Tumgik
#I wish to rob their gender
paperfen · 1 year
Text
Tumblr media
Mold cookie lmao.
Tumblr media
113 notes · View notes
shrimplicitly · 6 months
Text
cant wait to be a man thats also a girl. whos a young butch woman who is a boy. a guy who wears clairs earrings and has wide hips. a thing that wears small tops and high heels and needs to shave their face soon bc the beard is getting shaggy. i want people to look at me and have to pray for three days straight. do you understand me
10 notes · View notes
elkitot · 2 months
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
3 notes · View notes
karniss-bg3 · 6 months
Note
Ya bring up a point I’m sure not all monster lovers consider—- turning Kar’niss back being a goal of his would mean sacrificing my love for the freaky and remembering he’s just a guy with needs too. I imagine if there was a WISH spell, given their open-ended nature to do Anything with reality, you’d probably get access to one with only a few options of what to use it for in a limited game context. Probably it’d give you the offer to fix your other companions, or your own lingering plot issues—- could we see some Kar’niss reaction to Tav, after mulling it over (alone or among companions), truly deciding to use the WISH for him and/or let him use it (one of those ‘trust your companion will do the right thing’ moments). Bet they find the spell after robbing Lorroakan or somethin. (Though it’s a Wish Spell—- imagine a man so short sighted as to just wish to be without pain but not change so he can still ‘be of use’. Hopefully he’d have learned better about his worthiness by the time you found a WISH though).
Title: A Wish Come True
Word Count: 3,667
Spoiler Warning: Spoilers for Act 2 and Act 3
Characters: Gale, Astarion, gender-neutral Tav and Kar'niss
Summary: After a hard battle in the sorcerer's tower, Gale uncovers a hidden Wish spell scroll. Kar'niss is now faced with a tough decision; Use the rare scroll to break the drider's curse or remain as he is forever more?
***
It had been a hard fought battle in the sorcerer's tower but the group came out victorious. Lorroakan had been bested and his lifeless body had settled in the middle of the floor. Astarion was the first to root around the wizard’s quarters with Gale not far behind, both searching for powerful items and weapons they could pilfer for their journey. Gale’s sharp eye spotted a peculiar rosewood box in a corner with intricate swirls carved into the lid. He leaned in for a closer look and sensed that the chest was locked tight. Astarion also picked up on the notion and casually nudged Gale aside with his shoulder.
“Allow me,” Astarion said, chuffed.
Gale held up his hands and gave Astarion the chance to unlock the mysterious vessel. Retrieving his trusty lock picking tools he went to work. As he began to fiddle with it a magical aura pulsed from the box and a blast of magical fire surged from the base and onto the fumbling thief. Astarion’s clothes caught alight and made the vampire lurch from surprise and pain. He spun in circles, frantically slapping at the blaze that threatened to consume his clothes whole.
“AH! Hot, hot, HOT!” Astarion screeched.
Gale stood by, his blank expression mirroring his annoyance. He’d flick two fingers aside, a blue aura shrouding them before a downpour of water crashed over the ignited fop. This doused the fire as well as Astarion who now stood there, soaked but free from danger.
“Now, what have we learned, Astarion?” Gale asked.
The vampire’s upper lip rose, exposing his fangs, shooting the wizard a miffed glare.
“That’s right. When exploring a tower of sorcery, maaaybe let the seasoned wizard do the poking, hm?” Gale said, gesturing to himself.
Astarion rolled his eyes, his hands hurriedly squeezing out his hair before flinging his arms side to side to rid them of excess moisture.
“Fine. I doubt there is aught of interest in that chest anyway. Likely moth eaten robes and naughty paintings. Have at it, oh ‘mighty’ wizard.” Astarion gave a disingenuous bow in Gale’s direction, abandoning the chest in an effort to fix his drenched appearance.
Gale wasn’t put off by Astarion’s complaining, rather accustomed to it by this stage in their journey. Instead he put his focus on examining the chest with a more nuanced look. His keen arcane senses were able to detect the sheen of an enchantment that shimmered over the item as a whole. He outstretched his hands toward it, palms hovering inches above the lid, putting his full concentration in breaking the troublesome spell. His eyes took on a purple hue, his robes kicking out at his ankles crackling with magical energy. He called out a single word, willing the weave to do his bidding, assaulting the enchantment in an effort to break it. His determination paid off. The energy pushed from his palms covered the box and the shimmer that once dominated it’s surface shattered like fiberglass removing the danger.
“Ah, there we are.” Gale swung open the lid to peer inside curiously.
The coffer, at first, didn’t seem to contain anything of note just like Astarion predicted. A pile of old robes of various hues sat in a neatly folded pile. Gale picked them up to look them over and while they were of a fine make, they didn’t seem to have any significance beyond that. He frowned with the discovery, continuing to dig in hopes he’d discover more.
“Ah-ha! Utter trash, certainly not worth getting burned over,” Astarion said while wringing out his shirt.
“Mm no, there must be more. A sorcerer wouldn’t go through so much effort to protect worthless robes,” Gale replied.
This prompted Astarion to come closer to investigate once more. Gale cleared out everything leaving an empty chest. The vampire smirked as he leaned over, a knowing gleam twinkling in the corner of his eye.
“Oh darling, it seems we’ve been done in by a red herring. Cazador had many items of value, ones he’d not leave wittingly out in the open.” Astarion reached into the box and ran his smooth fingertips along the wooden walls of the container. He did so until he felt a discrepancy in the wood grain; An indent. “There you are.” He’d press the hidden button, a quiet double click of mechanisms heard within its walls. Both men watched while the false bottom of the box slid open revealing the true treasure beneath.
Astarion’s lips curled in a self-satisfied grin, leaning in closer to Gale to make cocky eye contact with him. “I suppose a rogue isn’t as useless in a tower of sorcery as you thought, HM?”
Gale side eyed his proud companion, palming the side of his face to gently push him away. “You’ve made your point, good work.”
Inside was a pouch of gold coin, a bizarre wooden wand painted red and gold with floral accents and a short stack of scrolls. Gale filtered through the items with some fascination, going through each scroll with fierce scrutiny. His snooping came to a halt when he read over one scroll in particular, his eyes increasing in size as the shock took hold. Astarion was in the process of dumping water from his boots when he noticed Gale’s frozen demeanor.
“What is it, what did you find?”
Gale didn’t answer his curious companion, instead whirling around to call down to the floor below. “TAV! You need to see this!”
All this time Tav was situated on the lower floor with Kar’niss who had sustained injuries during the battle. The drider had lowered himself to the ground so Tav had ease of access to his wounds. They were bandaging a cut on his arm when they heard Gale shouting from above. Tav’s brow crinkled in confusion and Kar’niss followed suit, both exchanging a glance. Before Tav could rush to Gale’s side the wizard was already climbing down the ladder with some urgency. Astarion followed behind, half dressed and damp but equally as curious as to his discovery.
“What’s going on?” Tav asked.
Gale handed over the scroll to them. “Here.”
They took the parchment and scanned over the text inscribed upon it, a creeping realization hitting them the further they read along. Their eyes darted to Gale, then to Kar’niss and back to the scroll, their fingers beginning to tremble.
“A wish spell,” they whispered.
This revelation sucked the air out of the room. Astarion’s jaw dropped with amazement while Kar’niss’ breath hitched in his throat. A silence fell over the massive study, each companion eyeing off the other, uncertainty and excitement palpable in their immediate vicinity.
Gale broke the silence first. “What do we do?
Tav pressed their lips into a thin line, soon turning to Kar’niss. “This is it, what we’ve been searching for. You can return to your true form, Kar’niss. Your suffering could come to an end, right here, right now.”
Kar’niss rose from his crouched position, his hand rubbing over his arm in a self-soothing gesture. He swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat while legs shuffled beneath him in an anxious dance.
“But...this spell, it’s incredibly rare and powerful, is it not? Why waste it on me? So much could be done with this power. If I suffer it is due to my own folly,” Kar’niss said.
Astarion bolted forward as if angered by the statement, his crimson eyes glaring up at the drider. “Have you learned nothing after traveling with us? I know it’s a difficult lesson to learn, it took me far too long as it was. But what happened to you is not your doing. You were a victim, same as I. Take the scroll and reclaim your life.”
Kar’niss shrunk when he was chided so, unable to maintain his gaze on Astarion for too long. His nervous energy didn’t seem to wane, undecided and skeptical of his own worth.
“It’s true, this spell is not easy to come by. We can only use it once. With that said, I know first hand what it is like to be toyed with by the divine. Yours is a particularly cruel case, Kar’niss. As far as we know this is the only way to undo what has been done. I think we can all agree that despite our myriad of problems, this is your best chance at freedom,” Gale said. “We have alternatives to tackle our afflictions, you do not.”
Tav looked between Gale and Astarion, mulling over their words and watching Kar’niss shuffle about nearby. They took time to think and finally made their approach. They stepped toward Kar’niss, lifting an arm to gently rest their palm at the center of his chest.
“This isn’t a choice for any of us to make. You know better than anyone what is in your better interest and I trust in your judgment. If you need time to think it through then take it, you don’t have to decide this very moment.” Tav took a step closer, a warm smile on their face. “What is important is that you make the choice, that it is of your free will. Know that we will support you no matter the road you take. You are not a waste, Kar’niss, not by a long shot.”
Kar’niss listened to what everyone had to say, observing all present with some trepidation. He glanced down at Tav, resting his clawed hand atop of the one pressed to his chest. Without a word he stepped away from the group needing a moment to think by himself.
The others afforded Kar’niss his much needed space, retreating to another part of the tower to continue their search for other useful items. He was still in shock, scarcely believing that they had found such a rare item, something that could change his life moving forward. He came to a stop near a large standing mirror propped on a nearby wall. The drider turned to face the reflective surface, seeing his own image projected right back at him. He jolted from the surprise of it, as if it was the first time he truly saw himself since his change. His legs carried him closer, crouching down to get a better look.
His torso was bloodied from the recent battle, bandages placed over his arms where he’d suffered ice damage. Those details were the easiest to ignore, instead focusing on how twisted his once beautiful visage had become. His fingers reached to feather across the many eyes scattered across his forehead, trailing down to the scarred gash across his lip, finally reaching the hardened chitin sealed along his jawline. His gnarled hand reached out to caress the surface of the mirror as if trying to console the reflection within, his gaze meeting the pair staring back at him. His eyes tread lower, spotting the spider body his torso was haphazardly melded to, his pedipalps trembling beneath his belly button. He snarled and jerked his head away from the mirror, the biting sting of tears starting to collect at the corners of his eyes.
Was he worthy of salvation? He thought back to all of the atrocities he had committed both under Lolth and the Absolute, complacent in the part he played, a willing puppet for their unspeakable crimes. Astarion’s words rang in his mind, the notion that he was a victim rather than a fervent contributor. Should he be punished forever for actions of his past, or could he move beyond it and become the person he was meant to be? Gale’s statements came to mind next, the idea that he had been toyed with by those he worshiped, that he had the opportunity for freedom. What did that mean for someone like him? He could never return to the Underdark, not as a drider or a drow. That home was forever lost to him. Did the surface offer him something more, something greater? Or would he know the same abuse just with different faces?
Tav’s statement crashed through the walls of self doubt and hesitation. This was...his choice? Could he trust himself to make it? He realized he knew one thing for certain, he wanted to stay with Tav at any cost. He didn’t wish to be a burden on them, forever doomed to defend a drider from the gawking and cruel masses who didn’t understand him. Their life together would never know peace so long as Tav had to play protector. There were many other things they couldn’t do as he was now, things he’d long since thought about but was too afraid to voice. He wanted to know love, to know happiness, two things that were always short of his grasp, just out of reach.
Kar’niss turned to look back at the mirror but with more determination in his expression. He examined himself once more, for the final time, his head lifting as if in defiance of what Lolth had made him. He’d give the mirror a shove, pushing it over and letting it shatter on the floor below.
“Never again.”
During this time the group had pilfered much of the area. Gale had taken to reading the many texts stored on the bookshelves while Astarion hung his clothes on the balcony to dry, parading around in his underwear with no shame. Tav rolled their eyes at the display.
“There are many robes scattered about you could wear in the meantime,” Tav grumbled.
“Yes but they’re old, and ugly. Besides I look stunning au naturel. Really, you should be thanking me for providing your eyes with such a feast.” Astarion swished his arm in an effeminate arc.
Tav groaned and slumped deeper in the chair they had sat upon. “I’m going to regurgitate that feast onto Lorroakan’s carpet if you don’t stop.”
Their prattling was interrupted when they heard the clicking steps of the driders return. Gale closed his book and Tav stood up, Astarion joining the pair to look upon Kar’niss, the air of expectation heavy around them.
“Have you made a choice?” Tav asked.
Kar’niss rubbed his hands together nervously, looking between the three so as to work up the courage to make such an announcement.
“I thought about what you’ve said, all of you. While I still...struggle to believe I am worthy of this gift, I don’t want to spend the remainder of my life in hiding. You found me at the worst point in my life. You could’ve killed me without a second thought, you spared me instead. You showed endless kindness and patience while I struggled to contend with my own mind, feelings I thought to be genuine. I can’t return to the Underdark and Lolth’s shadow will forever follow me. At least with this spell I have the chance to live on the surface with a modicum of peace. I—“ He trailed off, his expression twisted while he searched for the right words. “I want to be happy. I don’t know what that really means for someone like me but I’m willing to find out.” He’d take in a shaken breath. “Use it.”
All three spared a glance to one another, seeming pleased with his conclusion. Tav stepped forward to hold the scroll out to Kar’niss but the drider raised both hands in refusal.
“I think since Gale found the scroll, he should do the honors. That and I am worried I’ll word it wrong and botch the entire thing. I don’t want to make my condition worse,” Kar’niss said.
Gale chuckled and took the scroll from Tav. “A fair concern, I will be diligent with my phrasing. Are you ready?”
Kar’niss inhaled a deep chest full of air, his legs dancing shuffling beneath him once more. “I think so, yes.”
Tav wandered over, issuing a comforting squeeze to his hip. “Everything will be fine. We’re right here.” They’d then back away to give distance for the spell to work its magic.
Astarion and Tav kept their distance, the vampire taking Tav’s hand into his own to give it a reassuring squeeze. Despite all his fanfare he realized the importance of this moment for all involved. Gale stepped forward keeping a gap between himself and the anxious drider, holding up the scroll to focus on arcane concentration.
“I wish for the drider known as Kar’niss to be restored to his true form, complete and whole as the drow he was before Lolth’s cruel curse kissed his essence. Memories hale and intact, body rich and vibrant, freed of the evil rendered upon him against his will.”
As soon as the last word left Gale’s lips the scroll in his hands crumbled to dust, their particles glittering in the air. They floated over to Kar’niss and began to dance in a shimmering ring around him. Kar’niss looked around with an urgent jerk of his head, lifting his arms due to a tinge of fear striking his core. The particles grew in size and number until they formed a continuous beam of golden light, expanding to form a dome of radiance that concealed the drider in full. Gale, Astarion and Tav stood by, their eyes wide and breath baited. They couldn’t look away even as the light increased in intensity, unable to see what was happening within. Loose papers in the tower went flying, carried away by the breeze radiating from the churning sphere in the center of the room. All of them could feel the force of this magic and it’s near infinite power, crackling and buzzing with arcane energy of a grand magnitude. The swirling golden light started to shrink in on itself, a notion that made Tav step forward with concern. Was Kar’niss alright, what was happening to him?
Soon the sphere shrunk to half the size it had been prior to its conjuring, the shell cracking down the center and breaking away, portions of the dome flaking away and disintegrating from sight. Once the shell had all but faded away the only thing that was left behind was the glowing silhouette of a man on the floor, doubled over on his hands and knees. The aura steadily peeled away revealing the changed individual beneath. A doubled over drow male was left behind, his form naked and vulnerable. The trio nearby watched in stunned silence, waiting for a sign that the spell had truly done as advertised.
A soft groan rumbled from the man on the floor, his hands pushing himself up into a seated position. He was dazed but alive and healthy by all appearances. Shoulder length white hair curtained around his pale face, now cleansed of the eyes which had once dotted his brow. The hard carapace that once molded over his arms, chest and jawline were no where to be seen, leaving behind smooth flesh and darkened nipples. Most notable were the presence of legs, two instead of eight, thighs muscular and firm. Kar’niss held up his hands which had begun to shake, looking them over in awe. His fingers were smooth rather than jagged and rough, able to bend his fingers with more flexibility than he had prior. He ran his palms across his face, particularly his forehead, noting the absence of the additional orbs he once carried. Finally, he glanced down to see his legs and genitals, all as they had been once upon a time. A choked gasp surged from his throat as the reality of it all began to set in. He was back to himself.
Tav rushed into action once they assessed the situation. They ran over and grabbed a loose blanket draped over a nearby chair, darting to Kar’niss’ side. They dropped to their knees in front of him, draping the garment over his shoulders to stave off the incoming chill.
“Kar’niss, are you alright? How do you feel?” Tav asked.
The drow didn’t know what to say at first, still patting over his torso and thighs in an effort to make sure this wasn’t a dream. He shook his head, mouth hanging agape, a swell of something building in his chest that he hadn’t felt in an age; Joy. His trembling lips pulled into an emotional smile, throwing his arms out to wrap them around Tav. Pulled into the vice grip of a hug Tav promptly laughed from surprise and relief, their arms threading around his torso to return the gesture enthusiastically.
“Th-Thank you...thank you…” Kar’niss whimpered, his face buried in Tav’s neck.
Tav bit their lower lip while stroking the back of his hair, leaning more into the embrace.
“You did most of the work, Kar’niss. This is your victory as much as it is ours. I’m proud of you.”
He bit back a sob from such a heartfelt statement, fingers curled into the small of Tav’s back. He leaned away enough to make eye contact with them, his body radiating overwhelming emotion. He cupped Tav’s face and brought them in for a kiss, one that he put every ounce of his body and soul into. Tav returned the affection with equal vigor, clinging to the man they adored so.
As the pair embraced Gale and Astarion stood by, looking on with their own sense of pride and joy at the outcome. Gale glanced Astarion’s way.
“You really couldn’t have put on some clothes for this monumental, once in a lifetime moment?” Gale grunted.
Astarion scoffed and waved a hand about dismissively. “Darling, they’re not paying one speck of attention to me. For once, that’s a good thing, mw-ha! Besides, my near nudity will likely help Kar’niss feel less self conscious about his own.”
Gale chuckled and propped his arm on Astarion’s shoulder, leaning into him while looking Tav and Kar’niss’ way.
“True enough, Astarion. True enough.”
Tav and Kar’niss continued to hold and kiss one another, filled with relief and hope for what future lay ahead. This was the beginning of a new journey for the pair, one that they were ready to face together.
To the very end.
156 notes · View notes
sanjis-all-blue · 9 months
Text
Secrets | Sanji x Reader | Milestone Event
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
summary: A little birdy told me about a date Sanji went on, on March 10th from 1:00 - 6:00 AM! The bird wouldn’t tell me who with though…
prompts: “I love you so much that it hurts my head.” - Ghost Hunting - Canon-compliant/Tsundere - Fluff
wc: 3k
•—————•
SFW - All Readers Welcome!
•—————•
cw: fluff, ghosts, gender neutral, tsundere y/n, grave robbing technically, swearing
•—————•
Part of Let’s Set A Date! Event
Tumblr media
“Sorry, Captain, we won’t be able to go ghost hunting.” Robin began to explain. “The island used to be a series of undersea caves made of Seastone. We would never make it to the treasure.”
Because the Devil Fruit users would not be able to partake in this particular adventure, that designated Luffy, Chopper, Robin, and Brook to stay on the boat - and Jinbe opted to stay behind.
The rest of you paired off - Zoro with Nami, Usopp with Franky, which only left you with Sanji.
Ugh.
While Nami was adamant about exploring this island because of the legend of a great treasure that had been squirreled away, you - the crew’s paranormal expert - had something different in mind.
This island was the crowning jewel for ghost hunters in the New World. The legend of the island said the pirate crew that hid the treasure here died protecting it, and now trap the souls of those looking to pillage the stash on the island as well.
Zoro called bullshit - but with the amount of people who go missing in this particular patch of ocean? You knew something spooky was going on.
Ideally, you would have wanted to go with Zoro so you could see his face when he got proven wrong - but Nami claimed his strength first. Franky was your second choice, but Usopp liked the idea of having Franky’s nipple lights in a pinch.
Which left you with Sanji. He was excited to be paired with you, the alluring and mysterious new member of the crew, but you…less so.
You found his eagerness suffocating, his doting pathetic, and his affection nauseating.
At least, that’s what you told yourself, and him, and anyone else who could hear.
But sometimes, late at night, in the safety of your bed and your thoughts, you’d think about the little heart he’d draw with a dipping sauce on your dessert, or how he picked up an ice mold of your favorite shape for beverages, or how you didn’t totally hate the sound of his voice when he wished you good morning and bid you good night.
Whatever.
As long as he didn’t get in the way of your job, the expedition would be fine. If anything, that Diable Jambe of his could possibly come in handy.
After you and the other pirates-turned-explorers disembarked Thousand Sunny, the three groups split up - Nami and Zoro went in a North tunnel, Usopp and Franky took an East tunnel, and yourself and Sanji took a West tunnel.
Your initial reading of the island hinted that the West was more spiritually active - which is why you called dibs on it.
Sanji held up the lantern as the two of you walked through the cave. It felt heavy, dank, and dark - even with the light. It was humid in there, and the occasional drip of a drop becoming too heavy and splashing to the floor would ring out.
In your hands you held two metal dowsing rods, which rolled in your hands, searching for a disturbance.
“I’m so happy to be in this cave with [y/n]-chwan,” you heard Sanji gush to himself, almost singing. “It’s the first time we’ve been paired up, so it’s almost like a date!”
You stopped in your tracks and turned on your heel. “This is not a date.” You scolded.
Sanji’s face dropped, but his blush perisisted. “Sorry, [y/n]-chwan. But we do have to stay rather close. And it is just the two of us. And my hand is here for you in case you get scared.”
With a scoff, you turned to keep walking. “Why would I get scared? This is literally my job.”
As if some cosmic joke was being played on you, the hair on your neck literally stood on end. Then you heard your name being whispered in your ear, cold lips tickling your skin.
“S-Sanji, what the hell!” You turned back around, swatting the air.
“What? What, [y/n], what happened?!” He asked, looking ready to strike at anything that could hurt you.
“Why are you getting so close to me?! You practically licked my ear!”
Sanji frowned. “I’d never do that without your permission [y/n].”
You narrowed your eyes at him, huffed, and spun to continue walking. He didn’t have to lie or play dumb. It’s not like you could dislike him more than you already did.
Deciding to try something else, you kneeled on the floor and dug through your pack for another tool, eyebrows knit in annoyance.
Sanji stood above you with the lantern so you could see what you were doing.
“[Y/N]-chwan, what’s the story with this place? Why can’t the spirits move on?” Sanji asked, using the flame to light a cigarette.
Your expression softened as you began your story. “The legend says that 100 years ago, an early pirate crew dove beneath the sea to hide their treasure in a place that no one would find it. When this island was underwater, there were lots of air pockets, so it’s thought that either those air pockets were filled with a poisonous gas or these caves became too confusing in the dark and the crew got trapped. Maybe both.” You pulled a small Den Den Mushi that was glowing in the dark from your bag. “As to why they’re trapped - it’s possible that they’re still lost and confused, coupled with the walls being made of Seastone. Seastone tends to negate any supernatural occurrences - like the Devil Fruit.”
You stood up with the glowing Den Den Mushi in your palm and unhooked his receiver.
The snail opened its eyes which started changing in shape rapidly as it babbled and gargled, filtering through transmissions it intercepted. The static sounds coming out of its mouth were loud and chaotic, the tones reverberating off the cave walls.
“[Y/N]! What is going on?!” Sanji yelled over the noise.
“We call this type a Spirit Mushi!” You called back. “The snails sense and transmit wavelengths, that’s how they talk. These special ones scan the wavelengths with a wide enough spectrum to catch signals even beyond what normal Den Den Mushi can!”
Sanji digested the explanation. “So ghosts will talk through that Spirit Mushi?!” He yelled.
You nodded, listening to the sounds. Nothing seemed to be coming through in full words or phrases - just bits of words being cut off before they could come to fruition.
“I’m going to try asking a question!” You told Sanji, projecting over the syllabic babble. He simply nodded in response, sweat beads forming on his patch of exposed forehead.
“Is there anyone here with us?!”
“De-gh-th-tu-na-YES-vi-da-ki-gu-“
Sanji yelped as one voice fought through the nonsense. Your palms became clammy at the spirits admittance.
“If we wanted to see you, where could we find you?” Your eyes bored down at the Spirit Mushi.
“Ah-te-sw-ch-DEEP-ck-ER-pi-hu-“
You looked on into the cave, expecting to see something other than darkness. You hung up the Snail, thanked it, and let it crawl into your coat pocket to rest.
“Did it say ‘Deeper’?” Sanji asked at a normal volume.
“Sure did,” you replied.
A frown formed on his face, but it quickly was replaced by a determined expression. “I will find you your ghost, [y/n]-chwan! It would be the perfect end to this date!”
You blushed and stamped your foot. “This is not a date!”
As the voice instructed, the two of you walked deeper into the cavern. As you went further, the air became muggier, years of salt water oscillating back and forth between the ceiling of the cave and the dirt beneath your feet.
Despite the tactile touch of the air around you, your ears perked up at the sound of chattering teeth.
You looked over your shoulder to see poor Sanji shivering, with his nose running.
“Sanji, what’s wrong with you?” You asked.
“S-s-sorry [y/n], i-it’s just v-v-very c-c-cold,” the poor man managed to get out.
“Cold? Sanji, it feels like a rainforest in here.” You put the back of your hand to his forehead, and when you made contact, your hand went ice cold.
Your eyes narrowed.
“I think you have a ghost on you.”
Sanji’s whole body shook with fear and he immediately dropped the lantern, its fall extinguishing any possible light source in the cave. The shattering of the glass reverberated throughout the tunnel, adding an audible insult to injury to this already shit situation.
“Don’t move anywhere, [y/n]!” Sanji cried out. You heard him dig in his pocket then the clink of his lighter.
He was inches from you, but at least it seemed he stopped shivering. You touched his cheek softly, and when there was no difference in temperature, you figured whatever had attached itself to him had moved on.
He pulled from your touch. “Sorry, [y/n].” He said sheepishly.
You rolled your eyes and pulled your hand away. “I didn’t bring a back up light, so this is all we have for now.”
Sanji took this moment to light another cigarette as you looked around, trying to decipher your direction. He inhaled deeply, then turned his head as to not blow smoke in your face.
Instead the smoke curled around a nose, and lips. And two eye sockets, and a chin and -
You both screamed and you jumped into Sanji’s chest at the sight of a disembodied face.
“Follow me.”
Even though you watched the lips made of smoke move in front of you, you felt the words in your ear, in the same way you had heard your name earlier.
The smoke folded in on itself, becoming a grey little orb, slightly glowing, then it floated off deeper into the cave.
You looked at Sanji, shrugged, and trudged on.
Despite your calm exterior - your heart was pounding against your lungs. You had no plausible explanation for anything that had occurred since you entered the cave.
Could this be it, the proof to the world that ghosts exist?
Your thoughts kept getting interrupted by Sanji’s knuckles swiping against yours. It’s not like he meant it, but these low-light conditions forced you to stay close.
How were you - bump - going to prove - bump - to anyone who wasn’t here - bump - about the paranormal occurrences - bump - that you had witnessed - bump -
You grabbed his hand, wrapping your fingers around his palm to keep his annoying little mitts from distracting you.
“This is just easier.” You said, your face growing incredibly warm. You could practically hear the blood flowing to Sanji’s own cheeks. “If you tell anyone I’m going to shave your eyebrows in your sleep.”
Sanji giggled. “Your secret is safe with me, [y/n]-chwan.”
The grey orb floated in erratic patterns but always forward. It emit enough light for you to see it, but not enough to provide any guidance.
You could feel that you were walking uphill, but the uncertainty of the destination made it feel like this was taking forever. You wondered how the rest of the crew was doing. You wondered what Sanji thought of all this.
Long before your legs gave out, you could hear the trickling of water, and the drips of the cave echoing louder. A blue glow was coming from up ahead, and you rushed forward, pulling Sanji along. He pocketed his lighter, and moved with you.
At the top of the hill, the cave opened up, the air becoming cooler and lighter. A small hole in the tall ceiling illuminated the space, enough light reflecting off a pool of water you could see unassisted. The shallow pool surrounded a small mound of earth where the grey orb floated forward and disappeared. Sitting there, against the back wall lay two skeletons, one leaning against the hollow chest of the other. From your spot, you could see one gold band each, glinting off of their fingers.
“Do you think that’s the treasure Sanji?” You asked quietly. Releasing his hand, you put your pack on the floor, pulling out a collapsed tripod and a camera. This camera was on a self-timer, and would go off at 7 second intervals until the film ran out. “Can you just watch this to make sure it doesn’t fall?” You asked your crewmate after you finished setting it up. The camera went off.
He nodded, and you rolled up the bottom of your pants and kicked off your shoes. The flash of the camera filled the room.
The water in the pool was crisp and sharp, but at least the sand at the bottom was soft. Flash. You could see the bottom all the way to the remains, but still tread carefully. Flash.
You felt that voice on your ear shell again. “Do you have a secret?” Flash. This time, the voice sounded…like more than one voice. Two voices maybe, somehow harmonized and discordant at the same time.
You swatted it away. Flash.
Then, they spoke in your other ear. “Don’t lie.”
You clasped your hands over your ears, flash, but you could hear Sanji yelling your name through them. Even with the physical barrier, flash, you felt the lips on your ears again: “Tell us, or we’ll kill him.” Flash.
You stopped and turned slowly, looking back at Sanji. The camera still dutifully flashed, and you could see him laying on the floor.
“No, no, no, no,” you whispered, splashing back over to his body.
You kneeled and put his head on your lap, your eyes already stinging with tears from frustration. If you let Sanji die on this mission, Luffy was going to kill you.
His skin felt cold to the touch, and when you pulled his eyelids back, the irises didn’t react, even as the flash of the camera still fired.
“Why do you want my secrets so bad?” You yelled, calling out to whatever was in this cave.
“We died for our secret,” the voices in your ear said. “So we don’t want anyone to die for theirs.”
Suddenly the disappearances around the island made sense. People would have rather died than tell their deepest, darkest secrets. You heard the camera take its last shot.
You sniffled, the hot tears rolling down your cheeks, falling onto Sanji’s.
“Did you two love each other?” You asked, voice wavering.
“Yes.”
A sob escaped your lips. “And you were killed for it?”
The voices paused.
“We would have rather died together than be alive and apart.”
You hunched over Sanji’s body, scared that you couldn’t hear him breathing.
“He’s not dead already, is he?” You asked, eyes shut, your hands on either side of his head.
“No, but hurry.” The voices said. “Take too long, and we’ll take you too.”
Your head started to ache and the spot behind your eyes felt like someone was grabbing and mashing it. Your teeth clenched as you tried to will the pain away.
The only way out of this was to admit to yourself - and these ghosts - that you possibly liked Sanji. The most annoying guy you had ever encountered.
“I like Sanji.” You muttered.
“Don’t lie!” The voice yelled in your ear, rattling your eyes in your skull.
Your fingers pressed into his skin that was growing paler by the second. You pressed your forehead to his, your eyes only seeing the top of his golden head.
You moved your lips but nothing came out.
“Louder.” The voices demanded.
“ILoveSanji.” You said, barely above whisper.
“Louder!”
“I love Sanji!” Burst from your mouth.
It felt like you were too late. There were no sounds of dripping. No voices. All you could hear was your own shaking breath, and the stinging of your brain.
“Is that true, [y/n]?”
You pulled your head off of Sanji’s to see him looking up at you with his big blue eyes, the color of his skin rushing back.
The wave of relief that washed over you could have powered a steam ship. Your lungs filled with breath and the pressure on your brain released. And yet, you couldn’t stop crying - you were so happy he was alive. He sat up on his knees and turned towards you, taking you in his arms.
“You saved me, [y/n]-chwan, there’s no need to cry.” His hand held the back of your head as you cried into his chest.
“I-I-I didn’t want us to end up like these ghosts,” you sobbed. “So angry at what couldn’t be that they hurt other people.”
Sanji pressed his lips to the side of your head. “I guess we don’t have to then, hm?”
You pressed your hands against his chest and leaned back, sniffling, but with your eyebrows scrunched together. “If you tell anyone before I’m ready, I’m going to give Luffy the combination to the fridge lock.”
He smiled at you wide. “Whatever you need, [y/n]-chwan.”
Back on the ship, the crew gathered around the dinner table. Luffy demanded to hear every detail of the adventures he wasn’t allowed to go on.
Usopp and Franky only found pocket after pocket of noxious gases - nothing poisonous, just stinky. They turned back after the 5th one, and got back to the ship first.
Zoro and Nami fared better - in a way. They didn’t find any one pile of treasure, but there were plenty long dead bodies along the way that apparently had loads of coins, jewelry, and other small goods that they no longer had a need for.
This made Usopp ask the question about when did grave robbing become archeology, which gave Robin a chuckle.
When it got to you and Sanji’s turn, Sanji excused himself from the table to go start dinner.
“I’ll have to check my film to see if I caught anything on the camera. My Spirit Mushi caught some interesting things, but nothing conclusive,” you lied. You rest your head on the heel of your hand with a sigh.
“Did you find that in your cave?” Nami asked. She grabbed your hand, looking at the shining gold ring. “It’s so gorgeous!”
You’re eyes widened and you pulled your hand away. “Uh, yeah. I thought it looked pretty nice.”
Sanji, with his back turned to the crew, smiled to himself and looked down at the matching ring on his own hand.
Tumblr media
196 notes · View notes
yanderes-galore · 6 months
Note
Could I request yandere arkham two-face hcs? -🌹🦢
Sure! Using the wiki for the Arkham games to write his character, although this most likely works for other variations of Two-Face. I just talk general behavior, there isn't really any backstory to this one. No pairing specified so I tried to keep it general.
Yandere! Arkhamverse! Two-Face Concept
Pairing: Romantic/Platonic
Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Murder mention, Delusional behavior, Manipulation, Kidnapping mention, Possessive behavior, Split personality, Brief stalking mention, Violence, Forced companionship/relationship.
Tumblr media
Looking into him more, Harvey/Two-Face has a really sad backstory.
Plus due to his personalities I'd say he'd be unpredictable in behavior.
On one hand, he'd want to be caring and considerate of his darling.
One the other, he could easily snap and show sudden aggression, often killing others with the flip of a coin.
Two-Face would also be the type of yandere to believe he's fated to meet and have you.
A big part of his character is fate, after all.
Since he has such beliefs you could also assume he'd be a delusional yandere too.
Evident in Arkham Knight through tapes, it's also shown he has self-loathing aspects.
For the most part I imagine Two-Face would follow his coin for decisions on how to approach his obsession.
In terms of how he could meet you, it could be before or after his accident.
His insanity feeds into his obsession and you happen to be the person he pursues for whatever reason he has in mind.
I can also see Two-Face often arguing with himself on how to deal with his obsession.
As said before, part of him wants you to love him like a normal person, while the other just wants to lock you away where only he can see you.
As his darling, you would not be able to predict his next move.
He claims all of his actions are fate.
The coin decides just what you'll two do together and how it will go.
I imagine at times Two-Face is really sweet with you.
Sometimes the old Harvey shines through with slight pity/guilt for what he's doing.
He just hopes you'll forgive him at some point, but you both must play by fate's rules.
He'd buy you all sorts of gifts when he's able to/if he could.
He really does adore you but then there's his other side.
Two-Face, the more sadistic personality, brings violence to the table.
He'd make those around you bleed for looking at you wrong.
Murder is a common thing for Two-Face.
Sometimes when you rob Gotham's banks, people have got to die.
Murdering others in order to keep you, the one person that makes him happy after the incident, is something he'd happily follow through with.
Affection with Harvey is sweet and soft, affection with Two-Face is rough and harsh.
Any time with him is like playing a game of chance.
It's sad, really, to see a man who was given so much respect fall from grace.
Harvey knows that he could've been a great friend or even lover for if he wasn't like... this.
He blames himself for making you scared.
Yet at the same time he wants to force you to just comply.
He'll take good care of you, he'll isolate you, and you can be happy.
This city corrupts people.
He used to want/wish for great things.
That's all gone now.
Now he's a man following fate, arguing with himself over what he'll do with you.
He flips a coin for everything.
Stalking, kidnapping, killing others around you, even punishments.
He flips the coin and lets fate decide.
Fate wants you two to be by each other.
Perhaps with another coin flip... he'll decide on if he wishes to be your friend or something more.
Nothing is up to you to decide.
He even tells you he isn't making the decision himself.
It's all in the coin, it's all on fate now.
You should be happy!
It's clear you're both meant to be....
Any sort of companionship with him has its up and downs.
Perhaps if you anger him enough he may hurt you, flipping a coin to decide if it's worth it.
Hell, with him, your entire life is decided with coin flips.
He relies on it to tell him what to do.
Heads, he keeps you in locked room.
Tails, he lets you go.
Heads, he stalks you tonight.
Tails, he leaves you alone.
Heads, he kills off that friend of yours around you all the time.
Tails, he solves the issue by having his goons take you away.
You never feel like you're winning with him.
Two-Face does what he wishes and calls it fate.
At least that's what you assume.
You wonder if one day he'll flip the coin to just end you.
But he'd never.
You are what makes him feel like Harvey.
A slight sense of normalcy, someone who gives him a sense tranquility.
He needs you, regardless of what you think.
No matter what you say you won't get your way.
Sometimes he even gives you the illusion of choice, flipping that dreaded coin to see if he'll listen to you.
Wish for more freedom or space? He'll flip a coin.
There's a good chance you won't win any argument with him.
However, sometimes he decides to be merciful and says fate's won in your favor.
But it's always small things.
A companionship/relationship with Two-Face is unpredictable, yet one factor is always the same.
You'll never win his coin flip games... which means you'll be his forever and always, because fate has decided so.
101 notes · View notes
revivemyreverie · 10 months
Text
Tumblr media
“Sorry! We’re no longer seeing clients… but if you’re really that desperate, then just find me at the bar~
Twisted from: Ursula’s Necklace
Allegra Mahalath
アーレグラー・マハラス
CV: Tetsuya Kakihara (柿原 徹也)
Technical Info.
Gender: Male
Sexuality: Demisexual
Birthday: 07/22
Age: 19
Height: 167 cm (5’6)
Hair Color: Brown
Eye Color: Gold
Hand Pref.: Left
Homeland: Sea of Dreams
College Info.
Year: 2nd
Class: 2D Set 19
Club: Light Music
Favorite Subject: Conjuration
Other.
Hobby: Doll-collecting
Likes: Orchestral Music
Dislikes: Hand cramps
Favorite Food: Wakame Salad
Hated Food: Fried Crab
Specialty: Lip Reading
UM: Dear Vanessa
Can temporarily steal a person’s personality, adopting their way of thinking, acting, speaking, and memory to a T. Their victim, however, is left in a state akin to a doll.
A Shell-like Dagger
TW: Self-harm
Long ago, when Witches still traveled the world, there was a hermit crab with a single wish: to love and perform with the princess of a nearby kingdom. Her voice enchanted him so, and when she sang he’d crawl upon the highest boulder just to hear. One day, he overheard she was to be wed to a prince with fiery red hair. Jealousy overtook him, and in that envy he sought out the magic of a Witch who lived in a nearby cove.
“Please, grant me my wish!” The creature begged. “Turn me human so I can marry the princess. This grotesque form would never win her heart!”
“Little crab, are you sure you know what you’re doing?” The witch asked. “There is a spell I can use, but it comes at a dangerous cost. And only fools believe they can win someone over with nothing but a few meager attempts.”
Then it is a fool I must be!” He proudly stated. “Here, take my shell as proof of my effort.”
The witch sighed, but could not give up a trade. She soon crafted the spell and a peculiar golden knife.
“I can turn you human, but only for 3 weeks lest you die. In case all fails, take this dagger and rob the princess of her heart.”
“How horrible!” He exclaimed. “Why would I do such a thing!?”
“Worry not, little hermit crab, this dagger does not kill, but merely takes the core of a mortal soul. It is this, the soul’s love and emotion, that I need to turn you back.” He thanked the witch and drank the potion in a hurry.
Despite his skin feeling like a shell half his size and his hands stabbed by a hundred needles, he continued his way to the castle. With his newly ravishing human looks, and elegant rhythm as he played the violin, the hermit crab charmed many of the kingdom’s residents.
And yet, the princess was not one of them.
No matter how long he played, nor the celebrations he attended, she never looked the small crab’s way. Even when he created a tune just for her, she thanked him and sent him away. Yet, even as his hands felt like bleeding every time he played, he continued on.
But when the 3 weeks came and went, and the hermit crab was asked to perform at the wedding, only then did he finally feel regret.
So on the night before the ceremony, he shuffled back to the cove, dagger in hand. While the pain and despair swallowed him whole, the witch merely glared.
“See? Only fools make such wishes, and they always come to regret it.” She scoffed. “Now hurry and bring me that heart before it’s too late.”
The crab bit his lip, tears running down his face.
“I don’t want to die, yet I don’t want to transform back into such a hideous thing. But most of all, I don’t want to feel any of this pain anymore.”
The creature took the dagger and thrust it into his own chest, carving out his heart and presenting it to the now-horrified witch.
Tumblr media
“So please. Take my heart, I don’t need it anyways.”
The next page is blank…looks like this tale was never finished.
161 notes · View notes
writeyouin · 1 year
Note
Can we have some fluff and angst with V x reader cause the reader is on her period and V never being around women much has no idea how to handle all the anger, food cravings, sadness and horniness 😂😂😂
V X Reader – Prepared For Anything
A/N – I was gonna make this a fem reader, but then I remembered there are other peeps with uterus’ and that’s cool too, so this is completely gender-neutral. Happy Bonfire Night. Also, just in time before the night is over.
Warnings – Slight NSFW
Rating – T
Tumblr media
Throughout his life, or at least what little he could remember of it, V had accomplished a great deal. He had survived Larkhill. He had caused the explosion that had allowed his escape, working meticulously for months to coerce Doctor Delia Sturridge to give him everything he needed to do so. He had singlehandedly dug out the collapsed tunnels of the London Underground to create a base of operations. He had robbed, pilfered, and burgled everything that he could from Sutler and his so-called government, always stealthy and vigilant against anyone who might try to stop him.
One thing he hadn’t done was spend time around someone on their menstrual cycle… Until now.
There was a time that V had thought himself prepared for anything, but this was something else. It had started just a few days prior when you as his protégé had gone alone on a mission to rob a supply train heading straight to parliament. Normally, V didn’t mind where you went or what you did, respecting you as a fellow anarchist, but you had acted recklessly, and that was something he couldn’t have.
V was chaotic, but he was an organised chaos, like a storm in a teacup, waiting for the perfect moment to be unleashed unto an unsuspecting attendee of his tea party. Everything was timed perfectly. Normally, you respected that. Yet, only a few days ago, you made an unplanned attack that you weren’t wholly prepared for and although you weren’t caught, you had failed to exit the train properly and had come back crying with a dislocated shoulder.
After V had set your shoulder back into place and you had settled down, he had asked you why you had gone through with the robbery without planning it carefully. It was with a sheepish expression that you admitted that you just needed some things; things that V didn’t have. He pressed you further, and you had snapped at him, yelling that he didn’t get to know everything about you, and then you had started crying, frustrated that you couldn’t properly articulate what you meant before stomping away like a moody teenager.
To say V was surprised was an understatement, but he didn’t think much of it past the fact that perhaps you weren’t like him. There weren’t many humans who could survive the isolation of the Shadow Gallery without going mad, missing out on a regular life offered in the world above.
Later, V decided to see if you were okay. He found you in the kitchen hurriedly scarfing down chocolate at an ungodly rate. Although he was curious by the unusual breach of etiquette, V knew that was a battle that he didn’t wish to engage in, and so he backed away slowly, unnoticed by you.
Recklessness. Raging emotions. Intense cravings. If V didn’t know any better, he would have guessed that you were pregnant, but that wasn’t possible. Although he didn’t monitor your comings and goings from the Shadow Gallery, he knew that you hadn’t been fraternising with anyone; or at least he hoped you hadn’t. It wasn’t that he had any claim over you, but lately there had been stirrings of feelings in his chest; feelings that weren’t anger and hatred.
Shaking his head, V decided that whatever was going on with you would likely wear off or you would open-up to him about your feelings when you were ready.
Later that night, he opted to read Don Quixote, finding the titular character endearing on his quest to restore chivalry, though less relatable than he would have liked, seeing as V was anything but a hero. He was an anarchist full of hatred, wishing to free the people from their oppressors. V regularly thought himself to be a necessary monster masquerading as a man. However, one similarity between him and everyone else was that he too needed rest, and as he read further on, tiredness overcame him and he fell asleep on the small settee, the book resting on his chest.
Tumblr media
Having been traversing the Shadow Gallery restlessly, the pain in your back and stomach easing for the first time in three days, you stumbled upon V, finding him in an unusually vulnerable position. You stalked over to him, drawn like a moth to a flame. He looked beautiful.
You knelt down on the floor next to him, taking your time to admire the scene. At any other time, you might have found it romantic, but now, you wanted more. How would it feel to be pinned under him? You could wear a mask so as not to risk seeing what he so carefully hid. It would be worth it to have him do as he pleased with you, using you for his needs until you were both exhausted and-
“(Y/N)?” V stated your name, apparently startled.
It was such a difference from his normally self-assured tone that you were certain that he saw exactly what you were thinking in your eyes; the windows to the soul always gave away secrets to those astute enough to decipher their messages.
Well, so be it. In for a penny, in for a pound, You thought haphazardly, before voicing a question you might never have asked under normal circumstances, though any circumstance concerning V was far from normal anyway.
“V, Do you want me the same way that I want you?”
V’s breath seemed to catch in his throat. He cleared it and sat up, staring at you through his grinning Guy Fawkes mask. “(Y/N), please tell me… What has changed between us of late?”
“Hormones.” You laughed drily, the only one to find the joke funny.
V nodded, taking your answer at face value.
“I see,” He said after a minute.
Then he stood up, finding that there was much to think about now that you had raised such a serious question, over something as simple and mundane as your monthly cycle. Ever reasonable, V opted to let you decipher your emotions once your hormones no longer had such a chokehold over you.
“Then please, if you feel the same in a week, ask me again then. I am certain that your feelings might have changed by then, and if they haven’t…” He paused ominously, walking to the door as he did so. “We may discuss the matter properly.” After that, he was gone, leaving the Shadow Gallery for the free space on the roof. While he was alone in the rain, worried about what an attachment to you could mean, you were alone in his library, feeling foolish and crying, before your more primal needs took over and you were merely hungry and frustrated once again.
Periods really were a bitch.
Tumblr media
Like My Work? Buy Me A Ko-Fi @ https://ko-fi.com/writeyouin or Tip Me on Tumblr
503 notes · View notes
toothpastemaker · 1 year
Text
Tumblr media
Daniella, haunting ground
Character analysis under the cut, though it’s got it’s fair share of hard to handle topics like sexism and internalized misogyny, so if you struggle with things of the sort then I humbly suggest you skip that part of the post.
I’ve never done an analysis before, so I do hope you enjoy my thoughts, please feel free to share yours, I’d be more than willing to read it!
Haunting ground is the perfect game to me because it taps in on a big fear of mine when it covers all the objectification of Fiona.
If you’re unfamiliar and have an hour to spare, then I’d suggest watching this video on the topic, but if not then here’s the context.
Haunting ground is a horror game from the early 2000′s, you play as a female character named Fiona who’s found herself trapped in an odd mansion, avoiding stalker killers who view you in sexist ways and wish to use you for their own personal gain. It's insanely ahead of its time.
one of these Villains is named Daniella, the maid of the castle, she’s introduced when she provides you with clothes in a very inhuman way, her movements are stiff and she she smiles in an odd manor, she moves and behaves like she isn’t human, and you’d be kind of correct for thinking that.
At dinner, she states that she was “created” to be the perfect woman, however she does not experience pleasure nor pain, the wiki mentions her to be infertile as well. Shortly after this statement is when she starts hunting you and her attitude completely changes, she insults you, calls you princess derogatorily, at some point she slut shames you for daring to have a functioning womb in her vicinity, and I am personally of the belief that her disdain for Fiona is because of the indoctrination of the men around her.
Danie was stated to be created by Lorenzo Belli who made her to be the perfect woman, and yet this woman is lacking some very key human aspects, no pleasure, no pain. If this was on purpose, then it represents Lorenzo's very disturbing view of women, but Daniella has her own, more human views of what a woman should be, except instead of blaming the men who lied and limited her opportunities and potential, she, unfortunately, makes the very human mistake of blaming a woman who has what she wants.
Daniella reminds me a lot of old, angry suburban moms who talk ill of younger, happier women because of their rejection of close minded gender roles. It’s simply easier to blame others than admit that you’ve wasted your potential and I think that's what Daniella is doing, she’s quite literally a maid, she’s forced into submissiveness on a daily basis, doing chores and cooking food, you basically can’t get more gendered than that. But the thing is, Daniella is kinda rejecting this “perfect woman” in favor of her own happiness.
Thats the reason as to why she started chasing us, she hates herself being a feelingless doll and she longs for a humanity that she was robbed of by a powerful male figure in her life, but it’s as I said, she’s targeting the hate toward the wrong person which eventually leads to her demise, and despite dying horribly, she smiles when she’s finally free of her shackles.
283 notes · View notes
genderkoolaid · 2 years
Text
TW: Suicide, misgendering & deadnaming
Tumblr media
From January 14, 1860:
“An extraordinary case of a girl concealing her sex for many years, has been brought to light at Peitiers, France. Augustine, alias Augustus Baudouin, a young person of 17, was known in the town and neighborhood as an active lad, and had been in place in respectable houses as “odd boy.” This individual was lately tried for robbery, and while in prison, the authorities conceived some suspicion, and ascertained her to be female. On being asked what reason she had for wearing men's clothes, she said she had observed that men got their living easier than women; but she refused to give any information as to her birth and parentage. She was removed to the female wards, but her repugnance to appear in woman's attire among her fellow prisoners was so great, that she committed suicide by hanging herself on an iron bar with a pocket handkerchief.”
Augustus Baudouin gave the same excuse most other historical crossdressers AFAB did, that men had an easier time finding work or an easier life, which is why they crossdressed. I can think of only one man who, in the article about him, said that he had always wanted to be a boy. And it's clear why, because "I was so tired of my woman's place in society and needed food, so I simply had to dress as a man!" is a much better excuse than, potentially, "I feel like a man and I dress this way because I enjoy it." The former is much more likely to garner sympathy, while the latter exposes you as something unnatural.
But this one stood out to me, because Augustus committed suicide in prison after being forced to wear women's clothing and be called a woman's name. He refused to give the authorities any information on himself, and both that and his suicide imply that he was not a woman doing this for pure survival.
It also is impossible to hear about a trans man committing suicide after being outed and not draw connections to our modern life, where transmascs have some of the highest suicide attempt rates. This is not new- as long as there has been queerphobia there has been queer suicide, and it's an issue that has been addressed by queer activists since Magnus Hirschfeld and in Autobiography of an Androgyne.
I wish we could know more about Augustus outside of newspaper clippings written by cis people after his suicide, gawking over him as "an extraordinary case" after society directly led to his death. Like so many trans men&mascs, his story was told for him and his view on his own gender was erased. We don't know exactly how his assigned gender was "ascertained", or what he might have gone through in prison, or the circumstances that led him to living as he did before he was arrested. All we have left of him is the spectacle cis people made of him after his death.
Rest in peace, Augustus Baudouin. I'm sorry you were robbed of the life you deserve. Over a hundred years later, we remember you, and we remember every other transmasc who has been killed by transphobic society. Though you may have felt alone while you were living, now we know we aren't. We are organizing and fighting for a better world for all of us; I wish you could have seen it.
714 notes · View notes
smt4flynn · 3 months
Text
drink up
Warning: CNC, this can be potentially triggering, alcohol consumption, brief cunning linguistics, and implied somno. Minors do not interact.
This is operating under the assumption that all of this was negotiated off-screen and that both characters are aware of what is going on in the act.
AO3 tags:
Tumblr media
This was an anon request that I posted on AO3 and I'm now posting here! ('-')b I hope you enjoy!
I forgot to mention this uses gendered terms and is assumed f!reader.
------------------------------------
Nervousness radiates from you, anyone in the bar can tell. Just looking at you, someone would be able to tell how utterly out of place you are; you clearly shouldn’t be here. You are dressed far more modestly, and a bit more expensively, than all of the other patrons here, though that isn’t why you are nervous.
If push comes to shove, you are confident enough that you can completely and confidently fight off anyone if they decide to try and rob you. The reason why you are actually nervous is because of the request you are fulfilling for Astarion. It helps feed into you being extremely nervous, however, which plays better into the fantasy that Astarion wants from you.
In a bid to help him be more comfortable with his sexuality, given that he admits he struggles constantly with being sexual yet having to fight off waves of disgust. Most of your encounters are initiated by him, with Astarion dictating how far things will go and when to stop. You are more than happy to indulge him; you aren’t necessarily a sexual person yourself, though you aren’t repulsed by them either. If sex is something he finds important then so do you, though he seems to find that a bit odd.
As time goes on however, you see a remarkable improvement in how he handles himself. You find yourself happier when he indulges his desires with you and is able to go through with without disassociating and detaching himself from the situation -
This, however, catches you completely off-guard.
“You... want to roleplay assaulting me?” you question. Astarion looks at you pensively, then embarrassment mollifies his face.
“Well, it is more like I wish to get you utterly blackout drunk, but I suppose you can put it that way, yes.” he twirls one strand of his own hair around his index, eyes avoiding yours. “It is of course all fantasy, and I understand that something like this can be hard to... back out of, but we do not have to do anything you don’t want to do, darling.”
You look at him thoughtfully. Your hands fidget together and you roll your shoulders back before, “I can do that. What, um, what would you like me to do?”
“Dress nicer than most patrons at a seedy bar would, and I’ll approach you of course, and...” he describes to you all that he wants to do, and though you fluster a little before him, you agree that yes, you will do your best. You are no actor, however.
He doesn’t mind.
You clasp your hands in your lap. The dress you are wearing is soft, comfortable, and it stops a little above your knees; it isn’t anything fancy but it is enough to make you stand out. In comparison to everyone else, you look like a pretty little lamb ready for the slaughter. Your fingers dig into your knees, face growing red from the perceived scrutiny, and -
“Mind if I take a seat, darling?” a familiar, smooth voice breaks you out of your spiral and you look up to see him – looking roguishly handsome as always. He dresses in darker colours this time around, wrapped in tight leathers, and you stutter out your response – he takes that as all the excuse to slide into the chair across from you, mugs already in hand. “You looked so nervous, I couldn’t help but feel sorry for you.” his voice is so saccharine sweet and if you didn’t know him any better, you would have actually believed him.
“Oh, thank you, I – I think?” and your voice comes out softer than you mean for it too; he leans closer, sliding one of the  mugs closer to you, and you look down at it. You aren’t an alcoholic, or rather, you do not drink in general. You, at most, only recognise beer – something that Astarion scornfully calls swill. You do not recognise the liquid inside of the mug, though you do not doubt that he chooses something deliberately strong, knowing your non-existent tolerance. “Did you get this for me?”
He flashes you a toothy smile, fang on show for you, and it makes your heart flutter. He is so utterly attractive, you are once again taken by how much you love him. “Of course sweetheart,” he says, voice honeyed with each utterance of the words and he leans forth, resting an elbow on the table while he gives you a dizzying, beautiful smile, “it’ll help with the nerves, and I managed to get a... decent discount for them, hm?”
You pick the mug up, feeling a bit silly as you look at it blankly before you steel your nerves and decide to take a large swig, much to Astarion’s surprise. It burns on the way down your throat, yet so oddly sweet as it settles on your tongue and slips deeper into your belly. You gasp when you separate your lips from the mug and he stares at you thoughtfully, especially when the alcohol seems to work almost immediately – you feel a bit dazed when you put the mug down, already feeling heat rush to your cheeks.
“My my, that was a bit enthusiastic, don’t you think?” Astarion says, but he nudges the mug back at you when you let go of it, smiling at you all the while. You forget this often because of how comfortable he is with the group, often being a goof in his own way to keep everyone disarmed and relaxed, but it is impossible to see what dances behind those eyes. He looks at you with near-polite interest, something you often do not see from him, and a part of you wonders if he is falling back on old habits.
He nudges the mug again and leans closer to you, almost keen. “Go on, have a few more sips. You look like you need it; loosen yourself up, I feel stiff just looking at you.”
You don’t get to ponder for long if he has been falling onto old habits. You find yourself drinking a moderate amount – well, not really, maybe? He needs only his own ale atop of yours to get you completely swaying, slurring your words and losing your grip on the wakeful world. He looks at you with such gentle sympathy when he makes his way over to you, lips so gentle as he presses a comforting kiss to your temple. “Come along, sweetheart,” he whispers lowly, “I’ll get you a room for you to rest in.”
Everything passes by in a haze. You don’t know how but he does have a room ready for you in this seedy tavern; the farthest one too, the most expensive he whispers into your ear when you desperately hold onto him to try and stay afloat. You keep winking in and out of existence, your gaze so blurry when you look at Astarion and he – in a moment of borderline uncharacteristic glee – seems to revel in your listlessness.
“So gorgeous.” his voice seems so distant, teeth once more bared to you in a facsimile of a comforting smile. You cannot even struggle against him after he locks the door and latches onto you, hands grabby and rough when he grabs the hem of your dress and tugs it up. He bumps against you until you fall over onto the bed, your dress pushed up until your stomach, where your legs and your modest panties are on display, “oh, so cute.” he purrs, hands stroking along from your ankles all the way to your thighs, his grip almost worshipful as he squeezes your plump thighs.
“Nnnn... huh?” your voice sounds off, as though it isn’t even coming from you. He grins down at you; you are so sweet and pliant like this, you can practically see his thoughts reflected on his expression, downright predatory and sadistic as it is. You mumble something incoherent, to which Astarion responds by pressing a kiss between your legs, atop of your clothed mound. You try, sluggishly, to move away, heavy arms trying to push his head back, but you feel so weighted down, head dizzy still with how inebriated you are.
You really should figure out how to up your tolerance. Or perhaps, given how excited Astarion seems to have your body unable to fight back against him, practically charmed, you do not need to. He looks at you so reverently, fingers hooking into your cotton underwear to drag it slowly down. Despite your entire situation, the floatiness of the world around you, the thought of what Astarion wants to do to you, how he wants you practically unconscious and relaxed to the point of it being dangerous, has your folds slightly parted, swollen, and slick from a slow build-up of arousal.
“What a whore.” he hisses out, fingers spreading your folds; you feel so tired, like you could just fall asleep at any moment, and Astarion seems to key in on that. He presses a deceptive chaste kiss against your clit, almost mockingly so, thumb spreading your folds open so that his tongue can drag a long, lazy line between your folds. You shiver, your hips barely jolting against his mouth, though Astarion pins you down so that he can continue his almost kitten-ish licks of your cunt. The world around you is getting darker and darker, the pleasure growing faded.
“Stop,” you slur, your hands once again attempting to grasp at his hair and tug him off. He simply drags your body closer, keeping his face buried in your vulva, encouraging more and more of your wetness to paint his tongue. It’s messy, it’s wrong – you are wrong for this, for letting him enjoy so thoroughly taking you apart. If you didn’t drink so much --
Of course, Astarion loves it. Your feelings are just part of a play, you are aware, and it is so easy to get into the play of trying to get the brutish rogue off of you. His tongue is relentless against your cunt, lashing against your clit, wrapping around it, and all you can do is keen and beg -
“Stop, stop, stop-” your words lose all bite. You are far too sluggish. You realise that you are most definitely going to black out. How strong are those drinks that Astarion gives you?
Your heart skips a beat.
Did he lace them with something?
When you look down at your resident vampire lover, he grins up at you- he knows what thoughts dance behind your eyes. He presses a kiss to your cunt again, a wet smack of his lips against yours. “Good girl,” he whispers lowly, his breath puffing against your sensitive, swollen clit, “just go to sleep, darling, go to sleep, and I’ll take care of everything for you.”
Almost as if hypnotised, your eyes flutter. The world goes black.
-------------------------------------------------------
You awake, sticky and sore. Your face is buried in so many pillows, wrapped up in the most comfortable blankets, and Astarion sits across from you on a chair, reading what seems to be a smutty, trashy book. His eyebrow raises in what seems to be mostly confusion as to what he reads. When you force yourself up on your arms, you catch his attention just as you flop back onto your front, your legs shivering, and your face burns bright when you feel liquid heat drip out from between your pussy lips. Your press your legs together, blushing even harder when you realise there is... a lot of cum dripping out of you.
He must have been especially pent up, or must have built himself up to empty into you readily, pumping you full of his seed. You roll over and lift the blanket up, shyly looking down at your cunt, and Astarion laughs at the sheer embarrassment on your face when he sees how red your face is. Your pussy looks utterly puffy and flush with how much he uses your body while you sleep, and you cannot believe that you are unconscious for the entire thing.
“Was... was I good for you?” you ask quietly. You feel small for a moment, suddenly wanting to retreat, and Astarion sets the book aside to crawl onto bed with you, wrapping his arms around your stomach where he nuzzles his face into your cheek and smooches your temple.
“You were wonderful.” Astarion murmurs, “perfect, you let me do everything I ever wanted to do.” he pats your face and turns it over to look at him, where he locks lips with you, giving you a passionate kiss that steals your breath away. “Thank you for indulging me, my darling.”
“Anything that makes you happy,” you say.
Despite how oversensitive you are, you find yourself enjoying the odd pain he gives you when he makes slow love to you now that you are awake, peppering you with kisses and reminding you of how much he loves you the entire time.
You are just happy to have indulged him at all.
42 notes · View notes
it-happened-one-fic · 6 months
Text
Fight Till the Very End - Jade
Author Notes: The header for this fic, which also serves as the inspiration for this is, comes from @thegoldenshi-shi and is a lovely design for Punk Jade (Follow the link to see the full picture!) I listened to Jane Child's "Don't Wanna Fall In Love" while writing this and I honestly had the time of my life. As a fair heads-up this fic contains a bit of a headcannon of mine involving Jade and his punk phase. I highly recommend both the song and the art! As per usual, reader is gender-neutral. I hope you enjoy!
Type: Gender-Neutral Reader/ Fluff/ Flirtation/ Romance/ feat. punk Jade
Word Count: 1749
Tumblr media
It was one of those days at NRC where you really didn’t know what to think. And truthfully, that wasn’t exactly odd when one lived at a magical school with a talking cat monster in a haunted house.
But this instance was unique because it also robbed you of words. So you didn’t say anything at all as you stared at Jade, who smiled at you in return. Far-too-pleased with himself, judging from his expression.
But he probably was pleased with himself. After all, he was the reason for your loss of words and utter surprise.
In your defense, though, it wasn’t everyday that one saw the usually well-pressed, carefully dressed Jade Leech in an outfit that could only be described as very, very punk.
With cornrows long enough to reach past his knees hanging from his now spiked-up hair, a chain connecting his pierced ear to a sparkly new nose ring, black cloth arm cuffs that extend from his wrists up to his biceps so that his shoulders were visible, and a low-cut top that showed a considerable amount of cleavage paired with silver necklaces that only accented his full black ensemble, you could definitely say this was different from Jade’s usual suit and tie.
It wasn’t a bad different, though. In fact, if you were to be honest, he looked really good. Frustratingly so.
Especially since something about Jade’s expression, from his amused smile to the glint in his mismatched eyes, made you feel like this was all part of some elaborate scheme.
You adored all of the Octatrio, but you were also no fool and knew perfectly well that all three of them enjoyed their little plots and games. So this being a part of some new plot was all too possible. 
But at the end of the day, you were never going to learn anything if you just kept staring at Jade. And the longer you stared in stunned and perhaps awed silence, the more amused the young man seemed to grow.
So at last you broke your silence, tilting your head as you continued to scan Jade’s new ensemble, “Well... You certainly are dressed up today. Is there something special going on, or…?”
You trailed off, half-pondering the possibility of some new event that required new clothes and half-hoping that Jade would fill in the rest for you.
And he didn’t disappoint, chuckling softly and shaking his head as he answered, “No, there’s nothing special going on… Rather, Floyd just happened to mention to me that you might wish to see how I dressed back before you arrived at NRC.”
His eyes were all a glimmer as he shifted, almost as if he were posing for you, but there was no way to ever prove it since Jade seemed to be perpetually posed. Another part of his charm, you supposed.
You blinked, refusing to give him what he wanted and instead questioning the obvious: “You had a punk phase?”
If he was disappointed, Jade didn’t show it. Rather, he seemed oddly pleased by your persistence in not reacting to his new look as he nodded, “Yes, I only changed my style of dress a little before you joined us at NRC.”
A part of you wanted to ask why he stopped, wondering if it had something to do with marketing the Mostro Lounge or himself with his infamous butler persona, but another part of you decided against it. 
After all, Jade was hardly one to really let others' impressions of him hold him back. It wasn’t like he hid his love of mushrooms, and he seemed to revel in others' occasionally frightened reactions towards his and his brother's general aura of illegal activities.
And perhaps concerns about someone using his jewelry as a handle to yank him down while he was indulging in said illegal activities had something to do with it. It would be tempting to use that chain against him after all if you were in a fight with Jade, though you honestly didn’t think it would do much good in the long run.
As you thought more about Jade going about his usual activities, a smile crossed your face at the mental image of Jade doing his usual work as part of the waitstaff in such get-up “Does Azul know you're dressed like this?”
The grin that spread across Jade’s face was perfectly evil, “No.”
You nodded, letting out a little “Uh huh,” as you began to circle the young man. Taking a closer look at his entire ensemble.
“How did you get your hair to grow out so fast? Extensions?” You eyed the many, many cornrows that swayed with every motion he made. Half impressed by how tightly they were braided.
“Magic, Dear. Floyd helped.” You almost rolled your eyes at the way his explanation rolled off his tongue. Magic. Of course they could use magic to grow their hair out if they wanted.
You finally made your circuit back around the young man, and Jade’s eyes immediately latched back onto your face. The amusement within their depths was obvious as he continued to gaze at you. Ever patient as the two of you played whatever this game was.
“Why did Floyd think I’d be interested in seeing you all,” You gestured vaguely to Jade as you paused, searching for the right word as you fought to keep the smile off your face, “Dressed up?”
The more you evaded actually giving your thoughts on his attire, the more amused Jade seemed. And both of you knew why.
It was because he looked nice. In fact, he looked practically beyond nice. He looked amazing, rather like a devastatingly attractive bad boy male lead from an 80’s movie whose sole purpose was to sweep some poor, good girl female lead off her feet.
 At least a part of this game was him getting complimented, but you could see that easily becoming a slippery slope that would end with you in the same position as the good girl female lead.
He tilted his head, pretending to ponder your question, before a smile slipped smoothly onto his face. Confident that he would win whatever this was by the end, “He mentioned how much time we’d been spending together and said he thought you might be interested in learning a bit more about us. I must admit that after what he said, I was curious to learn what you might think.”
You nodded because it was true. Jade had been hanging around you more and more lately. 
Initially, you’d wondered if you had something he or Azul wanted, but it had quickly become obvious that wasn’t the case. Instead, it was more like Jade had his own personal stake in spending his time with you. In fact, if you didn’t know any better, you would say that Jade was genuinely trying to charm you.
It was hard to not let your eyes scan over Jade once more. It was odd to see him like this, but it was also interesting. Almost like he was opening up and showing you just a bit more about his person, and judging from his words, that was true. Though you also couldn’t deny that this still seemed like a part of some elaborate plot.
But you weren’t the only one who was staring at him. In fact, it seemed like everyone that walked by was staring at the usually menacing young man. 
Normally people did their best not to look too closely lest they draw his attention, but either the shock of seeing Jade in punk clothes was so great that they didn’t care or they were confident that he was too focused on you to notice their stares. 
And Jade was focused on you as he stepped closer to you, leaning down slightly so that he entered your personal space. You had enough room to retreat if you were uncomfortable, but he was close enough to easily hold your attention solely on him.
“And, what do you think?” His voice had softened, almost as if he were trying to lull you into giving away every secret thought that went through your brain. And maybe he was, but you weren’t about to lose quite so easily. Not when you weren’t sure if you were even ready to face your thoughts and feelings towards him.
But you smiled, used to his many charms by now, before nodding. Not about to lie to the young man even as you refused to surrender, “It looks nice. I bet you were popular back in your old school if you dressed like this back then.”
He grinned, his sharp teeth flashing as, for once, he didn’t even bother to hide them at your words. But he was pleased. Not only had you complimented him, you hadn’t backed down from the subtle challenge.
But you’d already decided that even as Jade slipped continually closer, you weren’t going to just give way. Even as you felt your fondness for him growing, you’d already promised yourself you’d fight till the very end.
In no way were you prepared to fall in love in this world that wasn’t your own. You couldn’t take that on top of everything else. Not when it could so easily hurt, what with your future being so unpredictable.
And it was scary how close Jade pulled you to the brink of falling for him, even despite your defenses. 
At this point, you knew perfectly well that if you did slip too far, it would be him that you would fall for. But you weren’t going to make it easy for him. Not when he made that cutting edge that love held feel something impressively close to good.
So it didn’t matter how charming, easy to get along with, or attractive Jade was, and it didn’t matter how tempting it might sometimes be. You weren’t surrendering. And if Jade’s expression was anything to go by, he liked that.
Despite yourself, you found yourself smiling back at him, not quite able to stop it even as you felt yourself slide a bit closer to where he lingered. Waiting for you to fall.  
But Jade leaned back, murmuring a soft but incredibly pleased, “Thank you,” as he slipped out of your space. Retreating for now, but no doubt already plotting his next attack in his head as he smiled down at you. Perfectly smug as you both prepared for the next round.
And you’d be ready.
74 notes · View notes
hawkinsquarry · 7 months
Text
first love, late spring
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
part 2/6 of wraith pinned to the mist
summary: it’s too dangerous to love in a time like this. so for now, you’ll share dish washing duty.
contains: steve x gender unspecified reader; angst; mutual pining
a/n: this is kind of a filler chapter to set up future chapters in the series. after my last fic i decided i wanted to make a monster hunting series so <3 i hope you enjoy!
Tumblr media
You wake with a bit of a start, the warm body that was under you suddenly gone. You prop yourself up on one elbow and watch Steve disappear into the Wheeler’s bathroom. You frown but don’t follow, simply laying back down and sighing. The morning light, hazy with fog, shines through the back door. It’s such a rare sight these days. You’re inclined to get up and step outside, but you’re simply too tired. 
Your eyes drift shut for a moment before you hear Steve swinging the bathroom door open. You can tell by his footsteps that he’s in a hurry. You open your eyes, expecting him to come to you, but he instead goes to Robin. He shakes her until she wakes with a start, falling off the couch she was on. “Ow!”
“Come here,” he urges, helping her up. Neither of them even glance at you as they go into the bathroom and shut the door. But even with the door shut, you can hear them, as you’re close in proximity. 
“What happened last night?”
“What always happens,” Robin snaps, clearly unhappy that she’s been woken up so rudely. “You stepped in front of danger and -”
“What is this?”
There’s a little pause. “You got hurt. There was a Demogorgon, and it swang at you - caught you with its claw, I guess. You got knocked out and - and - well, Nancy got it -”
“Who the hell gave me stitches?”
You hear Robin scoff. “Who do you think, loverboy?”
You’re a little upset that he doesn’t remember, especially with the attention he’d given you. But you already figured the medicine Eddie supplied had made him loopy and a little more sentimental than usual. The ‘loverboy’ makes you perk up, wanting to know more, the implications obvious. 
“No. No. No no no no no.”
“No, what?”
“There’s no - I’m not - don’t call me loverboy.”
“Loverboy.”
“Rob, I swear to -”
“Swear to Cupid? Ow!”
“It can’t happen,” he says, and your breath hitches. “This isn’t the time and place for romance, okay? It was - it was misguided, anyway, I was - I don’t even remember.”
“Steve, come on.”
“No, I’m serious, Robin. This can’t happen. I was stupid last night. I shouldn't have let it show like that. I can’t - I can’t right now. I can’t even think about that right now.”
Your brows furrow. 
“Since when did you ever put your love life on the back burner?”
“Now! Right now! It doesn't matter how I feel about them if I don't even know if we'll wake up tomorrow!"
“Okay! Okay, okay, I get it. But you might want to talk this out. It was pretty obvious last night."
"Jesus," he groans. You can hear him pacing over your heartbeat. "What did I do?"
"Well, you slept with them, for starters."
"Don't say it like that."
"And you were asking for them and touching them and - I think it was obvious, but I guess I've known for a while."
"This is really bad."
"It's not bad," Robin sighs. "You just... have to talk to them about it. They probably feel the same way."
"About me?"
"The situation," she stresses. "But they were quick to lay down with you last night, and they did fix you up, so...."
There's a long pause this time, and you think they might be whispering. Finally, Steve says, "It can't happen. Not now."
"I know, Steve."
You stop listening then, heart hammering and feeling a little sick. It's a blessing that Steve likes you, but he's right. It's not the time. You feign sleep when they exit the bathroom, peaking with an eye open as they head upstairs, Steve stealing the smallest look at you.
You wish he wouldn't have.
===
You’re washing dishes after breakfast now, Ted Wheeler staring you down over the edge of the newspaper. He seems particularly miffed with Eddie Munson, who’s wasting chocolate syrup and whipped cream in an attempt to make Holly laugh. 
Steve stands beside you, awkward and stiff while he dries what you hand him. You’re not sure why he’s in such close proximity, given his previous conversation with Robin, but you don’t say anything. You just wash and rinse and hand the ceramic and glass off to Steve, who seems deep in thought. 
Finally, he quips, “You think Ted can smell the drugs on him?”
You laugh softly. “Yeah, maybe.”
No words are spoken about you sleeping on Steve’s chest, or how he looked at you like you were the world last night. 
“Thank you,” he says eventually, fidgeting with the dish towel. “For. You know.” He points to his head and you smile.
“Not a problem.”
“I don’t know if I could stitch you up so casually.”
You shrug a shoulder. “I think you would if it came to it. It’s easy if it’s necessary.”
Steve clears his throat. “Well, thank you.”
“Mhm.” 
“And what about your hands? I remember how hurt they were.”
“Oh,” you laugh, finally looking at him. “That was just your blood, not mine.”
He blinks, hand slowing on the plate he’s drying. “You didn’t get hurt?”
“No, I’m fine. I just didn’t want to scare you, that’s all.”
“Oh.” 
You both stare at each other, your smile falling. When you finally rip your eyes away from him, Steve shuffles in closer, his elbow hitting yours. 
“I’m really thankful for you,” he starts lowly, fingers colliding with yours as he takes a cup from your hand. “I’m thankful for last night and every night before that. I'm - I'm so glad you're in my life right now."
“I know it can’t happen,” you whisper, continuing to stare at the sink. "Us, I mean."
Steve pauses for a moment, surprised you knew where he was going. “Do you understand why?”
“Of course.” Your hands still. Working up the courage, you finally look at him. “I couldn’t live with myself if something happened to you. And I’d rather not get hurt, either.”
Steve’s eyes are soft as he looks at you, and he nods once, curtly. “I feel the same way.”
You nod back. Everything has become blunt and rational since the world ended. There’s no what-ifs, other than the bad ones. You can’t think about tomorrow, let alone a time where you and Steve could actually be with each other. It might not ever happen. And if it does, and the other dies….
"So we agree, then."
You nod again. "I like you, Steve. But we shouldn't let it get to that point."
He nods again, too. "Okay, good. Good. I'm glad we agree. And - and no hard feelings?"
"Not one," you promise, but you can't look at him and say it.
There's a silence between you, a mutual understanding and grieving.
“They’re drafting,” Steve says suddenly, a dish clacking as it rests upon another one. “They want to have people to fight.”
The idea of someone in Hawkins, Indiana, fighting these monsters - someone other than your circle - is so laughable that you outright scoff. Steve laughs, too, gently. His elbow keeps bumping into yours and you force yourself to side step away, the closeness too much for you. “It’s honestly sad.”
“They don’t know what they’re getting into.”
You both look at each other, frowning, and then continue with your duties. 
“You’re not signing up, right?” you ask. 
He shakes his head. “I mean, I thought about it. And then I remembered we have our own tiny army, so….”
Your eyes roll. “Ridiculous that they - they’re making people sign up to kill themselves, and yet if you’re caught trying to kill a Demodog….”
“Maybe it’s worse than we think,” he says, voice hushed. “Maybe they just need distractions.”
You swallow harshly, letting his words sink in. You hand him the last plate and reach for the drain plug. “Please don’t sign up, Steve.”
“I won’t,” he promises softly. “Gotta make sure you stay out of trouble, don’t I?”
You scoff and look over at him, unable to stop yourself from smiling. Your chest aches. “Yeah, definitely.”
68 notes · View notes
woetoy · 10 months
Note
A few genuine questions: Why do you not like it when others tag your stuff as #me, #gender, etc.? Are there unspoken rules about tags? (I am very new to tumblr, so it would be helpful to know) Second, what is gender envy? I'm nb (recently discovered). I have seen certain clothes (I am obsessed robes and gigantic hoodies) that I'd love to wear. Is it about wanting to look a certain way? Like "man, I really wish I had that person's aesthetic", so would it be aesthetic envy instead?
There's non genuine questions? 🥺 Jokes aside-
Now, about the tags: My feelings on it are that it essentially comes off as a little rude. My art and characters are a part of me, and these tags kinda... rob me of that a little. Or they come off treating someone's art as faceless content to be consumed, ignoring the personal and emotional weight behind it. Not all artists feel this way, but my circle of art pals do. Nobody's evil for using these tags, but I think it's considerate to avoid them... !
As for gender envy... I don't have a perfect definition, but here's how I see it. I suppose it's a wish to fit to a certain ideal, and it doesn't stop at just clothing. It can manifest as an intense yearning for a certain body type, lifestyle, mannerism, tone of voice, and so on through the scope of gender identity. Gender is very complex, and one's relationship to it is highly individual, and the Envies™️ are probably confusing and hard to define sometimes, too, if you'd straight up ask someone.
Aesthetic envy likely also is a thing but I imagine it's more surface level in that case, like me envying the aesthetic of self proclaimed funny dads on vacation.
84 notes · View notes
Text
Diego and Misogyny
Every time I see a cool manly character, I start testing him for sexism. And it was the same with Diego.
Maybe he thinks women are weaker than men?
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
A lawyer must be strong. Both man and woman.
Maybe he thinks women are dumber than men?
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
No, he believe in Mia even though she is a newbie.
But he calls women cute nicknames!
Tumblr media
No, he calls men that too Nicknames are just markers and they really should lead to an alert and make you look for sexism. But don't get caught in the Association fallacy. If sexism is not found, relax. If you find evidence that a character treats both genders equally, relax. Mia is full-fledged employee who can decide for herself whether Diego's familiarity is acceptable to her. If she feels humiliated because of this, Diego will stop because he likes Mia.
The image of Diego is partially based on the image of gentleman. And often problem with this image is that gentlemen do not believe that women are capable of evil. They perceive women as children, and they shift the responsibility for their actions to the surrounding men. Does Diego do it?
Tumblr media
No. He believes in the subjectivity (agency) of a cute little girl. Even when she is 14.
Tumblr media Tumblr media
I guess criminal responsibility comes in this age in Japanifornia. We know that Dahlia is demon. She persuaded her father to get rid of Iris in order not to share the money. She robbed her family. And then she killed her big sister. She is incapable of creating an emotional connection. But Diego and Mia don't know about it. I wish they didn't blame the child just because their intuition, but ok. Diego is very protective. Such men often find it humiliating when a woman defends them. Maybe Diego finds it humiliating that Mia is protecting him?
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Maybe he finds it humiliating for Phoenix that his teacher is a woman?
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Oh, no-no. He considers him unworthy
Tumblr media
But Diego! You only saw her first trial. (and read all the rest I guess) Maybe he doesn't trust women on the battlefield?
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Maybe he doesn't think a woman can make decisions about herself?
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Maybe Diego doesn't like it when a woman takes all the attention to herself?
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
It's funny. Dahlia went to hell without even knowing who killed her. Because she is Mia's enemy. Not Diego's. Diego didn't even say hello to her before the murder. And he even never intervened in their conversation with Mia.
Tumblr media
Makes me wonder how sincere Diego is when he talks about a revenge. Diego said he didn't know what he felt: the desire to protect Maya or the thirst for revenge. But I'm pretty sure the second emotion was not anger, but fear. By the way. There are no phrases in the game that would imply that Diego is ashamed to be a victim of woman.
Tumblr media Tumblr media
But he's ashamed of his carelessness. He knows Dahlia is a dangerous killer, but...
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
People also accuse him of toxic masculinity. Okay, let's compare. Toxic Masculinity: "Boys Don't Cry" Diego:
Tumblr media
Boys and girls.
Tumblr media
Since when do we call the principle "you can cry, but later" toxic masculinity?
Toxic masculinity often hurts those around you. Maybe Diego started to despise Mia when she started crying?  
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
He has an empathy for crying men too. He's an attorney after all
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Diego considers it his duty to protect Mia. So what? Diego is her senpai. Diego demands from Phoenix to protect Mia not because of he's male, but because he projects survivor's guilt onto him. Not everything in the world is explained by the fact that a man has become a victim of patriarchy. Sometimes people just feel responsible because they are good people.
Tumblr media
Mia felt guilty about her client. I'm sure about Diego too. It's was her case after all. She didn't ask Phoenix to help with White. And she saves him at every trial. If she were a man, would you accuse her of sexism because she doesn't trust Phoenix?
Oh, I almost forgot. If Diego is misogynistic, then Mia is a weak patriarchal woman with no self-respect and a victim, right?
Tumblr media
Let me skip the screenshots where I prove that Mia is cool. Diego tries to be strong and wants to protect his loved ones, not because society demands it from men. And Mia teach Phoenix to smile in the most terrible moments, not because society demands it from women. It's just their personality. Both Diego and Mia do not like to talk about their injuries to other people. It's definitely toxic to them. But is it masculinity? I don’t think so.
And by the way. I don't consider this dialogue problematic in context. Diego just broke down because of a lot of stress. Franziska was the first to be rude.
Tumblr media
Just because he doesn't like Franziska doesn't mean he doesn't like all women. I'm pretty sure that he can't stand kids with whips who criticize strangers for an unimportant things while they are on the verge of a nervous breakdown.
Tumblr media
Let's say thanks to Franziska von Karma for taking the brunt of it! Although in the end Phoenix couldn't avoid it anyway... Game: Franziska will beat Pheonix with a whip Anime: Diego grabs and pushes him. Maybe Diego is biased because he knows her father or associates her with Dahlia. Maybe he draws conclusions about Franziska from her terrible behavior (+reacts painfully to her claims because of his feeling of guilt, which he tries to deny). It doesn't matter, he has the right not to like her. 
But I understand, "know your role" sounds like more than just an insult. What is her role? The game doesn't explain what Diego means. You can insert literally anything here: snobbery, prosecutor hierarchy (the replacement prosecutor and the main prosecutor), ageism, sexism, hatred of the Germans. Or he's just careless with specific insults. This phrase contradicts the image of Diego, which we saw the entire previous game and will see after this. It raises questions.
Tumblr media
... Not again... Don't tell me that the word "role" is really only for the sake of a funny reference. It's stupid.
Tumblr media Tumblr media
She is cute but who can stand Franziska anyway... P.S.: The game does everything to make Diego look like a good person (he is the third main antagonist, and seriously, Miles and Franziska are shown to be much more ambiguous). But it can't do anything about those who WANTS to hate him. Everyone has their own reason. Ship war, wrong activism, just fun... This is how fanons work in any fandom. People can find something absolutely everywhere. I have seen such wild “errors” in the interpretation of the most understandable canon that I see no reason to excuse "fans", sorry. Bonus Diego is a very funny character. I love all these cool (and ridiculous) metaphors. I love that Diego drinks so much coffee. And I like the fact that Diego quotes phrases about men, but in situations with a women.
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Maybe this is a language habit due to the existence in the male team.
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Or he deliberately saying it with smile to motivate Mia.
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
So... What's the answer? Sometimes Diego says manly things, but only when they don't fit the context. It's funny and cute because they instantly clash with the real world, turning their meaning upside down.
Tumblr media
Diego and his strange metaphors... I guess Diego has some personal perception of men (not serious, like "a man should drink 10 cups of coffee a day"), but definitely not women. In conclusion, there aren't characters in the game that think about Godot bad. Even Phoenix instantly changed his attitude towards him. Do you know why Diego is my favorite character? Because he is complex and dramatic. But most importantly, because he is a pro-feminist.
191 notes · View notes
librarianandguardian · 8 months
Text
My Moonshine - Geto x GN!Reader
Pairing : S2!Geto Suguru x Gender Neutral!Reader
Word count : 2 938 (= 7 Google Doc pages)
Warnings : Canon Divergence (of some sort), Mentions of dark thoughts, looming dread of death (just looming), angst/comfort
/!\ Spoilers for the end of the 1st part of JJK Season 2. Proceed at your own risk /!\
A.N : Okay... I know I post every new blood moon... But hey new fic ! Bear with me, I needed to comfort myself after seeing the Hidden Inventory/Premature Death Arc animated. I was dreading to see it animated because... Heartbreaking. Just as scared for Shibuya. Anyway definitely Canon divergence I'M HERE FOR IT OKAY.
Tumblr media
Being a good exorcist was easy. Being a talented exorcist could come from two paths : birthright or hard work. You considered yourself a hard working one. The cursed technique bestowed upon you yielded terrifying consequences. But offered wonderful opportunities. Water. The element of life, creating and keeping alive. The spirits of Nature were and are to this day, the kindest beings of this world. So their wrath can be as burning as their love for their disciples.
And you started to wonder if you hadn’t offended someone. Hand on your right flank, your body, folded in a corner, was waiting for the curses to pass by you. Though, there seemed to be little chances of survival with the scent of your blood everywhere on the floor. This mission was supposed to be in, kill, out. One curse, one hour maximum to find it. Yet your life was flashing before your eyes, a gentle sob needing to spill out. Time couldn’t rob you like that. Not now.
The celestial body was dead, Haibara-kun too and Nanami quit to be “normal”. All your friends fell through repetitive depressive episodes; Shoko started drinking atop of her smoking habit, Gojo though more mature was now endangering students, fighting more and more with Geto, whom blamed himself for the death of Riko and Haibara. Geto… Your moonshine. With his man bun. His stupid wit. His ease. When everything was going to hell, you would both bitch about Gojo together, pass out on the common room’s couch in eased silence, dance on new tracks with Shoko by your side. He always had bad days, but they were becoming more and more violent. And all these rituals were less and less vibrant. He never fell asleep; he hummed, no more wits; stared with an empty look at that wall while listening to new tracks. Honestly ? You were so used to grieving that cheering people up became a reflex.
Cry at night, smile to people to shine. Be their light.
You knew it was bad for you. But your heart couldn’t bare to see others endure what you had.
Be the balm you didn’t have back then.
Another hard truth ? Your mind was cracking. Only two years had gone by. Your pain drowning you slowly, week by week. No one was cheering up. You were feeling useless. Just like this instant. Curled up in a ball, life draining slowly. Exhausted from your first insomnias these past few days. Surprised on a dangerous mission. Why did the higher-ups send you alone on this ? Did they see how useless you were becoming as you aged ? No… Why would they…
Low growls neared your corner. Rusted furniture was protecting you for now. Maybe their ironish smell would fool them. Or did they fool you ? No wish of yours had ever been so strong than the one clouding your mind right now.
Heat Wave. A fan. A white ceiling with bamboo planks. Shorts and tank tops. An opened couch and pillows. Suguru softly breathing next to you, his phone battery dead, one earbud in, the other out, a bit of saliva running out of his mouth. The window bay opened, the one facing the fresh forest, the gentle stream passing through the pond tinking. Stars in a clear sky, accompanied by the moon.
Why did you get the exact opposite ? And the sounds you wished to hear again…
“Thank you, Droplet. My heart is indebted to your generous one.” His index boops your nose, you giggle. “ Please, call on me if you need anything. I…” He pauses, serious, before gently tugging the handle of your lollipop to mess with you. “You and Shoko are the only ones keeping me sane these days.” Your hand grabs his to try to free the handle, as you both giggle. “Stay bright, little light.”
Well, if you didn’t turn into a vengeful spirit after all of these thoughts… Anything else your brain wants you to regret before you die ? A summer festival memory ! Sounds like a good way to wrap it up.
A Rainbow of traditional clothing. You loved yours. Geto had brought you to his favourite secret store of traditional clothing, where you found THE outfit for the festival. Smiles everywhere. Smells of food. Fireworks. Hugs. Songs. The fresh air of midnight. Your moonshine seeing you shivering. After a quick inquiry, his arms draped over your shoulders, covering you with his large black sleeves, as his chin rests at the top your head. That giant bastard did warm you up, but so did your cheeks and heart. You wondered how you could get him to do that more often.
You had found out a few weeks later, while discussing with Utahime on the phone. Mortified described your state extremely well. None of you were ready to be in any kind of relationship. Your souls were vividly scarred by all the recent events. Broken can’t fix the broken. A couple is the union of two people, who know their personal value and want to add the other’s to theirs because they love it. It is an addition, not a completion to the hole in their heart. Geto had been a friend for so long now, that these sayings didn’t stop your thoughts about the possibility. He knew how to be an entire person without anyone, even if it hurt him at times; he could choose his addition without a worry. But what about you, still fighting against your people pleasing habits, oblivious to yourself worth ?
The snarls of the curse were right next to you. It had stopped, sensing your presence, searching. Its head turned left, towards your spot then right. It sniffed carefully around the abandoned building. The air was mossy, rancid, dusty. Your blood could blend with the rust. Your breaths were short, eyes tightly closed. The curse was constituted partly of water. You could trace its movement, anticipating your probable death. Speaking of which, you decide to make peace with it all. Step by step. In your mind, three different versions of you appeared : a child, a teenager, a young adult.
You cherished our alone time and hobbies all while being a busy exorcist. We are soo badass !
I kept that part of myself. Thank you, little light.
You weren’t a scared teenager anymore. You fought, saved people, protected the one you love. Our mind and our heart cooperate without bitterness now. That’s one hell of an accomplishment.
I’m proud of myself. Thank you, we’re saved.
We both know what we want now, don’t we ? You have been blind on purpose because you were scared.
Of what ?
Appearing cold when mourning. Too cheery on a daily basis, while everyone was sad. To equal your seniors. To admit you finally fell in love.
It’s not because they didn’t cheer up every day that you failed. The important thing is that you stay true. He wants you by his side, so do you. We jump towards our death in every mission. Allow yourself some moonshine in this dreary life. A droplet can change everything. Survive.
You opened your eyes. The curse had turned its head back near the rusted furniture protecting you. Okay, it was big. But full of water. You control water. It could work, right ? Your wound wasn’t too bad for now. Your hand covered in blood would argue, but it couldn’t speak, so fuck it. Drawing a deep breath in, your legs sprung you out of your hiding spot. The curse screamed, extending its hands to you. Its mouth wide open, you saw some saliva. Perfect.
Thank you, Droplet.
You screamed in return, letting some tears fall out of your eyes. You infused them with cursed energy, alongside your sweat. You would have preferred to use external water like a puddle but oh well. Even the moss would not have been enough. Tears and sweat are highly linked to emotions, making them potent catalytic fluids. You would tire quicker, but it was the best way to get out of here. Creating a string with a hook, you launched it inside the mouth. Got the connection.
First step : letting it swallow some more. Screaming some tears out, your cursed energy allowed you some strength. The string got longer, the curse swallowed.
Second step : deeper. The sheer need to resist the pull made you sweat some more. The thread became longer, the curse falling deeper into your trap. The map of its in and out was clear now.
Third step : Hook and tear apart. That could be trickier. Your strength had its limits, especially with a wound. Draining your own water… Everyone says it’s a dumb idea. But you know why you use it; last resort.
Your feet firmly planted on the ground, you pull. Shivers and tremors ran through you. One of your knees touched the ground. Your throat got drier by the second. But you screamed. Your heart wanted to make it out of here to spill it all out to your moonshine. Deep down, you knew that because you and Shoko were behind him, Geto stayed somewhat sane. That he didn’t jump off of an edge you could not have saved him from.
If you die, he might let go.
Hell no. Not on your watch. That moonshine would not disappear. Your tired arms pulled. Your cursed energy went up some more. It didn’t seem like enough. Wrapping the thread around your wrist, your now free second hand straightened in the direction of the curse. It was going to act like a magnet to the hook, to pierce through the curse. You loosened the thread a little. This was your riskiest manoeuvre : a few seconds of inattention and you’d be dead.
The curse wailed ; the hook was slowly coming out. But it started shaking left and right. Now you were fucked. Still, as hopeful as ever, you kept going. Your thoughts were on a loop, like a broken record.
I want more time. I want more time. I want more time. I want more time.
Something ran down your nose. On your right flank too. Blood, probably.
I need more time. I need more time. I need more time. I need more time.
A swift breeze blew behind your back. Opening your eyes, a giant white dragon flew through the opening your hook had created, tearing the last curse of your mission apart. Your thread and hook dematerialised. The tension of your body evaporated. Your muscles became jelly. The dragon came to you, sniffing you. A smile crossed your features. Someone called out your name, far, getting closer, next to your face. You couldn’t leave the dragon’s gaze, the happiness it brought you. A few words leave your mouth, before you blacked out head first on the fuzzy head in front of you.
“ I’m ok. ”
Shoko contemplated the night sky. She had never been into it. Until one fateful pyjama party involving you and your random knowledge. It soothed her now. A puff of smoke ascended towards it. The state you came back in was not too bad, you were mainly exhausted. Your wound healed up without a problem. She could recognize the signs of insomnias on your body; paler skin, darker under-eyes, shallow breaths. Your undying resolve to cheer was fading.
Did you think of Death, good friend ?
Another puff of smoke flew up. Maybe Shoko should stop smoking. Go on your little mental health walks with you. Cry with you. Grieve together. A cold breeze blew her hair away. For tonight though, she’d leave you to your peace. She giggled tenderly. What a surprise you’d have waking up. Smashing the butt of her cigarette into a pot, her arms snuggled her white blouse closer around her turtleneck. She often wished to have a Geto of her own.
“I won’t let you freeze, Droplet.”
Those are the last words you thought you would hear waking up. Your nose ran a little, your feet feeling the cold air of the room; as well as a pair of legs. Slowly emerging, your forehead noted the warm chest it rested against. A big hand was rubbing the back of your head. Your back shivered at the contrast between the air and the arm circling it, the hand politely resting on your side. Lips kissed the top of your hair.
“Please never do that again. That was so reckless of you. Did you really think we wouldn’t back you up ? Even if we were forbidden to do so ? ”
One of your hands, bunched up against your own chest, grabbed onto the black t-shirt in front of you. You had woken up a few times, mere seconds each, but every time you felt like shit. Your brain was letting your heart loose. You wanted to cry so bad. But exhaustion put you back to sleep just before you could. However now, you were fully awake and ready to burst. Your nostrils recognized the perfume next to you. He saved you, probably watched you bleed out without knowing if it was fatal or not, and stayed by your side for hours on end. A sob above you invaded your ear.
“We need… I want you by my side for all of this. I want to smile with you. Be a brat with you. I-”
Another sob. Tears dropped on your cheeks.
“Nap like we’re in a coma in summer. Hold you on a cold night of a festival. Hug when we’re sad for whatever reason.”
If he hadn’t noticed you yet, that would do it. A shaky breath escaped your mouth a little too loudly. You sniffed. The hand on your side twitched a bit, indicating Geto had in fact heard you, freezing in place.
“Are you ?...”
You buried your head in his neck, rounding his torso with your arms, crying. He probably had to fight Shoko to be able to lay in your infirmary bed like that. Instinctively, his arms held you tighter, leaving you some time; taking some time for him to cry too. Your hands grabbed the back of his shirt with urge, afraid to lose it.
“I want you too. I jumped out to save myself because I wanted to live please… don’t…”
Even though Geto was shaky, he loosened his grip to let you look at his face. Dark circles, wrinkles from the sheets and a small cut on his left cheek. His voice only shushed you gently, the hand on your side cupping the side of your face to rub his thumb on your temple. Your eyes met. He nodded to you, exhaling all the air in his lungs. You followed, warmed up by his attempt to help breath smoothly again. You synchronised, like every time you eased the other out of sadness. These breathing exercises had been transmitted by one of the spirits of the water you met long ago. A gentle puddle pushed by the wind. You were crying your eyes out in the forest, having seen another one of your friends die in a trial. The puddle worked with the wind to move in slow motions, allowing you to sync your breath with them.
One out for one, two, three, four ripples. One in for one, two, three, four ripples… Halt ! One ripple. Two ripples.
“Three ripples. Four ripples. Let loose, Droplet.”
The hand on your face moved back to your hair, caressing them.
“Are you feeling better ?”
With one last breath out, a small smile appeared on your features. Your body was warm from head to toe, happy to be alive, to have him so close.
“Thanks to you, Suguru.”
His eyes widened again, a slight blush covering his cheeks. The moments he could help you back were so rare. You thanked him every time. However you had just confessed to him. Fireworks went off in his brain, barely believing it. He was getting delirious after worrying so much at night, right ? Or was he dreaming ? A mental slap later, his heart screamed to be in the moment. So as sly as ever, he grinned after scoffing.
“Don’t mention it.”
You shook your head, amused. Hugging him again, you wondered if what you both said earlier was going to be talked about tonight. A light breeze made his arms hold you a little closer. He kissed one of your temples. Maybe you should have that conversation. Pushing it back wouldn’t be any good. The night was still young.
“So, heard you say you wanted me, little light ? Is that true ?”
You huffed a laugh at his casual tone, knowing full well that his heart was hammering against one of your ears.
“Yes. I believe it was an appropriate response to your lengthy love declaration. That you professed while you thought I SLEPT. That is so mean. Never hide your feelings like that with me, please ? ”
It was his turn to laugh. But no mockery laced his voice. Just a little bit of admiration. You had been on Death’s door. Yet here you were, scolding him with your entire heart.
“I promise, Droplet. Would you do the same ?”
Your head lifted to watch him. His face seemed so relaxed. Did all of this mean you could get infinite free hugs and that beautiful smile all day long ?
“I promise, Moonshine.”
Maybe the next few years aren’t going to be too bad.
53 notes · View notes