#did my watercolor become better

[luxaofhesperides]

Final hour Ghostlights request! Soulmate AU where when your soul mate dies your soul mark expands. Duke was really heartbroken at first but now his soul mark makes it really difficult to keep his secret identity hidden because he is covered in a map of the cosmos. He has to use his shadow powers almost constantly to keep all the stars hidden! And and maybe they light up like actual stars when he uses his light powers.

He meets Danny at orientation or something at GU and they brush against each other and he just lights up like a supernova, all his stars literally blazing and he's just like "YOU!" Both excited and also OH MY GOD YOU ASSHOLE.

....I rambled a bit here I'm so sorry.

The thing about soulmates is that you don’t really know who they are until they die. And even then, most people never know who their soulmate was, only that they outlived them.

Duke became one of those people when he was thirteen. 

He didn’t even notice until he went to change and saw the watercolor swirl of nebula spill out from over his heart. 

One moment, he was tired and angry, ready to sneak out of his latest foster home to search for his parents and do all the things adults have failed to do. The next, he’s collapsed on his knees, shaking, unable to breathe as he tries to rip his soulmark off of his skin. He couldn’t think past the shock and horror of realizing that his soulmate is dead and Duke didn’t even know until that moment. 

They’ll never get to meet. 

Duke had never felt so alone before. 

He spent the next few days in shock, his mind a mess of static, unable to focus. He hid away in his room, buried under the covers, and his foster parents were understanding when he whispered my soulmate’s dead. They called him out of school and brought him food and water throughout the day, gentle encouraging him to eat something every few hours. 

But disaster waits for no one, and Batman was gone, so Duke pulled himself out of his misery and hit the streets again. 

So his soulmate’s dead. So his parents are gone. So Gotham’s falling apart.

No one’s doing anything about it, so it’s up to Duke to start fixing things. It’s not like he had much to lose.

Soulmates become a bit of a taboo topic to him, after that. He speaks of them to no one, avoids all conversation about them, refuses to stay when people talk about soulmarks. He tries not to look at his soulmark at all.

And then he takes a hit to the chest and patches himself up with shaking hands. For the first time in months he looks at his soulmark again and…

Did it… grow? 

Duke prods it gently, letting out a hiss when his bruised ribs protest at the movement. He remembers the mark being right over his heart. 

But looking at it now, it branches out, swirls of galaxy and constellations reaching out along his ribcage. 

Panicked, Duke grabs for his computer and looks up soulmark growth and webmd soulmark abnormalities.

Neither give him any answers, though WebMD helpfully suggests skin cancer. 

“I’m gonna ignore this,” Duke decides, and pulls on a shirt and goes to sleep. The less he thinks about his dead soulmate, the better. 

Time passes and Duke goes from being a Robin to being the Signal, a legitimate vigilante working with Batman. It’s nice to see Gotham start to settle, things falling into place. For once, nothing is awful; Duke’s found his parents and doctors are looking for a cure for long-term exposure to Joker Gas, Batman’s taking care of Gotham with a number of other Bats, Duke is getting used to his powers and slowly making a good name for himself out on the streets. 

He keeps his focus on protecting people and getting stronger, helping solve cases with the other Bats. No one mentions soulmates, so he keeps his ever expanding soulmark a secret. 

The only problem is that it keeps growing and Duke is concerned that it’ll move to a place he can’t easily hide under his clothes. 

And he does need to hide them. The more his soulmark has grown, the more obvious it is, especially when he uses his powers and the stars on his skin light up like the Fourth of July. He knows it’s abnormal, but it’s also his soulmark and he doesn’t want anyone, least of all Bruce, poking around trying to study it. 

The grief still lingers when he looks at it, but Duke has long since grown used to it. If anything, these days he’s quietly annoyed by how far the galaxies on his skin spread out, forcing him to take tank tops and shorts out of his wardrobe. 

There’s also the tentative hope that maybe his soulmate is immortal and keeps coming back to life after they die. And they must also have terrible luck, because they just keep on dying.

Case in point: his soulmark flares and spills out onto his shoulder and wraps around his bicep. It’s not the first time he’s seen it move, but it still startles him.

“Are you serious,” Duke mutters to himself, pulling at his sleeve to adjust it and hopefully hide his soulmark. The starts are bright against his skin, and while sometimes he likes to trace them with his finger, now is not one of those times.

As pretty as it is, his soulmark is also very obvious and will cause people to realize his identity if they ever catch a glimpse of it while he’s out as Signal. 

He sighs. There’s no choice but to live out the rest of his life in hoodies and sweatshirts. 

As if to spite him, his soulmark grows once more. 

Did his soulmate just die twice in the span of five minutes? That’s concerning. 

He wishes he could meet them just so he can shake some sense into them. Maybe tell them to stop dying since it’s stressing him out so much. Maybe stick by their side to make sure they never have to die again. He’s honestly not sure what he’d do if he ever meets his soulmate, but he has to do something. This has gotten out of hand.

At least seeing his soulmark grow doesn’t hurt as much as it did a few years ago. 

Lazily, he pulls at the light around him to hide the new portions of the soulmark on his arm from sight. It takes some focus, but he can hold it up long enough for him to grab a snack from the kitchen and retreat up to his room without being questioned by anyone. He could probably even keep this shirt on for the college orientation he needs to attend later in the day if the light works well enough to keep his secrets hidden. 

He’s expecting Alfred in the kitchen when he arrives, but is greeted by Dick clapping a hand on his shoulder, right where his soulmark has claimed space. Duke falters and works to keep the light from fracturing as he returns Dick’s grin. 

“Hey man,” he says, “What are you doing here? I thought you were out until Friday.”

“And miss a chance to hang out with you? No way. Besides, I wanted to give you a ride to your orientation.”

“You don’t have to,” Duke starts, only for Dick to cut him off.

“I’m going to,” he says, as if it’s a threat. “It’s been too long since we get to spend time together without a mask on. Are you really going to deprive me of this?”

Duke shakes off Dick’s hand from his shoulder, walking towards the pantry to find a small snack. “I guess not. It’s going to be pretty boring for you, though. I’m just going to listen to people talk about what college is like for a few hours.”

“We could always just walk around campus afterwards. I haven’t seen it since it was rebuilt after the last time Freeze attacked it.”

“Sure, that sounds fun. Thanks for offering to drive me.” Duke pulls out a box of Poptarts hidden behind stacks of pasta boxes and pulls out a pack for himself. He opens it and isn’t at all surprised when Dick steals one right out of his hands. 

“Meet me out front in an hour then.” 

And with that, Dick leaves, his stolen Poptart in hand, and Duke is left to shake his head and shove the Poptart box back into its hiding place. He heads off to eat his own snack, making sure no one is in the hallway as he lets go of his hold on the light. Already he can feel a migraine building with the immense focus he had to use to make sure nothing looked out of place.

At least Dick didn’t notice anything was off. If he can fool Dick, he can fool anyone.

Still, just to be safe, Duke changes into something with longer sleeves before he leaves and hops into the car with Dick. 

The drive goes quickly to the tunes of ABBA, both of them singing along as they head for the GCU campus. Parking is a bit tricky, but they manage to find a spot a street away and walk towards the student union, where tables are laid out for incoming freshmen to sign in and grab a folder filled with papers meant to help them. 

He waves to Dick and heads in once he gets his folder, and grabs a seat in the auditorium that’s close to a fire exit. 

It takes another twenty minutes for the presentations to start. The lights dim and Duke panics for a brief moment before drawing the shadows over himself lightly to hide the soft glow of the star etched onto his skin. 

They start with introductions, bringing in advisors, professors, and student ambassadors. Most of it is basic information that Duke already knows, so he zones out and plays with some shadows at his feet, where no one can see the way he twists shadows together like some dark magic form of finger knitting.

For the next hour, Duke halfheartedly listens to people talk about preparing for classes and keeping on top of schoolwork and learning how to ask for help. He’s saved enough college students that he knows the gist of things, and the orientation really doesn’t give him anything helpful. 

He probably could have skipped, but he wanted a normal college experience. 

He should have known that normal means boring as hell.

As soon as the presentation ends, an advisor encourages everyone to follow the schedule tucked into their folder to give them a half day modeled after a typical student’s schedule. Of course, all the classes are nonsense just to fill up their time, made to help freshmen coming into the college by covering topics such as how to write an email and an introduction to majors and minors.

Duke already declared himself as a Human Services major, his first step into becoming a social worker like his mom was. 

Also he totally knows how to write an email, what are these advisors on about? Do they really think people his age can’t write emails? 

Yeah, he’s ditching. The main presentation is really the only part that matters in the orientation. He’s not walking out on anything he needs.

Duke files out after the rest of the crowd, carefully letting the shadows slip off of him once he’s outside again. Instead of finding the first ‘class’ he’s supposed to go to in the Modern Languages building, he wanders off to find a quiet place he can sit down and wait until Dick finds him. 

Tucked away towards the back half of the campus is a small nook full of trees, bushes, and benches. Judging by the amount of cigarette butts left in the single trash can there, it’s a popular smoking spot. 

No one’s there, so the air is clean and free of smoke, so Duke heads in, hoping to sit down.

Someone else apparently has the same idea. He hops down from one of the concrete planters that’s keeping a bush contained and nearly falls on Duke.

They both shout in surprise, then Duke is moving without thinking, reaching out to steady the startled looking guy who accidentally jumped down in front of him. 

Duke only has time to take note of how blue his eyes are before his hands wrap around the guy’s wrist and Duke feels his soulmark flare with warmth.

In the shade of the trees, the glow of each star on his skin is obvious. It’s visible even through the fabric of his shirt. His soulmark, at this point in his life, stretches across his chest, his ribs, his back, and now his shoulders and upper arms. All the stars in that watercolor galaxy are shining brightly as if the night sky has been draped across his body.

Soulmarks only react like that for one reason.

“You!” Duke shouts at his soulmate, both elated to see that he’s alive and annoyed that he made Duke’s soulmark so large. “Stop dying! Do you have any idea how much stress you’ve caused me?!”

“Oh my god,” the guy says faintly, eyes fixed on Duke’s chest where his soulmark originally rested, shining brighter and bigger than any other star, as if he’s tucked a sun into his heart. “Oh my god,” he says again, with more feeling.

“I’m so happy you’re alive, but please stop dying. It’s bad for my health.”

“I think I need to sit down?”

He does look very pale and faint. Duke tightens his grip on his soulmate’s arms and guides him to a bench, gently sitting him down.

“You’re not about to die, right?” Duke asks. “I don’t think my heart could take it if meeting me killed you somehow.”

“No, no,” his soulmate manages to say, “I’m not going to die. Um. Wow. I didn’t know my soulmark would do that? Sorry.”

“Well, it’s not like you had any way of knowing. It’s all good, man. Just please stop dying.”

His soulmate winces. “Yeah, that’s not gonna be possible. Sorry. Again.”

What does that mean, though? What does it all mean?

“Can I maybe get an explanation as to why you have to die again.”

“Mmmmm no. We just met and it’s kinda personal so. No.”

“Dude.”

Duke’s soulmate shrugs helplessly. “It really is personal! I know your my soulmate and all, so I’ll probably tell you one day, but right now I don’t even know your name.”

Oh shit. He’s right. Introductions completely slipped his mind, too busy reeling over the fact that his soulmate is here and alive. Which, honestly, would be enough to throw anyone off balance.

“Shoot,” Duke says. “Sorry. You just really caught me off guard. Hi, I’m Duke, I promise I’m more put together than that.”

“Hi Duke, I’m Danny, and I’ve apparently been traumatizing you for the past few years by making you think I keep dying.”

“Well. At least we’re thrown head first into the crazy. Best way to know if we’re be a good match.”

“You sure you can handle this? You seemed pretty frazzled a second ago.”

Duke flusters and lightly whacks Danny’s shoulder. “That’s normal! Anyone would do the same when meeting their soulmate for the first time!”

“Fair enough,” Danny laughs. “This is a totally weird request and you can absolutely say no, but… can I see?” He presses a hand against one of the glowing stars beneath this collar bone, looking up at Duke with wide, hopeful blue eyes, and Duke finds it so cute that he’s willing to do anything Danny wants. 

“Here,” he says as an answer, pulling the collar of his shirt down a bit to reveal the nebula spilling onto his shoulder. 

“Oh,” Danny breathes, tracing a light finger against it. “It’s beautiful.”

“I’m guessing you like space?”

“Love it. I wanted to be an astronaut, but uh…. It’s never going to happen. Health problems, you know?”

“Well, I know it’s not the same, but I hope the stars you put on my body will be a good enough replacement.”

Danny cheeks turn red and he turns away, flustered. “Don’t smooth talk me right now, I’m not ready for it,” he mutters, bringing up a hand to try to hide his expression. 

“Sorry, sorry,” Duke laughs, “I’ll try to keep the flirting down to a minimum. It’s just really great to finally meet you. And I’ve been wondering, what’s your soulmark look like?”

“Oh, well…” Danny fiddles with the long sleeve of his shirt. “I had a pretty bad accident years ago that kinda affected how my soulmark looks. So if it looks weird, that’s why, okay?” He takes a deep breath, then pushes up his sleeve, holding his wrist out to Duke. 

The first thing Duke notices is the soft yellow glow, Signal yellow to be precise, running down his arm as if sunlight fills his veins. Then he sees Danny’s soulmark, a sun with rays that wrap around his wrist. And running through his soulmark are Lichtenberg scars, glowing yellow as if stealing the color from his soulmark. 

“Guess we both got super obvious soulmarks, huh? At least we kinda match, that way.”

“That’s one way to look at it,” Danny agrees. 

“Man, what a day.” 

Danny looks more relaxed with him now. It’s much better than the startled, tense version of him that first sat down on the bench. Duke hopes he chooses to stay with him; he doesn’t admit this often, willingly, or to other people, but he’s a romantic at heart and has always wanted to live a happy life with his soulmate. It’s still far off in the future, but he hopes Danny feels the same way.

“So, are you ditching the orientation classes to?” Danny asks.

“Yeah, there’s no way I’m going. I mean, a class on how to send emails? They can’t be serious.”

“I know, right?! I saw that and thought I was being pranked. I mean, we’re going into college. We better know how to send an email by now.”

“Since we’re both free for now, wanna grab lunch with me? It can be our first date, if you want.”

“I’d love to! And you can show me around Gotham a bit. I’m coming here for college, but I haven’t really seen the city yet. It’d be nice to explore it with someone who knows where things are.”

“Are you free for the rest of the day? ‘Cause I wouldn’t mind showing you around, if you want.”

Danny smiles, radiant. “I am. I’m in your hands for the rest of the day.”

“Cool,” Duke says, trying not to think too much on that wording. It’s very suggestive, very flirtatious, and he’s looking forward to getting to know Danny more so he can start properly flirting. “Lemme just let my brother know to not wait up for me.”

He pulls out his phone and sends Dick a text that just reads: met my soulmate. going on a date now. i’ll see u back at the manor!

Then he puts his phone on silent and tucks it back into his pocket. He’ll tell Dick all about this later; for now, all his attention is on Danny. 

Soulmates get priority, even stressful ones that give him the largest soulmark he’s ever seen. 

And right now, he’s on a mission to find the best lunch spot to take his soulmate to for their first date. Everything else can come later; for now, he’s going to enjoy the time he gets to spend with Danny.

He hopes they’ve got a future together as bright as the stars in his soulmark. 

Despite it all, Duke is sure they’re going to be alright.

#ghostlights #dc x dp #dp x dc #dcxdp #dpxdc #prompt fill #my writing #dannys obv not going to be able to keep his identity as phantom hidden for long in gotham #esp since he wants to protect people and transforms to do that #and one of those times will be in front of duke to protect him from some goons trying to kidnap duke for his connections to the wayne famil #duke ends up using his powers as well leading to an identity reveal on both ends #and then the dots connect and duke yells THIS IS WHY U KEEP DYING and danny has to sheepishly apologize for how large dukes soulmark is #he does kiss all the new stars that show up on dukes skin tho so hes forgiven very quickly #(not that duke was ever mad. he's just worried) #thanks for the prompt!!

[depravitycentral]

Yandere! Chrollo Lucilfer General Profile

Yandere! Chrollo Lucilfer x fem! reader

Tw: stalking, kidnapping, heavy manipulation, threats of violence, threats of assault, mind breaks, Stockholm Syndrome, mentions of non-con, non-consensual touching, mentions of somnophilia, mentions of cum, threats, Chrollo has a god complex but what else is new, Uvogin is mean to you but he doesn't mean it I promise!, fem reader, MDNI

I do not condone any of the actions described in this post - this is fiction and should be treated as such. If you or a loved one is in a similar situation to anything contained in this post or my blog in general, please seek help. You're in charge of your internet consumption; please make responsible choices. With that, enjoy! 

DARLING PROFILE:

Smart

His darling doesn’t need to be a genius or anything like that, but they do need to posses a certain degree of intelligence.

Chrollo considers himself a well-read, cultured man, and he feels that his partner needs to match his level of worldly awareness, of cognitive ability. It doesn’t need to necessarily lie in the same fields as his own (though he can’t deny that it would be absolutely wonderful to have a darling who enjoys the same types of literature as him, the same philosophers, the same composers), but they must have a certain area that they hold an above average amount of knowledge in.

He finds intelligence attractive, and what initially causes him to develop an interest in his darling is largely due to the showcasing of this knowledge and smarts. He’s entranced the moment his darling opens his mouth, eagerly hanging onto their every word and nodding along, actually finding himself enjoying speaking with them.

He doesn’t have to pretend to be interested in their words for his own gain, rather finding himself genuinely wondering about their opinion on this or that, curious like a child.

He finds his darling fascinating, and a smart darling will get him falling faster, harder, deeper, to the point where Chrollo develops into a love-starved, desperate man who wants to learn more and more and more, aching to become an expert of his own in his favorite field; his darling.

Creative

Similarly, a darling who leans more on the creative side is a perfect match for Chrollo. It doesn’t matter where this creativity finds its medium – perhaps his darling is particularly artistic, enjoying expressing themselves with the arts.

Maybe they love to paint, watercolors and acrylics seeming to come alive under their fingers. (He’d melt if he found a work of him, the colors making him sigh and dreamily trace the lines, joy swimming in his heart that they painted him, that he means enough to them that he’s taken a starring role in their hobby.)

Perhaps they enjoy photography, documenting small, beautiful moments in life. (He’s always trying to look his best around his darling, keeping his neck tense and posture strong, so that if they did take a sneaky, candid photo of him, they’d enjoy what they see.)

Perhaps they play an instrument, melodies ringing out and making Chrollo smile and nod along. (Learning his favorite pieces would make him struggle to not reach out and place a gentle kiss to their forehead, letting his hands wander down their shoulders and cupping their breasts, telling them he’d love to repay the favor and learn their favorite things as well.)

Maybe they enjoy knitting or crocheting, making all kinds of creations that Chrollo finds endearing. (He’d expect them to make him something, of course, subtly demanding he receives something so that when he’s away, he’ll be able to keep a piece of them with him, something made with love and care and specifically for Chrollo Lucilfer himself.)

Cooking, sewing, writing, anything and everything can fit into this category – Chrollo really just likes that his darling is thinking of him, that they spend their time doing something that makes them happy, and if he gets to be involved, all the better.

He’ll even push his way into their hobby, learning all that he can about it with eager fingers, wanting to impress his darling and make the activity into something they can bond over – a way to spend time together, a way to get them all by his side and happy, never, ever wanting to leave.

He just loves them so very much, after all.

Observant

While it would be difficult to find someone more calculating and cunning than himself, there’s something alluring about a darling who is more observant than those around them.

He likes the idea that his darling is just able to pick up on things, their eye more trained to assess those around them, to understand their motives and notice the things they do.

It’s a sign of intelligence, and once Chrollo’s obsession has formed, he’s purposefully doing things he’s hoping his darling will notice, all with the hope that they’ll spend time wondering why he’s always fiddling with his ring finger, or letting his eyes flick to them. It’s like a game to Chrollo, and he finds it beyond entertaining to watch his darling in action, seeing their expressions flit across their face as they try to interpret his odd behavior.

There’s just something that attracts him towards darling that are able to perceive their world for more than it is – he views himself as better than everyone else, a sort of God among men, but a darling that has this trait rises above the countless below him, standing out alone as a superior being, someone worthy and perfect for him.

He’s egotistical, after all, but a darling that can at least kind of match his observation skills is something that will attract him to them – whether that’s good or bad, one can’t say.

Witty

His darling certainly doesn’t need to be a comedian, but someone who can keep up with his thinly veiled banter would cause his interest to spike.

His words are almost always tinged with just the slightest amount of snark, the slightest bit of condescension that seems to be present no matter who he’s talking to.

Perhaps it’s a result of his own pride or self-confidence, but regardless, a darling who can not only pick up on this but also respond with a bit of snark as well would make him momentarily pause, before laughing a bit and wondering just how far he can push them. It excites him to have a darling who can keep up with him, bantering back and forth, and once his infatuation develops, this is one of his favorite things about his darling.

He loves that speaking with them is endless entertainment, hence how often he tries to goat them into conversations. He’s always, always asking them questions, often designed to get them speculating, philosophical questions that he’s genuinely curious to know their answer to, and in the process he gets to have a sort of playful discussion, something that makes his heart race a bit in his chest.

He just likes his darling’s ability to think on their feet, only reinforcing their intelligence and making him fall deeper, harder, more soundly.

It makes him want to keep that wit all for himself, to not let anyone else have the pleasure of indulging in his darling’s words – they’re his, and the longer his obsession festers, the more he believes in that sentiment.

GENERAL YANDERE TRAITS:

Dependent

Much of what fuels Chrollo’s obsession for you is selfish in nature.

Initially, he’s interested in you because you make him feel something, some strange emotion he can’t quite place. He’s running through all the possibilities early on, wistfully trying each emotion on before discarding it.

Does he want to use you? No, you wouldn’t be especially useful - you’re not all that developed of a nen user, if one at all, so you’d just be wasted effort.

Does he want to steal something of yours? No, you don’t have anything of particular value, nor are you an important individual.

Does he want to kill you? No, something about the thought leaves a bad taste in his mouth.

He’s stumped at first, genuinely unsure of what you’re making him feel, but it’s not until he spends more time with you that he begins considering options that are more foreign to him - that is, that he may have developed more positive emotions towards you, less manipulative and more yearning.

He contemplates whether he’s fallen in love - the books he’s always perusing make love sound so obnoxious, virtuosic, grandiose, and Chrollo can’t quite say he agrees. What he feels for you is ultimately overwhelming, surely - but it’s also much more subtle, slowly taking root in every aspect of his life seemingly without him even noticing. What used to be hours spent searching out new heists and items to steal becomes twinged with just a hint of your presence.

Small thoughts in the back of his head wonder whether you’d like the diamond necklace displayed in this gallery, or how it’d look against your pretty skin, sitting in the hollow of your throat.

What used to be solitary evenings spent reading in candlelight become small daydreams about what you’d think of his current philosopher’s theories, whether you’d indulge him in hours of philosophical discussions, what your opinions on the perception of self are. What your perceptions of yourself are, and, more importantly, what your perception of him is.

It’s not too overwhelming at first; he’s mostly able to control himself, that ever composed stature of his kept carefully in place.

The thoughts are mostly just fleeting, odd off-handed curiosity about you that he doesn’t worry too much about. It’s interesting, mostly, that you’ve gotten to him at all - and it’s this, really, that drives his desire to learn more about you. The fact that you continue to become more and more intertwined with his thoughts leaves him anxiously aching for more, wanting to see the extent to which you’re able to make him feel - something he’d always thought was more or less impossible.

And what you make him feel is so, so very good; his palms are a bit clammy when he sees you, gaze raking over your figure and noting how well your shirt fits your curves, dark eyes eagerly scanning the title of the book you’re reading out of. He’s a confident man, of course, but at the prospect of approaching you and discussing the literature, he can’t help but swallow, tongue sneaking out to lick over his lips.

He feels a strange sense of peace when he’s looking at you, taking in the way the sunlight shines off of your face, the way your clothes frame your body, how your lips quirk up into a smile when you see the little bunny that hops along the grass in the public park. It’s small things, mostly, that get little butterflies fluttering in his chest – and it’s these little fleeting moments of happiness, of contentedness and fascination that lead him to believe what he’s feeling for you could be the ever famous love – or, at least, some variation of it.

Is it love when he’s letting a smile cover his features as you scrunch your brows and huff when you can’t get that stupid jar open? The way you stick your tongue out in concentration and squeeze your eyes shut is  honestly adorable, forcing Chrollo’s eyes to linger on your face just a tad bit too long.

(He can’t help but imagine how you’d thank him so profusely if he opened it for you; he’d even go so far as to roll up his sleeves, exposing his smooth forearms that he knows women can’t resist. Do you fall into that category? Would you be transfixed by his strength, his physical appearance, his smooth voice when he tells you that next time call me first, please, I wouldn’t want you to struggle…)

Maybe it’s the way you look so disheveled in your oversized t-shirt and ill-fitting lounge pants as you shuffle about your apartment, completely unaware of the camera he’d had Shalnark place in your living room. You look comfortable, and there’s something about seeing you so vulnerable, so raw that gets him breathing a bit heavier.

(More than once a thought has, seemingly out of the blue, surfaced where you’re starring and wearing a dress shirt of his – white, stiff material just barely hiding the outline of your breasts and the curve of your hips, tantalizing and looking so very right on you. If that were to happen, Chrollo has already made peace with the fact that he’d hold out on washing that particular shirt – just until he’s gotten the chance to slip it on himself, occasionally sniffing the collar and getting something heavenly, something that can only be described as you and him together.)

Chrollo honestly isn’t sure what it is about you that’s gotten to him to develop feelings - he’s intrigued, earnestly trying to understand it, but as time passes and he finds himself spending more and more time simply thinking of you, he finds himself caring less.

It’s happened already - he’s in love, he’s certain, and now that he’s in that position, the only logical thing to do is pursue you. And while he tells himself it’s all because he wants to learn more about how you’ve managed to trick him into falling for you, really it’s all because he absolutely has to. The longer his infatuation goes on, the less time he can spend away from you, and the less he can justify the strength of his feelings.

He becomes restless when you’re not in his sight - his hands are shaking slightly, thin brows pinched together, every muscle in his body flexing involuntarily. His temper is heightened, irritation brewing in his chest even if he doesn’t mean it – he’s snapped at Nobunaga by accident, his words just a bit harsher, a bit more clipped when telling him the meeting time for the next month.

When he’s not been around you for long periods (a day or so), he just feels like something’s missing, something he can’t quite place. There’s a you shaped hole in his chest, and it turns Chrollo into something of an addict going through withdrawals - he’s become too dependent on the way you make something warm bloom in his chest, and the moment he’s without it, he’s counting down the seconds until he can return to you, return to the calmness and serenity of being around you.

And when you smile at him, answer his questions, brush your hand against his when he hands you a cup of tea, Chrollo can’t help but shiver slightly, his content smile twitching up at the corners ever so slightly. It’s addicting, the way you make him feel so alive, so strangely happy, so light and bubbly and horribly enslaved to his emotions. But while he’s never known himself to a weak man, he thinks he’d be okay with you being his Achilles heel - as long as you smile at him, let him stare as you talk away about your day, let him brush his knuckles against your cheek and whisper that you’re so warm and frail, Chrollo could care less.

He could care less about most things, really, once you step into his life - as long as you don’t leave him, that is. As long as you don’t abandon him, taking you and the feelings you ignite within him with you.

You wouldn’t dare, he’s sure of it. 

Possessive

Tying into his desperation for you to stay under his thumb and by his side, Chrollo can’t seem to shake the way anger flares up inside him whenever another man interacts with you. He knows it’s irrational - it’s possible to have interactions with the opposite gender without ulterior motives; he regularly speaks with Machi, Pakunoda and Shizuku without any goals aside from Troupe business.

And yet, he just can’t forget the way he knows some men are - viscous, disgusting, cruel, vile in a way even Chrollo isn’t. He may be a mass murderer, mentally unstable, unhealthily in need of being in control and a pathological thief, but he’s never harassed a woman before. He’s never sneered at one, groped or touched them in a sexual way without their consent, and he’s only ever seduced a woman with the intent of getting information out of her.

But others?

He knows others are probably just as in love with you as he is - you’re beautiful, intelligent, sweet and oh so perfect, truly a naive, painfully unaware little bunny in a world full of wolves. And wolves will pounce, even if the bunny is already in another’s jaws - just the thought of another man attempting to intervene and seduce you themselves is enough to get Chrollo’s jaw clenching ever so slightly, his eyes narrowing a bit and his fingers clasping around his nen book just a bit tighter.

He’s territorial, unwilling to share the way you make him feel with anyone else - only you can bring him the happiness he craves, so therefore only he is allowed to be on the receiving end. He hates the idea that another man could start chatting you up, throwing false compliments and sweet words your way, buttering you up and trying to steal you from right underneath his nose. It makes his fingers itch, the sense of control he harbors over you slipping slightly. It scares him, if he’s being honest – an emotion he hasn’t felt since he was very young, scavenging the streets of Meteor City.

He loves the way you’re able to make him feel, but this particular emotion he very much doesn’t like, nor does he enjoy the way jealousy pricks at his heart when another man glances at you. It leaves his blood boiling, every inch of his body feeling unbelievably hot, his muscles tensing up over and over.

And yet, Chrollo is a man of opportunity – while it may be torture to see you with another man, something excruciating in ways Chrollo has never experienced before, this is a good chance to paint himself in a better light. It’s a good opportunity to sway your perception of him – particularly if the man isn’t wooing you successfully.

Before he’s stolen you away, he’s quick to observe how men approach you, with suave smiles that make you visibly nervous, your high pitched responses to his questions vague and obviously constructed for your escape. It makes some weird sort of protectiveness spring up into him, but he holds himself back. He wills himself to wait just a tad bit longer, to elongate the discomfort you’re feeling because this will only really work if you’re desperate for an escape route. It’s torture, watching, but Chrollo holds on – until he decides you’re fearful enough, his long strides towards you not nearly as quick as he’d like.

Words will slip from his tongue before he can even really think, always placing himself in between you and the man, physically separating you as he quietly but firmly tells the man off, mentioning something about how unchivalrous it is to corner a defenseless woman.

Honestly, as shocked as you’ll be that Chrollo just emerges from the shadows so often, you’ll be incredibly grateful for his presence and intervention - which is exactly what he’s hoping for. He doesn’t like the way his possessiveness eats him up, but there’s something to be said about making sure that he saves you, making sure that you perceive him as your protector and someone to trust.

It’s an insurance thing, more than anything, because there’s nothing that calms Chrollo quite like knowing that you like him, that you’re associating positive emotions with him. It makes pride swell in his chest to think that you perceive him as some sort of guardian angel to you, and while it almost makes him pity you, it just makes his job easier.

It makes it easier to constantly be trailing you (you’ll never catch him, however), and to get you falling for him just as strongly as he’s fallen for you. If you hold him in a position of power, he will be exploiting that power and control - he’ll be subtle when he starts isolating you, the power trip making him giddy because now no one will talk to you. It makes the corners of his mouth twitch up when he sees that notification on his phone, your contact flashing across his screen.

(It’s just your full name, though sometimes he’ll play with the idea of adding a star next to it, or perhaps a diamond or crescent moon - it’s too childish for him, but he’ll often type it out and quickly delete it, only to retype and repeat the process.)

It makes him feel good to know that you’re contacting him, that you reached out to him, meaning you’re thinking of him and not someone else. He’s leaving small hints of his presence in your apartment; a copy of his book that he ‘accidentally’ left there last time you invited him over for dinner, a watch of his (that he stole, of course, but you don’t know that) that you keep neatly on your dresser and glance at every morning, marveling at how pristine and silver it is.

He’ll leave his leftovers in your refrigerator from nice evenings out, internally cooing at the way you finish them off yourself, liking that you’re wanting to finish his food, obviously not disturbed by the fact that his mouth may have touched a bit of it. He’s trying to stake his claim on everything around you, no matter how big or small it may be, just to get you thinking of him.

(Of course, he’s also a fan of staking his claim in ways you’re less knowledgeable about - he’s even spent nights at your apartment, dark eyes appraising your pretty, sleeping face, spending hours simply staring before wandering around your room, picking things up and digging through your drawers. Sometimes, on days when Troupe business has him feeling just a bit stressed, or he has to deal with particularly important but irritating individuals, he’ll even settle himself beside you, sitting in your desk chair and letting his black slacks fall to his knees, palming himself and shakily exhaling. He’ll caress your cheek with one hand, letting a strained, breathless smile slip across his face while his other hand relentlessly tugs and flicks around his cock, eager to see the way you’ll look with white splattered all across your pretty face. He’ll clean it up afterwards, mostly – it can’t hurt to leave a bit on your lips, right? Just so that you’ll taste him in the morning? Just so that he’ll be with you all night, all day tomorrow, so close?)

He’s possessive in the worst way possible, and while it manifests itself as seeming chivalrous and even a bit endearing, it’s anything but. There’s nothing cute about the way he religiously thinks of you, his every free moment spent watching you or speaking to you with the smoothest, most attractive voice he can muster.

There’s nothing sweet about the way his hand lingers on the small of your back, just a tad bit too insistent when he's guiding you through the crowd, making sure you don’t stray far enough away from him to let air flow between your bodies.

There’s nothing flattering about the way he gazes at you as you slowly wake up in his hold, with no memory of how you got there, no memory of where you are, no memory of how you’d changed into a pretty, billowy nightgown, and no memory of him, at least of the tattoo across his forehead or the carnal look in those eyes.

He’s a possessive freak, and once he decides you’re his target, there’s really no chance of escaping. So don’t even try.

Manipulative

He’s good at getting what he wants, and that mixed with his natural charisma leaves pretty much everyone he encounters susceptible to his charms. He’s spent his whole life studying human emotions, interactions and what drives people, and as such he’s got a pretty good understanding of how to exploit others, how to find the cracks in their armor that leave them putty in his hands.

It’s almost fun, in a way, like a puzzle Chrollo becomes extremely skilled at solving flawlessly. But when it comes to you? Well, no matter how adept you are at seeing through people, no matter how levelheaded or careful you are, Chrollo will be getting you wrapped around his little finger, completely bending to his will.

You are certainly no exception to his charms, if only because Chrollo is trying extra hard with you, the genuine drive to get you visibly bashful at his compliments and craving his touch nearly driving him to insanity. And honestly, you probably won’t even realize it – he’s subtle, giving you a small push here or there with little comments about the people around you, or about habits he wants you to break.

When you’re out together shopping around at stores much too expensive for you (courtesy of Chrollo smiling at you and requesting you let him buy you something, because it would mean so much to me, and I know you’ve secretly been yearning for that new dress), he’ll gently chastise you about how you shouldn’t talk to him anymore – don’t you see the way his eyes are on your chest rather than your face?

(The sales clerk who had been helping the two of you was most certainly not ogling your breasts – but even if you bring it up to your companion, he’ll just sigh softly at you, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear and murmuring that he knows men better than you do, that he can see right through them, just trust me, he would’ve given anything to have you alone.)

The comments will be small but plentiful, designed to get you listening to him and coming to think of him as right, as much smarter and more observant than yourself, something that Chrollo will use to his advantage. He does love you, in some twisted, sick way, but Chrollo’s idea of love is distorted, warped and made ugly by the way he treats you.

He knows it perhaps isn’t the classic method of wooing you, but there’s nothing wrong with twisting the situation just to make sure that his desired outcome sees fruition. He doesn’t like lying to you, and would prefer to always be truthful (to an extent, at least), but he understands that it’s what has to happen in order to make his long term plans a reality – in order to get you unconditionally devoted to him, just as he craves.

It’s unhealthy, but Chrollo doesn’t mind; which is why he’ll be putting to use every possible tactic he can think of to get you returning his feelings, all twinged with just a hint of manipulation, just to get the right seeds of thought planted in that pretty little head of yours.

He’s buying bouquets of flowers every week, sent to your address by hand with a note attached in big, loopy cursive detailing how gorgeous you are; haikus he writes describing your eyes, your hair, your figure and your laugh that get your neck and cheeks feeling warm, the flowers always your favorite colors. (The note also generously makes use of the word ‘my’, preceding nearly everything pertaining to you – my darling, my beloved, my angel, my future.)

He's dressing himself to the nines, with his shirts and pants always pressed and pristine, his cologne noticeably but not too intense, just the slightest touch of gel in his hair, all just to make sure he look as attractive and presentable as possible. He knows women find men in casual business wear attractive, and he’ll purposefully choose white dress shirts with the sheerest material he can get away with – just so that when the light hits just right, you’ll see the hard lines of muscle underneath, his abs and pectorals standing out and straining against the fabric. (He’s always making comments about how other men dress when he’s out with you – claiming that there’s wrinkles in their clothing, that wearing such bright, obnoxious colors are unbecoming of a true gentleman, that their watches and jewelry are obviously fakes, even that he’s seen that shirt for sale and it’s a laughable price – some men must not care much for beauty, and if they’re willing to purchase such low-quality items, imagine how poorly they must treat their partner.)

It’s a constant with him, as if he’s actively looking for every opportunity he can to make himself look better compared to those around him – call it a result of his possessiveness, or maybe some weird, unhealthy craving to get your praise and admiration.

Regardless, it’ll eventually have you slowly seeing what he means, finding yourself nodding along and agreeing with his words, even if you’d never have independently formed such a thought. It’s a slow process and will take a while to work, but Chrollo watches with intent, bright eyes and bitten lips, satisfaction oozing out of him because he’s got you right where he wants you, and sweet little you doesn’t even know.

Of course, once he’s stolen you away and permanently attached you to his hip, his manipulative tendencies don’t just magically disappear. Oh no – if anything they grow stronger, because now that you’re truly isolated, it’s just so much easier to mold you into the perfect version of yourself, all needy and dependent on him just as he wishes. It’s easy to get you believing things about those on the outside, using tactics like ignoring you or limiting your freedoms in order to get you caving to his desires, to get you listening and hanging on to his every word like it’s God himself speaking.

And really, Chrollo likes that imagery – that he’s your god and you’re his devoted little follower, worshipping everything he says and making him feel good, important, wanted in a way he’s never experienced before. (Although, in reality, the roles are more flipped – you’re his god, the one thing he comes crawling back to no matter the situation, his unending devotion to you rooted so deeply inside him that not even his soul is unaffected by you. He’s written poetry about the idea, entertaining it through writing, but he’s always quick to rip the pages out and crumple them, not enjoying the uncomfortable sense of truth in the words.)

So while Chrollo’s feelings for you do resemble love in some ways, his methods and expression very much doesn’t – he’s not afraid to lie t you in order to receive the results that he wants, and really, it’s best not to bother fighting him. He will prevail, no matter how to try and keep your head on straight, and it’s just easier for the both of you to not try, to not attempt to make sense of the mixture of lies and truth he feeds you. It’ll save you both time and energy, and Chrollo would really, really appreciate your cooperation – you’re cute when you’re being defiant, but it grows old.

And while Chrollo would never lose interest in you, he’s not above making you believe that he has – if it gets you obeying and letting him rest his hand on your hip (dipping down to firmly grip and squeeze at your thigh too, if he’s lucky), Chrollo will do anything it takes, no matter how depraved or violent.

Anything at all.

DEALING WITH RIVALS:

Chrollo, while liking to view himself as being above other men, is only human. He’s still a man, one with an intense, disgusting obsession with you, and the moment that your attention is threatened, the human side of Chrollo becomes very apparent.

It’s difficult to look at him and see it, but internally he’s simmering with jealousy every time another man approaches you, to the point where it becomes difficult to focus on anything else except you, except the way that you’re looking at someone else, talking with them and breathing the same air as them. It’s horrible, and even more so than the idea that you’ll be stolen away from another man, Chrollo doesn’t like the fact that this scum thinks he has to right to even be in your presence.

You’re perfect, in Chrollo’s eyes, and he hates the fact that others get to be around you so freely, even when that privilege is something should belong to him and him only. It angers him how other men don’t seem to understand that you’re already taken and claimed, your fate decided the moment Chrollo decides he wants you.

You’re better than everyone else, a breed above, and he's always just a bit worried that you’ll somehow be tainted by talking with other men, like your perfection will become marred when others look at you.

So, Chrollo does what he feels he must – he must interfere, even if getting closer and closer to the scene has his heart pounding, anger swimming through his veins in amounts he’s never, ever experienced. It’s cathartic, in a way, to have such sudden bursts of emotion, but as his dark gaze focuses on you, he decides that what you make him feel, all the warmth and dizziness and disorientation, is much better than the jealousy sitting heavily in his gut.

He’ll, of course, take his time; he’s opportunistic and wont’ simply waste the chance to further build his positive image in your mind, but waiting is absolute torture. He’s digging his nails into his palms with every moment he’s forcing himself to wait, dark gaze unblinking as he stares at the two of you, mentally berating the man and thinking of the thousands of ways he could torture and kill him. And once he thinks it’s finally, finally time, he’s not wasting a moment and approaching the two of you as fast as he can. It's easy to enter into the conversation, picking up something the man has said.

His voice is smooth and sure, a complete contrast from the stranger attempted to pick you up – your head turns sharply when you hear him, relief flashing over your features at a semi familiar face.

He’s maybe a regular at a café or diner you enjoy – you’ve seen him around, chatted lightly a few times, only really knowing his name and a few of the books he’s always reading.

And while Chrollo knows this, he can’t help the way his heart practically soars when he sees how visibly relieved you are for his presence. His fingers twitch with the intention of reaching out and cupping your cheek, but he refrains himself.

The man, however, doesn’t seem nearly as pleased by his sudden arrival – he’s scowling slightly, brows tucked inwards as he growls out sorry, but we’re having a private conversation.

Your relieved and awed expression suddenly returns to a grim and fearful one, and internally Chrollo feels his anger flare. His face is still neutral, however, as he responds carefully and calmly that he’s making you obviously uncomfortable, and it’s the chivalrous thing to do when I see a woman being harassed. The man splutters slightly, shocked at Chrollo’s forwardness.

He tries to argue back, claiming you were answering his questions, being polite, so evidently you must have wanted him, right?

You’re unimpressed, shrinking back further away from the man and instead subtly getting closer to Chrollo, something he notes with a distinct sense of pleasure. Chrollo doesn’t let up, however, continuing to inform the man that you don’t want to be there, that you aren’t really interested when he offers to show you his apartment that he swears is the best thing you’ll ever see.

You’re grateful, and as weak and lame as it makes you feel to have Chrollo fighting this particular battle for you, you’re glad he showed up. He always seems to show up, really, just when you need him – it’s almost magic, you think, how he seems to know when you need help. The image of him as your savior makes your cheeks feel warm, the girlish thought embarrassing but oddly accurate.

 Eventually the man leaves, huffing and muttering under his breath about how you weren’t even all that pretty anyways, and Chrollo feels his eye twitch, a small flick of the wrist inserting just a bit of nen into his shoulder.

Not enough for the man to feel it, but just enough so that he can keep track of his whereabouts. You’re immediately thanking him profusely, embarrassed about how inept you’d seemed, some small part of you hoping you didn’t look as pathetic as you felt.

But he doesn’t seem to mind – if anything, he’s silent, allowing your rambling to continue on, those dark eyes meeting yours and holding your gaze. It’s intense, but as your voice dies off after the fifth ‘thank you’, he only softly smiles.

Of course, his voice is low and nearly demure, making a shiver roll down your spine, it’s no trouble at all. I’d help you out anytime you need me.

He can tell you’re flustered, and while he wants nothing more than to revel in the sight of you looking bashful, twiddling with your thumbs and stumbling over your words, he knows he has to leave. He needs to leave, really, so that he can check over his book of nen, flipping to the page where that the location of that piece of scum that had bothered you was.

He bids you farewell with a twinkle in his eye, looking over his shoulder as he turns and walks away. You look so pretty, standing there and staring at him, trying to hide the way your mouth gapes open, and Chrollo bites his lip ever so slightly, closing his eyes and reveling in the way his chest feels all warm and airy from just the sight of you. Soon he’s turning off the street where it had all happened, immediately stepping into an alleyway and flipping open the book.

The nen signature leads him to a dingy apartment – surely not the beauty he’d been boasting to you about – and Chrollo nearly snorts as he sees the man throwing back his head, drowning the beer bottle in hand. No one else is in the apartment, he finds as he slips through the front door, which is ideal. He’s quick to conjure up his giant nen fish, a smile slowly spreading across his lips as the man suddenly freezes, unable to move as a fish moves to nibble at a toe, teeth biting and crunching through bone.

It doesn’t take long – maybe ten minutes or so, but Chrollo enjoys every moment of watching the man slowly get eaten alive, those dark eyes wide and excited. It’s euphoric, really, and as he remembers the way the man had nearly had the audacity to touch you, to touch what was Chrollo’s, he can’t stop himself from chuckling slightly.

It’s only after the fact, once all is said and done, that he notices his hands are shaking, his cheeks a bit sore from smiling for such a long period of time. It’s only then that he hears how his heartbeat is loud in his ears, blood pounding as the excitement and satisfaction of seeing the sofa now empty, not a spec of blood ruining the upholstery.

He wishes he could have killed him by his own hand, perhaps stabbed him a few times, burned him alive, maybe even drowned him – but this is better, because now when you watch the news you won’t see some horrible, mangled body.

And once he’s stolen you away, it’s better if you don’t see the gruesome ways that he’s killed – how will you continue to look at him with such adoration and love in your eyes if you do? And Chrollo couldn’t stand to not have you gaze at him with anything short of fondness, admiration, desperation.

He closes the man’s apartment door, making sure to lock it, before tapping into the nen wedge lodged into your own shoulder – seems you’re walking home now. Perhaps you’d like some company from the shadows.

TAKING HIS DARLING AWAY:

Chrollo is extremely methodical with his approach towards seducing you.

He’s careful to present himself as a gentleman, a classically chivalrous man with his dark features and smooth voice. He’s never tried to genuinely make someone develop feelings for him before – it’s only ever been for a job or to place someone into the palm of his hand, but with you it’s different.

He’s actively trying everything he can think of to make you like him, pouring through romance novels to find common themes, trying all manner of approaches and tactics so that you’ll only associate him with happiness and nerves.

And frankly, Chrollo will absolutely get you falling for him. By the time that he feels he’s ready to steal you away, you’ve probably developed a massive crush on him, your feelings strong and difficult to ignore. Really, you can’t be blamed – he’s a master manipulator, and while his romantic experience is dismal, it’s not so hard to find out your favorite flower and leave a bouquet at your door. It’s not so difficult to send expensive perfumes or jewelry to you, attached with a note detailing what it is about the piece that makes him think of you.

You’ll nearly be in love, something that he’s worked extremely hard to cultivate. It hasn’t been easy, holding off all this time. There’s been more opportunities than he can count where he could’ve so easily swept you into his arms and took off into the night, never to have you seen again by anyone but himself.

He’s had to physically restrain himself more often than he’d care to admit from reaching out and grabbing you, tucking you so tightly against his chest that you can’t breath as he boards the airship, the Troupe standing guard outside your new bedroom to make sure you don’t get any funny ideas. You’re laughably weak compared to him, and while it sometimes causes Chrollo to worry for your safety, it’s ultimately an asset to him.

Because now that you’re completely under the impression that Chrollo is the perfect man for you, it’s all so much easier to relocate you without a fuss. It all happens much faster than Chrollo had expected, however – all too soon you’re seeing blurry images on the television news one night, the cereal you’d been eating forgotten as you take in the familiar earrings, the dark eyes, the forehead tattoo he’s always written off as a family tattoo.

You’re in shock, eyes wide as you listen to the anchor list off the multitudes of crimes the Troupe has been accused of, and for a moment you refuse to believe it’s true. That’s not Chrollo – not your Chrollo, the man who picks you up at 7:00 sharp for the dinner date he’s reserved at the fanciest restaurant in town.

That’s not your Chrollo, the man who opens doors for you and pulls out your chair, almost placing a hand on the small of your back to guide you through large crowds. He could never murder someone – could never be the cause of the some hundreds of lost lives the TV claims he’s responsible for.

But then you hear a sigh, that familiar voice murmuring out that it’s really all just so unfortunate, I was hoping to gain your favor a bit more. Alas, the façade is up, I’ll make sure to pack that sweatshirt you love so much. Please, love, don’t struggle too much. There’s a pinprick in your neck, those dark eyes the last thing you see before blackness surrounds you. Chrollo can only mournfully look down at you, having caught your unconscious body in his arms.

It’s a good opportunity to run his fingers over your lips, to trace the shape of your nose, to press a surprisingly sweet kiss to your forehead. It was inevitable, but I’m sure you’ll forgive me eventually. We’re made for one another, after all.

Once you’re trapped with him, a few things will become very apparent to you very quickly. Firstly, Chrollo is a criminal – the dashing man you thought you knew is not real, his true personality slipping out almost immediately. He’s no longer attempting to hide the reality of his work, discussing new jobs and elimination plans over the phone in the same room as you, not mincing words when he tells the mystery man to make it messy, the more blood the better.

Second, he’s a very important man. He’s constantly being phone called, stepping out for this or that meeting, making decisions you don’t even understand. The very few people he’s ever let you meet almost seem to revere him, unconditionally bowing to his word and only addressing him as Boss.

Third, he’s much stronger than you’d realized, the odd pressure he seems to radiate growing and ebbing at various points in the day. You’d seen the way he’s merely flicked his wrist and a man that had seen the handcuffs initially around you was suddenly headless, sliced clean off without so much as a sound.

Lastly, Chrollo Lucilfer is desperate. Despite being kidnapped, forced to jump from hotel room to hotel room firmly attached at his hip, there’s never been a lull in the way that he demands your attention. There’s never been a free moment where he’s not looking at you, that same small smile quirking on his lips that used to fluster you but now only makes your gut twist. He’s always asking you questions – some are easy, surface level and don’t require effort on your part. He’s asking what your favorite color is, what your favorite breakfast foods are, if you prefer to wake up early or sleep in.

(He already know the answers, but he likes hearing you say it.)

Some are more difficult, making you consider your words before you speak them. He’s asking you whether you’ve ever dreamed of what your wedding venue will look like (he of course pushes for details, mentally noting everything and imagining it alongside you), what you would name a pet cat (either solid black or solid white fur, you pick), asking you to jot down a few of your favorite songs so that he can compile a playlist for you, as you have limited electronic access (the playlist is really for him, so that when he’s away on missions he can still feel like he’s with you, but that’s besides the point).

And then there’s the ‘why’ questions – these are the hardest, his eyes boring into you as he asks you why you claim to love your friends, why you’re fighting him so hard, why you think life itself even exists. They make you think, and while you don’t want to answer, Chrollo will keep pushing and pushing and pushing, using your words against you and slowly taking away any privileges you’ve managed to earn.

It’s not worth the fight that ensues if you ignore any of his questions, so you’ll answer as succinctly as possible, choosing your words carefully and watching for his reactions. Mostly, he just likes to hear your voice – knowing there’s no one else in the room, so you’re talking to him and only him, thinking of ways to respond to what he asked you.

He likes to know your opinion on things, each and every word you utter only furthering his fascination with you, contradictions in your thoughts popping up right and left. Mostly, as a captor, Chrollo is really just omnipresent. He’s always there, dark eyes trained on you and listening to every little thing you say, watching every little thing you do, commenting on what feels like every thought you have.

It’s exhausting, the way he’s constantly hovering, the way he’s constantly on the look out for any kind of interaction with him, and at first you’ll find yourself growing tired, afraid, frantic to be alone.

You’ll eventually explode, yelling at him and telling him to leave you alone, to disappear, to just get away from me, you monster! He’s silent as your words sink in, his face carefully neutral, before he laughs softly, shaking his head a bit.

If that’s what you wish, he’ll ominously tell you, walking out the hotel room door and locking it behind him. It’s wonderful, the first few hours without him – finally some time to yourself, to really cry or scream or just ponder your new life.

But after a day or two passes, thing start changing – you don’t like Chrollo, you promise, but it’s sort of lonely without him. The hotel room is big but empty, his missing presence louder than the silence. You’ll slowly find yourself starting to miss him, wishing he’d come back and continue asking those stupid questions of his, to brush his fingers against your cheeks and thighs, to gaze at you with that deranged but enamored look in his eye.

By day five, you’re frantic for him to come back, taking to sitting in the corner and staring at the door, persuading yourself that he’ll have to return sometime, that eventually he’ll come back to you, that he won’t just leave you alone to die.

And when he does, ten days after leaving you fully alone (minus the cameras placed in the room), he’s shocked to feel the way you rush in for a hug as the door swings open. You’re wrapping your arms around his torso, burying your face into his chest, and Chrollo can’t help but blink widely down at you, lips parted but no sounds coming out. He knew the loneliness was getting to you, but you’d never initiated physical contact like this before. Was it an act of desperation, or was it because you were missing him?

 Did you ache for human contact, or did you ache for his contact?

He’s not sure, but he finds himself humming and returning the gesture, letting a hand pet your hair as he asks you if you missed him, if you’d gotten lonely, if you’d like to lay down for a bit with him. You’re not as clingy after you pull away from the hug, but Chrollo doesn’t care – you lay with him, a good two feet of space between your bodies, but it’s progress.

You’re more open after that, not flinching away and snapping at him when he reaches out to touch you. Instead, you’re almost leaning into his touch, enjoying it – which leads to another key aspect of being Chrollo’s captive; the touching.

He’s not invasive with it in the beginning, but as time passes you’ll notice the way his hand is always lingering at your waist, his fingers drumming against your skin. You’ll realize he’s always shuffling closer to your body, dissatisfied with the space between you. You’ll get used to the way he asks for a kiss before you both fall into slumber, his arms snaking around your middle and pulling you back against his chest as he sighs into your ear.

The rational side of you is enraged, disgusted by his attempts at romantic and intimate touches, but a part of you that grows larger with every passing day stops caring, slowly accepting that Chrollo is all you have left now, and that you should take advantage of every ounce of affection he’s willing to show you. It may not be real (though the obsession that gleams in his eyes certainly is, as is the blood that sometimes stains his pale chest when he returns home from a few days away), but it’s something.

It’s enough that you can almost overlook the way he keeps you trapped in the hotel rooms, stuck by his side, with only your books and himself to entertain you. You can almost forget the way he’s freely admitted to killing for you, nonchalantly threating family members if you try to escape, telling you he’ll hear about anything and everything you do because nothing can hide from him.

Eventually, you’ll stop caring – your life is easier now, all the stress and worries of independence gone, and Chrollo couldn’t be more pleased that you’re settling down, or mellowing, as he likes to say. You’re closer to realizing your true purpose with him – to continue to give him that warmth he craves, to continue to let him kiss and hold you, to let him steal every ounce of your attention and time.

He’s a thief after all, and now that you’re his, he’s entitled to take whatever he wants.

PUNISHMENTS:

While Chrollo is, overall, a somewhat lenient captor, he does have a few strict guidelines.

Firstly, you are to never ignore him. To ignore him would mean a rejection of his feelings for you, and while Chrollo is normally a cool, level-headed man, the second you even encroach on any actions that could be considered a rejection of a his love, of him, he’s clenching his jaw and doing his best to not lash out, keeping his temper and check and calculating ways to make you recognize the consequences of your actions.

Secondly, do not try to escape. He’s lucid enough to understand that once you’ve first been kidnapped, you’re likely to try everything in your power to escape. It doesn’t matter how deeply your feelings for him have formed – it’s only human nature to not enjoy being trapped, which is why he’ll have to train you, to make sure that you correctly acclimate to your new life with him, to your new future.

And lastly, you must never attempt to hurt him. Of course, you could never do any real damage, but the sentiment will hurt him more than he’d care to admit – by reaching out and wishing him harm, you are, once again, rejecting him. You’re displaying a desire to wound him, and he absolutely cannot have you thinking that you’re in any position of power or control in your relationship with him.

(You are, of course, because Chrollo’s dependence on you is really quite pathetic and sad, but you won’t be aware of the depth of his feelings for you until very, very late into your time with him. He’s good at hiding this, if only because letting you see him vulnerable would mean letting you have a sliver of control over him, a concept that terrifies him to his very core.)

Those three things are really the only ways to set Chrollo off – he’s generally pretty adaptable, able to read you like a clock and understanding what you’re thinking merely by watching your facial expressions, and because of this he won’t often punish you. He doesn’t like the idea of disciplining you, instead preferring to simply manipulate you into thinking and feeling the way he wants you to. But, if any of the three rules are breached, Chrollo finds himself resorting to more extreme measures, doing what he feels is necessary to garner the results he’s looking for.

Even so, he won’t ever rely upon physical means to punish you – he doesn’t like the idea of you being injured or hurt, and it would be a hassle to mend the damage hurting you would cause.

So, Chrollo defaults to more manipulative measures, punishments he knows will leave you crying and terrified, inflicting more psychological rather than physical damage. It’s the only way he can get what he wants, after all, and Chrollo has always been determined to get his way – even at the expense of you, his most prized possession.

When you’re staring at him with such hard, pained eyes, it almost makes him feel bad for a moment. Almost, if only because your words are replaying in his head, the tone and wavering in your voice making pause for a brief moment.

You’d said you hated him, that he was a monster, that you were unhappy being with him. It was all things Chrollo had already known, of course, but it certainly didn’t feel good to hear them come from you, nonetheless.

He just sighs, looking at you with that same belittled, heavy gaze, telling you to calm down, darling, don’t say things you don’t mean.

This just angers you more, it seems, because soon you’re nearly screaming, throwing a pillow or two at him as you yell that you’re not lying, you sick fuck! I hate you, I will never love you, I will never need you! Please, you have to let me go, I can’t stand being with you any longer!

What you’re saying isn’t even particularly harsh – he’s heard much, much worse from his victims over the years, searing words insulting his intelligence, his appearance, his morals, his past, everything and anything. And yet, there’s something about hearing the words coming from you that makes him flounder a bit, a sinking feeling in his gut making him stand up straight, appraising your shaking, heaving form across the room. It’s silent for a few long moments, before he simply adjust his jacket, pulling the lapels slightly and turning his back to you. Very well then, if that’s how you feel. As you wish, my dear.

And with that, he’s slipping out the hotel door, disappearing to who knows where. You’re left trembling in anger, your breathing unsteady, but before you can think you’re rushing to the door, wiggling the handle violently and sucking in a sharp breath when you feel that it’s unlocked, practically begging you to throw it open and leave this godforsaken hotel room.

As you rush away, sprinting down staircases and down never-ending hallways, you’ll distantly know that this is probably a trap. Chrollo wouldn’t just let you go, you’re sure, especially with such suspicious time. But you can’t stop yourself from taking advantage of the opportunity, deciding that even if it is a trap, the few brief moments of freedom that you’ll have will be enough to warrant it all.

And yet, as you push through the front doors and take a look around the busy, bustling street you’ve stumbled upon, you nearly sob. You have no idea where you are, the landmarks totally unfamiliar, but you’re free, feeling the sunlight on your skin without Chrollo’s presence pressed into your side, his cold fingers pushing into your hip or shoulder. You don’t have any money and have no idea where to go, but your legs are moving faster than you can think, wandering through the city along back roads and side streets.

Hours quickly pass by, exhaustion beginning to settle into your bones as the sun dips back behind the horizon, leaving the city in shadows and quiet aside from the hum of cars and the bustle of city goers. It’s only once you’re stumbling through an alley that you hear it – him, to be specific.

At least, you’re pretty sure it’s a man – the footsteps are obviously trying to be quiet, but they’re not doing a good enough job to go unnoticed by you. He’s breathing loudly, too, and as you glance over your shoulder, eyes wide and scared, you don’t see anyone.

You’re sure there’s someone there, that they’ve followed you down this alleyway, and as you press your back against the slightly wet brick wall of the building behind you, you feel your heart practically about to beat out of your chest.

Who was there?

 It’s silent for a moment, before a short laugh is barked out, the man emerging from behind a dumpster. Shadow falls over his face, making it impossible to see his face, but you do see his size. He’s a monster of a man, bulky shoulders easily above your head, muscles bulging along his arms and under his pants. A wild bed of hair sits atop his head, and you feel yourself freeze, fear eating away at your heart.

You can’t move as the man comes closer, face still hidden in the darkness, and it’s only when he comes down to punch at your stomach do you realize what’s about to happen, panic engulfing your senses as his fist comes closer and closer and closer – It sucks the air right out of  your lungs, making you wheeze and gasp for breath, knees slamming into the concrete below you as you gasp and struggle to regain your breath.

The man laughs, a timber, horrible sound, but stops abruptly at the distant sound of sirens. He curses under his breath, and you feel his eyes on you, daring to look up at him in between your fits of coughing.

You’re lucky, bitch, he starts, voice gravelly as he begins backing up. Next time I’ll get you, the cops won’t be coming and I’ll show you why weak little things like you shouldn’t be in alleyways late at night – makes it hard for me to resist ya, and I think you’d look even better without that ugly ass nightgown you’ve got on.

And with that, he’s sprinting down the alley, running away even as the sirens get further and further away. You’re left to lay on the cold, wet ground, having regained your breath but letting tears stream down your face. You don’t want to admit it, but you’d been hoping that Chrollo would magically appear, just like he always does. You’d hoped that he would’ve stopped the stranger’s punch, that he would’ve saved you just like he used to.

The thought of Chrollo makes you flinch, but you can’t stop yourself from wondering if maybe he was right. Maybe he’s right that you can’t take care of yourself, that you’re too weak for this world, that you’re better off with a monster like him (quoted directly from him, with that signature smirk of his) rather than the everyday men.

You curl up, knees to your chest for a while, before your up again, wandering and trying to retrace your steps back to the hotel you’d run out of only hours ago. Eventually you’ll make it back, and as you wait in the lobby, rubbing at your now dirty and bruised body, your eyes will flick across every person entering and exiting, before you begrudgingly make your way to the elevator, riding up tot eh floor you knew your room was on.

It takes everything in you to knock on the door – his door, but eventually you do. And when he opens it, a small hello trickling past his lips, you can’t help but let out an ugly, gaspy sob, rushing forward and wrapping your arms around him. It feels horrible, disgusting, so very good to feel how he returns the hug, gently patting your back and smoothing down your hair, a soft hello my dear making your shoulders shake.

He won’t ask too many questions, letting you inside and nearly forcing you into the shower, but you can’t find it in yourself to care. Even when he’s got you wearing a fresh set of soft, lounging clothing (with a neckline just a bit too low to cover your collarbone, something his eyes are often drawn to), you can’t find it in yourself to ask. He’s talking to you, after all, asking you if you enjoyed your time in the real world, if it was as grand as you’d hoped.

 His eyes are twinkling, and although the apology you offer up isn’t as loud or insistent as he’d hoped for, it still makes him smile, his throat bobbing as he loudly swallows.

The conversation is over for the evening, and it’s only after you fall asleep (in his bed, he notes with a somewhat shy smile and a shaky exhale) that he pulls out his phone, pressing the contact name and smiling at the dial tone.

Thank you, Uvogin, he starts, letting a hand run very lightly over your leg under the sheets. This favor won’t be forgotten.

OVERALL DANGER:

9/10

The thing that makes Chrollo a dangerous yandere is less his violent tendencies, and more of the way you nearly won’t recognize yourself after being with him for long enough.

Of course, he loves you – a sick, messy, disgusting love that he quickly grows addicted to. He finds you irresistible, fascinating and growing drunk off the way your body fits with him, but he’s still a criminal. He’s still a mass murderer, singlehandedly responsible for the deaths of more than he can count, and he will not be suddenly listening to commonplace morals once his feelings for you form.

There’s no such thing as bad to him – he views you as his woman, his partner and his most precious, cherished possession, and as a result he has absolutely no qualms about doing what he wants to you. He’s manipulative, lying to you just as often as he tells the truth, making you feel as if you’re going crazy because you have no idea what’s real and what’s fake.

He’s possessive, slowly isolating you and barring you from any contact at all with anyone he deems a threat to your future with him, or anyone at all, really. He doesn’t want you to grow feelings for another man, and has no issues with cutting off your contact with everyone in your life that you hold dear. He’s always got that same look on his face; a small, prideful smile, his dark eyes so impossibly wide and sparkling as he stares at you, every ounce of his attention focused on you and only you.

He’s terrifying, and while you’ll more than likely develop feelings for him before you know of his true self, you’ll begrudgingly find those feelings doesn’t entirely dissolve even once you know that he’s a crook and a perverted, horrible man who’s stolen you away. You’ll probably still find him charming, still thinking his hair looks soft enough to touch, still finding his hands (littered with a fair share of veins) drool worthy, even when you realize how many have likely died because of them.

You’ll hate yourself for it, but you will eventually find yourself growing just as dependent on Chrollo as he is on you – and really, that’s exactly what he wants. He wants you to need him, to yearn for him and crave him, if only because he feels all that for you and more, and he needs to make sure he has you under his thumb, so that your pretty smile and lovely voice and heavenly body are never not by side.

Things would grow ugly if you were to ever be snatched away from him, corpses piling up and his own sanity slipping away until he can hold you in his arms once more, pressing his lips messily, desperately against yours, hearing you say his name with that lilt you always do.

Chrollo needs you, and it’s best if you just give in – you may essentially be ending your own life, but you’re giving meaning to his and saving so many others. So, so many others.

#yandere hxh #yandere hunter x hunter #yandere chrollo #yandere chrollo lucilfer #_lee's profiles #_hxh #_chrollo lucilfer

[onyx-syn]

LA! Buggy x Chubby Gender-Neutral Reader *SFW* Headcanons

WARNINGS: Live Action Buggy, Fluffy, Flirting, Kissing, Touching, Little hints of doing 'stuff' but not really, Mentions of Killing

*Don't steal my writings and claim it as your own*

A/N: SO- it's been a while since i've been on here but godamnit, Buggy got me back on here. So new account and a brand new me, I'll be writing here and there! Not as consistent but i will try my best <3

🌹I won’t lie when I admit this, but when I Buggy first met you he did and would mock your figure a bit (Not down right bullying you and saying vile things about it, just a little chub there and chub here etc etc) mostly because his humor consists of many things one of which is mocking others to feel better about himself

🌹Now- If you hit back at him with your own comebacks, he’ll be taken back quite a bit cause he would’ve expected you to go along with the mocking. He’ll have a smirk on his face and start to giggle, speaking along the lines of

🌹“Oh I like you sweets!” Buggy exclaimed, gritting his teeth in the heat as he looked at you. He was sweating in the heat, which made him give a disgusted or annoyed look. You return the favor by giving him the same disgusted look as he did. He chuckled, pointing his finger at you as he walked around slowly on the ship, “Oh, you’re gonna be so much fun to play with in my circus~”

🌹Of course, as time went on and you joined his crew as one of his ‘freaks’ he slowly but surely started to mock you less and less… And started to admire your body more and more

🌹His beautiful watercolor eyes watching your every move, sometimes he won’t even realize he’s staring until you wave your hand in front of his face, catching him off guard a bit (he’ll whine about it and angrily stomp away with a devilish smile on his face)

🌹The once mocking clown, who would make snarky comments about your chub, now started to outwardly make flirty comments to you, oh how your hips would sway and watch as your rolls moved underneath those clothes of yours, how cute your chubby cheeks looked- AH he was falling for you, and hard

🌹“With those types of hips doll you’ll be knocking off the competition off that stage~” Buggy sends a wink your way as he spoke in his typical voice, his tone lowering towards the end of his sentence. Your initial reaction is to either flare up in a flustered state, or simply walk away rolling your eyes at his advances

🌹Buggy is the type to where when he initiates his flirty side to you, he’ll smugly smirk and giggle maliciously and watch as you become flustered, loving every second of it. BUT the moment you flirt back, he’ll have a huge smile and look away for a bit, a hint of a red dust cloud over his cheeks. He’ll pretend it doesn’t affect him but oh it does, and badly. He’s easy to flirt with others but extremely weak when he’s being flirted with because he doesn’t expect it

🌹As time went on more and more, he started to notice more little details about you, he didn’t just love the way your body looked, but he started to love you for your personality and how you presented yourself. When he started to get to know you more and more, he started to realize the amount of layers you had as a person, he started to admire the way you smiled, the way your eyes would glimmer under the circus lights, your laughter after he tells a joke to you, your interests and watching you gleam with happiness

🌹He would never admit this to any of his freaks, Alvida, or anyone for that matter. But he truly did appreciate the moments between you and him, the nights where he would check up on his freaks after a performance, spending more time in your tent in particular

🌹Hearing you talk about your struggles with your weight and past, whether you struggled with your insecurity(ies) or were extremely confident with how you presented yourself now. Deep down, he’s actually proud of how far you’ve come along, seeing how much you’ve grown. It’s something he can relate to. Not just with his insecurity with his nose, but also his past with Shanks, who he still has jealous out for even after all these years, and so much more

🌹It’s hard finding any sort of confidence in this world nowadays, hell, Buggy sometimes struggles trying to find confidence as much of his is exaggerated, mostly due to him becoming a spectacular performer, but he does admire your growth, lowkey kinda jealous but not to the point he despise you, it’s more of “damn, I wish I had that confident… And that ass-” kinda deal

🌹He started to appreciate the way you held yourself and your personality. Some days you guys could go back and forth with bickering and mocking (jokingly) and other days you guys could have a deep conversation, as much as he would groan and whine about it when in actuality he loved the moments you two had

🌹When he confesses to you about his little, well BIG, crush on you is after a ‘magnificent’ performance from him and his freaks. You were sitting in your tent, your jester outfit clenching to your chubby figure as you raised your hands to wipe off the makeup from your cheeks, looking into the mirror as you did so. You were so focused on wiping away your makeup you didn’t notice the flashy clown himself sneak into your room, and spook you lightly on the shoulder, giggling as he saw your scared reaction

🌹He started talking to you, asking how his performance was, how good you did out on stage etc-

🌹“You did pretty good out there, my freakshow, now how about we-” You cut off the captain, turning around in your seat to look up at him, your makeup smeared across your face. “If you wanna be with me just say it” You say, giggling behind your hand as you see Buggy looking at you with a stunned expression. You could see, even behind the amount of makeup on him, a hint of a blush appearing on his cheeks. He begins by saying, in an annoyed tone, trying to explain himself “Now just hold on a bit sweetcheeks I…” His eyes lock onto yours. You give him a ‘oh really?’ expression as he slowly admits defeat on his part

🌹And ever since then, you two have been together since then. Now, this man. This man right here. Absolutely ADORES you with all his fragile heart can give and take

🌹Will call you his ‘beautiful chubby princess/prince’ to Alvida and many other pirates he knows and crewmates. And of course if you don’t like the name he won’t call you that, he has plenty of other names for you such as ‘Sweets’, ‘Doll’, ‘Darling’, ‘Baby’, ‘Sour Candy’, ‘Sweetcheeks’, ‘Princess/Prince’ etc

🌹During his meetings he’ll like to bring you along, having you dress up in clothing he’s gotten for you -that’s either particularly big on you which will melt his heart- or even his clothing and have you sit on his lap. His hands gripping tightly on your big thighs, squeezing them at any chance he gets without getting caught. He’ll whisper in your ear and tell you how beautiful you look, reassuring you of your true beauty as his hands rubs your love handles

🌹Oh yeah, he loves your hips and love handles. Whenever he walks up behind you he’ll grab onto them softly, pressing kisses on your cheek blowing raspberries in order to hear you laugh and see you smile. He’ll also at random points just pinch your rolls, mostly just your love handles, giggle and then scurry off, it’s adorable on his part

🌹Loves getting you clothes, that he’s either stolen or just came across when pilgering through towns, and have you wear them. Putting on a show for him if you wanna say that. He’ll be smiling and giggling as you try on each article of clothing in front of me, seeing your chubby body either clench to the fabric or look like a delicious dumpling in them, it’s so cute!

🌹“Come on doll, try it on-” His head tilts down a bit, looking at you with a pair of puppy eyes as if you said something mean to him. You rolled your eyes, smiling a bit as you jokingly pushed his chest back a bit as he continued with a, “For me~” He said to you smiling devilishly in the end. “Fineeee, i’ll try them on” You respond to him, watching his poor pouty face spring up into a gleeful expression. As you take the clothes in your arms, you walk over to the other room until a detach arm wraps around your waist, bringing you back over to Buggy who is sitting on your bed, his detached arm still gripping around your waist. His fingertips rubbing your side, lightly gripping onto your squishy skin. He looks up at you, narrowing his eyebrows as a smug look appears on his lips. He raises his free hand, gripping on your chin before he lowers it, attaching his arm around your waist back to his body so now both of his hands are rubbing your squishy waist, “Why don’t you change in here baby? Put on a spectacular show for your captain~”

🌹However, Buggy will understand if you choose not to change in front of him, even as much as he wants to see that beautiful body of yours underneath, rolls and all. He understands with insecurities it takes a while to feel comfortable around others when they get to see a new side of you

🌹You both are insecure about your own issues and struggles. Sometimes Buggy rather not speak upon his issues, but he is more than willing to hear you out on yours. It’s not that he doesn’t want to talk about his issues, it just takes him time to speak upon them

🌹Whenever you do have your moments of insecurity, Buggy will speak… From the heart, I guess you can say

🌹“You look so goddamn fine Baby, ain’t no reason to be so insecure when you got the body of a god/goddess! A real attraction for the eyes to see”

🌹But after that, he’ll genuinely give you some encouraging and reassuring words, even if he isn’t good at it, he does try to lift your mood up and make you feel worthy and good about yourself. You do the same thing for him too, when he has his moments of insecurity he usually tries to deal with them alone, he may be an attention seeker lover, but everybody needs their own moments alone. Having you near him and slowly but surely open more and more up to you warms his heart, something he hasn’t felt in a long while

🌹And when you do have moments of confidence, he becomes the happiest man ever, seeing you control yourself and show off how much of a great person you are makes his heart surge with love and admiration

🌹“Look at my freak go! Aren't they a beauty~” Buggy says, sadistically gleefully out to the chained crowd in the bleachers watching his chubby lover perform on stage. His eyes on your figure as you move, watching your rolls and thickness appear more in the fabric of clothing you wore, makeup plastered on your face that he personally applied on to you. The crowd all look at eachother weary, wondering if they’ll ever escape this hellhole. Buggy rolled his eyes at the crowd, exclaimed once more, a bit more aggressively, “I SAID, aren't they a beauty!?” He yells. One of his ‘freaks’ held up a sign that read “APPLAUSE” which caused the crowd to applaud. Buggy smiled, looking back at you, watching his beautiful chubby princess/prince perform

🌹He will not keep his hands off of you, literally has to have at least one finger on you almost all the time. He loves feeling your warm squishy body in his hands, squeezing and pulling. At this point it’s a stress reliever for him whenever the audience isn’t applauding or a performance is going to shit, hell, he’ll straight up start jiggling your thighs in his hands when he’s at a meeting with Alvida and them

🌹“Heh”, Buggy mummers under his lips, his eyes only focused on your big thigh, squishing the soft flesh beneath the fingertips of his hand, “Squishy-”, “Buggy!” You whisper to him, almost aggressively. His head shoots up to see Alvida and the people in the room glare at Buggy with raised eyebrows, wondering what he was doing. Buggy, being the ‘classic’ man he knows he is, flashes them a smile, “My apologies, I got distracted by a something sweet-”, “Buggy-”, “Okay-”

🌹In the beginning of your relationship, Buggy was iffy when given any physical affection not because he was disgusted by your body but due to his past, but as time grew and the more touchy and ‘lovey dovey’ he became a sucker for the touch from your chubby hands

🌹When you guys get alone time, he loves giving you kisses all over your body, his lips attaching themselves to your arms, thighs, tummy, chest etc. He loves massaging the rolls of flesh you have, snuggling his head into them as he wraps his arms around you, smearing his makeup all over your skin

🌹“Buggyyyy” You whine under your breath, a little annoyed as you feel and see his makeup smear over your stomach. Buggy moves his head over, his chin on top of your belly button, “Hey, it ain’t my fault you're softer than a lion's mane honey bun, so… Soft…”, he mummers before smothering his face back into your stomach

🌹He loves the physical touch so much as your relationship grows then he would ever admit to anyone, he’ll admit it to you. When he gets very sleepy, he’ll just snuggle up to you and nuzzle his face into the crook of your neck, pressing kisses as he moves your thick thigh over his waist

🌹If anyone were to even dare to say something bad about your body oh so help him cause he will end up murdering them, he isn’t afraid to as well. You or one of his ‘freaks’ would have to hold him back before he does something he, well, he won’t regret but he will once you show that you’re upset with what he did (unless you aren’t, then in that case he’ll keep killing-)

🌹He usually won’t tell you though if he does end up somehow killing them. Once you tell him about a certain someone who doesn’t ‘appreciate’ the way you look like he does, he’ll go off and kill them. Either hiding the body, or using it as a dummy in his next show

🌹He does not slide with any hatred towards you, in his eyes, you are truly 1 in a million treasures that he’s ever acquired. He feels seen in your eyes, finding someone who experiences bodily insecurities and much more, someone who he can joke with, someone who he can experience love with, for the first time. He loves you in every way and you love him just the same way too

#one piece buggy #buggy #buggy x reader #buggy x you #buggy x chubby reader #buggy x gender neutral reader #buggy headcanons #one piece #buggy fluff #onyx writings 🌹 #buggy the clown #x reader #buggy the clown x reader #buggy the clown x you

[averagewriter-inthedark]

Got Ink? 💉 | Robert ‘Bob’ Floyd Imagine

Takes place before, during, and after the events of TGM

TGM masterlist

Characters & Pairings: Lt. Robert ‘Bob’ Floyd x tattooed model!reader (romantic), dagger squad (platonic)

Content Warnings: fluff, profanity, mentions of pain as a result of tattoos. Slight suggestive content if you blink | Female!reader (she/her) | wc: 6k

Requested 📨 yes/no (rules for requests)

Premise: Art comes in many different forms. And when you technically think about it, your body is a canvas that can be become a mural if you find yourself drawn to the beauty that tattoos bring. For WSO Bob Floyd, he appreciated art in every form and loved how patterns and colors could create something beautiful. When his sister invites him to a party for her job shortly after returning from a special mission with the Navy, Bob meets a woman who was the perfect canvas he’d ever seen.

Note: I cannot tell you how much I loved doing this request. As soon as I got it I was like, ‘I’m gonna love this,’ especially as someone who has tattoos and wants to have a lot (I have at least twenty planned) this was feeding my love for tattoos. To the anon who sent this request I hope you like it, I really enjoyed writing this for you and I hope you’re okay with me choosing Bob since you said you wouldn’t mind if it was him or Jake—since I just did a Jake imagine I wanted to give Bob some love 🥹 Also I made it where reader was born in 1989 so if we were to go by Bob being born in 1993 like Lewis then she’d be about four years older since the events of TGM take place in 2019.

——————————

They often say that when you get your first tattoo it will either be the one and only time you subject yourself to the temporary pain of permanent ink…or it becomes one of many.

“It’s an addiction”, people defend, though they should probably look up the term addiction before using it in such context.

For many it’s the appreciation of art. Whether expressing it by becoming a tattoo artist or wanting to capture the beauty by etching it onto their skin like they are its own personal canvas.

Tattoos come in many different forms. There’s the traditional/old school style that is very recognizable with its bold black lines outlining bright colors. People in their old age, having grown up in the 60s and 70s, are the ones usually seen with these types of tattoos. Neo-traditional is not that far off from traditional, just the lines are not as bold. Delicateness is seen with fine line tattoos. In recent years it’s become popular amongst the younger generation—not just because they are pretty to look at but if one has a job that’s strict on policy then they can hide them better.

The oldest style would be the tribal tattoos. Beautiful elaborate patterns in various sizes, they represent the culture one comes from. Like fine line, watercolor tattoos have become a popular style—taking away the traditional black ink used as an outline so the colors have the spotlight. No color in a piece is blackwork and then there’s realism where it’s pretty much a picture that was printed onto the skin. Go on Pinterest and you’ll find multiple images of patchwork style where a collection of pieces put together can be any style already mentioned.

Japanese style, patch, geometric, black & gray, anime, portrait, the list goes on and on. So many ways to put a design on one’s body where it will remain until they go to the next life. Some people stick to pieces that represent sentimental value, like family or childhood nostalgia, others will simply see something they like and go, “I think it looks cool.”

When looking at Y/n’s tattoos, both aspects were seen in the array of artwork coating her body. After getting all the pieces that represented a person, place, or thing that impacted her life, Y/n started to get whatever the hell she wanted—not having an explanation for anything other than, “it looked badass so I got it. No value behind it, I just wanted it.”

Like many newly turned teenagers itching to get their first tattoo, Y/n was bold and got an intricate design on one of the most painful spots. Her reasoning was if she did it, then any other place in the future wouldn’t be as bad. All through college whenever asked what she wanted for her birthday or holidays the answer was always money to get a tattoo. An artist herself, she majored in drawing while attending Pratt Institute in Brooklyn, New York, also taking on an apprenticeship for a local tattoo artist. There she would get to work on her skills and tattoo people, progressing to doing tattoos on her legs and non-dominant arm. Anytime she traveled to a different state or country during the semester she studied abroad, Y/n got a new tattoo, wanting to have an array of styles from different artists on her body.

By the time she was 26, she had accumulated over 50 tattoos and still had room for more. From her neck down, artwork ranging from fine line to bold and traditional decorated her skin. Both her arms were half sleeves, ending just above her elbows with patchwork along her forearms and hands. The only place free of ink on Y/n was her face, though she did have her inner lip tattooed. If you asked her, it’d be the only place she regretted getting ink because it faded so quickly. But then again, she could get it redone if she really wanted to.

There were looks from people anytime she went out. Y/n loved dressing up in little black dresses and two piece sets to unapologetically show off her tattoos. Older, conservative couples or people who thought tattoos looked trashy on women would look down upon her. Getting hit on was normal, though she never gave the time of day and sending one look that read, ‘get lost’ had men scurry. Sometimes she'd be approached by teenagers asking about certain pieces, saying they wanted to get tattoos once they were of age and were looking for advice. Biker bars were a place she felt comfortable in, Y/n even taking a part-time job as a bartender so make some extra cash. People from all ages—well at least 21–were covered in tattoos like her.

In 2014, shortly after her 25th birthday, Y/n noticed an inbox notification in her instagram. She was used to getting messages on occasion. Being featured on the bar’s and tattoo parlors business instagram pages and accumulating her own following of potential clients had Y/n reach up to 80 thousand followers. The tattoo artist she worked for was very popular, having done work for celebrities and being featured in Inked Magazine.

Speaking of Inked Magazine…..

When Y/n clicked on the icon to open the message, the first thing she spotted was the blue checkmark. Then beside it was in bold lettering inkedmag. Coffee nearly spilled onto the floor when her grip faltered, gasping lightly at the name. She didn’t even realize the page was following her, confirming this by searching herself under their following and found her username staring back at her.

Heart pumping, Y/n opened the message. “Hi, Y/n, my name is Manda Williams and I’m a representative at Inked Magazine. We’re a fan of your profile and would love to work with you on our upcoming campaign. Would you be interested? Please email me at [email protected], I look forward to talking with you soon.”

Never did she think she’d become a model, let alone a tattoo model. She was taller than the average woman, standing at about 5’10 and strikingly beautiful. On countless occasions family members would say, “if you didn't have all that on you maybe you’d been discovered. You’ve got the height, the style, and high fashion look. Plus you’ll never get a well paying job with all those tattoos.” All they were met with was a roll of the eyes from the woman, annoyed with the constant nagging.

“I’m an artist,” she would defend. “I got accepted into one of the most prestigious art schools in the country and I work for a very renowned tattoo artist who has had Snoop Dogg, Angelina Jolie, and Lady Gaga as clients. Not to mention I work at a biker bar where the people there love me. Want me to go further?” the look on their face would read they didn’t but Y/n would put the nail in the coffin with, “Let me point out the fact I get paid more with both those jobs combined than you working a nine to five in your little office job. Also you should educate yourself. Tattoo models do exist.”

If only those family members could see her now. Posing on a motorcycle in nothing but a bra and booty shorts as the camera flashed in front of her.

“You’re a natural, Y/n,” the photographer complimented, making her flustered.

She adjusted her position, running a hand through her hair, “If you think so I trust your judgment.” Being in a studio felt very different than when she would set up her phone on a tripod in her apartment. It took many tries for her to capture the perfect angle, often deleting fifteen out of sixteen photos. Here with this guy calling out movements, “a little to the left,” “bring your hand up—just under your chin, perfect,” “Now act like you’re suntanning on the beach—tilt your head back as though the sun is in your face,” Y/n felt what it was like to be a model.

Not many tattooed individuals got the chance to sign with top agencies like Ford and IMG. Very few were recruited so it came as a big surprise when an agent from IMG Models contacted her following the release of Inked Magazine’s issue. When she took the job she thought it would be a small section in the magazine itself. Instead, she was on the cover.

“You don’t have an agent?” Bonnie’s tone was confused, staring back at Y/n from behind her desk as they sat in her office at the IMG headquarters. Bonnie had seen her cover on Inked, immediately going to Y/n’s instagram where she contacted her though the email listed on the tattoo parlors page. From there she asked the artist to bring a portfolio, which she was shocked to find out wasn’t much. “That was your first model job?”

Y/n shrugged, making a face like it was obvious, “Unless you count the dozens of comments I get on instagram beggin for my next post, yeah it was. I’m a bartender and tattoo artist, modeling wasn’t something I thought was in the cards.” She refrained from adding, “also didn’t think IMG scouted people like me.”

It was safe to say Y/n was unlike the typical runway model. Every now and then a high fashion show would hire a man with tattoos to walk for them. Very rare would you see a woman on the runway. For Y/n, that seemed to be the case in the beginning of her career. She did walk in the Marco Marco show that year which was the highlight of her life. Inked Magazine got so much response on her first feature that they made her their staple girl. Y/n worked with them the most on campaigns and even got to do a cover shoot with celebrities like Travis Barker and Kehlani. Those features got her a lot of recognition to the point she hit one million followers on instagram.

It wasn’t until Y/n went viral on the internet for her Sports Illustrated cover and becoming the first inked model to be featured in a Victoria Secret campaign that the top designers were booking her. Before long she was auditioning for brands during fashion week, securing Tom Ford, Calvin Klein, and Oscar de la Renta. Due to her tattoos being the star of the show, there were hardly any clothes on her save for tiny tops and skirts or dresses with intricate cutouts. She didn’t mind of course. After all, her tattoos were a part of her and the reason she was getting the opportunities of a lifetime.

Milan, Paris, London, New York. Fashion week was gonna have to get used to a new face in town.

Vogue, GQ, Vanity Fair, Inked. Pick up an issue and you’d find Y/n on at least one page, if not the cover.

Every now and then she’d get asked to appear in music videos for bands. The Weekend once asked her to be the cover art for one of his singles, bringing her more attention as "The Inked Beauty from Blinding Lights cover art.”

She appeared on the Inked Magazine YouTube channel several times. The most popular video being when she did a Q&A released shortly after walking in the last ever Victoria Secret Fashion Show in 2018, becoming the first inked model to walk the VS runway. Though it had low ratings, Y/n’s bit was plastered on every social media site, many tweeting: “the best thing VS could’ve done for their final show was put Y/n L/n in it. She carried the damn thing.”

“Hello, I’m Y/n L/n,” she smiled shyly at the camera, her agent Bonnie and publicist giving a thumbs up. “I’m a tattoo and high fashion model from New York City. You may recognize me from the cover of Inked Magazine, or discovered me through some of my other projects over the last couple years—hell maybe I even tattooed you at one point,” chuckling as she feels her nerves slowly evaporate. “Today I’m here with Inked Magazine, the owners of my heart and career, and I'm gonna answer some questions sent in by you guys about my tattoos and career.”

The producer gives a nod, “Ready, Y/n.”

“Let me hear them, sonny boy.”

“What was your first tattoo and at what age did you get it?”

Thankfully she was wearing a tube top beneath her jacket, removing the clothing to reveal the many inked designs on her chest, and stomach. Pointing to the one just below her ribs, Y/n says, “So this was my first one—as you can tell by how faded it is compared to the others. I got it when I was eighteenth birthday, literally wasted no time and my family is actually who inspired it.”

“As of right now, how many tattoos do you have?” The question has Y/n think for a moment, tilting her head back slightly.

“I counted just the other week and I think it was close to…. seventy,” nodding she adds, “yeah I think that’s right. I know I had fifty when Inked contacted me four years ago for my first feature. So I’ve added twenty to the collection since.” She made a mental note to count again when she got home that night.

“Do you have any tattoo regrets?”

A nervous chuckle escaped, “Fuck, uh….yes,” she looks down shamefully, but gives a shrug like, ‘I can explain.’ Lifting her head back up, Y/n takes her two index fingers and gently pulls down her bottom lip to reveal the messy smudged ink that once read, ‘baby girl’. The camera zoomed in and once they got a good shot of it Y/n let her lip fall back into place, “I don’t know if you were able to read that but when it was freshly done eight years ago it said,” she pulled a face showing she was too embarrassed to say it. “It said ‘baby girl.’ I got it when I was twenty on a dare and frankly I thought it would be hot, but it faded so quick—which,” she raised a finger, “that’s the one place I would say don’t get a tattoo. Even though it’s technically temporary…you’ll end up with a blob of ink like mine and it’s not cute.”

“Where were the most painful spots you got tattooed?” Immediately she lifted her arms to show she had ink on her armpits.

“These basterds right here,” the producer and crew laughed, nodding along with her. “You feel me? Yeah, I thought the ones on my stomach and ribs were bad. Those were a tickle compared to my armpits—-oh and my elbows. I think I actually broke a sweat when I got those done. It’s why I have yet to conquer my knees,” patting the covered area, Y/n shakes her head, “I don’t know If i can do it. But funny enough, these tiny little hearts on my palms,” Y/n flashed her palms up, the camera focusing on the two red lined hearts in the middle of each hand. “These hurt so bad. Thankfully I’m not putting anything else here because I strictly wanted the hearts, so I’m sparing myself.”

“What do they mean?” The producer asked, taking a pause from reading out the next question. The little smile Y/n gave was shy.

“I was told a lot growing up that I keep my heart in the palm of my hand,” while she explained Y/n kept glancing at the hearts, “kinda like the saying, ‘wearing your heart on your sleeve,’ but with me it’s literally in the palm of my hand. So I got these little hearts on my palms—that way when I hold someone’s hand, they can feel the love and care I have for them,” sending a wink to the camera she finishes with, “because my heart is in my palm.”

“Have you ever dated anyone with more tattoos than you?”

“Noooo,” she snorts. “Not because I’m not open to it—I’m very attracted to people with tattoos. And I have dated people with a lot…it just seems that anytime I do get into a serious relationship, I’m the one who has more than the other. And if you’re thinking about who I think you are—,” Y/n points directly to the camera, like a mother scolding her child, “the answer is no, he did not have more than me. Louis has thirty-three, I believe, since the last time he and I talked—which was,” she pauses to think, “I think around New Year’s.”

“Do you find yourself enjoying campaign shoots or runway shows more?”

“That’s hard,” Y/n pouts, causing her agent to chuckle since she knew the answer first hand. “Both are fun in their own way. I love being able to come into a studio or go out on sight and do a photo shoot—except in the fucking winter because I’m usually half naked freezing my ass off.” She pauses to laugh with the crew before continuing. “And then there's this feeling of ‘wow, that just happened,’ when I step off the runway. Getting to work with designers I’ve idolized since childhood and being the face of Mugler is a dream come true. If I had to choose…..it would be campaigns and photo shoots. There I can express myself more freely.”

“Do you see yourself still modeling in ten to twenty years time?”

There was a question she had to think about, taking a moment before answering. “I sure hope so. I love my job and definitely see myself continuing in the future. As long as my agent Bonnie and Inked don't get tired of me,” she laughs, winking at the woman who blows her a kiss. “But honestly I have experience as a tattoo artist so I could see myself opening my own parlor. I’d love to start my own blog or get other tattoo models into the industry. There’s a lot to think about what the future holds, but for right now I’m gonna have fun in the present.”

While home in New York when not booked, Y/n continued to work part-time at the tattoo parlor. She left the bar shortly after signing with IMG, but still visited whenever she could. There was even a picture of one of her Inked shoots framed above the bar.

With her new found fame the parlor had little to no openings each month. Regulars and new clients had to call in to reserve an appointment the second the schedule was dropped, which was sometimes weeks in advance. Several of the friends Y/n made in the modeling industry would get tattoos from her, though they always tended to go for the fine line style. More celebrities booked with her boss, adding Cardi B, Rihanna, and Louis Tomlinson to the list. The latter whom, as mentioned, Y/n actually got romantically linked to in mid 2017. It only lasted a few months, but the photo of the two on the Inked instagram was the most liked on their page.

Louis wasn’t the only high profiled person Y/n was involved with. Unfortunately the downside to fame meant her personal life was to be blasted on every inch of the internet. From starting her modeling career in 2014 to spring of 2019, she’d been spotted with actors Michael B. Jordan, Tom Felton, and fellow model Vladimir Ivanov. Like Louis, they only lasted a couple weeks to months—save for Vladimir which lasted almost over a year—and ended on good terms where they remained friends.

Frankly when it came to settling down Y/n hoped to find someone who was sweet and down to earth. Who was a hard worker—passionate about what they did for a living and wanting to share that with her. Someone who could make her laugh and feel like she was the only girl in the world. It was hard finding someone like when the spotlight follows you around. Y/n had been in the public eye going on six years and due to her connections with big named people she never seemed to catch a break when it came to romance.

All those qualities she desired in a life partner came to her in the form of the adorable weapons system officer she met at a party in November of 2019. The poor guy felt so out of place. From behind the bar Y/n could see him at the corner glancing around like he was searching for someone. Only getting a glimpse at the side of his face, she didn’t recognize him. The party had many from the fashion industry to celebrate Anna Wintour’s 70th birthday. What was ironic was Y/n took up the task of working the bar, kicking into her skills from when she was a bartender at a popular biker club in Manhattan. With her view she was able to see the entire floor as people entered.

The man she’d been eyeing must’ve come in when she was busy making the Hadid sisters their drinks. He wore a white dress shirt with some slacks and a matching blazer. His glasses reminded her of the popular style from the 80s. Come to think of it, they were probably the aviator style. He was tall, roughly six foot so she’d be eye level with him considering she was wearing two inch kitten heels.

Seeing his flustered demeanor and the fact he looked like he didn’t know what the hell he was doing there—not to mention he was handsome from what she could see, Y/n waltzed over, “May I get you anything?”

When he spun around she was met with the most gorgeous pair of blue eyes staring back at her. They blinked rapidly, like they were trying to decipher if she was in fact real. Then they snapped straight to her neck, following the ink of the exposed skin on display from her red latex mini dress—which his face mirrored the color of since he was making it quite known he was checking her out. He had a baby face to him, which was kinda adorable, and Y/n assumed he was maybe a year or two younger than her.

Offering a smile Y/n said, “So what will it be?”

“Huh?” He said confused before remembering what she initially asked before he got distracted. “Oh uh, just water please.” Still smiling, Y/n took a clean empty glass and filled it with ice before adding the water. Finishing it with a straw she placed it on a napkin in front of him.

“Will that be all?”

“Yes. Thank you,” he took the glass, glancing around briefly before letting his shoulders drop.

“You seem a bit out of place,” Y/n wiped down the countertop, catching his attention again. The man nervously laughed, adjusting his glasses.

“Is it that obvious?”

“A bit,” she teased, nodding her head to the crowd in front of them. “All these people walk around like they own the place. You’re the first person I’ve seen tonight who doesn’t seem to know what he’s doing. Are you here with someone?” Part of her was hoping he’d say a friend invited him, feeling a sudden rush of butterflies at the way he looked at her—like he couldn’t believe she was real.

“My sister dragged me along,” he confirms, the model mentally sighing in relief. But she couldn’t get her hopes too high. For all she knew he may have a partner back home. “I was visiting her this past week and she begged me to come. I told her it was a bad idea since I’m not….part of this crowd.”

“Ah,” she hums, biting back a grin at the way he described the industry. “Not a model or influencer, I take it?”

“Nooooo,” his laugh filled her stomach with butterflies. “Not at all. I don’t know how to work social media. Are you?”

Y/n refilled a guest's drink and handed over a beer to another, “I dabble here and there,” it was refreshing to meet someone who wasn’t familiar with her work. Usually at events like the one they were at she had people coming up to her already knowing who she was. “You’re probably like, ‘thought she was just a bartender,’” she giggled at the flustered look taking over him. “I was one before being discovered. I’m doing this for fun honestly—-and because Anna likes what I make her.”

His eyes went to her neck and collarbones, lingering on the ink. She assumed he’d never seen a model with so many tattoos before. “You can look,” she smirked, when he glanced away from being caught staring. “You’re only seeing a small portion of the canvas,” his eyes went wide at her words, making her giggle, “these babies are the reason I’m in this business.”

“You're a tattoo model?”

Y/n raises a brow at the surprise in his tone, “Didn’t know they existed, handsome?”

“No-no,” he quickly apologizes, “sorry I meant no offense. I knew there were models with a lot of tattoos. My sister told me that the industry was starting to expand by signing more people with them.” His words have Y/n intrigued. Obviously his sister was someone in the business, she wondered if she knew her.

“Is your sister one?”

“No, she’s an agent,” Y/n stops what she’s doing, towel long forgotten.

“For a modeling agency?”

“Yeah.”

“Which one?” Just as the question left her lips, Bonnie’s voice interrupted the two, “Bob, there you are! Oh good—,” she grins wide when she sees who he’s talking to, “You guys met!”

Snapping their heads toward each other, the two have the same expressions of, “wait what?”

Bonnie claps her hands, coming beside Bob at the bar and motioning between the two, “Y/n, this is my brother, Robert—the one I was telling you about last week,” mouth slightly agape, remembering the conversations the two had about Bonnie’s brother—in which the agent suggested setting up a date between the two—Y/n watches Bob react the same when Bonnie then says, “Bob, this is Y/n L/n. One of my clients at IMG—I know I’ve mentioned her before to you.”

Not knowing what to do at first, Y/n extends her hand to formally introduce herself, “So you must be the famous, Bob,” butterflies swarm her stomach again by the warmth of Bob’s hand when he goes to shake it. “I’m Y/n. So nice to finally meet you—Bonnie’s told me a lot about you.”

“W-wow,” Bob stutters, mentally hating himself when he does. “It’s really nice to meet you too, ma’am. I wasn’t expecting to meet you tonight, but now I see why Bonnie was so adamant I come.” A pointed look is thrown at Bonnie, who shrugs with a smile like she did no wrong.

“Well seeing as you two found each other without me, I’ll leave you both to it. Bob, let me know if you plan on riding with me back to the house or if you catch a ride. And Y/n I’ll see you bright and early Monday morning.” Winking, Bonnie takes the Cosmopolitan Y/n made for her and scurries off, leaving the two alone.

“I should’ve known,” Y/n laughs lightly, topping off Bob’s water. “Your sister has brought you up the past couple times she and I have gotten together,” lips curl into a smirk, “she wasn’t lying when she said you were a cutie.”

Bob turns red, smiling shyly, “when she told me about the inked beauty she worked with, she left out the fact you’re a walking piece of art.” His boldness impressed her, Y/n leaning closer to him against the bar top, resting her elbow on to so she could lean her head on her hand.

“How long are you gonna be in New York?”

“Till Wednesday,” part of her was disappointed that it was only four days away considering it was currently Saturday. But it was enough time for something to blossom.

“Tell me about yourself, Bob. The night’s early and I could listen to you talk for hours. Let’s see if Bonnie was psychic when she said we’d be quite the puzzle when put together.”

Ever heard of the type of couples where the girl radiates black cat energy and the guy is a literal golden retriever?

That was Y/n and Bob to a tee.

Out in public they stood out—even in a city like New York. Then when Y/n went to San Diego to meet his friends for the first time after four months together—which also resulted in her being stuck in California due to lockdown from the covid pandemic—it was like everyone couldn’t believe someone like Bob was with someone like Y/n.

He was a quiet, reserved naval officer and she was a sharp-tongued, world renowned tattoo model. They were the definition of the couple in high school you’d never expect would hit it off.

When Bob introduced Y/n to the squad, they instantly knew who she was, but had different ways of discovering her. Nat saw her walk in the VS Fashion show, Mickey and Reuben recognized her from The Weekend’s cover art, Javy remembered her from an episode of Ink Master she appeared on, Jake saw her on the cover of Sports Illustrated, and Bradley actually got a tattoo from Y/n when he was in NYC.

The entire period Y/n was in San Diego she grew close to the squad, even Maverick who had a lot of questions about her work and tattoos. “You think I’d look good with them at my age?” Y/n couldn’t help but laugh at the question, ensuring the Captain with a pat on the back.

“Some of the sexiest men I’ve met have been your age with ink more in than me,” she giggles when he goes red. “I worked at a biker bar in New York City. Believe me, Pete. Anyone can look good with some ink.”

Needless to say when it came time for Mav to get a tattoo, Y/n was the one doing it.

A lot of the squad ended up getting work done by her. Jake, Mickey and Rooster had a few already so they were familiar with the process. Nat only had one from a drunk night in college, which Y/n redid on her behalf since it had faded. Payback was a man who liked bold, meaningful tattoos so sometimes Y/n had her work cut out for her but she always came through.

“Yo is this gonna hurt bad,” Javy was practically sweating as Y/n removed the stencil from his shoulder. The design was a geometric sun about the size of an airpod case.

“It’ll sting, but this area generally isn’t too painful. If this was your bicep then it’d be a different story.”

Javy didn’t look convinced, turning to look at the guys while the stencil dried, “How was it for you guys?”

“Didn’t hurt at all for me,” Rooster shrugged, “my bicep was worse—like she said.”

“Yeah, you’ll be fine,” Payback waved a hand. “You see how tiny it is? It’ll be over before you know it.”

Going over the details once more to confirm the colors and shading, Y/n moved her chair closer after turning on the tv to an episode of Chopped. “You ready, Jav?”

“Ready,” he didn’t really sound like it but it was too late to back out. The buzz of the needle filled his ears and soon the stinging sensation they all said had him clutching his first.

“Try to relax, man” Bob sat on the chair next to Y/n, “being tense won’t help.”

After over a year of dating Bob had his fair share of tattoos. His were mostly small and easily hidden by his uniform. When they first got together, Bob loved learning about her tattoos. When she got them, why she did. If there were any meaning behind certain ones and if she planned to get more.

She was like a walking art gallery. So many colors and styles. Large and small. Y/n told him stories about almost every one—even if they were embarrassing like the inner lip tattoo.

“Biggest mistake,” she wiped a tear after she was done, the two laughing so hard. “Not only did it hurt but it faded not even a year after I got it. Now it looks so bad—I should get it redone but what’s the point when it will just end up looking the same.”

Bob hated when people would give her looks of disproval when they’d go out, usually from those who were unfamiliar with Y/n’s work. One time he nearly got into a bar fight with a older gentleman who thought it was okay to call Y/n a Jezebel. Rooster and Mickey had to hold him back, but Y/n simply looked at the guy and said, “Baby, I’m a fucking millionaire because of these bad boys. While you’re about to kick it the dust I’m gonna be on the cover of Vogue magazine next month. So eat shit and die already.” The man was left speechless, making her and the squad smirk in victory. The equally tatted bartender who knew of Y/n whistling and even given her a free round.

“That was so fucking hot,” Bob pulled her into a searing kiss when they left the bar moments later, Y/n smirking against his lips, “You think that was hot? I’m a mess under these pants from seeing you so worked up, baby. Let’s get the fuck out of here.”

Whenever he and Y/n would cuddle she’d trace the raised ink with a finger, Bob doing the same to hers and committing them to memory. He loved to kiss the ones on her neck and collarbones, but his favorite were the tiny hearts on the palms of her hands.

“What do these mean,” he asked one day during the early days of their relationship. They were laying out on the hammock, taking her hands to admire the collection of small tattoos along her fingers and wrists. He hadn't even realized she had any on the palms until he flipped them over. There his thumbs traced over the red outline of each heart.

“If you ask any person I’ve ever loved or cared for they’d tell you I carry my heart in the palm of my hand,” she flips her hands so they are holding Bob’s, the tattoos against his skin. “So when I hold people’s hands, they know a piece of my heart lies with them.” Letting her head fall back against his shoulder, Y/n shifts so her lips are against his jaw. “And I’m kinda hoping you’re the only one who gets to hold them from here on out.”

Anytime after that Bob would press a kiss to the hearts whenever he held her hands. Then when asked about what tattoo of Y/n’s was his favorite his answer was always, “the hearts.”

His family adored her. At first they were put off by her striking image but learned quickly Y/n was perfect for Bob. The children of his siblings loved taking washable markers to color in the tattoos Y/n had that were black and white. “Can I draw you a tattoo someday?” Little Emma asked shortly after the couple celebrated one year. She was a little artist who loved asking questions about the pretty pictures on Y/n.

“Of course, my love,” she promised. “Draw me whatever you desire and I shall get it done.”

The first fashion show Y/n booked after the pandemic Bob had front row seats. With his phone out he was the ultimate cheerleader, though he refrained from whistling or making noise so as to not embarrass the model, but would be in absolute awe when she strutted past him. It was the Tom Ford show, Y/n had walked out in a long black trench coat, coming to the end of the runway first before removing the item to reveal a silk dress underneath. It was spaghetti strapped with an open back, thigh slit to compliment her legs and the cameras loved it. She walked a few steps back up and turned to strike one last pose before making her exit.

Bob was mesmerized. It was the first time he’d seen her walk the runway and my God if he wasn’t already a simp he sure was then. A photographer captured his reaction to her discarding the coat and it went viral on Twitter.

@ inmyreputationera: if my man doesn’t look at me like @inkedbyY/n bf at NYFW then I don’t want it.

@ Inked✔️: We’re all Bob Floyd when @inkedbyY/n steps onto the runway.

When it came time to pick out her wedding dress Y/n was unsure of the route to go. It’d been five years the two were coming up on, one year of being engaged with the wedding to take place in North Island. A beach wedding in the late fall, Y/n wanted to look elegant and classy.

“Whatever you choose you’ll gonna look amazing, darling,” Bob kissed her head after she sighed when shuffling through bridal magazine pictures of dresses she’d cut out. “You know I love your tattoos—they are a part of you and I don’t want you feeling like you have to cover up for the sake of pictures. Baby, you’re one of the top models in the world. Like you told me when we first met, those babies are what got you discovered. Show them off.” Rubbing her shoulder exposed from her tank top, his lips pressed to the ink covering the skin. “But if you like this,” he pointed to the dress she kept going back to in her pile, it was elegant and pretty with neckline that fell just below her collarbones. “Then you should get it because you love it.”

The ceremony dress ended up being the one with a high neckline. It had open back with Y/n deciding on a her veil cascading down to the floor to become a small train rather than having the dress itself have it. Lace covered her arms, the ink peeking out from beneath to make the material stand out more due to the contrast.

She was stunning. An actual goddess that had Bob’s jaw drop the second his eyes landed on her. For the reception Y/n changed into a white two piece set that showed off her legs.

And you best believe she hired local tattoo artists to do a ‘spur of the moment’ tattoo booth at the party.

It didn’t take long for Inked Magazine to want to do a bridal shoot with Y/n. And if you look at it one way, it was a full circle moment. The issue marked ten years since they discovered Y/n and blessed her with the career of a lifetime that led her to meeting the love of her life.

All because she had a knack for getting ink.

……………..

TGM tag list: @avaleineandafryingpan @caitsymichelle13 @poppyalice2001 @cutelittlepotatofry @luckyladycreator2 @americaarse @elenavampire21 @back-tooo-black @wildellaa

#Spotify #bob floyd imagine #robert bob floyd fanfiction #robert floyd imagine #robert floyd x reader #bob floyd x reader #bob floyd x y/n #robert floyd #robert bob floyd #bob floyd #bob floyd fluff #top gun maverick fanfiction #top gun maverick imagine #top gun maverick #lewis pullman imagine #lewis pullman #tattoo!reader #tgm fluff #tgm imagine

[aroacebkgo]

Saw a post about you wanting welcome home requests. Dont know how old it is but.

What would wally be like as a CG???

Feb,20,2024

Caregiver Wally Darling!

A/N: OMG YAY!!! I already have a shorter more general version of this on my blog, so I’m gonna repeat myself a bit here, but that’s okay because I love this man and I really wanna talk about him.

He is such a good caregiver, I think. Like…he struggles a bit at first but he eventually gets the hang of it and does really well!

I mean. He is quite literally the host of a children’s TV show. He knows how to take care of and entertain kids.

He likes taking you out on little play dates and adventures. One of his favorite things to do is take you to the park, and you often see Julie and Sally there, so you play with them a lot. :)

He paints you a lot. You’re his muse. ❤️

Speaking of painting, if you’re down for it, he’d be happy to paint with you! Finger paint, watercolor, anything! And if not, that’s okay too! He’s fine with just using you as inspiration.

He actually made a deco paci for you one time (if you use pacifiers)! It was for your birthday. You have loved and cherished it ever since.

If you ever draw or color something for him, it immediately gets hung up on the fridge or on a wall somewhere.

He does better with calmer littles. If you’re like me and you get very sleepy randomly or very easy, he has no problem with cuddling you while you sleep if you want. He doesn’t try to sleep with you; because he can’t, and his “I’m sleeping” chant gets a lil annoying.

Barnaby is Wally’s go to babysitter, as you probably expected. Barnaby is basically your uncle. He’s the cool, fun uncle who loads you up on sugar before sending you back to your parents. And that is exactly what he does!

He is VERY cautious and protective. He baby proofs the hell out of everything.

He also does most things for you. You need to tie your shoes? He’s got it! Wanna refill your sippy cup or your bottle? That’s his job, sweetheart, don’t worry about it.

He will love any nickname you give him, “dad/daddy/dada”, “papa”, “baba”, etc.

He loves them all.

He canonically goes limp when you hug him but I’d like to think that he eventually gets the hang of it and becomes a really good cuddler. 😭

He has so much apple juice. And apples in general. Does not understand apple pie or anything with apple filling in it, though…where are the apples…where did they go?? 😥

His voice is super monotone and his face kinda is too, so he actually does super well with autistic littles. Cuz like. He gets it. Also I know Wally isn’t CANONICALLY autistic but. Erm. Yeah he is. In my mind he absolutely is.

He doesn’t do too well with tantrums. He’ll try his best to calm you down, but if that doesn’t work, he usually has to call Barnaby for help. He always feels so bad, though. He’s your caregiver, he’s supposed to know how to help…

All in all, 10/10 caregiver. Would recommend.

#age regression #agere #welcome home #Wally darling #wally darling x reader #welcome home x reader #welcome home agere #Wally darling agere

[marvel-ous-m]

Been thinking about modern AU Elementary School Librarian!Eddie and Substitute Teacher!Steve.

Eddie, who doesn’t really know how he ended up working at the school. A series of events that made him luck out, he supposed. He had always loved books, and practically lived at the public library in between working at the shop and sleeping. He had gotten to know the librarians there over time, had familiarized himself with the Dewey Decimal System from browsing the aisles, and had begun to explore different genres of books after finishing his sci-fi/fantasy bucket list. One evening, while he was curled up on one of the couches in the corner, re-reading The Hobbit for the hundredth time, a little girl with fire-red hair and her front two teeth missing ran up to him and begged him to read to her. He had glanced around the room for a moment, searching for the girl’s parent, but came up with nothing. At a loss, he decided he might as well read to her.

They got through three books that the girl- Max, she had said her name was- had picked out. By the end of his time reading to her, a small group of kids had crowded around him, and a couple of parents were on the outskirts of the makeshift circle smiling at him, clearly pleased that their kids were enjoying “story time”. One of the librarians noticed too, apparently. As Eddie was leaving to walk back to his apartment that night, he was slid a printed-out job posting for the librarian at the elementary school. Eddie never really saw himself as a ‘kids’ guy, but reading to them had been the highlight of his day, and they had all said he’d done the voices well… maybe this would be a good thing. Certainly better than the muscle strain he had almost daily from fixing cars.

So he submitted a resume. He got a letter of recommendation from the librarian who slid him the job posting, and somehow, even without having any certification past his High School Diploma, he landed an interview. They had been desperate, apparently. It was a tiny school in their tiny town and they needed someone to fill in. After only fifteen minutes, he got offered the job- pending results of a four week job shadow with the retiring librarian they were trying to replace and background checks. Two months later and he had become a well-established faculty member at the school, ‘Mr. M’, who did the best monster voices (according to the kids), decorated the library to make it look like it was out of a fairytale (with the help of the art teacher and his now-best-friend Robin Buckley), and even filled in for the music teacher on occasion. It was the best thing to ever happen to him.

Roughly three years after he was hired, he finds one of his lunch breaks being interrupted by Mrs. Harrington’s 3rd grade class. She had always been a bit of a bitch, but she never operated off-schedule. Eddie put his lunch away and observed as the kids flooded into the library and ran around, all finding a book to read or an activity to quietly play with. Will Byers (one of his favorite kids- not that he had favorites, but he totally did) ran up to him, holding watercolor markers and giving him puppy dog eyes. Eddie sighed and rolled up his sleeve, then helped Will sit on his desk so he could reach Eddie’s arm better. Will had asked about Eddie’s tattoos at the beginning of the year, wondering why there wasn’t any color on some of them, and then had been determined to color them in. And Eddie? Well, he couldn’t say no to the kid. Plus it was pretty adorable to have his ‘metal’ tattoos covered in washable marker.

“Will! Did he say you could do that?” Eddie looked up at the exclamation, surprised to come face-to-face with somebody who was definitely not Mrs. Harrington.

“Wait- who are you? Do I need to get the security guard?”

“What? No- no, I’m Mrs. Harrington’s substitute. They sent an email out about me I think? I’m- her son, actually. But you can just call me Steve. Or- probably Mr. Steve in front of the kids? I’m still kind of new at this- my mom called me last week and said she needed to stop teaching for a while because she needed to go on my dad’s business trips with him, she’s always been a bit suspicious of what he really does on the trip, and since I just got my teaching certification she figured it would be best for me too be her substitute- and shi-oot, shoot, I’m totally over sharing right now- it’s just the kids begged me to come here and they weren’t doing our math activity so I kinda panicked-“

“Whoa, alright, slow down big boy.” Eddie chuckled under his breath, then grabbed a sticky note and a pen with his free hand and scrawled out his number. Once he was done he handed it to Steve with a smirk. “I’m absolutely terrible at checking my email. So there ya go- the first number is for my cell- teaching these rascals can be a handful, especially with Henderson and Mayfield in your class, so feel free to text me anytime. We can talk about school or… other things.” Eddie let his eyes take in the man in front of him- and damn, this guy was hot.

Steve blushed, stuttering as he spoke. “A-and the second?” Oh shit, he wasn’t just hot, he was cute too. Eddie suddenly wanted to make Steve this flustered all the time.

“Second number is my extension for the phones here, if the kids get to be too much I can come down the hall for a visit and get them focused while you take a break. They have library time on Tuesdays and Thursdays from 1pm to 2:30pm.” Eddie smiled at him, softer this time. “I’m sure you’re doing a great job. They’re just antsy because of the change- but I think they’d like anybody more than your mom- um, no offense.”

“None taken, she’s a bitc- um, a not super nice lady.” Steve coughed, smiling nervously. “Still getting used to kid-friendly language.”

Eddie shook his head fondly. This was certainly the start of something very interesting.

#steddie #stranger things #my writing #elementary school steddie au #I picture Eddie’s library being covered in paper vines and castles and stuff #steve harrington #eddie munson #modern steddie au #stranger things au #fic

[biolizardboils]

Behold—The Grievance of the Graphite Ghostwriter and The Woeful Watercolor Heartache of the Weeping Wet Hairbrush!

notes and a sort-of plot under the cut!

My recipe for these was (Kid + Nuclear Waste + Favorite Creative Utensil) x Personality Trait That Could Realistically Boil Over. George’s trait is his sense of justice, Harold’s is trying to downplay his sadness with jokes

They’re foils to each other in a few ways: Writing vs. Drawing, of course, but also Dry Dust vs. Wet Puddles and Only Eyes vs. Only A Mouth

Their surroundings in the second pic is intentional too. George is attacking the cool-colored Downtown Piqua, where cold-hearted businessmen exploit their workers; Harold attacks the warm-colored suburbs, tearing open nuclear households to feel the warmth inside

They get two forms because Booger Boy and Sir Stinks-A-Lot did too and also I’m indecisive lol. Think of their first form as Mega Evolution and the second as Gigantamax. Introducing Pilkeymon Graphite and Pilkeymon Acrylic

The Sort-Of Plot

First off this takes place in an unholy mashup of all three canons, because again I’m indecisive. Anyway:

One day The Boys realize their comics tend to come true and try to game the system lol. They make one about them getting Writer/Artist Powers and fixing all of Piqua’s problems with them! ...But nothing happens, and it upsets them more than they want to admit

Later they go on separate field trips to opposite ends of town (they’re in different classes like in the Movie I guess). They miss each other and sneak away to self-soothe by writing/drawing

But someone comes to bother them—a teacher scolds George harshly for wandering off, and a mean older kid picks on Harold knowing The Tie won’t stop him. They try to get away and fall into the sewers, where their frustration (and nuclear waste) catalyzes their transformation

At first they use their new powers for good: George “rewrites” the teacher to stop misusing his authority, and Harold “repaints” the mean kid into a literal class clown. But they don’t feel better, so they try harder: bad businessmen give away their riches, and the gas station from Book 9 becomes a candy store. They still don’t feel better, and soon their well-meaning “fixing” turns everyone into either single-minded zombies or forcibly smiling blobs

Melvin was in the downtown field trip and Knows About Captain like in Book 8 or whenever it was, so he finds Krupp, snaps, and sics him on George. Then he goes to the suburbs and “tells” on both Boys to their families. “Hey your sons have been leading dangerous monster-fighting double lives and now they’re monsters and you should be mad at them about it!”

Meanwhile, Captain is horrified that one of his sidekicks has fallen to evil!! He doesn’t want to hurt George and tries to talk him down while dodging his Pencil-Tie. George yells that he could never understand what he’s going through and takes on his Tornado form, blowing Captain all the way to the suburbs. There Captain sees Harold, gets horrified again, and tries the same talk on him—cue his giant Dolphin form. And since he’s spewing wet paint everywhere, Krupp wakes up in front of Melvin and the families. (What Captain didn’t get is that the Boys aren’t evil now—they’re having literal nuclear meltdowns due to past hurt and current stress)

So now there’s two giant monsters wrecking different parts of the city, Captain is down for the count, and the Boys’ families know Everything. Someone says, “Well, at least it can’t get any worse!” Cue the Boys seeing each other in the distance, not recognizing each other, and meeting in City Center for a KAIJU FIGHT (in Flip-O-Rama of course)

Melvin calculates their weaknesses and everyone splits up to gather the necessary supplies. But by the time they meet back up, the Boys have already neutralized each other (Harold bites down on George’s tie, and George sucks the water out of Harold’s hair). So instead the parents just talk to them and hope they’re listening from somewhere inside the dust clouds and dried hair. They tell them that they know what they’ve been going through now, that they get why they didn’t tell them, but that they shouldn’t have to bear so much responsibility alone. Maybe they even get Krupp to apologize for the part he's played in their constant stress (as if I haven’t derailed canon enough already lol).

The Boys emerge, human and crying, and run into their parents’ arms. Everyone helps clean up the city and cure its citizens with the supplies they’d gotten earlier. The sort-of plot ends with everyone going home, making popcorn, and watching the Kaiju Fight on the news. They might’ve caused millions in property damage but hey, at least it looked awesome

The outcome: Now the Boys don’t have to keep as many secrets, and Krupp is a bit more mindful of how he treats his students. (And maybe he knows about Captain now too, I haven’t decided yet)

#captain underpants #george beard #harold hutchins #captain underpants the first epic movie #the epic tales of captain underpants #au #cu #george #harold #graphite ghostwriter #weeping wet hairbrush #my draws #me talking

[despairforme]

HAPPY NEW YEAR EVERYONE!

[ Oh man this post got long (and surprisingly serious) fjfjfjffjjf I wrote this 2 days ahead of time because I was so excited about it ahahaha --- I'm wishing you all a wonderful 2024!!!!!

2023 was a year of surprising development for me. I don't know if it's because I'm getting older, or if I'm simply moving into a different mindset. I loved this year! It was awesome, and I'm so happy to see that I've written MORE for Nnoitra this year than I did in 2022 ( even though my overall word-count went down from 290 000 to 280 000 ). I can't say I completed many of my goals ( or any of them LOL ). I had lots of goals for 2023, but I was unable to complete them. The past few months, especially, have brought forth big changes in my creative flow and focus.

I've realized that I need to change my priorities, to better fit my new mindset.

Roleplaying is no longer going to be my main focus. In the past, whenever I've wanted to write, I've always focused on finishing drafts, asks ect. I've mostly written on here, since that's what I prefer. Or, rather - what I used to prefer. This is not to say I don't have muse for Nnoitra, because I always feel inspired for him. What's changed are my priorities. I've come to the conclusion that what's important to me is creating stories. Since Nnoitra's story ( main verse ) has become so stagnant, it feels less important to me. I know I can drive the story on, push it forward and thus find it important once more, but - I don't want to do that. I want to create my own, original stories instead. Becoming a professional writer has always been my dream, and that's simply not possible to do when I'm prioritizing rping. Roleplaying is going to have to take the backseat.

--- That being said, I'm absolutely not quitting! I can't imagine myself not writing for Nnoitra, so I'll be writing on here like before, and I'll even try to be more consistent. An enemy of mine in 2023 has been procrastination. One of my goals for 2024 is to conquer this, so that I can be more efficient with my time. I think that by dedicating less time to roleplay, I'll be more efficient when I do sit down and write for my muses. My activity the past few months have been spotty, so I'd love to get into a better flow.

2024 GOALS:

FOCUS ON PERSONAL PROJECTS. I have a lot of them. Two (three?) book projects, two long OC-centered fanfictions.

WRITE FANDOM PROJECTS. I have a lot of ideas for fanfictions, and I want to make the time to write them. Some are long, some are short. Getting feedback on my stories has always been a great feeling, and fanfiction is the best way to get that serotonin.

CHANGE MY WRITING HABITS. My habits are bad. They lead to a ton of procrastination and wasted time. I want to be more structured when it comes to my writing time (and my time in general, but especially my writing time). I want to stick to schedules, word-count goals, page goals ect. Conquering procrastination is going to be key.

CONSISTENT RP POSTING. Even though I won't be focusing on roleplaying, I still intend to do it regularly and get replies and asks out in a more timely manner. I'll probably set off some time in the evening to get replies done, and have some fun on the dash when others are online. I'll try to be consistent across my blogs, not just on Nnoitra.

CREATE THINGS THAT ARE PHYSICAL. I've come to realize that I love things that translate to the real world. Not just words on a screen, or a digital artwork, but things that you can touch. It's why I've absolutely fallen in love with watercolor painting. I'm going to try to print some of my writing work so that I have physical copies. I'm also going to print my art so that I can hold it in real life.

FIND A SHIP FOR NNOITRA. It's been so long since I wrote a ship for him, and I need it back in my life. I've been looking for a ship for him the whole time, but I need to put more effort in, and let him interact with more characters, as well as continue to develop the relationships he does have ( in case one of them turns romantic? ). I'd love for 2024 to be the year Nnoitra falls in love again.

I am SUPER excited for 2024! I love new years and fresh starts, and I feel so incredibly inspired by the changes in my mindset. I feel like I've been stuck for a good while with rping. Don't get me wrong, I've loved every second of it, and I've learnt so much about writing - and met the most amazing people. It's just that it's time for a change. Time for me to create other kinds of stories. I thought that things were aligned for me to write books last year, but I really didn't have the right mindset - but now I do! I'm hyped!! Hope you're ALL going to have the most amazing 2024 guys!! ]

#[ was gonna post this yesterday at midnight but ahahaha i was busy ] #[ watched wonderful fireworks with my s/o and then we watched haikyuu u v u ] #[ also i hope you're not alarmed by this post xDD not much will change when it comes to my writing on here ] #[ actually i think with more structured writing sessions i'll end up more active 8) ] #[ WISH YOU ALL THE BEST !! HAPPY NEW YEAR !!! ] #toby post. ╱ out of character. #longpost //

[crypticjackal13]

Something have an idea in my mind, but i hope this request against the rules i read, hope you wouldnt mind.

may i have a request a seperate headcanons for Sun wukong, Macaque, Red son and MK would react their female s/o couldn't controlled herself cuz reader snapped/ berserk or even let their negative emotions, because of it the result she turned into some like dark and evil version of reader like you know their appearance changed even her aura too.

after they defeating reader they saw their sad flashbacks/backstory of reader. (like for example; forcing being perfect because of her parents , pushing herself become stronger, or reader's trauma or something like that) reason why reader act like that before they turned into, reader been dealing this since childhood. after that the boys comfort her after finding out their s/o's backstory.

I apologise the idea is confusing, this is inspired the game i played called "twisted wonderland", about the reader turned into evil mode called it "overblot" in the game and feel free to decline my request too! ^^

I like this ask, but I did put a spin on it since I wasn't quite sure where I wanted to go with the going crazy part, so I just had it that she was feeling pressured to be perfect and strong, but doesn’t snap or anything. Enjoy! :)

SWK, REDSON, MK, AND MACAQUE x Pressured!Fem!Reader HEADCANONS

Redson

Red knows exactly how you feel. 

It’s hard being pressured by parents because you’re supposed to look up to them! And that’s really all she knows.

By proxy, pushing yourself to be stronger…and so on and so forth until it all just boils over.

They themselves don’t really know how to deal with the negative emotions in a different way other than blowing off steam by training. 

So she invites you along to spar with him, meditate, and hey, maybe destroy some stuff. 

If you’re not up for that, and you want to just cry it out, he’s fine with sitting with you while you do.  And when you’re calmed down again, they’ll pass you tissues and a water bottle. Surely you’re dehydrated.

MK

Sweet boy also is aware of what that feels like. The real difference is that he’s the one setting those standards for himself.

He’ll advise you to talk to your parents, if possible. But if you can’t or don’t want to, the next best way to deal with this is distraction!

A movie, some darn good popcorn, and some tissues just in case there’s a sad scene. Maybe even some video games if you need something to do with your hands.

If you get super emotional, and can’t soothe yourself, they’ll help you breathe. In for 4 seconds, hold for 7, out for 8. Over and over until you can get some words out.

Even if you’re not good at drawing, MK encourages you to draw your emotions. Watercolor is pretty calming, but crayons and markers are good for being angry and uncontrolled. 

He’s there with you every step of the way to help you feel better.

Sun Wukong

Oh honey he’s been feeling this way ever since the journey to the west! Wanna trade coping skill ideas?? /j

Anyways, Wukong’s pretty observant. When your stress levels started going up and you just wouldn’t stop pushing yourself, he knew he had to step in. 

Brings you with him to the nicest spots on flower fruit mountain to hang out. And while you two hang out, he subtly gets you to open up a bit. 

By the end of it, you’re both emotional(because c’mon if you cry he’s gonna cry too—) but you do know you feel a little better. 

His hugs are the best, please take advantage of this if you want, especially if you just need to be held for an indefinite amount of time. 

If you really want, other monkeys will also join in to comfort you as well!

Macaque

Very concerned. But obviously he won’t just admit it. He studies how you act(not in a creepy way) and when he sees that you’re disregarding your own needs and just trying to run on an empty tank, he feels bad.

With that silky smooth voice of his, he drags you over to his place, and gets you to eat and drink something while you tell him what’s been going on. 

When you’ve finished telling him everything you felt comfortable sharing, he takes your hands and tells you that you’re super strong for trying to handle these emotions and standards on your own. Jokes about going to yell at your parents, but he’ll leave them alone if you really want him to

He kinda sucks at comforting words because his humor is like 70% just about dark stuff so he tries to show his support with actions instead. 

Rubbing soothing circles into your back, wrapping you up in his scarf, and gentle kisses to the backs of your hands. 

Tries his best to show you that he’s very proud of what you’ve accomplished, even if others don’t appreciate it. He thinks you’re great, alright??

#lego monkie kid x reader #lego monkie kid #lmk headcanon #lmk x reader #lmk #lmk mk #lmk qi xiaotian #lego monkie kid headcanons #lmk red son #lmk macaque #lmk wukong #six eared macaque #monkie kid #lmk monkey king #mk x reader #redson x reader #macaque x reader #wukong x reader #lmk liu er mihou

[ambiguouscheese]

hello !! i'm here for the elaborate aesthetic matchup thingy ? ?? first time doing this so i hope i'm doing this correctly lmao

i'd like nevermore pls :)

personality: enfp // isfj 9w1, virgo. i'm super bubbly and enthusiastic like your normal manic pixie girl. i'm also fairly quiet irl, just kind of . vibing? idk. i'm super morbid, and i adore learning about gory details.

i like candles, moths, snakes, and mythology. i don't like roaches, loud people, or attention seekers. feet, too. don't like those. some hobbies of mine are embroidery, ballroom or folk dancing, rollerskating, dressing up, and making paper dolls.

color ? ? ? probably a dark purple or a bright yellow. no clue.

my favorite music//artists -probably hozier, miracle musical, ABBA, blondie, laufey, and Billy Joel.

soup dumplings, watercolors, lily of the valley's, satin ribbons, and fizzy drinks probably represent me ??

there aren't really any tropes that i like. DESPISE. probably ones where they just hate eachother. i cannot stand surrogate siblings, like kaeluc or something.

i adore any oblivious x super flustered tropes, or where one character has like a panic attack and the other is super soothing. idk man.

i have to request not to give me montresor or duke. montresor is a given but duke is like. bestie material .

i'd prefer an adult guy for the character :)

thank you so so much !! i hope this was enough aha

you have been matched with . . . pluto !!

✧ pluto is an adorable little babygworl who absolutely finds you enchanting!! i can see the two of you being childhood friends who separate but see each other again later in life where you both become friends again and eventually lovers. there's something about you that has got him smitten, though you seem to be slightly oblivious to the effect you have on him. he enjoys your bubbly presence and his heart probably feels like it's ran a marathon whenever you laugh.

✧ at first, the two of you would usually hang around as a group with other people, but once while at the library, you discovered that he enjoyed reading mythological books! as the two of you bonded over your shared enjoyment of mythology, you began to hang out more one on one. after time (and probably some urging from pluto's friends as there is no way that his flustered self and your oblivious self would manage to pull this off on your own), you realized that the two of you were more than just friends!

✧ when together, i can see him reluctantly agreeing to going roller skating with you (he would cling to the side bars in fear most definitely though until you finally take his hand in which he dies even more because he is a flustered boy <3) and even though he may not be the best at it, he'll still always go because that means he gets to spend time with you! similar to the roller skating, he would also dance with you if you expressed enough interest in it and i think he'd be better at dancing than he is at roller skating! it'd become a pastime for the two of you to enjoy dances in the kitchen while listening to your favorite songs as another form of spending time. for some reason, i also imagine you doing his eyeliner and him being flustered the entire time but still rocking the makeup look you did!

✧ even though you can be quiet irl, he loves nothing more than listening to you rant about the things you like- be it some cool new fact about human body decomposition or some cool picture you found of deteriorating body parts (though he might find that slightly less enjoyable than other things), he will always readily listen to whatever you have to say!

✧ your trope -> childhood friends to lovers, black cat x orange cat, flustered x oblivious

✧ start playlist -> lovers rock - tv girl | always forever - cults | fly me to the moon - frank sinatra | heart of glass - blondie | shrike - hozier | would that i - hozier |

✧ your relationship moodboard ->

a/n: thanks for requesting, i hope you enjoy!!

#nevermore webtoon #matchups #x reader #pluto x reader

[snowviolettwhite]

WIP Wednesday

I was tagged by @im-overstimulated-and-im-sad. This is a preview of the first chapter of my upcoming 911: Lone Star fan-fiction.

Working Title:"little boy don't you cry the child in you is still alive, daddy can you die from a broken heart."

It is beautiful autumn day in the city of New York, and the 2010 homecoming week for the Manhattan school districts.

The fourteen-year-old and ninth grader Tyler Kennedy Strand who goes by Tk is riding high.

The beginning of high school has started out great for him. He joined the school marching band playing the drums. His mom and stepdad have been taking him to the ice-skating ring to prepare for hockey try outs the are happening in a few weeks. Tk wants to join the baseball team in the spring too, so his dad has been taking him to the batting cage and park so they can practice and spend time together with him. He is still super good friends with Tommy and Mikaela from the middle school, but it is no longer play-dates. They aren’t little kids anymore.  

They hang out now and went to see Twilight in movie theatre last weekend and then played video games.

His divorced parents, Gwyneth Morgan and Owen Strand have been civil with each other for the most part and have even started allowing him to take the subway without an adult and got him his first cellphone. It is a blue and black flip phone with a little tiger charm. It is nothing fancy, he can call and text.

His parents have set rules to allow him more independence as he is growing up and becoming a young man. It annoys him sometime because it feels likes he is being babied compared to his peers. He understands he really does and does not really blame them; he knows where they get it from but the does not make him feel any better. His mother being lawyer knows how messed up the world is and tries to help those struck by unfairness of it. His father sees tragedy every day and there are some days where he can’t save anyone.

They want to protect him, they know how he is, he knows how he is. Tk was and is still sometimes a clingy shy sensitive child, he is friendly and outgoing once you get to know him but bringing him out of his shell is hard work. He is embarrassed by it and tries hard to not to be so needy and dependent on his parents or teachers, everyone needs support, and everyone has their own issues. So, what if he is not best at reading social cues or needs to take some special classes or it takes a little longer for him to reach certain milestones or needs more support and structure than other kids his age. But no matter how many times he is told how much he is loved he still feels like a burden and like maybe he is being lied to. He won’t ask for help, if you want to Tk to tell you what is wrong you must force it out of him.

If Tk wants to take the subway by himself he just needs to have his cellphone with him, updates his parent and is home before dark or tell them where he is. Which is better than nothing, given how overprotective his parents are Tk thought it would be a long time before he could ride the subway by himself.

He got even got his first boyfriend Alex and has had his first kiss. Tk is planning to ask him to the homecoming carnival, today. Alex is seventeen and Tk looks at him the stars looking at the sun. He is so cool. He rides his motorcycle and skateboard to school. He brings Tk along for the rides sometime with him gripping tightly on his waist.

Alex is an artist, painting and drawing in oil and watercolor. Tk could watch him paint for hours and did, his friends covered for him. He models for Alex, Alex asks if Tk could model for his paintings. He calls Tk beautiful. He tells him Tk you’re so beautiful. You are like a priceless piece of art, my beautiful handsome smoking hot boyfriend. The words paint blushes across the younger boy’s face, his cheeks glowing rosy pink and red. Nobody had ever spoken about like that to Tk before.

Tk starts sneaking at night by climbing out his bedroom windows and down the fire escape. Alex would be sitting on his motorcycle waiting for Tk to climb down the ladder and then they would drive off. Alex took him on his first date. He went to his first high school party. Tk really likes Alex, he is love with him.

“Tk, Tk it is time to wake up and get dress.” Owen says gentling shaking his shoulder.

No pressure - @paperstorm @wheelerthefroghere @anewkindofme

@whataboutthefish @hopelessromanfic @serendipitous-magic

@bunny-lou @mylesimeblr @unsurpassedtravesty

#911 lone star #tk strand #owen strand #911 lone star fanfiction #9-1-1: Lone Star #carlos reyes #gwyneth morgan #fanfiction

[chikahoshi]

🥰🥰Hello I just want to say I absolutely love your miles and Gwen fan art it's just so cute and romantic but I just have to ask if miles and Gwen were to get married what kind of wedding dress with Gwen have and what kind of cake would they have and what would the theme be if you could ask these questions I would really appreciate it🌻🕸🌻

Hi! First off, thank you for taking the time to send me an ask. I really appreciate it a lot. :) Secondly, thank you for being so patient with me. I feel bad for taking so long to get back to you; tbh, I wouldn't be surprised if you don't remember sending in this ask... Initially, I needed to think about it because I have so many ideas that sometimes it's hard to pick only one, and I was hoping I would have a good answer for you if I give it some time. But then as time went on, I ended up overthinking it, and the longer that I took, the longer I felt like I had to give a great answer (even though I know it isn't necessary). So I'm really sorry for letting that get the better of me. This is what I have; I hope it's good enough. ;; But before I start, I do want to mention that the Miles and Gwen fan art was drawn by @tikklil! It is such a cute and romantic art piece; they did such a great job. :)

Anyways, back to the questions. I'll going to give you the short answers here, and then I'll expand some of my answers under the Keep reading section in order to avoid making this post a giant block of text, lol.

If I was forced to pick only ONE wedding dress, I think I would go for this a line sleeveless dress, and I love the idea of this dress being what her mother wore for her wedding. I think it would be sweet and sentimental. :')

As for the cake, I like the idea of them having two weddings, one of them being more traditional and the other one being a Puerto Rican wedding. I'm not Puerto Rican myself, so I had to ask a friend who has a similar background in the Caribbean Islands...Anyone is free to correct me on this or add upon this, but from what I understand, they don't have traditional wedding cakes; they're more like birthday cakes. So I thought it would be cute if they had a Bizcocho de novia. The other wedding cake is a half and half. One side reflects Gwen's watercolor world and the other reflects' Miles' comic world. They'd have a cute, little figure of them on top with the infinity symbol. Maybe to hint the number 8? :)

So because I wanted to incorporate Miles' culture into one of the weddings, the wedding itself is a lot more informal and similar to Jeff's party for becoming captain. Lots of loud music and dancing; bringing the neighbors to join the party. And lots and lots of side dishes, lol. So not much of a theme, but the other wedding kind of has a theme to it. I'll explain that more below. c:

I think the clooosest thing to a theme to the other wedding is the idea of Miles and Gwen incorporating 90's music. My headcanon is that their parents were teenagers in the 90's, so while there's a lot of upbeat, trendy music playing, Miles and Gwen also incorporate some songs their parents listened to when they were young (which is something I would LOVE to one day expand upon on its own post). In particular, Miles and Gwen slow dance to "Everytime I Close My Eyes" by Babyface because that's what Jeff and Rio danced to for their wedding. :')

Anyways, circling back to when I was thinking about THE wedding dress for Gwen, it was so difficult for me because I have so many ideas that I really like.

While I love the a-line dress that I mentioned above, my most ideal dress for Gwen is something that looks like this. I think she would look so pretty and would frame her body so well!! It's really soft, feminine, and modest. The a-line dress is a lot more dramatic and princess-like, lol. I feel like on its own maybe Gwen wouldn't have picked it herself.

But before I explain why I still chose the a-line if I only could pick one dress, I wanted to step back and talk about a headcanon of mine. Like Jeff and Rio, I headcanon that George's a 90's teen and got married in the early 2000's. So I imagine Gwen's mom wearing a wedding dress that was popular in that era—strapless necklines, embellishments, and ball gowns. I think it'd be pretty sweet and sentimental if Gwen wore the dress that her mom wore for her wedding even if it wasn't her personal style. She did kept a gift that her mom gave her, so I think it would mean a lot to her to wear her wedding dress. :)

Also, I love the idea of Gwen wearing an untraditional black wedding dress like this or even something like this but a version of the cape with a hood!! I can imagine Gwen being someone who'd want to wear an untraditional dress for her wedding; I even think a combination of her pop rock side and her ballet side incorporated together into a dress would be SO cool to see. But at the same time, I also love the idea of Gwen wearing a more traditional dress for sentimental reasons. ;u;

Anyways, thank you again for asking. I might have more ideas over the years, so this may actually evolve. :)

#asks #ghostflower #gwiles #miles x gwen #one day i'll get better with overthinking my response ;;

[newtonsheffield]

Hi, Molly! So, Lavender Haze is on my mind pretty regularly, as you know. I love Kate and Anthony, I love your writing, I love tattoos, I love romances in which the attraction is communicated from the jump. This Kate ties in my head with Mile High Kate for your sexiest Kate. Sexy Kate bullying Posh and/or Prim Anthony with her sexiness and Anthony being very into it is my favorite dynamic. It's really got it all. So, I'm gonna try to remember all the questions that just popped in my head while I was in the shower pretending to listen to what my husband was saying.

---

Does Benedict have tattoos before meeting Sophie? If not, does he become a total convert like Anthony does?

Does Kate ever convince Anthony to give her a tattoo? I see her constantly wanting to teach him how to use a tattoo machine and Anthony being terrified of doing something wrong.

Once both Kate and Sophie are integrated into the Bridgerton family, is there a friendly (but not really) competition about which of them can give the most Bridgerton tattoos? I imagine once Lucy starts her apprenticeship, Gregory is keen to offer his entire body to let her catch up.

Most tattoo artists do other kinds of art. Does Kate do watercolors? Does Sophie have other mediums?

---

Those definitely weren't all of my questions, I don't think. Oh, well. Thank you, as always, for sharing your stories with us.

I think Mile High Kate and Lavender Haze Kate are pretty similar honestly. Both of them are a little reckless, and Anthony being affronted and confused what to do with her is very funny to her. She thinks he’s cute, and it’s endearing that he’s flailing around trying to look after everyone. The caregiver in him calls to her. The part of himself that he’d rather keep the most hidden is what draws her in closer.

Now to answer your questions!

Benedict did have one tattoo before he met Sophie. Ballet shoes on his chest. And Sophie hates it. It’s so badly done. The line work is uneven, and the shading Has the light coming from two different sources. And she stares at it all the time and mourns the fact that someone did this to him. Eventually he lets he cover it up with her own version and he has to admit; it’s way better

Kate would love for Anthony to Tattoo her. And eventually, he loses one of their drinking contests and the next day he has to tattoo her. He’s terrified he’s going to make a mistake and his hands shake the entire time and Kate just chuckles, Do you really think I’d regret it? You did it, that makes it special, baby boy.

Sophie and Kate have a competition for who can put the most tattoos on their partner in a six hour window. They do it as a charity event, Ben and Anthony advertise it and people donate money to one of their mother’s causes, the whole thing is live streamed. Kate wins because Anthony was egging her on the entire time, telling her they absolutely could not lose to Ben and Sophie. He was holding a sippy cup of water and he was an inch shy of suggesting they wear nappies so neither of them would have to go to the bathroom.

Sophie and Kate both went to Art school and are very talented artists in their own right outside of people’s skin. Kate is fond of water colour as her tattoo style is watercolor as well. But Sophie’s more of a charcoal kind of gal.

#lavender haze au #kathony #anthony x kate #kate sharma #kate sheffield #anthony bridgerton #benophie #sophie beckett #molly’s asks and answers

[ziezie13]

My first completed fanbinding! There were so many fun typesetting elements I had trouble narrowing the photos down but I didn't include everything. My favorites are definitely the music QR codes and the meta AO3 fics.

Until My Feet Bleed and My Heart Aches by @kazliin

‘…Of all the rivalries in the world of sports over the years, perhaps none has become so legendary as that of Russian figure skater Viktor Nikiforov and his rival, Japanese Yuuri Katsuki…’

A single event changes the course of Yuuri’s life, throwing him into a bitter rivalry with Viktor Nikiforov that spans across his entire skating career. But as the years go on, rivalry and hatred begin to develop into something very different and Yuuri doesn’t seem to be able to stay away, no matter how hard he tries.

Hatred and love are two sides of the same coin and even though everything changes, some things are still meant to be.

Technical stuff and bonus photos below the cut.

General

197,692 Words / 11 x 8.5 Paper / 500 pgs

Title Font & Chapter Number Font: Just Signature

Chapter Title & Body Font: Adobe Caslon Pro

Misc Fonts: Georgia, Lucida Sans, Zilla Slab, PT Serif, Segoe UI

Designed, typeset, and bound by me.

Programs used: InDesign and BookletCreator.

Anyone who knows me knows I am a sucker for enemies to lovers and this fic executes the trope beautifully. It was one of my very first fics on AO3 and since then I have read it countless times. The fic diverges from canon in a single moment and what proceeds is one of the best Victuuri fics of all time.

Materials

This was the first ficbinding project that made it off of my computer. The original plan was to keep the book thinner by scaling the page size up to 11 x 8.5, but obviously that didn't work. I ordered short grain 11 x 17 sheets from Nicole Nikolas Modern Paper Goods and printed with my large-format inkjet printer (which used more cyan and magenta than I would have expected).

Once my signatures were printed I realized just how massive this thing was, and in that moment I decided the casing was going to be leather. I ordered Royal Blue leathers from Peggy Sue Also Leather's Dutchess Collection. And while I waited for that to come in I hand-painted the chapter numbers using Dreamland Watercolor's Beta and a fluid writer. The color changing effect wasn't as dramatic as I hoped but it still turned out gorgeous.

I decided not to complicate things too much and left the spine flat and the edges deckled. I used the basic method of sewing tapes and spaced five of them out across the spine. The headbands are actually Vintage Petersham Grosgrain Magenta ribbons from Fini Ribbon that I folded over some string I had laying around. I also made my own endpapers from Strathmore drawing sheets and more of the Beta watercolor which I sprayed over the sheets using a cheap paintbrush.

I created an embossed frame on the cover by layering chipboard on top of the 0.098" Davey Binder's Board I ordered from Talas. Then I cut out a window so that I could do the title out of watercolor. I didn't have a pairing knife for the leather so I tried sanding down the edges to help minimize the thickness of the folds. I am actually not sure if this helped or not but the leather turned out better than I thought. The only issue was that I didn't have enough of an overlap at the top and bottom on the inside of the book board, and the endpapers couldn't cover the seam properly. I came up with the solution of adding a second layer of chipboard that I covered in light blue construction paper. I made it to the same dimensions as the Davey Board and then glued everything together with pva. I really like the effect it has and it also worked out as a base to paint the title onto.

Typesetting

Typesetting this fic was a lot of fun because of all the social media aspects included in the fic. This included articles, Reddit threads, Twitter posts, Instagram posts, Youtube videos, Tumblr posts, and even meta AO3 fic summaries. I did my best to match the real-life counterparts as best as I could. I ended up using Segoe UI for most of the social media typesetting. The articles used Zilla Slab for the title and PT Serif for the body. The AO3 summaries were the most complicated as they used Georgia and Lucida Sans fonts and jpeg graphics.

The other really exciting element I incorporated was the music. Kaz used music throughout the fic as a very imporvictant part of the storytelling. Yuuri and Victor communicate through their skating and their routines and the music is what brings those routines to life. I placed QR codes in the margins at the start of each routine. It is so cool to hold your camera up and suddenly have the music playing from your phone as you read! I also included an appendix of the music so that when QR codes become obsolete the music is still accessible.

#bookbinding #ficbinding #yoi #victuuri #my work #first fic bound

[hearts4robs]

Hiiii there!

Happy New Year ♡

Ooooh I have never done a match-up so I am really curious. I'm gonna go for DC because I only know this fandom and love those weirdos ♡

So I am a 27 years old bi non-binary person (they/them). I'd say I am pretty outgoing and very much talkative. I really like chit-chatting with strangers whom have dogs like at the train station. I am not much of a party person tho, I really like being home and reading stuff, listening to music or going for a nice walk with my dog while listening to my playlists. My favorite artists at the moment are AURORA, Laufey, Apshe, and Rain Paris. I have ADHD and a personality disorder which is why for now I am still under disability insurance but I am getting really well and I hope to finally be able to start my studies to become a librarian. I was very much a good student even for the few semesters I did at uni. I have a huge interest for literature and languages. I have studied latin, german, english, portuguese and arabic. Not fluent in many of them, but I do like taking the time to relearn stuff by myself from time to time. I am good at being self-taught, that's how I got my high school diploma since my health was a hindrance at the time haha. I am kinda a history nerd, love reading about religion in Ancient Greece especially in Attica and I love reading about the Witch Hunts in Europe and North America in the modern era. I do enjoy cosy "culture" and academia aesthetics. I am 5'6', dark brunette mid lenghth wavy hair (a wolf cut if you see what it is) with light brown eyes. I have huge fine golden glasses haha (already the librarian vibe). I am pretty chubby for now, eventhough I am losing weight due to feeling better health-wise. I love wearing button-down white shirts with vests or blazers or floral corsets and black turtlenecks haha.

Ideally, I'd love someone who is able to understand that I have some difficulties that others might not have, but who can be calm when it matters. I hate having huge arguments, if we need to argue I want to be able to talk it out. It's okay to be angry but I hate lashing out or being lashed at. A break to take some fresh air is okay if needed to have a civil conversation. I am not huge on receiving expensive/luxury gifts, it makes me awkward. I'd rather spend time with someone, cook with them or gift little things that are meaningful. I am huge on social activism. I do read a lot about different issues and it's important for me to listen to others and their experiences and try my best to do better with them and for them. I love my dog, she's a rescue and a peach. We lived a bit everywhere for a while because I was homeless around 20, but we managed and have a nice apartement now. I think I am pretty resilient as a person and I always strive do be kind and compassionate when possible because I know no one is born with all the answers and understandings of the world. I paint with watercolor from time to time, but I'd say my favorite hobby is reading and researching stuff because ADHD haha.

I don't like when people excuses stuff because of an illness. I can be an ass and it's okay to tell me and nobody should get a free-pass to be terrible to others. It happens to be shitty but you should strive to make it better if you couldn't avoid doing it at first.

I am a native french-speaker and half Portuguese. I am white European.

I can be a bit loud and outspoken but I always try to be mindful of the space I can take in a conversation with others because I don't want people to feel ignored. I can be adventurous, my 19 birthday was me going by train all alone with a backpack around the northern part of europe for a month. I would sleep at locals' place after talking to them on a specific website. It was great and fun and I saw so many museums ♡ I can be a bit of an airhead, and a tad much too sarcastic sometimes and I tend to switch conversations subjects often because I have links between them that makes sense to me but no one else.

My favortie tropes are friends to lovers, everything fluff, domestic, etc. There's beauty in the mundane ♡ I guess that when your mental health is a rollercoaster, you crave stability and calm easier haha ♡

I hope I gave you enough informations for your match-up.

Sorry, I am really a chatterbox haha ♡ Thank you and take care, dear ♡

𝐓𝐢𝐦 𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐤𝐞: 𝐁𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐜𝐚𝐬𝐞

“What are you doing?”

“I, uh, think.. I might be building you a bookcase, can’t promise you anything though. IKEA isn’t very clear in their instructions.” Tim says, turning the instruction book upside down in hopes of the illustrations making sense.

A chuckle escapes you as you set down a mug of hot chocolate beside his organised work place on the middle of your living room floor.

“You think?” You ask, taking a seat beside him with a soft grunt, happily letting your dog snuggle up beside you.

“Yes, it’s very frustrating and for some reason, it’s all in French.” Tim says, trying to screw a screw into the proper place. “No, no, that’s not right..” he mutters.

“You do know I’m fluent in French, right?”

Tim slowly glances at you sideways before letting out a huff.

“I can handle it.” He reassures, chewing his lip in annoyance. “Go read your Shakespeare and I’ll be done in a few minutes.”

Headcanons:

Tim loves watching you read. He loves how you can both be nerds together.

You don’t live together yet but he visits often enough for your neighbours to know which days of the week you’re free.

He’s so supportive and tries his best to be a stable support system. You started out as friends and he let you crash at his for as long as you needed when you had nowhere to go.

Your dog is no longer “your” dog. It’s “our” dog to Tim.

It took him the whole afternoon to build that bookcase for you.

You’re such a sweetheart, I loved making this!! <3

#pls pet your dog for me🙏 #I thought Tim SO fast #also #Tim falls asleep while you read #★ robins match up event! ★ #★ match up event! ★ #★ robins events ★ #tim drake x reader #tim drake #dc x reader #dc #soft #timothy drake #Tim Drake dc #red Robin #red robin dc

[t1meslayer]

Busy with important family events over the next couple of days, and so I thought it would be good to get a day-and-date release for this Debrief on the latest entry in my Sapphic Valley series, "How You Get The Girl." Be sure to read the story before jumping in!

Did you do it? Did you read the story?

Alright, I'm trusting you. Go ahead and hit that 'Keep Reading' button you scamp.

It only seems appropriate to start this Debrief off by addressing the elephant in the room. I haven't posted anything in over a month, and "By Moonlight" came about a month after its predecessor, the conclusion to "Stone-Cold Lovers."

Work, naturally, has been a major factor.

You can see me talk about that almost two weeks ago in this Tumblr post I made about writing in a coffee shop, which came weeks after I actually started writing during a trip to a friend's house.

===

Side note:

Just wanted to take a moment and acknowledge my beautiful Haley and Emily keychains. My friend who's responsible for the affairs of one ghostly farmer named Jizzabelle (Gisabelle to the laymen) got them for me! Only appropriate after I commissioned some art of her and Abigail.

Emily was my first Stardew wife, and Haley currently holds the biggest place in my heart. They make a lovely duo!

And I'll avoid any sister-wife jokes

===

While I've had some other projects like Zine writing to take care of, work and life can't explain the full absence.

The best way I can think to explain things is that:

I had the general writer's block, and

Despite the best intentions and advice of my irl friends and online pals like @alchemicallymoon and @duelbraids, I couldn't force myself to "break" that block by just... Writing something else.

This is entirely the result of my own psychosis. I have a tendency to carefully plot things out and impose a timetable that really doesn't need to exist. When I feel the cause is righteous enough, it's hard to get around that. In this case, I knew I needed to get my poll-winning idea out after dawdling for holidays like Valentine's Day, and then I knew I only wanted to post one more story before jumping on a very special event for my upcoming 30th AO3 post.

Thus, here we are: arbitrarily forcing myself into a spiral of writer's block misery because of a silly promise on Tumblr and my own sense of ordered chaos.

At the very least, this meant it's coming out not long after my AO3 pal InsertACatchyPennameHere also emerged from the woodwork to tell me they're working on something INSPIRED by my four-person friend group farm adaptations.

Much love to them, wherever they may be.

I'll probably start writing more eclectically now that my shoulders are unweighed, but don't expect my next publication to hit until I'm finished working on teasing the big event. All you Pokemon fans better get hype!

And oh how sweet this publication feels. Between my great set of recent ceramics, the figure drawing class I've been attending, and creative writing, I've felt more fulfilled than ever.

You're here to talk about Stardew, though. So let us talk.

This idea began less with any one event as it did a desire to advance the Alexis/Haley relationship, and Haley's characterization in particular. It was always going to end with watercolor painting reference, but 2 Willow Lane was what I really wanted to dig into.

As I see it, a lot of what keeps people invested in Stardew when its comfy vibes becoming routine is the air of mystery in Eric Barone's worldbuilding. Haley and Emily's parents being some world-traveling duo who left their home in the siblings' care for who knows how long (and who knows how many times over their lifetime) really piqued my interest. So much so that the new writing challenge I set for myself in "How You Get The Girl" was crafting a particularly long set of descriptions that emphasize how overwhelming the parents' influence feels — without creating an impenetrable wall of text.

Hopefully I succeeded in that. Let me know!

I tried to include some vaguely real world-adjacent references into that description of the house, as happens with the magical-realism world of Stardew Valley. For example:

The computer sitting next to their bonsai tree is an iMac G3, the kind of old 'futuristic' tech that my dad loves!

A Speedwell refrigerator is based on even more vintage tech, the Mayflower fridge, but named after a different ship ridden by Pilgrims coming to America.

That city that the family visited in an old photograph with a "monument of arching, interlocking steel" is, of course, Paris — with the statue bookends referencing any number of statues in the Louvre.

Haley's FAD magazine could be referencing any number of publications, but Vogue is probably the closest analogue to what I imagine her reading.

Furthermore, I took some notes on describing the home's layout off of my sister's apartment building, and I asked my bestie @trybard for input on what kind of hanging plant should be used in the transitional hallway. Hanging pothos, philodendron, and spider plants were the three options provided, and my response was appropriate:

They know so much about plants.

Go bug them about it.

I drew on other friends' knowledge to help decorate the house. Specifically, I asked one of my witchiest friends what kinds of protective wards someone like Emily would leave around doorways and windows. She had... A lot of reference material.

I picked Hazel given it purportedly "protects against evil; encourages abundance and inspiration." I also picked Amethyst as one of Emily's loved gifts, one that purportedly "absorbs negative energy, promotes harmony."

My witchy friend is the same one who provided the TikTok that I referenced in my advertisement post:

Perhaps the most important thing about 2 Willow Lane was the recurring motif of Barbie's Dream House.

As a surface-level reference, I think the groundwork is clear. Blondie's love of fashion and general queen bee demeanor fits comparisons to Barbie well, and she lives in a big ol' house full of stuff. We all saw Greta Gerwig's Barbie movie last year. It's still in the cultural zeitgeist.

I'm hip with the kids.

Yet, early on I also tried to make it clear that if this is a "dream" house, it's neither Haley's nor Emily's dream. Haley is a Barbie in that stereotypical sense, but also there's much to be mined from the analogy of a sort of powerless doll in an immutable house, constrained by social obligation to her family rather than literal plastic and stickers.

The cold open of Jodi and Sam was meant to stand alone, but in execution I also think drawing Kent's absence into the conversation makes for a more thematically rich comparison to these sisters who appear to have themselves more put together.

My beta reader said this wound up being one of my stronger stories because of how all of that intertwined, which I appreciated given how down on myself I was following the whole writer's block thing.

But also.

Also.

Alexis gets to be horny. She's hitting on lonely MILFs and watching girls shake their asses to the tune of bad reality TV.

We love a buff dommy mommy farm girl in this house.

Haley is probably horny too, she just doesn't realize it yet. For now I think it's fun enough to play into her being coy about building excuses for Alexis to come over, and then getting incensed when Emily barges in on their private time meant to learn more about this farm girl she just can't get out of her head.

===

Fun fact:

Every story in this series is named after a Taylor Swift song, but I know next-to nothing about her discography. All of them are suggestions by my friend whose house I was at when starting this story — the same one who controls Gardenia on the farm.

While I went with "How You Get The Girl," her alternative suggestion was "The Man."

===

All that w|w talk aside, I also want to give Sam the loveable idiot a shoutout. Had to do a fair bit of research into how skateboards are constructed for his failed ollie, and I slipped in a reference to shitty old technology that's exclusively for my beta reader to enjoy.

I also tried doing some agricultural research to figure out how the folks at Kevin Farm could have grown cucumbers so there'd be a jar of legitimate pickles... But that was getting too in the weeds.

Insert laugh track here

Decided to just go with pickled artichoke hearts to save everyone a lot of trouble.

And where does "Kevin Farm" come from, you may be asking yourself. Or the fabulous "Kevin's Special" with its definitely not innuendo tagline.

That story will have to wait for another day, my friends.

#I really went in on this one #Moreso than I was expecting #But I guess that's what happens when you get very anxious about how people on the internet are judging your ability to do things well #And in a timely manner #Not that I think any of you are judging me #My fans are great <3 #Anyway thanks so much for reading! #I promise the Kevin Farm story isn't all that interesting but one day I'll make it relevant to a piece #Fanfiction Debrief #fanfiction #fanfic #companion piece #author's commentary #ao3 #stardew valley #stardew haley #writing #creative writing #struggle #macintosh #vintage technology #paris france #louvre #vogue #plants #tiktok #witchcraft #protection #barbie #metaphors