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allfearstofallto · 3 months

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You are Made to Greet them When they Return Home

Yandere! Forced marriage x fem! Reader head canons

Ft: Childe and Scaramouche

Synopsis: Your yanderes require the domestic pleasure of being greeted by their wife when they return home.

Word Cound: 1k

TW: yandere, obsessive themes, forced marriage, NSFW themes, mentions of previous abuse/punishment

Childe

“Master Childe has arrived home,” a maid said after knocking gently on your bedroom door. A notice to anyone else, but a warning for you. A warning telling you to be your most joyful and happy self, to be ready for your husband that had a temper that could change like the flick of a light switch.

Your nicest dress hugged your body, a satin slip in his favorite shade of blue. It barely went past your plush thighs, something too cold for the typical Snezhnaya air, but perfect for the inside of the estate, which he kept warm for you.

Scurrying down the stairs, your heels clicked against the floor. No matter how many times you'd done this, your heart wouldn't cease beating like a drum. The fear and the worry all sat deep inside your chest and made you tremble, but you tried to not show it on your face.

Arriving at the door to the home, you stood there obediently, as you'd been told to do time and time before. You and a few of the house maids. And almost right on cue, it opened.

For the briefest moment while the door was open, you could hear the sound of the wind howling outside, like screams of the night. A little snow blew through the door, and tickled your toes, but it melted as quickly as it showed up. All that stood there now was him.

Snow covered his coat and frosted the tips of his orange hair, but he still had a beaming smile on his face, overjoyed to see you. “My angel,” he said sweetly at the sight of you.

You were pulled into an embrace, his gloved hands still wet from the elements. He kissed your cheek, his cold red nose tickling you, and you tried not to notice the blood splatter near his neck that he didn't clean off. No matter how domestic he tried to make your life together seem, he could never truly hide what he did for work.

When he pulled away from the hug, you began to take off his cape. No maid was allowed to do this, as he said that undressing him was a job for his wife and his wife alone. It was a heavy, white piece of clothing, with black fur on the nape. He'd always smile at you as you undid the clasp, his height dwarfing over you to the point where you had to reach up to touch his neck.

“Was work okay today…” you gulped down saliva nervously as the cape fell into your hands, the weight of it making your arms sag just a bit. He had a questioning look on his face, raising his eyebrows while his smile began to falter ever so slightly. He wanted you to say the rest. “Was work okay today, m-my love?” you barely managed to force yourself to say those words. You could already feel the bile rising up from your stomach, but the content look on his face told you that he was happy regardless of how strained you sounded.

His large cape was handed to a maid to be cleaned and she ran off without word of orders. You weren't the only one scared of Childe in this house, you were just the one who had his attention.

You didn't even get the chance to completely turn and face him again before he was wrapping his arms around you and resting his body against you in a dramatic display of his fatigue.

“Work was tiresome!” He groaned while placing many unwanted kisses on your cheek and neck, “But my beautiful wife will make it all better, won't you?”

Scaramouche

Such a beautiful, vibrantly colored kimono was nice for special occasions, but it only weighed you down in these instances. The multiple layers piled on top of each other were a pure sight for eyes, but absolute hell to wear. Especially for someone who wasn't native to Inazuma.

You struggled to drop to your knees in front of the door. It felt like all of these layers were swallowing you whole, and with one wrong move, you wouldn’t be able to get up. Not without assistance at least.

The lighting outside illuminated his silhouette through the translucent white, paper of the sliding door and you hurried to make sure you were in position.

The second you heard it click and slide open, you bowed your head down before him. Your palms against the floor, thumbs in the shape of a triangle, and your forehead pressed against the ground. You'd practiced this position a million times before, with him studying your figure to make sure you got it right each and every time.

“We welcome you home, my lord, Scaramouche,” you said with your head still angled towards the floor. He merely hummed at your greeting. A hum was good, it meant that you hadn't displeased him yet.

You were to stay in this position until he told you to rise. Some days he did it immediately, so that he could begin to kiss and undress you like an animal in heat. Other days, he would leave you there to see how long he could keep you on your knees before him. Those days were hell, the weight of the kimono made it feel as if you were suffocating, drenching yourself in sweat. But you knew better than to move an inch. Being crushed by heavy fabric was better than any punishment he'd given you before.

You could hear the sound of him shuffling, taking off his shoes and putting away his jacket, then finally, you heard the familiar jingles of him lifting his ornate hat off of his head, and handing it off to a maid who also stood beside you.

“You may look upon me,” he ordered.

You rose up, but still stayed on your knees in front of him, finally meeting his gaze for the first time today, “Greetings, my lord. Did the day treat you alright?”

“My day was the same as usual,” he muttered while stepping past you and up the stairs, “Meet me in the bedroom, and bring tea as well.”

When you heard the familiar click of the bedroom door closing, you breathed a sigh of relief. You'd made it through another moment with him, but still rose to your feet with hesitance. Making it through the greeting was the first part, now you'd have to manage in the bedroom.

#yandere genshin #genshin #genshin x reader #yandere genshin impact #yandere genshin x reader #yandere scaramouche x reader #yandere scaramouche #yandere childe x reader #yandere childe #x reader #yandere x reader

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tales-of-the-ghost-zone · 8 months

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DP X DC crossover prompt

Sam and Tucker, thanks to living in Amity Park and being overshadowed and controlled by ghosts so many time, had become very liminal. Until an accident while trying to stop the newest ghost enemy led to the two of them becoming halfa’s. Sam’s ghost form looks like what she looked like during the whole Undergrowth thing. And Tucker’s ghost form looks like his King Tuck design.

After a reveal gone wrong, Danny, Sam, and Tucker flee Amity Park. The trio run away to Gotham, and using money Sam managed to snag from her account before they left, they buy a nice sized building right in the middle of Crime Alley. They decide to turn it into a bookshop and cafe. There’s a garden/greenhouse attached to the back end of the building where Sam grows all her plants and herbs. Tucker has his own tech room in the basement alongside Danny’s tiny lab space. They live together in the apartment above the bookshop/cafe.

One day while out on a walk, Danny stumbles across two tiny twin half formed baby ghost cores. They’re nothing more than tiny little balls of glowing light at the moment. Baby ghosts that are just starting to form but are nothing more than cores at the moment. But they seem to be slowly fading. Danny refuses to let them fade away into nothing. He scoops them up, infuses them with some of his ectoplasm to get them going, and then shoved them into his chest for safe keeping and so that they can be close to his own core which starts slowly feeding them energy.

Danny rushes back to the shop and drags Sam and Tucker to the upstairs apartment and shows him the baby ghost cores he’s found. The three all agree that they’re going to help these cores develop into actual ghosts. They switch off on who carry’s the ghost cores around. Some days it’s Danny. Some days it’s Tucker. And some days it’s Sam. Each of them feeding the cores a little bit of their ectoplasm to help them grow.

One of the cores feels distinctly female and has a purplish blue glow to it. The three start jokingly calling her violet. The other core has a distinctly male feel to it. It’s an orangish red and has a small crack along one side of it. Danny jokingly said one time how he (the baby core) kind of looked like Nemo’s egg at the beginning of Finding Nemo and ever since they’ve been calling him Nemo.

The two cores have been developing very slowly, both seemingly unable to absorb the needed ectoplasm, to form into full ghosts, quickly. The trio is fine with this, they can be patient, and wait to meet their twins.

Then one day there’s some kind of massive ghost attack. Maybe a cult or something attempted to summon the ghost king but messed up the summoning and accidentally summoned something else. The Justice League try and fight the thing, but they’re no match for this ghost monstrosity. And the JLD aren’t available to help for whatever reason. The trio decides to step in and help. They kick the crap out of the ghost pretty easily and send it back to the ghost zone. Then Danny, in his King Phantom garb (crown of fire, whispy white fire like hair, a regal looking version of his hazmat suit, the ring of rage on one finger, and a cape around his shoulders, the outside being pure white but the inside looking like the vastness of space) approaches the cult and rebukes them, telling them how even if they had managed to summon him he never would have helped them take over the world.

After that the trio become members of the Justice League. Thanks to some of Danny’s previous time travel shenanigans, and Danny being the ghost king, and Sam and Tucker his consorts/mates(?) the Justice League all think that the trio are ancient eldritch ghost gods.

And then one day when the trio are in the Watch Tower with the rest of the League their twin baby ghost cores come up. Maybe it was time to switch out who was carrying them, and mid meeting or lunch or whatever, Danny just reaches into his chest, pulls out two small glowing orbs. He cradles them close to his chest for a moment, looking at them lovingly, and whispering something soft to them in ghost speak. Then hands them over to Sam, who does the whole cradle them close and whisper softly in ghost speak before shoving them right into her chest.

They look up from this to see the whole League staring at them wide eyed and confused. Danny just casually explains that those are their children but they’re still forming so the trio needs to keep them close to their cores to help them grow, but they like to switch up everyday who carry’s them. Every member of the Justice League becomes super protective of the trio after this. They see it as the three essentially being pregnant (sort of), and they don’t always know which one of them is carrying the baby ghost. So best to just be protective of all three. The trio finds this kind of amusing and a touch bit sweet.

When the twin baby cores finally develop into actual baby ghosts, the two kind of look like a mixture between Danny, Sam, and Tucker’s ghost forms. Though Violet has dark purple hair and eyes and Nemo has bright orangish red hair and eyes.

#dp x dc #dpxdc #dc x dp #dp x dc prompt #danny phantom #everlasting trio #ghost king phantom #Violet and Nemo become the darlings of the Justice League #the two hellions run around the watch tower whenever possible #Wonder Woman sneaks them candy whenever possible #Dani stops in one day to meet her niece and nephew #the three proceed to cause chaos together #most of the time if you see the twins at least one of the trio is with them #if not one of the trio then some member of the Justice League #and if none of the trio or the Justice league is around #then Fright Knight is assigned guard duty #lord help the soul of anyone that try’s to mess with the prince and princess of the ghost zone #because non of the above mentioned people will show them any mercy

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florencemtrash · 5 months

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Heads Will Roll | Azriel x Reader Oneshot

Warnings: Violence (aka Reader kills some fae and Rhysand and Azriel are 100% cool with it), fluff

One of Koschei's followers turns up to the Court of Nightmares prepared to make a bargain: your life in exchange for Ataraxia. But he'll soon learn that you are not to be underestimated, and you are always exactly where you want to be.

Azriel bristled from behind Feyre’s shoulder when the male winnowed into the Court of Nightmares in a dramatic display of power that had everyone beneath the dais falling back.

He was all sharp lines, emboldened by the pure black silhouette of his cape that flared out behind him, teasingly parting to reveal the bone white sword strapped to his right hip that seemed to whisper with horrible power. The only piece of him that didn’t look like it was cut from death and destruction were his bright blue eyes - startlingly innocent and all the more unnerving for it. He fit in well with the violence the Court of Nightmares naturally radiated.

Rhysand’s eyebrow curled up in a look of carefully crafted boredom from atop his obsidian throne. The only one who looked more nonchalant than him was Feyre. She tilted her head up, staring down the slant of her nose to the unknown male as he extended his arms and bowed as prettily as a bird.

“Greetings.” Even his voice was sharp and cutting. “To the Lord and Lady.”

Cassian frowned from behind Rhysand’s back at the omission of their proper title. To the outside, Rhysand was anything if not bored. Inside, he was ready to blow the male to bits. He wore Koschei’s stamp on his forehead, red and dripping like a fresh wound.

Neither the High Lord nor the High Lady deigned to reply.

The male only smiled. All teeth.

“I come to you on behalf of my master.” His smile grew. More teeth. “You may have heard his name.”

“Koschei.” The name rolled off Feyre’s lips as easily as if she were ordering a meal - blasé and unimportant. But the name shifted the energy in the room, stirring up hornet's nests of gossip. Heads bowed towards one another like grass stalks in the wind, whispering.

Feyre tapped one finger on her forehead, “He has a fondness for marking his followers.”

“Like a collar on a dog.” Rhysand finished. He stroked the bond, grounded by the feeling of Feyre’s very soul on the other side. She had always been - and always would be - his calm.

“My name is Darwynn.” The male tipped his white head, “And I bring news from my master. News you may find worthy of your time.”

Azriel’s heart picked up in his chest.

He knew what was coming - the words that would soon slip out of Darwynn’s mouth. You’d been gone for over a week and he felt your absence from his side as intensely as if someone had ripped the wings from his back. Empty, cold, and unbalanced.

For the first three days he hadn’t worried, even as the bond lay dormant in his chest. It wasn’t uncommon for you to hunt after secrets, unraveling mysteries like threads in a coat or diving into the unknown with an insatiable appetite.

Three days were nothing. But nine days was getting to be concerning.

“Go on.” Feyre said with a wave of her hand, looking more interested in the glass of wine in her hand than anything else.

Darwynn reached into his pocket and pulled out a thin string of silver stained with blood - a necklace crafted from unbreakable metal with a deep blue pendant swaying like a pendulum. It was a piece of one of Azriel’s siphons, imbued with a small measure of his power and given to you as a Solstice gift after you’d accepted the bond. In the twenty years you’d been together, you’d never once taken it off. It was unnatural to see it swinging in the cruel male's hands.

Cassian growled. Azriel’s jaw clenched, beautiful brows lifting only ever so slightly in surprise. It was the only expression the Shadowsinger had shown all night.

Rhysand mirrored his expression. “Ahhhh yes, my sister. How long has she been missing for now, Az?” Rhysand looked back at him, some unspoken agreement passing through that brief glance. If this male had truly captured you, he would not be leaving this room with his head still on his shoulders.

“Nine days.” The Shadowsinger said, his mouth twitching to the side in a cryptic mix of a smirk and a snarl.

“You have her.” Feyre said. It wasn’t a question.

Darwynn’s eyes lit up with glee and he nodded, clapping his hands together like a child opening birthday presents.

“And what do you want for her? That is why you are here, is it not?” Feyre said once his “applause” ended.

Darwynn shook his finger at her, “It is comforting to know that since Amarantha’s trials, you’ve learned to - how shall I say this? Read between the lines.”

“Careful.” Rhysand said, a warning trapped within that honey-laced word. Feyre’s illiteracy was hardly a concern for anyone anymore - Rhysand had seen to that - but that didn’t mean it wasn’t a subject that smarted and burned when prodded.

Feyre’s dark red lips only turned up in a small smirk. Her mate would not allow any harm to befall her - even insults from pathetic creatures such as Darwynn.

"But I digress." Darwynn said silkily, “You should know she is uninjured-”

“Obviously,” Cassian huffed under his breath, stealing a glance at his brother beside him. Azriel was handling this surprisingly well. If it were Nesta who’d been kidnapped and held for ransom, Cassian would not be able to school his emotions so readily.

“And my master would like to make a trade.”

“A trade?” Rhysand said, displaying more interest in the subject than ever before. This was an opportunity to play Koschei’s hand. To gain whatever knowledge they could from the slippery sorcerer who was gaining more momentum each passing day. Koschei was still confined to his lake on the continent, but that didn’t mean he was powerless. No, not at all.

Darwynn pointed a knowing finger at Rhysand’s belt where Ataraxia rested as silent as the death that hung over a deep winter’s night.

“I see.” Rhysand said.

So that’s what he wants. Feyre spoke to him through the bond, Some trace of Nesta’s power.

Y/n was right. He wants to leave the lake.

And he needs whatever power Nesta took from the Cauldron to do it.

Rhys hummed in thought, one finger lazily tracing the edge of his drink. He knew his sister, knew the power that raced through her veins, and she was not one to be trifled with. But people loved to underestimate her - the poor second child too weak and damaged to fight after losing her wings to the old High Lord of Spring. The female who rested on her brother’s strength and crown like a sapling tied to a stake. She wielded those assumptions carefully. It was perhaps one of her greatest weapons.

Nine days. She’d been gone for nine days. Nine days since he’d sent her on a mission to the continent to spy on Koschei’s followers. Six days since anyone had heard from her. Three days since her scheduled return.

Azriel stiffened and blinked - a movement so subtle that only Rhys, Cass, and Feyre noticed. All at once the tension left Rhysand's shoulders. Such a reaction from Az could only mean one thing - you'd arrived.

Rhysand clicked his tongue disapprovingly, taking a deep draught of his wine and muttered, “She’s late.”

“She likes to be thorough.” Azriel said with the smallest of smiles.

“Even so. I don’t like to be kept waiting. She could’ve been captured sooner. Escaped earlier. Given us notice that she was coming.” He shook his raven black hair.

Azriel smirked, feeling the strength of the bond in his chest. Never wavering, “Maybe she finally decided to adopt your flair for the dramatic.” His golden hazel eyes flickered upward for the briefest of moments and you flashed him a quick smile from where you hid in the mountain rock above.

You’d only just opened your side of the bond, love and reassurance rolling over him like a flood. You were safe. You were whole. And you had carried out your plan beautifully.

Sorry to keep you waiting, my love. I had business to attend to. You spoke to your mate and only him.

I'd wait forever for you. You know that.

He felt your laughter through the bond like the fresh rain.

Who would've guessed the Spymaster's such a romantic.

Only for you. Only for you.

Darwynn narrowed his eyes, lips flattening into a thin line as pale as the moon. Something had changed in the air and he couldn't put his finger on it. This wasn’t the reaction he’d been expecting. He knew the Inner Circle were practiced in hiding their emotions but this… they almost looked pleased. Cassian especially was grinning like a madman, suppressing his laughter as Rhysand sent his thoughts to his mind.

“My master keeps good on his promises. But until you give me the bade, I can’t promise you what pieces of your wife there will be left to bring back.” Darwynn snarled, even as that feeling of dread grew in his stomach. He’d walked in here so confident. He needed to regain that confidence. He relaxed his shoulders. Stood up taller.

A wet thud echoed throughout the hall. Someone screamed - a female with blue-gray skin reeled backward, one hand clamped over her mouth in horror as she tripped over her blood-splattered silks.

A decapitated head - warm, oozing, and less than a day old - lolled on the floor. Its eyes were frozen in a look of surprised horror.

Darwynn’s heart stuttered to a stop when he recognized the bloated and bruised face. The face of one of his strongest males, left behind on the continent to watch over Koschei’s prison.

Rhysand smirked and raised his wine glass towards Darwynn. The High Lord’s power flooded out over the room, knitting together a powerful web of magic that made it impossible for anyone to winnow in or out. Except for you of course - his darling sister who never failed to find the weak points in his magic and slip through as slyly as a cat.

“There’s something you should know about my dear sister.” Rhysand’s voice boomed over the near-silent room without even trying.

A second head dropped from the ceiling. Then a third. Then a fourth. Laid out in a neat little arc around Darwynn.

“She never gets caught. She is always precisely where she wants to be.”

Azriel’s eyes were trained on the slate gray arches overheard where he could just barely make out your form as you winnowed around the room, hiding in the shadows and dropping your gruesome packages in a neat circle around Darwynn’s shaking form.

The male unsheathed his sword, spinning around madly and counting every thud until all twelve of your guards were accounted for.

All dead.

All of them.

He growled dangerously, eyes beginning to glow a brilliant, icy blue as he aimed his power at the dais, right towards Rhysand. Azriel smiled with cruel satisfaction when you slipped out from behind Darwynn’s silhouette, bloodied and menacing. The knife glinted in the faelight, catching the curve of your arm as you spun around and drove the weapon through Darwynn’s eye. The light wrapping around him fizzled out into anything.

The male rocked on his feet, arms going slack and dropping the sword with a clatter on the ground. His legs gave out soon after, his body crumpling in on itself as easily as paper.

You calmly rolled down the sleeves of your blood-soaked shirt, flicking a piece of gore off your shoulder in a manner so similar to Rhysand that your brother couldn't help but chuckle.

You flashed him a grin - a stroke of white brushed across a red splattered canvas.

“Brother.” You said, tipping your chin up in a show of greeting.

“A bit dramatic, don’t you think, sister?” Rhysand gestured out to the Court of Nightmares. You spared them a look. Everyone looked positively sinful in their scraps of silk and exposed skin, silent and trembling as their dinners burned their way up from their stomachs to their throats.

You shrugged and winked at Rhys, “I learned from the best.”

“Go get cleaned up.” He said. It was a clear and direct command, but you didn’t miss the warmth and hint of pride in his voice.

“As my High Lord commands.” You said, bowing deeply.

At home. Rhysand spoke in your mind as you straightened. Get some rest. You did well.

You sighed in relief, happy that you would be free from whatever Court of Nightmare business left to attend to.

Thank you.

There was a brief pause before Rhysand continued, But next time you plan to get kidnapped, let me know. I was actually starting to worry and I’m not sure my old heart can take it.

You snorted, I’ll keep your elderly constitution in mind next time.

You dipped your head once more before winnowing to the River House. The smell of home nearly knocked you off your feet.

There would be more time to joke around with your brother - more time to tell him everything you’d learned - but right now you were in desperate need of a bath.

______________

You sank into your third bath of the night, groaning in pleasure as the hot water rolled over your aching muscles. The first two baths had purely functioned to scrub off the dried blood from your hair and skin. The majority of it wasn’t yours. But this bath, with all the fragrant oils and scents, was for enjoyment and relaxation.

It was no easy business getting kidnapped, and no easy business escaping. But like every other mission, you’d made away like a bandit in the night, carrying with you priceless pieces of knowledge and enough secrets to demolish an entire court.

Your eyes flickered open at the feeling of shadows lacing around your arms, soothing your skin with a cool touch that was no replacement for the hands that followed.

Finally your mate had decided to join you.

You sighed in happiness as Azriel trailed his fingers up your arms, scarred hands landing at your neck and gently tilting your head back so he could plant a firm kiss on your lips.

The bond sang within your chest more joyfully than a songbird. You didn’t like silencing this connection, you didn’t like shutting Azriel out, but sometimes your work necessitated it. It was for your safety as much as his. But no one understood that more than the Spymaster of the Night Court.

“Hello, my love.” Azriel’s voice vibrated through the air, warming your chest and shaking your bones.

“Hello, Azriel.” You murmured, soapy hands trailing through his raven black hair so that he was completely surrounded by your scent.

“Gods, I missed you.” He said. He knelt on the tiled floor behind you, wrapping his arms around your bare chest as he buried his face in your neck and breathed you in. “I missed you so much." A kiss on your neck, "So, so much.”

“I missed you too.” You murmured, pulling him around to the side of the tub so that you could see him better. You traced the faint purple bruises beneath his eyes. Not an unfamiliar sight. Azriel had never been a restful sleeper, but since mating and marrying you, he’d been spoiled rotten and now could barely sleep a wink without you curled up in his arms.

“Sorry I messed up your hair.” You apologized, twirling the now damp strands of his hair so they curled around your fingers.

He smiled. It was a rare sight to anyone other than you, but seeing him happy never ceased to warm your bones.

“You did well, darling.” He said, smoothing back your hair before saying more seriously, “But next time could you tell me your plans before you shut me out?”

You winced. “I’m sorry. There wasn’t time.”

“I figured as much.” Azriel said, kissing your cheeks to show that he wasn’t upset. You leaned into his touch as he traced your cheekbones with his thumbs.

You were the most precious thing in the world to him. More precious than his wings. More precious than his freedom. More precious than the 500 hundred years it had taken him to finally realize what you were to him. The thought of losing you was more painful than a knife to the stomach.

“You can trust me.” You said, “I know how to handle myself.”

Azriel chuckled and shook his head, “I am very well aware of both those things,” He tilted his head in thought, “And I’m fairly certain everyone else also knows now.”

You blushed, “Maybe it was a bit much.”

Azriel shrugged, “Maybe. Maybe not. All I know is one thing.”

“And what is this one thing?” You asked, leaning forward and capturing his lips in another kiss. He tasted like cedar and rain. He tasted like home.

“That you should never be afraid of showing your power. Never. No matter what happens. No matter what people say.”

His hand that had been cradling the back of your neck moved down, tracing the scars on your shoulder blades where your wings had once been. You shivered under his touch, but didn’t recoil. He understood. He was perhaps the only person who understood what it meant to have such a physical piece of yourself taken away.

You kissed his hands, taking care to feel every valley beneath your lips and worship them. They were a part of him now, tied to him as much as his shadows were, and so how could you not love them? How could you not love him? This male who was your equal in every way imaginable and who made you feel happier and safer than you ever thought possible.

He helped you out of the bathtub, drying your skin and hair before carefully brushing through all the tangles and knots.

“I should go report to Rhys.” You said with little determination as Azriel laid you out on the bed and then crawled under the covers beside you, pulling you against his chest and wrapping you both under the protective cover of his wings.

“Let it wait until tomorrow. Let me have you tonight.”

You smiled, “I’ve only been gone nine days.”

His hazel eyes melted into yours. “Nine days too long, Y/n.”

You could never deny him anything when he looked at you like that, so full of feeling and a rawness too intense for words. And it wasn’t like you were dying to leave this bed and chase after your brother. Like Azriel had said - it could wait until tomorrow. So you melted into his arms and watched as Azriel slowly fell into a deep sleep for the first time in nine days.

______________

Author's note:

A woman covered in the blood of her enemies is *chef's kisses*

That's it. That's the note.

#azriel x reader #azriel x y/n #azriel x rhysand's sister #rhysand's sister #acotar fanfiction #azriel shadowsinger #inner circle x reader #the inner circle #azriel x you #azriel #shadowsinger x reader #feyre archeron #rhysand #high lord rhysand #High Lady feyre #cassian #cassian acotar

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xander-wolk · 2 months

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FE Engage redesign series: Alear ❤️🩵

Design notes:

I was the most nervous about redesigning these two..Alear's official design definitely grew on me and ended up being one of my favs in game! But I still think the color combo of reds and blues is quite harsh.. so I tried toning it down with less of those as accent colors

I referenced Lumera's dragon form and gave them a bit of armor made from her scales. I really like the idea of Lumera sacrificing parts of her physical body to protect her child 🩵

For the hair I made it so just the underlayer (or inside) of their hair is red. Together with the inside of the cape, it show how they're precieved as a devine dragon on the outside, but have fell dragon blood inside.

Oh! Also, I took inspiration for their silhouette from both Marth and Corrin; especially in the sleeves (Corrin) and tunic (Marth)

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whereonceiwasfire · 4 months

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If you're game to write a cheese melt (Vlad & Dani father-daughter dynamic) ficlet, I'd love to read one. If not, that's cool :)

*vibrating with excitement* My friend. Your cheese melt art has been living rent free in my head for WEEKS. It's my sincerest pleasure to write a ficlet for this. I hope it's okay that it's an outsider POV, I just had an idea and my brain went brrrrrrr LOL

May I offer you a dysfunctional parent-teacher interview?

Parent-teacher interviews are always a nightmare, but there's one in particular that’s making Amity Middle School’s beloved Ms. Burnell sweat through her shirt. As the time slot nears, her gaze keeps flickering to the clock, her classroom door, back to her nervously interlaced fingers on the desktop.

It’s going to be fine. Perfectly fine.

“This one! Over here! Dad! This is my class!” The excited words, shouted in the syrupy sweet voice of a little girl, sets every nerve on edge, Ms. Burnell’s heart plummeting straight into the pit of her stomach.

Oh lord. Maybe it’s not going to be fine.

Her student comes bounding into the classroom, eyes bright and excited, oversized blue sweater sleeves slipping over her hands, even as she gestures emphatically for her father to follow. Black hair spills out of her ponytail, whipping across her face as she throws herself into a desk across from Ms. Burnell’s with a bright smile.

Her father, on the other hand…

The heel of his expensive Italian loafers strike against the linoleum as the man stops at the threshold of the classroom, cool gaze doing an assessing sweep of the space, expression crinkling in distaste as it does. He doesn’t say a single word, doesn’t make any move to actually step inside the classroom.

Ms. Burnell is the one who clears her throat, pushing to an awkward stand as she extends a hand out to the man.

“Hello, Mr. Masters. Thank you for making the time to come discuss your daughter’s education. I know you’re very busy.”

The man’s eyes slip to her outstretched palm, and for a motifying second, she doesn’t think he’s going to take it. When he finally does, he just gives a brief, cursory shake before swiping his palm off on his suit jacket and striding past her toward his daughter.

Ms. Burnell’s face is all kinds of warm, chest tight with embarassment as she fumbles back to her desk, trying to wrestle herself back into some kind of composure. Still, she barely looks up as she pulls out a folder with Danielle Masters scrawled across the tab.

“Dad! Dad! That one’s mine! Do you see it? Do you like it?” Danielle calls proudly, tugging on her father’s suit sleeve and pointing toward the paintings that are spread out beneath the windows to dry, paper wavy and crinkled.

“Oh, er. That’s actually a good place for us to start,” Ms. Burnell cuts in apologetically.

Mr. Masters gaze snaps from where he’d been examining his daughter’s project, over to her, brows dropped low.

“Why? Is there a problem with my daughter’s work?” The question is sharp, accusatory, and she’s pretty sure her soul shrivels up a little bit at the unguarded disdain in the man’s eyes.

Swallowing hard, sweat beading against the back of her neck, Ms. Burnell resists the urge to immediately take it back. Surely he can see the problem with the piece—isn’t going to make her say it?

It's too scary.

When his challenging gaze doesn’t waver, she forces the words out.

“Uhm. Well. It’s just. Not quite. Appropriate for a sixth grade class?” It pitches up into a question as she gestures vaguely toward Dani’s painting.

It’s a bit sloppy, the layers of paint caked upon each other, the lines hasty and uneven, but the scene itself is clear enough—a little, smiling, white-haired girl in the shadow of some kind of hulking creature, its skin blue, eyes red, sharp fangs bared as its cape flares out to take up the rest of the page.

Ms. Burnell almost set up an appointment for Danielle with the school counselor when she saw it, wondering if Dani felt like she was the little girl, trapped amongst nightmares and “monsters.” She decided against it for the time being, until she could speak with the girl’s father, but that’s proving rather unhelpful so far if the contemptuous way the man is looking at her is any indication.

“Did Danielle complete the assignment?” he asks finally.

“Uhm. Yes.”

“And adhere to the grading criteria?”

“Sh-she did,” Ms. Burnell answers reluctantly.

“Then I don’t see the problem,” he answers, finality in the words as his gaze turns to his daughter. He takes a much softer tone with her, brushing the disorderly strands of hair off her face, an absent domesticity in the way he straightens the ponytail gone lopsided. “I think you did a lovely job, dear.”

“Thank you! I used Alizarin Crimson,” she answers proudly, hair flopping right back into her eyes.

“Excellent choice.”

“Uhm. Well, there’s also the matter of Danielle’s conduct,” Ms. Burnell cuts in.

The man lets out an irritated sigh, arms crossing over his chest as he leans back against one of the desks, one ankle crossed over the other, unimpressed gaze finding Ms. Burnell once more.

“What?” he says, like it’s an inconvenience.

She swallows hard. “She’s been…uhm. Not getting along with some of the other girls.”

“That is so unfair, Mackenzie started it!” Danielle shouts abruptly, popping up to her knees on her chair, palms slapping down against the desktop.

“Well that’s not what Mack—”

The girl keeps going, cutting Ms. Burnell off.

“She said the only reason Eli agreed to play with me at recess was because Joshua dared him too, and I said nuh unh and she said yuh hunh, and I asked how she knew that, and she couldn’t even prove it, it was so obvious she was making it up!”

“Mackenzie told me that you said some pretty unkind words to her, Danielle.”

“Barely! I just said it was a bad look for her to be so jealous of me and just because she looks like she fished her outfit from the same trash bin she got her personality from isn’t any reason to be a jerk.”

Her father’s expression twists into a sharp smirk, amusement lighting his blue eyes, and Ms. Burnell thinks she’s starting to get a better sense of why Danielle is proving to be one of the most challenging students in her class this year.

“We treat people with kindness and respect in this classroom, Dani. Do you think what you said to Mackenzie was kind and respectful?”

“Well…” Dani’s gaze drops, expression pinching in thought, and Ms. Burnell thinks she might actually be getting through to her.

“It doesn’t sound as though this other girl was treating Danielle with kindness and respect,” Mr. Masters answers, the words coming out with a mocking turn, like he finds the concepts incidental at best.

“That’s true. She did start it,” Dani reasserts, turning her gaze up to her dad.

“I’ve spoken to Mackenzie about her part in everything,” Ms. Burnell answers tightly. “But we’re here to talk about Danielle’s conduct. That’s not the only incident of its kind that’s occurred this year and—”

“You know, it sounds to me as though Danielle’s doing just fine,” Mr. Masters says, pushing up to a proper stand, tugging the bottom of his sleeves and smoothing the dark, wrinkleless fabric.

“But—”

“Did she make this girl cry?”

“Well. No, but—”

“And how are my daughter’s academics?” he asks, gaze fixed on hers, sending a chill creeping down her spine.

“Fine, but—”

“Has she gotten into a physical altercation with anyone?”

“Not exactly, but—”

“Started any fires?” he asks, sarcasm and derision dripping from the words.

“No, she hasn’t started any fires.”

“Then I believe this meeting is finished. Thank you for your time, Ms…”

“Burnell,” she answers weakly.

“Thank you for your time, Ms. Burnell. Danielle, are you ready to go?”

“Yup!” She pops up to an enthusiastic stand, rushing over to the windows to snatch up her painting, twisting it toward Ms. Burnell. “Can I take this home?”

She gives a heavy sigh, massaging her temples with her fingertips. “Sure, Dani. That's fine.”

“Thanks, Ms. B!” As the girl traipses after her dad, a bounce in her step, horrifying painting swinging at her side, Ms. Burnell can hear the girl still chattering away, even as they pass out of her classroom, voices growing distant. “Do you think I should have made Mackenzie cry?” she asks.

Ms. Burnell is glad she can’t hear the man’s response—she doesn’t even want to know his answer.

#dp ficlet #danny phantom ficlet #cheese melt #danielle phantom #vlad masters #outsider POV #thanks for the ask!#liliande-comics

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nerdranttheories · 9 months

Text

Okay I’m going to geek out about Toshinori’s costume designs because I’m an English major and analyzing tiny details in text is what we do and also I love??? The designs! And each one tells us so much about All Might and his focus during each costume.

Costume 1 (Young Might):

So first off, despite young All Might’s longtime dream of being a hero, his suit is mostly black. A stark difference from comics books and his later self which tend to be bright primary colors. The few dashes of primary colors he has are desaturated, even in the second instance where we see this costume. This would have likely been the only costume Toshinori designed himself, as David became his designer in college.

Obviously, others have pointed out the similarities to Nana’s suit, just like how Izuku copied AM’s, so I don’t think it will be necessary for me to point that out. But this suit is also very practical. Something the flashy All Might isn’t really known for, but let me point the details out. He has boots, gauntlets, as well as what appears to be protection for his upper torso, and even for his neck. A decent balance between more protection and more weight, which would slow a hero down. Also, unlike Nana’s suit, his extends completely down the arms. The only skin surface available is that of his hands, something that stays the same through all of his costumes and as such, must be something he personally insists on. In media, gloves often represent someone with secrets, or a guarded personality. All Might not wearing gloves shows how open he is, not just with his friends but strangers too. And it’s humble, too. It’s not an unfeeling, covered hand extending to you when you’re in danger, it’s the bare-handed reach of a friend, and I fully believe that’s why Toshi goes without gloves. Also it’s possibly a sensory thing for him as well, which goes with my canon-supported theory that this man has ADHD, but that’s a nerd rant for another time.

The colors are important because while obviously they mimic Nana, you can practically see through the color choice that Toshinori is not in his right mindset here. While later the oversaturation of colors serves to show how his own heroism has made him into something Else, and outside of his own head, leaving the man inside to shrivel away, these muted colors show that Toshinori has not yet blossomed. Also in the brief scenes we see of him when he is younger, Toshinori is very solemn. The one scene we get of him smiling when he’s young is when Izuku is comparing them at the same age, and even then, it’s more of a smirk as opposed to the signature All Might grin we all know and love. Black also is just a reasonable color for something like crime-fighting. Black shows the least grime/dirt, so he could reasonably spend more hours out in this costume without having to come home and wash it/trade it out. (Which is something that I love that this series includes, by the way!)

Costume 2-ish:

Toshinori adds some shoulder pads for the fight with AFO, probably expecting to stand side-by-side with his mentor. I could give a more full-body image but this is really the only difference I could pick out.

Costume 3 (College Might):

This is the first costume of All Might’s that is designed by David Shield.

First off, props to David. He’s an awesome designer. He not only made a new design, but incorporated several choices from AM’s previous suit, and definitely conferred a lot with Toshi on how he wanted his suit to look while still ensuring its functionality.

Black is traded for a dark, unsaturated blue, giving AM a more peaceful look, as navy blue is considered to be a calming color. (Even Endeavor wears it! But maybe copying AM and not wearing it for the same purposes?) All Might’s cape is also changed from red to blue, taking away the dark look and making it the color of the sky, again adding to that Symbol of Peace idea that is Toshinori’s dream. The gauntlets and boots remain, but the chest-piece has been removed, offering up more mobility. The yellow of his belt has been brightened, and added in place of the blues on his gauntlets and boots, giving him an overall more friendly look as opposed to the more subdued one he had before with the blue accents. The red has been removed as well, and by moving it to his body, it gives the impression of veins and the blood that is pumping away through the heart of this hero, which is fantastic for someone who cares as much as Toshinori does. White was also added vertically on the sides of the suit, thinning out the very intimidating form of Toshi and making him more approachable, while adding a more pure look to his overall form. This appears to be in part, a stylistic choice on David’s end that follows through to the other suits, though it’s hard to know if it remains on the Bronze Age Suit as well.

Overall the brighter colors telegraph that Toshinori is doing much better mentally at this point. He now has A Friend, and for the time being, is safer from the troubles at home, until he has to return.

Costume 4 (Bronze Age):

We don’t even get a full look at this suit, indicating that its time in use was likely short-lived. As I’ve seen others suggest, it seems very likely that when All Might returned to Japan, he went straight down to business and began doing vigilante work as he tried to track down AFO. However, possibly due to a combination of not finding him and All Might’s rising popularity, he seems to abandon this track and move on to a different form of heroism, which his suit symbolizes. I’ll briefly point out that Toshinori returns to the primarily black suit he had as a teenager, as well as the shadows of his face that add to the idea that as soon as he got back to Japan, he reverted to the mindset he had when he left.

Costume 5 (Silver Age):

This suit indicates to me that this period was All Might’s prime, despite his later suit being considered the Golden Age of All Might. (And even though it’s my least-favorite design.) He has the typical cape of a hero, and the bright colors are now fully of typical comic book style. The circular design on his chest indicates a target, but with being cast in white and surrounded in red, gives the impression that he himself is not the target, but the villainy around him is. Or at least, that is likely the thought process for this design. Other than the dashes of white here and there, the colors are very solid, possibly indicating a more stable, but single-minded train of thought, something AM is notorious for. No offense to Dr. Shield, but I would have mixed the colors better in here, and the cape connection is too bulky for someone who’s as jacked in the shoulders as Toshinori is. Alas, I am not the designer. We shall move on.

Costume 6 (Golden Age):

I love this suit. Plenty of analysis has been done on it already, but I think it’s a fantastic representation of how Toshinori’s been crushed under the very image he had originally wanted to create. His shadows are darkest and most severe here, reminiscent of how body-builders dehydrate themselves to get the best appearance of their musculature. His posing is also more inward, as opposed to the silver age, with the angles of his elbows being less directly out and more in, and instead of appearing confident, it’s more of how a cat puffs out its hair to make itself appear larger when it’s scared. I had a long bit to go with this but it was eaten by the Tumblr gremlins. Basically I believe this suit was made post AFO-battle. All Might is declaring he’s not finished yet, all while knowing his time is running out. This suit has several callbacks to the original suit David designed for him, with the navy, though more saturated base and the red lines running throughout the form, though the gauntlets and boots from before have been integrated into the suit itself. This could reflect David’s mindset as well, as he reminisces about the days when Toshinori was healthy and happy, when now Toshinori’s health is rapidly fading.

Anyway, here’s my costume analysis! I think it adds a little more insight to Toshinori’s mental state and situations in the years outside of the show as well as in them, and I hope you enjoyed this read! I’d love to hear other ideas too, if anyone has them!

#all might #yagi toshinori #character analysis #bnha headcannons #mha headcanons #costume analysis #character design analysis #nerd ramblings #my post

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elirastudio · 6 months

Note

I love your art style so much. 😅

Do you have any tips for coloring/shading or just tips to draw bodies (I can't do any without them being weird) ??

Have a nice day, :)

I’m glad sweetie

And of course I can give some tip I use!

I have to say I have many ways of shading and lighting so I will share my usual and then add some new one I have been experimenting

First: don’t do shadow on multiply ,that’s for later, shadows and lights are made on a mask layer and they are not just the darker shade of the colors, but a different color entirely

Same with lighting.

Some colors are easier than others for me tbh, like I love shading red and purple but blue not that much.

I also usually put blue everywhere cuz it looks pretty but it’s on me honestly

(Obviously I decrease the opacity of some layers, there is not really a rule, I just go as I like)

If it’s a style choice I also do shadow in light blue multiply, but just if I am in a rush or working with flat colors

Second: choose how you want to smooth your shading and light.

Over the years I picked up my own way to do it but lately I have been a little experimenting.

Anyway i always start of with defining shadows then get to smoothing, it’s tempting but I don’t advise the use of the airbrush, just use it for lighting maybe.

( I want to be clear. This is my style, other artist may say the contrary)

I am one of those artists that clears the shadows from the inside to the most exterior part

Just how you can see here.

All the cleaning is made with a soft brush cuz it doesn’t have to be too definite.

In my latest comic tho the shooting was made the other way around with a water color brush to give this kind of 3d effect.

You essentially have to make some tests and find the one that you prefer.

Third: apply a layer of shadow in multiply to give more volume .

Usually when the work is done I add another layer of multiplied shadows that won’t be smoothed, just in the places that would cast a neat shadow, like a cape on the body, some fabric folds and some body shadows.

It really make things pop.

Four: don’t exaggerate, simpler is better, in both shadows and lighting, experiment , find your way but don’t rush , there is no need to exaggerate

Five: the subject of your drawing should be affected by the atmosphere.

For example if it’s night you can put a blue multiply layer over and erase where the soft light is, or don’t be afraid of adding some gradients of light is it’s a bright day outside, make the character be a part of the backgrounds

Six: you can color your lineart, it make the drawing very fine

That’s it mostly, I mostly go on the flow and I always test and try new stuff and you should try too to find you preferred way to do this stuff.

I want to say again that THIS is MY WAY of doing stuff, you can totally disagree and have your own way, I hope this way useful

#art #comics #ask #colors #artwork

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cauli-flawa · 1 year

Text

Kirby Color Theory

Buckle up, because this may be a long one:

This theory mainly concerns the roles of red and blue in the Kirby universe.

Red is death,

and blue is life.

Red is the corruption of the soul,

but blue is the purity that remains inside.

Red is possession,

but blue is lucidity.

Red is darkness,

and blue is light.

But not all things conform to this system. Maybe they aren’t a part of it altogether. Or maybe they’re stuck in between.

Purple is instability. The soul isn’t fully “good” nor “evil.”

But, of course, it can reach a resolution. It can find a place in the system where it aligns.

...or it could stay as a mishmash of red and blue forever.

White is another curious case.

White is also a non-conforming color, but not in the same way as purple. While purple is instability, white is indecision. The soul’s alignment is undeveloped and must find a place to belong.

Dark blue is a subset of regular blue. Dark blue represents detachment from evil.

The proportions of good and evil depend on the shade. A near-black blue is still an evil color - but something must be holding that soul back from being fully invested in its alignment.

Still there? Okay. More color theory.

Green can mean forgiveness. A soul seeking its own resolution outside of the red-blue scale.

Green could also mean a passive opposition to a soul’s alignment. A soul has been forced into an alignment, but their true beliefs lie elsewhere.

Possession does not count, since that would be an active resistance against the forced alignment. Possessed individuals carry the alignment of someone else, not themselves.

But another thing that green represents is regret.

It is the regret for past actions, but it is also the light at the end of the tunnel.

Yellow and gold represent control.

Galaxia, despite its red gemstone, can be controlled as a force of good.

But the Master Crown IS the controller, using those with evil hearts as its puppet.

Yellow can also mean change - specifically, a change in one’s alignment.

Yellow is the color of evil-to-good, as seen with Dedede’s robes and Taranza’s cape.

But gold is the color of good-to-evil, and it’s almost always a forced, physical change. Essentially, it’s a punishment. It is justice served to the wicked.

Gold seems to manifest itself physically in those that are corrupted by it.

Like Sectonia’s wings,

the Master Crown’s “talons,”

and Marx’s wings (though it’s unknown whether they came from Nova or not...).

Even Nightmare has his necklace and crown.

And the hilt of Morpho Knight’s sword (as well as the particles of their butterfly form) is yellow/gold.

And the blade is red. And it has two blue gems on it.

One is a darker blue, while the other is a lighter blue-green.

It basically combines all of the alignment colors into one object!

in conclusion

#kirby #rambling #kirby theory #morpho knight #meta knight #magolor #marx kirby #elfilin #nightmare kirby

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sillyvampireboi · 1 month

Text

Nectar from the giving hands

Summary: Renfield being hand fed and praised finally.

Contents: renfield x reader, reader is renfield’s new vampire master, gender neutral reader, he/him pronounces for reader, writing exercise

Nsfw: dom/sub, master/slave, top!reader, sub renfield, praise kink, neck fetish, no intercourse, blood kink, blood drinking, gentle dom, hand feeding

a/n: first Renfield smutty fic I’ve written whehe! Would love to know what you guys think ~ Also I might or might not write a second part of this one shot *wink wink*

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And his lips met with the ice cold hands, drinking the thick, dark liquid from them. He savored every drop, as it was honey falling from the honeycomb.

It was an electrifying site, seeing the master and his servant in front of the huge fireplace. The sky wore her dark cape over her shoulders outside, wearing her millions of star-jewels on her chest. The moon as her tiara was sitting on her head, illuminating the outside world in a dim yellow light. A quiet stillness rested on that cape coverd day, as the tiara’s light faintly shone through the huge windows of our scene. It was the biggest room of a small mansion in a village, which was in a far secluded area. It was 4 hours away from any form of civilization, surrounded by huge forests and pretty fields.

It was your idea to settle down in a quiet place after centuries of aimlessly roaming in the wide world, and your new familiar more than gladly complied. You learned about his service of Dracula, his fall and the servant’s deep hidden desires and dreams quite fast. He was like an open book in front you, you just had to turn the beautifully written pages and read.

Your approach -you couldn’t quite place the term - as you called it, was different from Dracula’s and other ancient vampires regarding the treatment of their familiars. You despised the handling of ‘inferiors’ even back in the 16th century and you didn’t start to like it now. It was cruel if anything in your eyes. So when you met Renfield and saw what damage serving Dracula across hundreds of years did to him, you swore to care about him the way he deserved. You picked up quickly, that praise, in any amount or form, has a peculiar effect on him.

That was one of the reasons you two were in the biggest room of your mansion, in front of the warm fireplace. You were sitting in the huge, comfortable armchair which was pulled next to the heat so the fire was on your left. And in front of you, between your legs was Renfield on his knees, looking as beautiful as ever drinking from your hands.

Robert Montague Renfield. A handsome man, whose youth has been locked between time, forever frozen in the garden of eternity. His pale cheeks will never lose the faint blush they possess, nor the twinkling will never fade from the beautiful ocean-blue eyes, nor the lips will lose their full redness. His soul has been cracked and crushed countless times during his endless life, yet his golden heart still beats fully between the cages of his chest. Such unearthly beauty inside and out, and Dracula dared to toy with him! The thought left the flames of fury traveling through your dead body every time.

You gently caressed the top of his night-dark hair with your free hand, as you reached the other towards him, replacing the already drank blood. He licked hungrily, slurping the drops that started escaping from your fingers first, cleaning them clean with his tongue.

“That’s it, that’s my good boy. You were hungry weren’t you?” - your quiet voice floated into the room, carrying gentleness and unheard praises.

He was already fidgeting awkwardly since the beginning of the night, hearing your calm voice addressed to him. Since you started the gentle caress on his head, it left pink flowers to form in his cheeks. Now however, hearing the way you called him, the flowers started to bloom and colour his usually pale skin.

“Yes, master.” - he said quietly, suddenly too shy to look up at you.

Robert Montague Renfield.

Always eager to please and serve,

while not expecting anything in return.

So a praise on his work,

leaves him in shock,

blushing and not knowing how to respond.

You adorable little man, tonight I’ll shower you in the admiration you deserve. You thought, as you let your index and middle finger sink into the warm liquid. As you lifted your arm, the blood started to form little vein-like rivers down your straight fingers, along your palm. Renfield looked mesmerized, mouth slightly open and staring at your red covered fingers. His blue irises followed the now formed little veins along the curves of your hand, drinking in their sight. Since you didn’t move, he hesitantly glanced up at you.

“Yes? What’s the problem, Renfield?”

“N-nothing master! I’m sorry!” - shit, you didn’t want to freak him out. Must be more careful with the teasing, you concluded.

His elegant eyebrows frowned in anxious knots, as he tried to curl as small as his tall figure let him.

“You did nothing wrong Robert.” - at the sound of his first name, his head turned towards you, eyes shining with a warm light. You called him Robert! Called him by his first name! And how sweet his name rolled on your tongue, as a peaceful river flowing on rocks. - “ You were staring at my hand, you wanted to do something but hesitated. What did you want to do?”

“I-I just.. I wa-... I don’t know, master.”

“I know when you are lying Robert. Tell me, my little bug. I’m not angry that you want something.” - oh that saccharine voice directed to him again. How he adored everything about you! From your dark, malicious eyes that carried care, to your cold embrace which still felt warm somehow. He bore his baby blue eyes into yours and whispered in a small but hopeful trusting voice - “I .. wanted to-to taste.”

Trusting voice, your mind chirped as your fingers were still frozen in mid air. You knew how difficult it was for Renfield to bond with someone on a deep level, especially trusting, and yet here he was admitting the desire of his heart, looking up at you, waiting.

“You’ve been a very good boy, Robert. And good boys get what they want.” - you purred as you moved your hand to be in front of his face. Ah, how pretty he looked between your legs, his pale skin lighted by his own excitement and the heat from the fireplace. Golden and orange flames framed his figure from the left side, his night-dark hair mirroring their illuminations while his striking blue eyes gleamed.

Your words again! They patted his heart and pulled him closer to you, hugging him warmly. The flames from the fire started to appear on his cheeks as well, spreading across his face and neck. He stole a careful look towards you, silently asking for permission. The second you nodded your approval, his tongue embraced your fingers. He licked along your slender fingers, tasting the blood, not letting any drop escape, then he worked his lips on the side of your palm, collecting and devouring the veins formed there. The more he licked, the more his face started to bear a similar shade of the thick liquid. His breath started to become haggard, and his tongue technique sloppysh.

“That’s my good little Robert, cleaning my hand and not letting the blood go to waste.” - you continued the rain of your praises, while you began caressing his hair. He couldn’t stop the whimper breaking out from the back of his throat, as you carried on with the fondling.

Greedily he took your fingers fully in his mouth, closing them between the slick walls of his chops. He slurped and stroked and tasted, his tongue tangling around both. It didn’t take much time for his head to start bobbing up and down, moaning around your slender fingers and whining for more friction.

He looked so disheveled and pathetic yet extremely lovely. Saliva started dropping from between his pink lips, flowing down his chin and jaw mixing with blood drops there. What a beautiful painting it was on his neck! Colours blending with heated skin and shiny drool, contouring his Adam’s apple and the relentlessly working muscles. He had a pretty neck, slender and pale, showing his purple arteries pulsating under pregamen skin, bearing white marks of old bites.

He appeared to be at peace, safe in the garden of your blood-red roses, a heavenly light shining through him. The tent in his trousers left a vet river down his thighs, smearing it all over his clothes.

You grabbed his inky hair, pulling his head back gently from your fingers. The moan that escaped his lips was so loud that the tiara wearing night sky stopped for a moment to listen.

“You are so good at obeying my orders Robert. I’m so lucky to have you. I know everyone wants a good little servant like you.” - you leaned down to whisper it into his ears and you trailed your cold fingers along the line of them.

He whined adorably while he laid his head on his left thigh, exhausted but blissful after the events of the night. His twinkling, baby-blue irises collided with your dark ones, flaming in the sizzling light of the flames. You read nothing but love in them, being completely open, builded walls long forgotten.

“Thank you master.” - he whispered with a hoarse but happy voice.

You continued patting his black locks, while the flowers of blushes overblownd, leaving their seeds for the future and his breath calmed down. He started to sink into a tranquil dream, pulling his lips into a soft smile. He looked so serene there, so you didn’t stir, just let him sleep while you kept patting his little head and whispering praises over him. It was still a few hours before sunrise, so you stayed there waiting over his dreams.

As the night sky started to take off her star-jewels and her moon-tiara, you lifted the dreaming man into your soft armchair without waking him. You covered him with a warm blanket and left a quill written note for him to find in the morning.

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Taglist: @unholy-gigi

(Let me know if you would like to be tagged :D)

#renfield my beloved #r m renfield #my writings #renfield #renfield 2023 #renfield movie #renfield fic #renfield fanfiction #rm renfield #renfield x reader #robert montague renfield #renfield x reader smut #praise k!nk #hand feeding #dom/sub #master/slave #blood k!nk #blood kink #writing exercise

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rukia-writes · 1 year

Text

Zeus x (fem) reader

A/N: Yes, I know we have an event but I wanted to write this while I had the inspiration for it. It was originally going to be about the first half of the story but i had another idea to add to it.

“Next!”

Mount Olympus was a buzz as it seemed like thousands were outside waiting to be seen for a position that was quite promising, baby sitting Zeus’ children. While it seemed like a mundane task the rewards were very promising, paid in gold every day, free meals and if need be a room at the palace all for them.

Zeus had just been crowned king of the cosmos and didn’t have time for babysitting, Athena didn’t count as she was already a full grown adult. A young Zeus had grown tired after quickly dismissing many candidates as they what Zeus described as,

“Too uptight.”

“Too greedy.”

“Too old.”

“Too young.”

“…I’m looking for a woman really.”

Zeus was very picky about who he wanted and so far no one seemed to meet the criteria, soon the sun had set and Zeus felt like he was no closer to getting someone for the job. However, the door opened and in walked a woman that seemed to check all of his boxes of he wanted.

“Hello, I’m here for the baby sitting-“

“You’re hired!”

The woman was perplexed as she wasn’t expecting answer today, and definitely wasn’t expecting Zeus to look her up and down.

“Um, aren’t you’d supposed to ask a few questions?”

“Huh? Oh, right. Sit down.”

Zeus gently pushed the woman down on a sofa with Zeus sitting across from her with a wide tooth grin. Zeus asked her name and when she told him Zeus proudly announced who he was and told her about the job.

“So, are you single?”

“…Yes, I am single.”

“Oh good, I ask that because my kids are very demanding and sometimes you may have to stay the night here. Is that a problem?”

“No, I’m fine with that.”

“Great! I’ll introduce you to the children!”

Zeus eagerly showed (Name) around the palace, from the many kitchens to the many bedrooms. Even hinting she could visit him anytime, if he was there. Finally, Zeus opened a rather large door with ease and inside were three children and in the middle was was a baby bassinet.

“Evening brats! I finally found you guys a baby sitter, introduce yourselves.”

“I’m Ares! Hi!”

Looking down, (Name) saw a small child with blonde hair and blue eyes with a small dimple in his chin. (Name) noted the bright smile he had and introduced herself as well, his small red cape was adorable too. Soon after, Apollo introduce himself kindly scooting a young Ares out the way making Ares pout.

“I’m Hermes! It’s nice to meet you.”

Everyone looked at the baby bassinet to see a infant Hermes sitting up, everyone seemed happy that Hermes introduced himself while (Name) found it weird that a baby was talking intelligently. Zeus added in, that Hermes was remarkably bright for his age and that he would also be the most trouble.

As time passed, (Name) became close with Zeus and his children as she watched them day by day. Ares liked to practice fight most days while Apollo liked to play his lyre with Hermes, and if Hermes was busy he liked to go hunting with his sister, Artemis. Zeus, was right, Hermes was the most trouble out of all Zeus’ trouble as he was everywhere.

Most infants couldn’t crawl, this wasn’t the case with Hermes as he was able to not only walk but run and he didn’t like to be in one place long. However, he would always arrive when (Name) called for him. Zeus was no where to be found, what he was doing (Name) wasn’t too sure.

Most mornings when (Name) slept over the previous night the children would wake her up, Hermes especially as his little hands would tap (Name) on her forehead. Some days, (Name) was able to get all the children into one place by taking them on trips throughout Valhalla. The bonding time was necessary for the children as they had fun throughout the day, however none of them knew it but Zeus was close by.

One day, (Name) couldn’t find Ares.

Panicking, (Name) looked everywhere in the palace for him. From the kitchen to the many great rooms they had with a sleeping baby Hermes strapped tightly to her chest, not phased by (Name)’s constant moving. Eventually, (Name) found him outside in the corner of the courtyard crying hunched over with his knees to his chest. Worried, (Name) comforted the young god while asking “What happened?”

(Name) tried to make out what he was saying as he sobbed between his sentences, piecing together that Ares had actually scraped his left knee and was bleeding a bit. Picking Ares up and carrying him in her arms, Ares asked (Name) not to tell his father as he didn’t want to seem weak.

Of course, (Name) promised Ares she wouldn’t tell but also told him that it was fine for boys to cry and that he wasn’t weak for crying. Comforted, Ares smiled while sniffling and told (Name) thank you. While carrying Zeus’ children in her arms, Zeus was nearby seeing the whole exchange finding it rather adorable as he had heart in his eyes.

His heart aflame.

“But it’s a great idea!”

“Absolutely not, (Name).”

While Zeus’ throne room (Name) had proposed the idea of having a little “play” of sorts, involving all Zeus’ brothers. Zeus immediately threw out the idea as he couldn’t see his brothers doing something so childish, even if it was for the kids.

“You should be more involved with your children, Zeus. It would make us both happy.”

Grumbling, Zeus knew (Name) was right and so he contacted his brothers.

“Well, I like it.”

A few days later all four brothers managed to make it Zeus’ palace, Hades found the idea cute, Poseidon had no comment, Adamas hated it and Zeus just wanted to see how this play out.

“So, you’ll do it?”

“Why do I have to be the troll? Tell your baby sitter I’m not doing this!”

“That’s what you’re upset about, Adamas?”

Hades asked as he found Adamas mad about his part and not the play in itself. Hades agreed to do it, which made the two brothers join in, Zeus was surprised they agreed to it but still he agreed to go along with it.

So, later that night just before all the children went to bed the four brothers agreed to do a play on a famous story that seemed to resonate with young gods. Hermes sat on (Name)’s lap with a smile on his face as Ares, Artemis,Apollo happily sat on the bottom in a chair of their own as their uncles performed their skit.

"Who's that tripping over my bridge?"

Adamas angrily asked as he was dressed in a troll costume, (Name) thought he played his part well and so did Hermes and Apollo as they made “ooo” noise with little smiles on their faces.

"Oh, it is only I, the tiniest Billy Goat Gruff , and I'm going up to the hillside to make myself fat.”

Hades, while it was true he was the oldest of the brothers and should have went last there was a build up at the end and so Hades agreed to go first. Proceeding with the story with Hades telling Adamas to wait for the other goat to arrive while hiding behind the theatre curtain, then it was Poseidon’s turn.

“And just who's that tripping over my bridge?"

"… the second Billy Goat Gruff , and I'm going up to the hillside to make myself fat.”

Poseidon was perfect but not as energetic as Hades which the kids noticed but they still liked his performance anyways, Proceeding with the story Poseidon told Adamas to wait for the last goat to come by not caring that he was supposed to stay in place until Adamas finished his line as he too hide behind the curtain with Hades.

It didn’t matter, as Zeus appeared making the kids cheer for their father.

“And so where your big brother.”

“There isn’t any hooves bigger than me, and I’m going to eat that grass.”

(Name) was a bit taken back as the two lines weren’t in the skit that she wrote down, the two were definitely improvising.

“Not if I eat you first!”

“Well, come and get it bitch.”

The kids all “ooo” with Hermes adding in, “He called you a bitch.” Mortified (Name) really didn’t approve of the improvisation but it was too late as the two had already charged at each other. Only for things to get worse as Zeus landed the punch on Adamas’ face, unfortunately Zeus thought he had punched Adamas rather soft only for Adamas to go through the roof and into the night sky with a twinkle sound echoing.

“Ooops.”

Zeus whispered as he didn’t intend to send his brother flying, the kids however loved it as they clapped their hands and cheered. Which Zeus played up to as the children crowded around him, Hades wondered if Adamas was okay as Poseidon simply asked (Name) where she wanted the costumes to go. Shocked (Name) simply told Poseidon where to put the costume, and from that day forward she never asked the Zeus or his brothers to perform a skit again.

Adamas, was found and was unhurt. However, Adamas was angrier at Zeus for an entire decade but Zeus would always say it was for the kids and they needed some action. Zeus apologized to (Name) actually to (Name) rather than his brother, however (Name) didnt accept it and told him to apologize to his brother.

Which Zeus did.

As the years passed, the children grew into their own. Each with their different personalities and yet all seemed to always cherish their baby sitter. The time was coming for (Name) to retire, which was a problem for Zeus as he wanted (Name) to stick around.

Fate could be funny and cruel.

“She did what?!”

“Hera, has seemed to cast down her baby to earth.”

Hermes, now a fully grown adult informed Zeus on what happened. Zeus, was surprised she did that and was informed that she did so because the baby had a deformity. Thinking to himself, Zeus didn’t know what to do about the situation until Hermes suggested that (Name) could take care of the baby and raise the baby in secrecy.

As a matter of fact, that is what happened.

Zeus and (Name) traveled to earth together, finding the baby crying and alone (Name) happily agreed to raise the baby. Zeus found the timing perfect, as he was able to spend more time with (Name) as he took the two back to Valhalla and helped to raise the baby in secrecy.

Whenever, Zeus visited Hephaestus always had a new invention. Two self moving stones statues that guarded the entrance and several golden maidens that served (Name) and helped him sometimes. Again, Zeus checked on how everything was going and while he was there he would give (Name) compliments and money for anything they needed for taking care of Hephaestus.

Again, Hephaestus grew up and was eventually granted access to mount Olympus. Zeus, found the event of Hera being tied up to the golden throne entertaining by Hephaestus but he needed (Name) to stay and so he asked (Name) to stay on Mount Olympus as he used Hephaestus as an excuse for (Name) to stay as Hephaestus didn’t accept Hera as his mother and that told everyone, when they asked, that (Name) was his mother and that Zeus was his father.

Zeus added in that he didn’t want to separate the two, but in truth he didn’t want (Name) to part from him. (Name) agreed to stay, making Zeus happy as he hugged her tightly and kissed her forehead and to make things even sweeter Zeus’ children also considered (Name) their mother, Whether (Name) liked it or not and would defend her from any harm.

The unspoken queen of the heavens.

🎊Rukia-Writes🎊

#shuumatsu no valkyrie x reader #Zeus x reader #ror x reader #snv x reader #record of ragnarok x reader

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beansidhebumbling · 6 months

Note

Wait I have another one:

Ship of your choice but Person A accidentally seals the mate bond with Person B after doing body shots and sucking a lime out of their mouth. 🙂

The Chemistry of Regret

Okay I had to do college AU Rhysta for this. Hope you like!! This got out of control.

Also the first hands then voice structure is inspired by a line in the fabulous @bittermuire's The Cape which you can read here. Read it!!

Nesta knows of Rhysand Velaris long before she ever has the dubious pleasure of making his acquaintance.

He haunts the Biochemistry department like a spectre.

His overly styled hair gleaming even in the faded newspaper clipping framed outside Professor Wysten's lab.

His black eyes sparkling in picture after picture on the college's socials. Medals and grants and awards the only weight that anchors the Prince of Oíchad College.

The golden boy of the hallowed halls, gone but not forgotten.

And Nesta, living the cruel life of a fresh PhD student grows to hate that curving smirk of a stranger, his sloping signature on the near-empty bottle of Trypan Blue that Wysten refuses to bin, his crisp embroidered lab coat that lies draped over a chair in the dry lab awaiting the return of its owner.

***

Imitator, the dye taunts each time she stains her cells watching blue seep into their crevices, a damning marker of death.

Imposter, the message Wysten imparts in every gushing compliment he in his absence is bestowed that she in her unfailing presence is never good enough to earn.

Lesser, a voice, that must be his, whispers in her ear as she lies awake and wonders if life should feel easier than this.

***

His return from his year in Paris is anticipated like a public holiday. Outfits planned between centrifuge spins, tables booked at his favourite club.

The days are counted down in blood red Xs on the calendar in the study room and when D-day arrives the entire department leaves in a flurry into the cool chill of a January night.

The building is empty, only she and security remains.

Nesta is eager to take advantage of the free slots on the flow cytometer, normally booked until the wee hours. As the sequins on her dress dance like stars and the machine whirs quietly in the background, she runs her cells and finds solace in solitude.

But her cells are soon studied, peace is temporary and then she's queuing on Court Street to enter the Night Palace.

She can feel the bass in her bones as she enters, the dim lighting making the whirling mass of bodies on the dance floor look like art.

***

She has a plan, stay for a drink, long enough to be seen by the tenured professors, long enough to look like she belongs, long enough that she'll be able to nod and smile at the lunch-time conversation.

Not so long that the loneliness erodes her from the inside out, corroding through tissue and bone.

That is the plan.

But then Gwyn, the pretty lab assistant has Sambuca and Emerie has rum and the strobe lights start looking closer to shooting stars.

With alcohol loosed limbs she remembers how much she likes to dance, how the pain of being seen has never stung when there is a rhythm to movement.

So between shots she moves until she gets lost in the art of writhing bodies.

***

She is on the dance floor, hair loose and glitter trailing from her eyes like tears when she meets him.

First, he is large veined hands tentatively touching her waist, awaiting further permission.

She is Nesta Archeron, made of Sambuca and starlight, so she grinds back onto the stranger, the tall stranger she amends as his body presses against her back.

Then he is voice, rich and smooth, as his lips touch her ear lobe, his clipped accent conjuring schooldays at Eton and summers on yachts.

'You're very beautiful.'

The words hit her like sleet in summer.

How...boring.

She is unimpressed and turns to tell him as such.

She is shocked when finally he is no longer solely hands nor voice but Rhysand Velaris in all his tangible glory.

'You!'

She shouts, struggling to be heard over the pounding music, attempting to create a cavern between them even as the crowd presses in from all sides.

'Me.'

His cocky smile turns into a grimace as he reads the disappointment in her expression.

She does not stay long enough to introduce herself.

Sobriety looms too close for that.

She disappears in the grinding groping bodies until his voice melds with the rising melody.

***

He finds her at the bar.

Of course he does. His ghost has been haunting her for the better part of a year why wouldn't his corporeal form do the same.

'Rhysand Velaris.'

His hand, previously branding its heat on the soft wide curve of her waist, is now outstretched and open.

She extends hers, grasping firmly.

'Nesta Archeron.'

Her smile is a tight thin mimicry of what it should be.

His strong brow raises and his eyes widen.

'You're Nesta Archeron, the new PhD?'

She dips her head ignoring the question, too focused now on arranging her cleavage to attract the bartender.

Rhysand's eyes stay fixed to her face, as she successfully obtains her Tequila shots.

'I've been looking forward to meeting my new lab buddy who has booked every afternoon slot in the wet lab for the next month.'

She feels a grin tug at her lips at his pointed tone.

'You snooze you lose, Velaris.'

And in an impulse she wished she could blame on the undrunk shots before her she snipes,

'If it's a problem get Daddy to build us a new lab.'

His laugh is unexpected and far too enchanting for a handsome face. Because he is handsome, Mother damn him.

'Would you like me then? Because I'm very motivated for you to like me Nesta Archeron.'

He caresses the syllables of her name, his teeth clicking on the t and lingering like he wants to hold the letters a beat too long.

'Why? Because I'm beautiful.'

She scoffs.

His posture stiffens.

'No. Because you're brilliant. From what I've read, from what I've heard.'

A pause.

'Of course, you being beautiful is a welcome addition. Not as beautiful as me though.'

A giggle escapes her because he is ridiculous. This is ridiculous. He isn't allowed to be charming, not when she has decided to hate him.

***

'Let's do shots.'

She gestures clumsily to the glasses almost knocking them in the process.

And because she's lost her mind, for that must be the only reason, she grasps his inner forearm licking the tanned skin, letting her tongue drag lightly along, following a vein towards his elbow, ignoring the electricity that sparks through her body as she does.

He is tense, eyes pools of darkness she could drown in, the leather and chocolate of his cologne muddling her brain.

She salts his arm pushing the slice of lime his way. He obediently inserts it into his mouth, moving like a man dazed, eyes transfixed on her lips.

Like a film reel she sees the next three years play in her head if she carries on with this insanity, awkwardness and avoidance abound.

So why is she compelled to continue this mistake?

***

You'll regret this.

Her brain screams as the Tequila slides a burning fire down her throat.

You'll regret this.

It pleads as she kisses the white crystals from soft skin of his arm, nipping slightly so he moans her name in a way she definitely cannot linger on.

You'll regret this.

It begs as their lips meet in a citrus clash that sets fireworks off behind her eyes. He breaks momentarily to spit out the wedge of lime before returning to capture her lips, kissing her like lonely women dream of, hot and expert and claiming.

***

When she opens her eyes to meet a panting Rhysand, those hands still clutching her like she might mean salvation from an unknown damnation, dark hair tousled from her fingers grasping and tugging mere seconds before.

When he touches his ribs before looking in awe at her, like she is more than her frame can contain.

When he says her name like a prayer, like a curse, and she feels the golden links tying them together in a way science can only vaguely explain, she finds their damnation.

And she knows.

She'll regret this.

#rhysta #nesta #rhysand #college au #acotar #gemwrites #so glad im not in the labs anymore

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sinshinelennypops · 25 days

Text

Jeff the killer x Reader {SFW}

No NSFW this time around, just soft semi fannon fluff involving everyone's favorite greasy white boy teehee. Taking from my Ao3, where the whole booklet can be found here:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/43587606/chapters/109650700

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

"Fucking dammit," you muttered as you shivered under your blanket. It was the beginning of winter and the Slender manor had prepared you for everything except the increasingly cold temperatures. Every winter it was like this but this time it was particularly bad because it had snowed early. You hadn't had a chance to grab a comforter or anything.

What to do, what to do.. You could grab a few more blankets, head downstairs and start a fire in the living room, make yourself a hot drink.. No, none of those would warm you up enough..

You sighed softly and sat up in your bed, grumbling as you pulled your blanket tightly around yourself and headed towards your bedroom door. It was close to 1:00 AM, indicated by the glowing red numbers on your clock. You scrunched your nose and huffed, quietly cracking open your door and peeking outside. No one else, to your knowledge, was awake so that gave you a chance to sneak downstairs without being spotted and interrogated.

The manor is ridiculously quiet and spooky at night. No lights on, no movement, nothing.. Which is why it surprised you to see that the kitchen light was already on when you headed downstairs. You cocked an eyebrow in confusion, hearing a soft humming coming from inside and footsteps. You slowly peeked around the corner and were surprised to see Jeff already in there, making himself a sandwich. He looked a little groggy, and you guess he probably hadn't been able to sleep either.

Jeff was totally unaware of your presence, at least for the moment. He was wearing his hoodie and a pair of sweats, and his hair was a little messy, probably from tossing and turning. His sleep mask was pushed up to his forehead and those icy blue eyes were a little dimmer than usual.

As soon as he finished making his sandwich, you stepped inside and huffed softly. "Couldn't sleep, huh?" you asked softly, startling him just a bit but he recovered quickly. "Ah, fuck, you scared the fuck out of me!" he hissed while eyeing you in annoyance. He clutched his sandwich defensively then smirked slightly, his apprehension fading as soon as he realized who had snuck downstairs with him.

"First night of winter is always a bitch," he said while leaning on the counter, stifling a yawn. "Whatcha up to? Trying to get warm? Came down here to make yourself some tea? Or did you follow me hoping we could hang out~?" he teased, watching your expression change to something a little more flustered. It wasn't really a secret that you had a fat crush on him. "Tch, no, I wanted to warm up! It's cold as hell in my room," you grumbled, crossing your arms and letting your blanket hang from your shoulders like a cape.

"Dunno what to tell ya, sweet thing, but there's not really a good cure for cold like this," Jeff said with a shrug, taking a bite of his sandwich. You pouted slightly, not very pleased by that news but you knew he was right. This was the type of cold that sunk into your skin and chilled your bones. It was just above the temperature where you could see your breath. "Hmmph.. Well, I can try," you muttered as you walked towards the kitchen counter and shuffled around for a mug.

You started to boil water so you could have a nice hot cup of tea, feeling Jeff's gaze following your movements. You heard him move a littler closer and he leaned over your shoulder, careful not to get too close. He noticed how jumpy and shivery you were and winced slightly.

"Hey, uh, ya know.. Uhh.. Cuddling is a good way to warm up-" he said quietly, almost right against your ear, causing you to jump in surprise. "What?! Why are you..?" you questioned as you turned to him, narrowing your eyes suspiciously. He put a hand up defensively and took another bite of his sandwich. "Hold on, (Y/N), let me finish. It's colder than Masky's love life in here and I was looking for someone who would maybe kind sorta be willing to uh.. Cuddle with me.. And you're the perfect candidate cause you're obsessed with me aaand you're the only other person awake right now-" he explained as your eyes went wide.

"I am NOT obsessed with you!" you growled while shooting him a glare. Jeff chuckled at that and shook his head. "Oh, (Y/N), you naive little dork.." He stifled his laughter as you poured the boiling water into your mug and dipped in a green tea bag, avoiding his gaze. "You think I'm a dumbass?" he continued, leaning on the counter beside you. "You think I don't see those looks and those gestures and your cute blush? Huh?" He sounded so damn smug.

You stayed silent, and after a few moments he went quiet too. You felt your hands growing shaky as you sipped at your tea, wincing from the heat. Jeff finished his sandwich and let out a sigh, stretching a little before heading to the doorway to leave. "Just so you know.. The offer stands. If you're desperate, you know where I am.." he mumbled as he disappeared around the corner. Your gaze followed him until he was gone and you let out a little disappointed sigh once you were alone.

"Fuck it.." you muttered as you followed him, shutting off the light behind you and navigating the dark hallways almost blindly. Damn, he's fast.. Or you're slow. By the time you made it back upstairs he was nowhere to be seen. You hesitated as you glanced between your bedroom door and his. They were on opposite ends of the hall from each other..

His words stuck in your mind and you let out a deep breath, quietly walked to his bedroom door and knocking lightly. You waited for a few moments before slowly pushing the door open and peeking inside. He was laying on his bed, watching you with a smug smile. "Well, well, well.. Guess you just couldn't resist me, huh?" he teased, resting his arms above his head. You pouted as you stepped inside and shut the door behind you, shivering again.

"Here, come here sweet thing," Jeff said as he patted the spot on his bed next to him. You glanced around, spotting his pet husky fast asleep in the corner of the room, buried under a couple blankets. You winced a little, remembering the nightmares that thing had given you the first time you met.

"I'm not gonna bite," he muttered, snapping you out of your thoughts. You felt all nervous and anxious for some reason but chalked it up to just being in the same room as Jeff the killer.. Someone you both feared and adored immensely. You glanced around then sighed and slowly approached, taking another sip of your warm tea. You hesitantly put the mug down on his bedside dresser before tentatively sitting on the bed next to him.

He grinned and gave you a sly look. "There we go.." he whispered before scooting a little closer. "Here, get comfortable," he said as he tugged you close. You blushed and nodded, laying down and allowing him to pull you against his chest. He reached down and pulled his comforter over the two of you, enveloping you in his warmth. "Whoa, you're.. Really.." you started before he interrupted you. "Hot?" he asked, chuckling as he gently rubbed your side. "I know."

You didn't move for a few moments, too nervous to get comfortable. When he started spooning you, you finally melted under his touch and let out a little sigh. "Comfortable, sweet thing?" he asked softly, moving his eye mask down and snuggling against you. "Good, good.. Get some rest, alright? Tomorrow's a long day.." His voice sounded gravelly and tired. You blushed a little and nodded, closing your eyes. This was so much better than sitting alone by the fire..

#jeff the killer #jeff the killer fanfiction #creepypasta fanfiction #sfw fiction #swf #fluff #x reader fanfiction #x reader fluff

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villainsandvictimsalliance · 2 months

Text

I can't design or draw properly, so I'll try to explain in detail how I imagine Tenko's pro-hero suit:

First of all, he dresses mostly in black in honor of Eraser Head and Nana Shimura. One of them is his favorite pro-hero and the other is the pro-hero who inspired them to join UA.

Although he does wear black to pay tribute to his biggest inspirations, there's a deeper reason to his choice. With such a dangerous quirk, Tenko was assigned as a rescue specialist. He should avoid fighting at all costs. He's also been encouraged to create new alternatives for himself, which he did.

Tenko's priorities as a pro-hero are endurance, adaptability and stealth. His motto is that if you can resists long enough, you can beat anything.

Black is the color of those who don't want to be noticed until it's too late. Perfect to blend in and perfect for someone like Tenko, who relies on the fact people normally don't pay attention to him. He's been told he looks really creepy, more like a villain than a pro-hero. Tenko doesn't really care. There are a hundred other flashy heroes with equal flashy quirks to admire. All he wants to do are the jobs that no one else takes, no one else wants, no one else wonders about.

Tenko's suit covers him almost completely, from the elastic like high neck that covers his scratches to the boots designed to make his steps silent. He asked the base of his pro-hero suit to be made of a tight yet flexible material, with thicker parts to protect his vital zones. He relies on his speed and range of motion during attacks and rescues, so he needed a suit light yet resistant to any possible scratch or wound from debris and other objects around him. As a rescue specialist, he can't allow himself to go down. The suit is also designed so Tenko can decay parts of it without decaying the whole, in case of emergency.

The cape is what gave him his pro-hero name and the most distinguishable detail of him.

The inside of it is fashioned to look like the wings of a moth. Outside, it is black and fire resistant. On the inside, it has a kaleidoscope of pearlish hues of purple and red, with a plush feeling to the touch. Since his suit is already creepy (you'll see why), Tenko decided to add something to bring comfort to the victims in his rescue missions, something that would also protect them from the damage of a danger zone. The best secret of it is that the cape are in fact two pieces of clothing superposed at the collar, like a wing folding on each other. They are big enough for him to cocoon a person inside of it if he needed to.

Tenko doesn't use his cape often in battles. Most of the time, he's quick to leave it with the heroes managing the safety zone for the civilians to use or he waves them to call civilians to follow him.

When he uses the cape in battles tho, he's one of the most insufferable beings alive. Combined with his other gear, he shields himself from explosive or fire quirks with the capes, he obscures the field view of his enemies or camouflages himself for a sneak attack. He tries not to get them damaged, since the repairing / manufacturing process can last weeks and he'd be a bit defenseless 'til then.

From afar he doesn't look much different from the Tomura we know at the beginning of the manga: A young man dressed in black, mopey blue hair covering the scars around his eyes. It'd be very funny to see him evolve from an awkward teen in a "creepy butterfly suit" to an actual pro-hero who fills up the suit and the expectations.

If you need some visual reference, his pro-hero suit looks a lot like the outfit he used when he woke up on the War arc. The difference is that this one doesn't have the armor parts on the legs.

Now, my favorite part: hero gear and details!!!!!!

So far I think the suit is too simple. The cape is great, but I've already said he doesn't use it a lot, right? You know how the UA class 1A kids have special gear for special missions? Think of the cape as that.

The gloves are an obvious choice.

They're not to regulate his quirk, despite what you all might think. Tenko has perfect control over his quirk, he's grown used to using only four fingers and can switch without problem between safety mode and action mode, how he likes to call the four fingers vs five fingers grip.

The gloves are to protect his hands from the materials he handles during a rescue mission. He is often dealing with ruined sites full of glass and debris. He also comes in contact with multiple toxic elements or dangerous surfaces, such as the hot metal of doors, for example.

My absolute favorite hero gear is his belt, tho.

Since Tenko cannot fight using his own quirk (he must not decay the villains of course), he invented his own version of Aizawa's scarf:

Positioned at the extremes of a retractable chain, there are hands that work like grappling hooks. By throwing one hand at a certain surface (ex. maybe a windowsill or a balcony), Tenko can make that hand close around the object and attach the other extreme of the chain (the other hand) to himself, using the retractive function to move from one point to the other. Other usages range from the creation of safety perimeters on a catastrophe zone, restraining villains, catching objects far away from the user, to the ability to combine them to create webs capable of breaking the fall of a person, etc etc etc.

They're Tenko's primary tools both during rescue missions and active fights.

Compared to Aizawa's scarf, the chains are not as unbreakable and they come separately, instead of in one piece. Tenko shares with Aizawa and Nana Shimura the fact that he uses mostly his human abilities to fight, relying on their quirks only to take advantage of the situations. Still, Nana and Aizawa adapted their styles to make the most out of their usual territories (for Nana it was the skies and for Aizawa, urban sites).

The advantages of the hand chains include being able to use them separately, being more intuitive to use than Aizawa's scarf, actually being able to punch people lol and of course, being creepy.

Tenko has used them before to lure villains to his traps. By placing them strategically, it looks like there is someone around the corner or under the rubble. He has also used them as cupholders...

Unlike the hands we know from the manga, these open and close so as to mold their form to any surface. They don't have a golden base and the tubes covering the chains are transparent, with a finish that makes it shine like spiderwebs under the sun. They fist on Tomura's belt with the chain retracted, hanging on his sides, next to the back pouch that has his first aid kit and mask.

The general opinion is that the moth pro-hero is creepy as hell. He's pretty obscure, following the path of Nana and Aizawa, but it balances nicely Hana's popularity as the butterfly hero!!

Hana inherited the floating quirk from their grandma. She dresses brightly in yellow (taken from Nana) and purple (taken from Midnight) with details in black (to match Tenko). I imagine her cape being longer and butterfly-like, just one piece unlike Tenko's. She's probably a fight type, maybe more of an important side quick??? She is probably very popular because she's really pretty and daring.

Tenko and Hana are like the bugs pro-heroes lol.

Anyway, that's exactly how I imagine Tenko. It can look a little goofy at the start, just like when Izuku first wore his suit. Yet, combining the moth suit with Tenko's later white long hair and physique?? Now, that's the cryptid feeling I'm talking about.

#bnha #mha #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #bnha headcanons #mha headcanons #tenko shimura #hana shimura #pro-hero tenko shimura #bnha au #mha au #moth hero tenko #pro-hero au #Shigaraki Tomura #shan's bnha headcanons #shan's mga headcanons

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