contentment to how soft it was. The room was comfortable to say the least, but now my situation was worse than before. I was being held hostage by Lord Muzan himself, but my tiredness washed away the feeling of panic. As did my relization that I would indeed be taken care of, but for how long. My eyes grew heavy and soon enough I closed my eyes and drifted off into the best sleep that I had gotten in years with thoughts of the man with similar eyes to mine.
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Thanks for reading💜
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-L.W.L
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blueskittlesart · 1 year
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can we talk about how rauru is literally like. just zelda’s dad. like in that one scene where zelda looks like she’s gravely contemplating turning into a dragon and then rauru goes “i believe the answer lies in more research and understanding your power!” and she looks at him with such shock and awe. zelda’s adventures in the past are literally like her life but with a better dad. the queen promises her to help her figure out her power but dies before they can figure out a way how to use that power to safely save everyone. zelda desperately wants to help everyone and is clearly feeling the pressure of it all and the king is the one to tell her “hey i understand how hard you’re trying and how much you want to save everyone and we’re thankful for what you’re doing”. rauru actually acknowledges zelda’s dedication and the importance of research and technology, he is kind to her and never blames her for any of the bad things happening. he also never pushes zelda to make sacrifices and is the one sacrificing himself in the end - in botw, all the champions and zelda have to choose to make sacrifices to save the kingdom, but in totk rauru doesn’t ask that of any of the sages, instead recognizing his own responsibility as king and basically dying to save his kingdom. he’s literally zelda’s better dad.
same anon as the one raving about rauru also the differences between how the two kings treat link. they’re both tutorial figures but the way they guide is SO different. pretty much the first thing rhoam does is lie and pretend to be a random old man, being quite annoying as he sends link to do a bunch of challenges for a paraglider. the framing is so fundamentally different, rauru freely offers the information he has to link upfront, he apologises for the body modification, acknowledging link’s potential distress. rhoam basically keeps link on the plateau arbitrarily, presenting giving items and teaching link about things as challenges for link to overcome. rauru on the other hand aids link as best he can, tells him what he needs to do from the beginning (tells him to open the door which is pretty much the last thing he’ll need to do in the tutorial, telling him about the ultimate goal from the beginning), proposes solutions when it doesn’t work out (directs him to the shrines as a way to help him gain the strength he needs, as opposed to making him complete challenges to get a paraglider that in the moment seems like literally arbitrary conditions). rhoam telling link how much responsibility and pressure he has on him all of a sudden and how much he needs to do vs rauru telling link that it was wonderful to meet him and zelda’s accounts of him were all true. like. the framing. the difference in character. the deterioration of knowledge within hyrule falls parallel to the deterioration of its king’s kindness and virtue.
the differences between rauru and roham are crazy to me because one of them was so fundamentally good and one was so fundamentally flawed and yet. neither of them were able to save their kingdom. no matter how good a king of hyrule is, no matter what he gets right or wrong, he is still doomed to die. rhoam tried to sacrifice his daughter to keep hyrule alive. rauru did everything in his power to make sure she DIDNT have to be sacrificed. and in the end the outcome was the same. but the KINGS were not the same, and that difference in framing you mentioned i think is fundamentally a difference in legacy. rhoams legacy is to forever be the king who sacrificed children to save himself and died anyway. rhoam died a loser through and through, a king atop a throne of nothing but failure. i think that’s partially why he appears as an old man at first, because he KNOWS what being the king of hyrule means and he’s EMBARRASSED that his legacy is what it is. but rauru. in complete contrast, rauru was so GOOD. rauru died with his sages and his DAUGHTER alive to see another day. rauru ENSURED they’d live no matter what. he wouldn’t LET them sacrifice themselves for him. rauru put everyone else before himself. he didn’t expect or even tolerate self-sacrifice and yet when the time came he sacrificed HIMSELF selflessly despite knowing that it wouldn’t even WORK. rauru’s legacy is something to be proud of. he’s open to link because he has nothing TO hide. no regrets or stupid decisions. and he is remembered so much more favorably because of it.
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dangerpronebuddie · 20 days
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Tease Tidbit Tuesday!!
Tagged by @tizniz @loveyouanyway who wrote WONDERFUL stuff y'all should show some love!! 💜🩵
It feels like I haven't been doing a lot of these tag games lately, but now that school is finished (I passed!!! 🥳) I can get back to writing! A lot of my projects are just not vibing right now, but I hope to have this done this week. Once again, I apologize:
“Honey, he's just as likely to get hurt as you are,” she points out. “I just worry about Christopher. He needs stability, and you've been on your own for so long." "And I can't handle it, right?" Eddie scoffs, turning to face her. He doesn't want to have this conversation. But he's tired. Tired of missing what he can't get back. Tired of feeling like he needs to justify his every decision. Tired of being a failure. "I never said you couldn't," she protests. He shakes his head in disbelief. "That is all you ever say." "Eddie," she says, like she wants him to see reason. "Remember the night I told you we were moving?" Eddie asks. "How you sat there and berated Shannon for leaving, and me for staying, and the fact I was somehow incapable of raising my own son?" "I was angry at Shannon for leaving you-" "You don't get to be angry at her," he bites. Not even he can find the strength to anymore. "Her mom needed help. And I left first! Why is it different when I did it?" "Because you're my son," she says with a helpless shrug. "And Christopher is mine," he almost growls. "I was doing everything I could for him and you wanted to take him away from me!" "I didn't-" "That's why I know you are going to do what is right for him," Eddie recites, "don't drag him down with you, Eddie."
(tags under the cut. And please let me know if you want to be added/ removed)
Absolutely no pressure tagging:
@13shadesofanni @lover-of-mine @monsterrae1 @thekristen999 @daffi-990
@kitteneddiediaz @wikiangela @steadfastsaturnsrings @ronordmann @fortheloveofbuddie
@actuallyitsellie @exhuastedpigeon @spagheddiediaz @wildlife4life @theotherbuckley
@hippolotamus @diazsdimples @rainbow-nerdss @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove @smallandalmosthonest
@daniwib @jshadow01 @shipperqueen6 @idealuk @misshiss727
@lunarspark-cos @likeamollusconarock @lin27 @orangeboxfox92 @thegeekcompanion
@emilybahu @lemotmo @awolfnamed-nyx and anyone else who wants to share!! 🩷🥰
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bestworstcase · 7 months
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the first thing. the very first thing we see salem do besides the non-diegetic bookend monologues. is tell off watts for being mean to cinder. “watts, do you find such malignance necessary?”
and it isn’t just a passing remark, salem makes a whole thing of it. “then i see no reason for your cruelty towards young cinder,” effusive praise and then she turns back to watts and says, “so, i’m curious, to what ‘failures’ are you referring?”
well, watts says, the girl with the silver eyes. even without her new power, it should have been effortless—
—and salem shuts that down hard. “it is because of the maiden’s power.” it’s not cinder’s fault. “make no mistake, cinder: you hold the key to our victory. but your newfound strength brings with it a crippling weakness, which is why you will remain by my side as we continue your treatment.”
then, after salem gives her orders, cinder asks about ruby. watts scoffs; what about her, she’s cinder’s problem, not ours. but: “tyrian? spring can wait. find the girl that did this to cinder, and bring her to me.”
and scene. that’s our first real glimpse of who salem is, and it lays the foundations for everything that develops from this point with salem and cinder. 
before salem walks into the room it’s established that cinder is at the bottom of the pecking order. watts and tyrian gleefully pick on her; hazel doesn’t give a shit. and then salem enters and makes this deliberate, protracted point of not just “don’t be cruel to cinder” but she is at pains to demonstrate that cinder’s wellbeing is her first priority. salem is personally involved in treating her injuries. watts is taking over the haven operation so that cinder will have more time to heal. she pulls tyrian off the hunt for the spring maiden because cinder wants ruby dealt with, and salem again intends to deal with the matter herself. 
“it’s important not to lose sight of what drives us: love. justice… reverence. but the moment you put your desires before my own, they will be lost to you. this isn’t a threat; this is simply the truth. the path to your desires is only found through me.”
but for cinder fall, spring can wait.
cinder has always been the exception to every rule. salem put what cinder wanted ahead of her own agenda. salem effectively postponed haven to do cinder a favor, without a second of hesitation. salem spent all of V4-5 focused on cinder and what cinder wanted. 
her parting words before cinder leaves for haven are: “you will have the power i promised you when the time is right, but remember that it comes with a cost. if ruby rose has learned to harness her gift, you must take care to protect yours; there’s only so much i can do to aid you.”
<- “be careful.”
and then cinder is not careful. now consider this exchange:
SALEM: Emerald. I want you to tell me whose fault this was… Now. EMERALD: Ci-Cinder! We failed because of Cinder. SALEM: ……That’s right. I want you to understand that failure; I want you to understand why Cinder must be left to toil in her isolation until she redeems herself.  MERCURY: You mean… EMERALD: She’s alive!? WATTS: You’re joking. How could you know that?
ok. really think about this. 
salem is the only person in the room who knows cinder is alive. everybody else takes it as a given that she died at haven. “maybe cinder survived somehow?” is not a possibility on anybody’s radar.
emerald is on the brink of collapsing in abject grief because she believes cinder is dead. and then salem grabs her shoulder and is like “listen to me very closely, it is emotionally important to me that you understand why we will not be going to cinder’s aid. she MUST be left to TOIL ALONE. BY HERSELF. until she redeems herself. do you understand?”
and the entire inner circle is like excuse me
what do you mean cinder’s alive
how do you even know that
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“NO FURTHER QUESTIONS.”
i just—hrgfjfk
“apropos of nothing, i am NOT sending you or cinder’s other little friend to her aid and i will NOT be altering my plans in any way to help her i am not going to lift a finger for her. until she redeems herself.”
the lady doth protest too much. 
for cinder fall, spring can wait. 
salem is projecting her own desire to rescue cinder from the haven mess onto emerald for the express purpose of shooting it down. watts asks how she could even know cinder survived and salem’s like >:( and changes the subject. 
“it’s important not to lose sight of what drives us. love—”
she goes through her whole little spiel about not putting what they want before what she wants and then, with her back turned to all of them, she glances out the window and the mask just crumbles. her shoulders hunch. she is acutely unhappy. “and so we must… press on.”
this song and dance is not for them. it’s for her. it is half of an argument salem is having with herself. 
“spring can wait; find the girl that did this to cinder, and bring her to me.” -> “but the moment you put your desires before my own, they will be lost to you.”
“you will have the power i promised you […] but remember that it comes with a cost. if ruby rose has learned to harness her gift, you must take care to protect yours; there is only so much i can do to aid you.” -> “the path to your desires is only found through me.”
✨salem✨ is the one who set the expectation that what cinder wanted took priority. salem told cinder to rely on herself first and salem second. she warned cinder repeatedly and explicitly that the power she promised to cinder would expose her to greater harm.
as far as salem knows, because watts certainly wouldn’t have painted a fair picture of why cinder made the choices she did, cinder didn’t heed that warning, fumbled haven, lost the lamp, and very nearly got herself killed in the process. 
and salem wants to throw her a lifeline. 
she doesn’t want to be wanting to throw cinder a lifeline but it is, obviously, a thought that crossed her mind often enough for her to feel the need to declare out loud that she is Not Going To Do It, No Matter How Much You Might Want Me To, Emerald.
“the sword under vacuo’s academy, shade—” and then hazel drops the bomb on her that ozma has the lamp and he’s taking it to atlas. watts and tyrian are rattled because oz might talk some sense into ironwood and spoil the plan. but salem?
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salem isn’t thinking tactics or strategy. she is getting run over by the freight train of discovering she feels the same way about This Situation—cinder trying to get the lamp away from ozma alone—as she feels about her daughters.
and she cannot fucking do it. 
cinder must be left to toil in her isolation until she redeems herself (by recovering the lamp) -> what do you mean oz has the lamp -> never mind we’re all going to atlas right the fuck now. cinder can toil in isolation with the covert support of salem’s most formidable pair of agents while salem churns out a zillion grimm over the course of a few months ITS FINE. EVERYTHING IS FINE.
“she thinks; she wants. as if she’s done something to warrant me caring about either of those things.” i don’t care, she says, caringly.
but:
“your newfound strength brings with it a crippling weakness, which is why you will remain at my side while we continue your treatment.” -> “you will have the power i promised you when the time is right, but remember that it comes with a cost. if ruby rose has learned to harness her gift, you must take care to protect yours. there’s only so much i can do to aid you.” -> “i would like to think i’ve shown a great deal of patience during my many years walking remnant, but i do hate repeating myself. you will remain here. is that clear?”
it isn’t that she’s punishing cinder for the failure at haven.
cinder comes home from beacon maimed, salem keeps her at evernight for months and replaces the arm she lost with a grimm (<- symbolically, she gives cinder part of herself;  the arm ties them together and that goes both ways, salem knows she’s alive and cinder knows when she’s back; she makes cinder like herself). waits as long as she reasonably can before sending her to haven, with parting words that amount to be careful, i won’t be there to save you.
cinder gets clobbered at haven and barely survives, salem is at war with herself over it when hazel blindsides her with the bad news that ozma has the lamp and she panics.
salem drops everything to rush to atlas with overwhelming force and arrives to find cinder waiting for her not only in one piece but also in possession of the lamp; her eyes go fucking glossy for a second as an enormous amount of tension just melts away. and salem like? teases her? about her habit of bringing home strays. “hm! you certainly do like collecting assets,” fondly indulgent. oh you. like genuinely is is the one and only time salem has ever sounded like she’s having fun. 
…then cinder reveals that she tried for the staff, too, but the polendina girl “interfered” and became the winter maiden instead. (salem isn’t stupid she knows this is cinder-speak for “a girl who could beat me without magic is the winter maiden now.”) and cinder wants to turn right around and hunt her down? NO. ABSOLUTELY NOT. YOU ARE STAYING HERE.
the hammer drops because salem is scared. she resorts to cruelty in a desperate stab at clawing herself back from the ledge of Caring About Cinder; but salem is so, so, so painfully cognizant all the time of how mortal cinder is. she sent cinder to beacon and cinder came home missing her eye and half an arm. she sent cinder to haven and cinder almost didn’t come back at all, it’s a miracle she survived. and salem brought an incomprehensible number of grimm to atlas specifically to avoid round three of feeling terrified while cinder crawls through a meat grinder for her. and now cinders like BUT I WANT TO CRAWL THROUGH THE MEAT GRINDER!
“remember that [power] comes with a cost; if ruby rose has learned to harness her gift, you must take care to protect yours. there’s only so much i can do to aid you” -> “everything is already in motion; all you need to concern yourself with is your ability to act when i tell you to.”
she doesn’t have the nerve to say it or maybe she just doesn’t know how but she is trying to pull cinder out of the line of fire. this is not your game to win (this is not your fight) and just because you’re more valuable to me than a pawn (you are not just a pawn to me) and everything is already in motion (i will take care of it this time) and all you need to concern yourself with is your ability to act when i tell you (don’t worry just let me handle it).
if she can crack down and keep cinder under control with cruelty and intimidation then she doesn’t have to confront the feelings driving her decisions, but of course she can’t because she never had control over cinder in the first place; cinder is legitimately stunned when salem shuts her down in 8.1 because Salem Does Not Treat Her Like That.
so naturally cinder goes: well fuck you i do what i want. 
and almost fucking dies. 
again.
they hit amity in the middle of the night. it’s dawn in vacuo during the broadcast, vacuo is six hours ahead of atlas (2.3). cinder does not wake up until dawn. she is unconscious for six hours. six. hours. in a world where aura can fully heal a thoracic impalement in about fifteen minutes.
think about how badly cinder had to have been hurt for emerald—who loves cinder and is terrified of salem—to bring cinder back to the whale after they did exactly what salem directly ordered cinder not to do. think about the level of desperation necessary for emerald of all people to weigh the risk of salem’s fury against the severity of cinder’s injuries and decide she had to bring cinder to salem. 
“you chose to disobey my specific instructions, just to fail again. and… i’ve realized it’s all my fault. you’ve fought your whole life unwaveringly for what you want, and here i am holding you back, instead of lifting you up. you deserve so much more than i’ve given you.”
<- that is the sound of salem falling off the ledge.
like
as a manipulative tactic to get cinder under her thumb this is, quite plainly, not going to work, and cinder sees right through it, and salem knows that. by literally ✨rewarding✨ open defiance she accomplishes nothing except proving to cinder that when the chips are down, salem will blink first.
but. 
salem is not about getting cinder under her thumb. she wants the relics and she’s also been losing her gods-damned mind for months now because every time cinder leaves her sight for an extended period of time cinder has gotten smushed like a bug and the legion of grimm did not even slightly improve the situation. and the only way salem can think of to thread the needle between having her cake and eating it too is to go REBELLION IS OKAY. LET’S TRY THE BUDDY SYSTEM. 
the minute salem reconstitutes, she beelines to where cinder is. pretends not to notice cinder’s bald-faced lies. “you did well” and “our work here is done” and not interrupting and making a point to demonstrate that she listened to what cinder told her (“you said they used the staff; i assume you rid the world of their creation.”) and asking carefully non-threatening follow up questions (“what did you create?” as opposed to, like, what happened to watts). 
salem isn’t trying to put cinder on a leash. she’s twisting herself into knots in search of a way to move forward with her actual agenda without getting cinder killed, and her increasing desperation to keep cinder alive is not primarily motivated by strategic calculation; it’s emotional. 
her establishing character moment is salem Making a Statement to her own inner circle that cinder is more important than the plan. she says she’s going to leave cinder to ~toil in isolation~ and sticks to it for all of, like, two minutes before she finds out it would mean abandoning cinder to face ozma alone and just shatters. she is visibly relieved when cinder surprises her with the lamp and proceeds to make “you will not go hunting a girl who can definitely maul you” her hill to die on until cinder tries to actually die on it, whereupon salem snaps like a stretched rubber band back to “you can do whatever the hell you want just please for the love of fuck slow down and let me bend the odds as much in your favor as i can.” this woman is immortal and cinder is still shaving years off her lifespan. 
and this is going to keep happening until she can get her act together and say outright that she Cares About Cinder, because to cinder all of this just looks like salem yanking a leash to remind cinder she’s worthless. the second beacon arc is going to be hysterical. 
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dippedinmelancholy · 11 days
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It's 100% my own fantasy and will never happen because Maas cannot pull herself off of Rhysand's mediocre dick, but I wish more than anything just ONCE Feyre had defended Nesta to the IC. She spent much of her time with the IC demonizing her sisters, so much so that Cassian feels justified in attacking Nesta for her failures as a LITERAL CHILD the first time he meets her. From the very first time the IC sees Nesta, they already hate her. They hate her for Feyre's pain, and nothing she can do can change their minds. I wish, just once, Feyre would stand and tell them all that while Rhysand was playing his stupid games to protect Velaris, damning 2/3rds of his court, fucking Amarantha and going out of his way to make Tamlin miserable and jealous, despite Tamlin being the ONLY ONE of the High Lords to not be trapped by her, that it was the thought of NESTA that kept Feyre fighting. That it was the knowledge that Nesta would never cower before any villain, no queen, no king, no crown. That she would do everything in her power to protect the people that she loves. The it was her eldest sister, her cold, viper tongued sister who is hated by all of them, that ultimately gave Feyre the strength to stand in opposition to impossible odds. That it was Nesta who taught wild Feyre to never break, no matter how the world tries to cut you down, even when everything is ripped from you, even when they humiliate and belittle you. The Archeron sisters are beautiful. They are complicated, twisted, fiery and loved. I wish, more than anything, that the story of the ACOTAR world was about them standing in defiance together, even when they hate each other, whether they are mortal or fae, in the face of adversities that would destroy anyone else. I wish that the there were more lines that no matter what the world tries to take from them, whether they are poor or rich, mortal or fae, they are Archerons, and no one can ever take that from them.
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bittersweetcreep · 2 months
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My Vision Of A Female!Darling Damian Would Become Obsessed With {Origin and Meeting}
Origin Start
I see this darling as a lab experiment design to be the perfect weapon, although the way she was made was lack for a better word "unique." The scientist made her embryo with specific DNA traits then put her into a fertilization tank, and once out of said tank, a "caretaker" was assigned to her.
This "caretaker" was only allowed to provide the basic necessities an infant needs and was prohibited from interacting or showing affection to her. They don't want their weapon to become soft and emotionally attached to anyone, but the "caretaker's" main assignment was to get her to walk as soon as possible to begin training.
Her training was brutal and strict. She would receive severe punishments for failure or not meeting the scientists' expectations. One of said punishments was the removal of her vocal chords and purposely leaving behind a nasty scar has a reminder to do better. The training was beyond cruel but did have results.
She's mastered all 180 fighting styles and the art of stealth while also having enough strength to break bones, all while having the best reflexes to catch flying knives with her mouth and the agility to dodge flying bullets.
For the longest time, the scientists thought she had the power of teleportation, but that's not the case. In reality, she was just fast. Fast enough to stand in your eyesight one minute, then make a run for it when you blink the next, making it seem like teleportation for the one who blinked. Thank god for having the stamina to pull that off, and the scientist seemed to approve of that little party trick she could do.
She seems like the best weapon, but that wasn't enough for the scientist. They wanted the perfect weapon, so that's why they put metahuman traits in her DNA.
She's able to manipulate her own blood when it's in her body and when it's out of her body. She's also able to manipulate other's blood as well, but only if her blood is mixed in with the target's own blood. Be it the target's blood is in a puddle on the floor or physically infecting the blood that's still in their body herself via cuts, puncture wounds, shaping her blood to take the form of tiny needles at her fingertips to pierce whoever she touches.
Another way she can manipulate her blood is the changing of her own blood type, like changing it to AB+ to O-. So far, she's able to master the manipulation of all eight major blood types. She's also learned to copy someone's DNA via blood, be it the individual is dead or alive.
It was obvious she would lose a lot of blood when in a conflict. So, to prevent her from dying by blood loss, they made sure she produced more blood than the average human.
They truly did make the perfect weapon, but one thing they didn't expect was to be betrayed by that very weapon. Why the betrayal? She refuses to submit to those who don't have her respect and grown adult men who hide behind a small child while said child fights their battles? They're weak cowards, but sadly, she needs their training. So she'll play nice for now until they are of no use to her. their use ran out by the time she was 13. Her breach was a mess, and she was a mees. Her poor hair. 😢
Opening the doors of her "home," she's come to know her location. Gotham City, home to many criminals and the notorious Batman.
She had finally done it, she rid herself of those men and earned her freedom. Although she did it, she didn't think about what comes after that. She's come to realize that she could never function as anything other than a fighting machine because being a weapon has always been her purpose and if it wasn't for The Batman she would of been labeled a villain instead of vigilante.
The Batman is a strong individual with a high intellect and a skilled fighter with a moral code he never strays from. There was no way he wouldn't have earned her respect, and because he has her respect, she'll follow his example to strike fear into the hearts of criminals and bring them to justice by becoming a vigilante as well.
Origin End
Obsession Start
The first time Damian met his darling, he was still an Al Ghul, not a Wayne, and Bruce was unaware of his existence. He ran into her during one of his many missions in Gotham, so when spotting her Damian being Damian, tried to kill her on sight only to have his ass handed to him. So there he was, exhausted and restrained by what he could only assume is blood with multiple cuts, bruises, and broken bones all in and over his body, with a nasty black eye to match.
The girl raised her hand to what he assumed was to kill him, only for her to start tapping on the wall closest to them. But that was not any tapping it was morse code.
°This is not your city. it's Batman's. Know your place, and leave Al Ghul.°
With a roundhouse kicked to the head, Damian was out like a light. Upon awakening, Damain found himself up in the mountains far outside of Gotham City. How can he tell? Because even if he's lying down, he just needs to turn his head, and there is Gotham City. Sitting up, he winced, becoming aware of his many injuries.
He replayed the battle in his head, that girl was around if not the same age as him, yet she had shown skill that went beyond her years and that blood manipulation of hers was quite impressive. Remembering the way he was restrained on his knees forced to look up towards her, he felt unusual doing so, and that stare made an irresistible chill go down his spine.
With her eyes on him like that something within Damain shift and he became intrigued and dare he say infatuated. It also helps that she was quite the looker too.
It's been a week since Damian started to follow his newest and favorite target. Where she goes, he goes, be it on patrols or fighting criminals. Damian loves seeing her fight it has to be the most attractive thing he's ever seen. He tried pinpointing what part he found attractive. Was it her engaging in combat? When she uses her metahuman powers? Her breaking bones effortlessly? Whatever it is, she's one helluva girl. Yes, she's a strong girl who can protect herself and is not some damsel in distress, so why is Nightwing acting like her white knight?
Apparently, teamups with Nightwing and Batman are a normal occurrence for her, especially teaming up with Nightwing. Whenever Damian sees her teamuping with the Batman, it's strictly professional, but he can see the respect she holds for the man, and Damian wants her to respect him too. He'll need to investigate the Dark Knight and see what she respects about him. Who knows, maybe he'll be useful.
But Nightwing? He needs to stay away from what's his or else. When they team up, it's clear their relationship is more personal than professional, unlike her relationship with Batman. It's infuriating seeing them so close, doesn't that bird knows not to mess with another man's woman!? Who does he think he's messing with?! He is Damian Al Ghul, the heir to the League of Assassins and the son of a demon!
"Hey Luna, we're still on for tomorrow?"
°and miss out going to the spa? Wouldn't dream of it, Nightwing.°
.....They know each others civilian identities? Are they that close? No, this is the last straw he needs to do something about this, but what? Well, luck must be on his side because here he is standing in the Wayne manor with his father Bruce Wayne, or should he say Batman. Looks like the Dark Knight will be useful after all.
But it looks like Nightwing comes by to the manor every so often, or should he say Dick Grayson, his new brother. Dick has his own place, but he also sleeps at the manor sometimes. Damian would use those opportunities to get him out of the picture and away from his girl, but Bruce catches him every time.
So, as a way to keep an eye on him and teach him the value of human life, Bruce made Damian Robin. Damian wasn't happy, to say the least, but...
"Robin meet Red Luna she teams up with us every so often, and now she'll be teaming up with you."
°it's a pleasure to meet you, Robin. I hope you can keep up.°
Maybe being Robin can be useful.
"I'm more than capable of keeping up with a beauty like you."
Obsession End
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Lots of things about Allison's character arc are Very Themes, but this in particular is. Very emblematic of how she's shaping out to be. Moderate thematic spoilers for Books 4 and 5 of KSBD below!
At this point, it's pretty explicitly textual that all seven Demiurges are afraid - and this fear has shaped their character and actions more than any other of their qualities.
Each have a particular, personal way their fear emerges:
Mammon's seclusion
Mottom feeding the tree
Incubus clawing for power
Jadis's inaction
Solomon David's absolute dominion
Gog-Agog's ironic, whimsical nihilism
Jagganoth's stoic, utilitarian obedience
These are all products of fear - specifically, fear of obliteration and impotence. Of death, in all its kinds.
Each of them is obsessed with seeking royalty through their own perspective, and terrified that they're going to fail. Terrified that there might be a power greater than theirs that could render them helpless.
In addition to preventing any kind of meaningful trust or collaboration, this fear is itself the thing that renders each of them helpless.
By now, in Book 5, Allison has been directly faced with all of these. She has seen that Mammon's safe retreat did not save him. That Mottom's ruthless sacrifice of others did not save her. That Incubus's machinations did not gain him anything. That Solomon's refusal to cede an ounce of his strength made him weak. And now, despite their overwhelming power and all-spanning perspectives over past cycles, she is coming to see that neither Gog nor Jag have any mastery of royalty.
Importantly, she saw that Maya, that once-demiurge-turned-drunkard, learned this too.
On her path to the Key, Maya grew to fear the hold that others had over her. Yet, borne on a palanquin by obedient servants, her power over others unquestionable, her master laid her bare with a single question: What next? What was the point of it all? To strive for power out of fear?
And so Maya fled, and lived to see at least half of a true life, full of trust and love. Now, after losing even that, Maya sees no path for herself - torn between knowing that power begets destruction, but a lack of it begets vulnerability. Unable to solve this, knowing her master Meti was never able to solve this, she insists Allison must face it too:
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Her master, Meti, is also the one who so correctly said to the death-pondering monk:
“A dog has more sense than you. He doesn’t think of death at all. Not when he sleeps, not when he bathes, and certainly not when he shits. You and he will both die."
Maya, thus, also probes Allison about her thoughts on death (twice, actually, going back to their first in-passing encounter) And now, finally, Allison... shrugs.
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Allison has been told to strive for her 'full potential' power for many different reasons - and been afraid to do so for just as many reasons. Afraid of her power, of her self, of her past, of her future, of the judgement of others, and of the possibility of failure.
And now, having passed through the gauntlet of fear, in these last few pages (Book 5, 3-76 to 3-78) Allison explicitly rejects not just the comforting defence of irony but the very fear of meaninglessness in the fact of unfathomable vastness of any kind - multiple universes, meaningless suffering, powerful gods, time loops, even death itself.
There is no fear. There is nothing that justifies her claim to power. There is no grand meaning or purpose. There is no undoing the horrors that have come to pass.
But she has a (maybe) sword, and someone who has been killing rats and dreaming of grand purpose is about to kill again.
What else is there to do but, in foolish defiance, ready her blade and strike them dead without thought?
"She who strikes without thinking can cut God."
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howlingday · 3 months
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So I have an idea for a Semblance. For now I call it True Insight. It allows the user to what a person loves most, fears, and hates the most. Like if used on Ruby it would allow them to know the guilt she carries for failure and her wishes to follow in moms footsteps. The target just has to be seen for it to work. But he doesn't know everything like their personality,entire history, or neutral stuff. It gives him help in battles at all. Only mental info. So thoughts? Overpowered?
Honestly, it sounds like some Sherlock Holmes spit, and I am HERE for it... But who to give it to... Oh! I know just the person who has this ability! True Insight: Greatly increases the user's ability to mentally achieve greater intellectual understanding of their task, though this ability has a limit to matters of the heart.
--------------------------------------------
Weiss: What do you say, Pyrrha? Are you interested in teaming up?
Pyrrha: ...
Pyrrha: (Thinking) Weiss Schnee, heiress to the Schnee Dust Company. There's a scar over her left eye, not seen in her most recent photographs after entertaining at her family's gala. The scar is clean, as if from a blade, but since it is limited to her eye, it can be safe to assume it was from only one blade aimed at her face. Judging by the depth of the scar, and the inability of her aura to heal it, it's likely the result of a Grimm attack. Her prideful nature also makes her a likely candidate to throw herself at her foes, potentially causing trouble along with her tumultuous nature with her family, if rumors are to be believed.
Pyrrha: I think I'd rather see where the chips fall.
Weiss: Very well. Still, my offer continues to stand, if you're interested.
Jaune: I know I'm interested. Hi, Jaune Arc, and I am VERY interested in joining your, uh... Whatever this is.
Pyrrha: Jaune Arc? The last name sounds somewhat familiar, but nothing of note in recent times. His choice in weapon, a sword and shield, could be a good match for my own close quarters combat abilities. However, his hoodie seems to sway as he moves, like it's too big for his size. Has he... ever been in a fight before. It would be beneficial for him to be protected until his strength builds. That, or his brash and undue confidence results in his removal from Beacon. Still, his boyish charm is cute.
Pyrrha: (Giggles)
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transmutationisms · 1 year
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I couldn't stop thinking about you pointing out the theme of eugenics in this season finale. Finding out Kendall might be sterile was the icing on the cake. And Tom, who doesn't sleep and can withstand physical pain ends up at the top... he's got a dick like a red sequoia and he fucks like a bullet train.
this is a really interesting line of inquiry imo, because you're right that the rhetorical appeal tom makes to matsson very noticeably uses the language of physical strength and bodily fitness. at the same time, we know this to be kind of a lie: tom's been suffering for lack of sleep, he dipped early from the funeral reception last episode, and he spent most of season 3 terrified of the potential violence he could face in prison. i don't say this to pass some kind of judgment on tom, but to point out what i think is a parallel to logan, who also relied on the language of strength, masculinity, and domination, yet was introduced to us as sick and was in varying conditions of sickness / disability throughout the course of the show. both these characters are living in human bodies that are susceptible to various forms of pain and physical limitation, yet their rhetoric and the fascistic demands of corporate masculinity mean they can only survive and succeed by denying these things about their bodies for as long as possible.
the connection here to fertility, impotence, and sexual performance is fairly clear. fucking and impregnating someone is a way to demonstrate not just your power / ownership of that specific person, but also your general bodily fitness and place at the top of the corporate and gender hierarchy. there's some degree of ambiguity about tom's actual sexual performance, but certainly he uses the claim that he has a big dick and fucks well as a demonstration to greg not just of how he 'got' shiv, but also to justify his general position at the company. also, although shiv's motives for voting against kendall are complicated, it is true that she ultimately had to choose between her brother and her husband, who is also the father of her child—so, in some sense, tom's ability to ejaculate and impregnate someone does eventually win him the company. as for kendall, his literal infertility is really the bodily symbol of his metaphorical impotence in logan's eyes. logan sees him as weak for being emotional, as morally lax for using drugs, as pathetic for stuttering, and so forth. logan doesn't talk about his infertility (in the show), but the way he frequently uses feminising language toward kendall, and accuses him of homosexuality, also shows how kendall's infertility is perceived as a failure of his masculinity.
for logan and thus also the rest of the roys, what this ultimately comes down to is a specifically hereditarian idea of bodily fitness, wherein parentage and bloodlines matter as much as environmental circumstances (all of these factors matter in eugenic discourses). logan has defined himself as worthy and physically fit, so his legacy has to be carried on by offspring who inherit these things from him. in this way logan subconsciously hopes to prove his own strength and ability even beyond his death, as the survival of the empire and the bloodline will continue to signal his personal bodily capacity. of course this also betrays a deep sense of anxiety in logan, who fears that if his children are 'weak' or 'unfit' in some way, it also implies something is wrong with his own body and reflects poorly on him. this is partly what drives his clear embarrassment of his children, like in 'tern haven' when confronted with a rival family dynasty that speaks the language of high culture more successfully than the roys. it's also implied that this is part of what made logan view connor as a failure so early in his life: having his mother institutionalised suggests that logan saw in her a mental weakness or defect that would potentially be inherited by connor. parentage can biologically secure the child's position, but can also threaten it; and the child's fitness or lack thereof also reflects back on the parent. this sort of biological anxiety is both a discourse of fixity and one in which loss of status is always a possibility, eg in the ever-present fear of disability.
also, the causality in the show runs in multiple directions: sometimes a power dynamic shifts and is then inscribed on the body (shiv tripping in 'honeymoon states'), other times the bodily event is itself a cause of a power shift (logan yerfing in 'argestes'). then there are threads like matsson being physically so much larger than roman and kendall, in conjunction with his team being specifically young people who are athletically fit and academically credentialed, and matsson flashing his abs to make a business deal. and of course, matsson telling tom he might fuck his wife, and tom basically just nodding along—which tells us a lot about the power dynamic matsson foresees between himself and tom. bodies on this show are explicitly part of the political and rhetorical field of action, and the characters' ideas about bodily fitness are supposed to cue us to these larger discourses about which bodies are 'correct' and 'deserving' of power.
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Hi! I had this idea stuck in my head for a while. What if Miss Thornhill forced the reader to go against Wednesday when she realized that the reader had feelings for her?
A/N: I dunno if this quite hits your request, but it kinda ran away from me at a point lol
Wednesday x GN!Reader
Groans echo in the small room. Sweat soaked your clothes and shackles bruised your wrists. All you could do was listen to the thuds of red boots as they pace the floor.
"You're more stubborn than I thought." Thornhill fills another vial of whatever she was torturing you with. "I know you know more than you're telling me."
"I'm telling you all I know," you cry out. "Wednesday doesn't see me as a confidant." You grunt in pain as she kicks you.
"I thought I told you to get closer to her. You like her don't you? It should be easy."
A soft sob slips out and Thornhill slips into her motherly persona.
"Oh honey. It'll all be worth it in the end. I'll even spare Wednesday her life so you can have her." She sticks a needle in your neck and empties its contents. "But maybe this will remind you that I won't accept failure anymore.
Pain sinks into your veins as the poison takes effect. Screams echo, making the walls rattle. Thornhill leaves you thrashing on the ground and you black out in agony.
-----+++++-----
When you come back to consciousness, you're trudging towards your dorm room at Nevermore. It isn't clear how you made it here. You were just on autopilot. Whatever Thornhill shot in you still pulsed in your veins. The pain, while dulled immensely, still ripped through your body. You just hope you didn't run into anyone before you made it to your room.
Of course, your luck was shit recently.
The one person you especially wanted to avoid rounded the corner and dark eyes pierced through you. You could only manage a weak grimace in greeting.
"H-hey, Wednesday."
The goth watches your posture. The way you used the wall to hold up the near entirety of your weight. The sweat raining down your face from exertion. The way your breathing makes your entire body heave. After some silence, the girl turns around and goes back the way she came. You let out a sigh of relief only to see Wednesday come back with Enid in tow.
"Carry them to our room," she commands. "Something is going on and I intend on finding out."
"Did you really just bring me here to be the muscle?"
The withering glare sent her way answers Enid's question and she picks you up with an apology. You're far too weak to even resist.
You find yourself in Enid's and Wednesday's shared room. On Wednesday's own bed no less. The wolf whines softly and looks at you worriedly while Wednesday tries to deduce what was wrong with you. It takes a while, but you manage to get the strength back to say more than two words.
"It's poison that was injected straight into my veins." You lean your head to show the needle prick on your neck. "I was tortured. Been getting tortured."
"By who? And why?"
Your mouth opens to answer Wednesday. You try, but nothing comes out. Only a groan triggered by memories of your pain. Your body begins to writhe from the phantom pains. You feel a cold compress on your forehead. Thing was gently taking care to calm you down. It takes only a few moments for you to calm down.
"Enid, Thing. Leave us alone."
Both look at Wednesday before slowly leaving. Once the door closes, the goth's attention immediately presses onto you. Your fear of more torture makes you shake uncontrollably. Wednesday was capable of so much and you were terrified to become another victim. Tears start to fall from your eyes.
"P-please... I don't want to hurt again..."
Wednesday's eyes soften slightly at the sight of you. She was used to seeing you more upbeat. You would often invade her space just to be near. For some reason, you liked having her around and she had gotten used to it. Seeing you like this was abnormal. She didn't like it one bit.
Recently, the goth noticed you trying to keep your distance, yet also involve yourself in her investigations. While she appreciated your help, the constant push and pull made you suspicious to her. One way or another, she'll figure out why.
You felt a hand on your forehead before it starts running down your hair. You stifle a cry. Wednesday's voice, though soft, cuts through to you.
"I don't intend to hurt you, Y/N. Whether you tell me what you know or not." She pulls her chair closer to you. "Priority right now is your well being."
She continues her ministrations and it soothes you. You still didn't trust your voice, but you wanted to help Wednesday. Even with all the torture you suffered, you would push back against Ms. Thornhill until the end. With a wince, you slowly reach into a hidden pocket in your jacket and pull out a vial of blue liquid. Wednesday stops her hand and widens her eyes.
"That's nightshade. Why do you have it?"
You hand her the vial. Taking deep breaths, you pushed through to answer.
"I was supposed to use it on you. To get you out of the way. At least after getting your blood."
"My blood?" You nodded.
"I don't know why, I swear. That's all I was told." Tears start to fall again as fear of punishment engulfs you again. Wednesday moves to soothe you again.
"I believe you. Do you know who did this?" Another nod.
"I-it was Ms. Thornhill." Even saying her name aloud made you shiver. "She found out about my feelings for you. Wanted to use it to get to you."
That news surprised Wednesday. You had feelings for her? Everything makes sense now. All of your actions come to the forefront of her mind as she analyzes your relationship with her. Her face hardens when a new goal is added to her list.
"We will talk about those... Feelings at another time." She softly caresses your cheek. "For now, rest. And I will make sure Thornhill pays for what she did to you."
For the first time in a long while, you smile. Wednesday will surely be true to her word.
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