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#how can this be seen as ‘bird hating’
aireia · 8 hours
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The night I fell in love with you. — Gojo Satoru
tw/cw: gn! reader, fluff. not proofread. ooc.
note: I wanna know how I've been sick for 2 weeks —masterlist
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Social events are common amongst clans. They help strengthen the bonds and relationships between clans, which makes it easier for them to come to agreements on matters.
For all he can remember, Satoru hates social events. He can’t remember how many he’s been to since he was a child, but he can remember the whispers among the crowds and the feeling of eyes on him. He can’t differentiate whether it was admiration, jealousy, hatred, or some other emotion. 
But he has to go. He’s the head of the Gojo clan, one of the most expected people at these private events. He doesn’t really see the point in him showing up, anyway. He doesn’t agree with the views and opinions of any other person there. 
It’s by the time he’s eighteen, maybe a decade after he started attending these parties, that he finally goes to an event that’s worth remembering, because he met you. Someone who agreed that these excuses of events were a bore. The both of you ended up laughing with each other over small talk, completely unrelated to the other people talking about ways to get rid of dangerous sorcerers.
The both of you had a lot in common. For example, your hatred towards the way the elders choose to do things. Satoru didn’t take long to realise this wouldn’t be the last time he would see you at these places, and jokingly asked if you wanted to meet up at these events and go to some corner of the room to talk shit about everyone there. You accepted. 
Maybe that’s when you fell for him. You kept each other company during these times, and laughed together so much anyone would mistake the both of you for friends that hadn’t seen each other for years catching up with each other.
About a year, or two after you met, there was a gathering that required everyone to have a partner to dance with. Now this was becoming ridiculous. Who organises these?! Because he sure as hell didn’t. Satoru groaned  loudly into his pillow when he first received the notice, and reached for his phone on his nightstand to text you about it. 
“We can be each other’s partners.” “I’m sure it won’t take too long.”
He stared at the screen for too long after that. The thought of dancing with you made heat rise to his cheeks. 
“...Satoru? Are you still there?” 
-
On the day of the actual event, he finds himself looking forward to dancing. He has to stop himself from straight up dragging you towards the centre of the room as the music began.
Have you ever seen a rose bloom? Watched the way the petals slowly unfolded? 
Satoru has.
Because that’s what Satoru Gojo saw in front of him when you were dancing together. The vibrance of the petals paled in comparison to your smile, and suddenly, he felt as if he were the thorns that pricked anyone who dared to touch them, for he never wanted this moment to end. His mind flashed back to one of the texts you sent as he got drunk off the sweet scent of your perfume. 
“I’m sure it won’t take too long.” 
No. He hopes the song is a hundred, a million times longer than it is. He never wants this to end. He doesn’t wish for this to become a memory, for he wishes to live in it forever. 
He can see the flames dancing in your eyes, and he feels liquid with the way your bodies move together.
Each step you took was lighter than any falling feather, and in his mind he thinks that maybe he’d have to describe you as a free bird. And he thinks about it, over and over, all the way until the final note of the piece. 
By that time, you’re everything. You’re a rose, you’re a dove… From what he sees through his cerulean eyes, you’re the sun that lights up the sky, yet at the same time the moon that grants dreams through slumber. You’re the waves of the ocean, and you’re the calmness that resides in the deep sea. 
You are his everything.
-
“Satoru?” you walk up to him on the balcony, where he seems to be lost in thought. “It’s getting late. We should go to b– Satoru!” you yelped when he suddenly grabbed your arm and pulled you close to him. 
You know exactly what he’s thinking about, and you can’t help but smile and sigh. 
“May I have this dance?”
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by user @ aireia, do not plagiarize and/or translate.
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happyheidi · 2 years
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me whenever I see a sinister-looking bird
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via
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songofsaraneth · 1 year
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i am FUCKING pissed about the feral cat situation yet again
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Every man who hated on Birds of Prey but loved Bullet Train owes me five bucks
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rubberbandballqueen · 11 months
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also, the kids found a nest with a dead bird on the ground today, and they started yelling abt it n drawing all the other kids over, so i had to actually switch into the Authority Figure Voice(tm) with them so that they wouldn’t like. literally desecrate its body by kicking it around for funsies
#in general i'm just not really all that keen on using Authority Voice on children or people in general#probably bc growing up i got told a lot that i can sound really scary! actually scratch that during argumentative speeches#my prof was like 'i didn't wanna stop you outright bc it felt like you were going to snap at n kill me if i did' n i was like#'oh my god i'm so sorry no feel free to stop me whenever; it's just acting' so even Very Recently i have been told i have frightening energy#but i think mostly i don't like using it on kids bc. well. yeah i feel like it'll make them scared of me n i don't want that#like they're children. i'm not going to kill them. i'm not going to skin them alive. i hardly give punishments in general#but they're old enough to associate Authority Voice with massive trouble. like i can feel it in my bones too when i use it n i don't like it#it makes me feel like the kind of adult i'd have hated n resented the most growing up n it just makes me feel kinda ick#but at the same time it has its uses! like if it was just one to... mm i'd say like three or five kids i'd be cool w/just like#backing them up n then talking to them abt safety precautions when handling dead bodies but otherwise letting them get sticks n poke at it#but there were like five there at the start n then like five more were coming over so i was like. 'mm. cutting this short rn'#esp when one kid started kicking at the body w/o an ounce of reverence. like dude wtf why are you punting bird corpses around#but yeah i can't blame them for their curiosity; n i don't want to teach them that death is scary or dirty or anything#but wild animals can carry diseases and these kids are less than ten years old. i've seen how they handle things. they have no grace#anyway. yeah. long day at work today.#the worm speaks
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pucksandpower · 3 months
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Theories of Relativity
Charles Leclerc x Reader
Summary: you don’t need TikTok theories to prove that your relationship is a dream come to life, but it doesn’t hurt when your boyfriend passes all of them with flying colors
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The Olive Theory
When you love someone, you have to be willing to make sacrifices and compromises for them (even if those sacrifices are something small like pretending to hate olives just so you can give them to your olive-loving partner instead)
You sit across from Charles at the long dinner table, smiling as he animatedly recounts the race from last weekend. His hands wave through the air, punctuating his story as he describes the final lap battle with Max down to the last corner. You’re only half listening though, too distracted by how handsome he looks in his dinner jacket, his tanned skin glowing in the low light of the restaurant.
As Charles pauses to take a sip of wine, you lean in and whisper, “I wasn’t really watching the race, I only had eyes for you.”
Charles chuckles, his nose crinkling adorably. “Oh really? So you missed all the action then?"
You shrug, trailing a finger down his arm. “What can I say, I find you far more interesting than the other cars going around in circles.”
Charles opens his mouth to respond but is interrupted by a mechanic sitting a little way down from you. “Oi Charles, why do you keep picking all the olives out of your salad?"
You look down, noticing the small pile of olives Charles has stacked onto the edge of his plate.
Charles glances at you, a faint blush rising on his cheeks. “Oh, um, I’m not a huge fan of olives.”
The mechanic frowns in confusion. “But I’ve seen you eat olives before. You always get them on your pizza.”
“I, uh ...” Charles stammers, clearly flustered.
Under the table, you squeeze his hand reassuringly. Charles looks at you and you give him a small nod.
“Well, the truth is,” Charles says, turning back to the mechanic. “I actually love olives. But Y/N loves them even more than I do. So I pick them out of my food to give to her.”
You smile softly at Charles, warmed by his thoughtfulness. The mechanic chuckles and shakes his head. “You two are so cute it’s almost gross.”
Charles just grins and pops an olive into your mouth. “Anything for mon amour.”
You crunch the olive happily, then lean in to give Charles a quick kiss on the lips. “People who say chivalry is dead have simply never met you.”
The conversation moves on, flowing from racing to travel and everything in between. Under the table, your fingers stay intertwined with Charles’ the whole time.
After dinner, you all head outside into the cool night air. Charles’ team members head off towards their own cars, calling out goodbyes.
You snuggle into Charles’ side as you walk towards where his Ferrari is parked. “Thank you for the olives,” you say. “But you really don’t have to deprive yourself on my account.”
Charles wraps his arm around you, pulling you close. “I want to though. I like making you happy.”
You stop next to the car, turning to face him. Running a hand down his chest you say, “You know what would really make me happy right now?"
“Hmm?" Charles murmurs, his eyes drifting down to your lips.
You grin mischievously. “A stop for gelato on the way home.”
Charles laughs and opens the car door for you. “Anything for you, mon cœur.”
The Bird Test
If you say something that could be deemed insignificant and your partner responds with genuine curiosity, that’s a really good sign that your relationship will last a long time
The Brazilian sun beats down as you wander hand-in-hand with Charles along the edges of the Interlagos circuit. It’s the day before qualifying, and Charles brought you out to the track in São Paulo to share the grid walk with you.
You stroll slowly, enjoying a rare private moment together during the hectic race weekend. Charles points out details along the track — the tricky off-camber Turn 3, the sharp left-right complex at Turns 5 and 6, the long full throttle blast down the back straight.
You love seeing him so in his element here, his passion for racing evident in his voice and gestures.
As you round Turn 12, heading down the home straight, a flash of bright blue in the trees catches your eye. Gasping in excitement, you grab Charles’ arm and point.
“Look, a hyacinth macaw!”
Charles follows your gaze to the large, vividly colored parrot perched in the branches. “Wow, that’s amazing! I’ve never seen one outside of a zoo.”
You bounce on your toes, thrilled at the sighting. “Aren’t they gorgeous? That bright blue is unreal. Macaws are pretty rare around here, I can’t believe we spotted one!”
Charles smiles at your obvious delight, then turns back to observe the macaw with curiosity. “What do they eat?" He asks. “Fruit, like other parrots?"
“Yes exactly!” You reply eagerly. “Mostly palm nuts and acai berries. And they need a huge range of territory, something like 80 square kilometers.”
As you chat more facts about the brilliant bird, Charles listens attentively, asking more questions and commenting on its beauty. His genuine interest and engagement makes your heart flutter happily.
Eventually the macaw takes flight, its bright wings flashing blue against the trees as it disappears into the forest.
“Incredible,” Charles murmurs, watching it go. “What an amazing thing to see.”
He turns back to you, eyes shining. “Thank you for pointing it out, I never would have spotted it myself. I love seeing you so excited teaching me about something you’re passionate about.”
You step closer, looping your arms around his neck. “And I love that you always listen and want to know more, even if it’s not about racing.”
Charles wraps his arms around your waist, smiling tenderly. “Of course, your passions are my passions now too. I want to know everything that sparks that beautiful light in your eyes.”
The Orange Peel Theory
A partner’s willingness to perform small acts of service is indicative of a healthy relationship
Early morning sun filters into the kitchen as you sip your coffee, still wearing the oversized Ferrari shirt you slept in. Charles stands at the counter across from you, freshly showered and humming to himself as he browses his phone.
Setting your mug down, you grab an orange from the fruit bowl and start to peel it. Or at least you try. The tough rind puts up a stubborn fight, your nails scraping uselessly against it.
“Ugh, I hate peeling oranges,” you grumble after a minute. “Whose idea was it to make the peel so impossible?"
Charles glances up with a sympathetic smile. “Here, let me.”
He takes the orange from your hands and deftly digs his thumb into the top, effortlessly tearing the peel away in one long curl.
You watch in admiration as he strips the rest of the orange until it’s completely naked and ready to eat.
“Voila,” Charles presents it with a flourish. “One perfectly peeled orange for mon ange.”
“My hero,” you grin. You go to take it from him but Charles playfully keeps it out of reach.
“Ah ah, allow me,” he says. Holding your gaze, he gently pulls apart one glistening segment and brings it to your lips.
Happiness bubbles up in you at this sweet, unexpected gesture. You let Charles pop the orange slice into your mouth, savoring the bright citrus burst.
“Delicious,” you murmur. Charles smiles and leans in to kiss you softly, his thumb brushing a drop of juice from your lower lip.
One by one he continues to peel the segments and feed them to you, interspersing each with tender kisses that taste of orange and love.
You close your eyes blissfully, letting the sensual ritual relax you. Charles takes his time, not rushing. He knows this is your favorite part of the morning, stealing these private moments together before the busy day sweeps you both up.
When the last segment is gone, Charles kisses you again, deeper this time. You loop your arms around his neck, melting against him.
“Have I mentioned how much I love you?” you whisper when you finally separate.
Charles nuzzles your nose with his. “You may have said it once or twice. But I never get tired of hearing it.”
You lean into him contentedly. As always, his thoughtfulness and care warms you from the inside out.
Peeling an orange is such a small act but the meaning behind it speaks volumes. Charles knows your quirks and preferences, and cherishes these little opportunities to make your day brighter.
The little things that mean everything.
You’re still musing dreamily about this when Charles tips your chin up. “Where’d you go just now?” He asks with a curious smile.
You shake your head, focusing back on him. “Just thinking about us. And how perfectly you peel my oranges.”
Charles laughs. “Well I’m glad to be of service. I know how you hate getting orange string stuck under your nails.”
He kisses your fingertips one by one. “Can’t have anything marring these beautiful hands.”
You scrunch your nose at him. “Oh yes, I need to keep my hands soft and dainty in case a prince comes along to propose.”
Charles squawks in protest and tackles you against the counter, fingers digging into your sides to tickle you mercilessly. You dissolve into helpless giggles, swatting him away.
“No no, stop! I take it back!” You gasp.
Charles relents, holding you close and nuzzling into your hair. “Too late, you’re stuck with me now,” he murmurs, kissing your temple.
You snuggle into him contentedly. No fantasy prince could ever compete with the reality of Charles.
The Invisible String Theory
An invisible string connects those who are destined to meet, regardless of time, place, or circumstance (the string may stretch or tangle but it will never break)
The living room is filled with laughter and happy chatter as you and Charles sit surrounded by both your families. Your wedding is only two days away, and his mother suggested gathering everyone together one night for reminiscing and quality time.
Looking through old photo albums is proving to be hilarious and heartwarming. Baby pictures, school plays, family vacations — memories preserved to embroider the story of your lives before fate brought you together.
Charles smiles wistfully as Lorenzo shows an album from their childhood. “I wish my godfather and father could have met you,” he says softly. “They would have loved you so much.”
You take his hand, leaning your head on his shoulder. His lost loved ones are always close to his heart.
Your mother passes an album to you with a smile. “Oh this one is from our trip to France when you were five! So many cute little Y/N photos.”
You roll your eyes but obligingly open the album, Charles peering over your shoulder. You flip through pictures of your younger self building sandcastles on the beach, wearing a hilariously large sun hat, beaming gappily with missing front teeth.
Charles grins down at you. “Adorable. I can’t wait for our kids to-”
He stops abruptly, staring down at the page. You follow his gaze to a photo of your family in Nice, taken in front of the Le Negresco hotel. And there in the background, almost out of frame — four familiar figures walking down the promenade.
A young Charles holds the hand of a teenage boy you immediately recognize as Jules. On Charles’ other side, his father Hervé carries a toddler Arthur.
Your breath catches sharply. The families fall silent around you. Charles’ fingers tremble slightly as they trace over the image.
“Of course we went to Nice often,” he whispers. “I had no idea ...” His voice trails off, thick with emotion.
Arthur cranes his head to see. “Is that us? With Papa and Jules?" He looks between you and Charles with wide eyes.
“Almost twenty years ago,” Lorenzo marvels. “And your paths were already crossing.”
Pascale wipes at her eyes, grasping Charles’ other hand tightly. “It was meant to be. Some invisible string tying you together even then.”
Charles’ fingers tremble as they trace over the image. For one brief, impossible moment, it feels like you’re all together — you, Charles, Jules, Hervé. Preserved in time, intersecting at the crossroads of past and future.
Though you never met in life, somehow you were all bound in that instant, tied by invisible strings of destiny. Strings that would one day guide you and Charles to each other.
It’s only a photo, yet looking at it you feel Jules and Hervé’s presence like a bittersweet embrace. As if across the years, they’re saying we know you. We love you. We’re so happy for you both.
You stare down at it, this captured moment of impossible synchronicity. A glimpse of the thread that wove itself silently through your lives until the day it finally drew you together.
Charles meets your eyes, his own shimmering with tears. Without words, you know he feels it too. The impossible link stretching back through time. Proof you were always meant to find each other.
He pulls you close, kissing the top of your head. “I believe that with all my heart, we’ve always been connected somehow.”
“Soulmates,” you whisper.
You cling to him, overwhelmed with certainty. Through accidents of time and geography, missteps and milestones, your story was always guiding you here.
Meant for each other. Destined, even then.
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bruciemilf · 1 month
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I’m on the second episode of My Adventures With Superman and I KNOW I know, this deserves to be Clark’s show, BUT HEAR ME OUT A SECOND.
Imagine the Waynes didn’t die and Thomas is trying DESPERATELY to buy the Daily Planet from White, but to absolutely no avail.
“For the last time, Wayne, you can have this company when the Gotham Knights win a Stanley Cup.”
“Y’all cheated last year and you KNOW it, White! Come on! We knew each other for 20 years—“
“Not true.”
“You gotta have ONE nice thing to say about me! You saw my charity records? My trip to the Amazon? I found a goddam dinosaur, for Pete’s sake!”
“And you sent it to the Gotham museum.”
“…Well yeah, it looked real pretty.”
“Look, Wayne. I can either give your ego the stroke of the century, or keep Lane and those two idiot interns in check, but I can’t do both. Now get out of here, or—“
Clark clearing his throat, holding two cups of coffee in his comically large hands, “Uh, the coffee machine broke, so I had to run to the store. Is this a bad time?”
Thomas whistling, because what the FUCK. “Christ, boy, how tall are you? How tall is he, White? You a security guard? You WANNA be a security guard?”
“Uh, Clark Kent. Idiot intern,” Clark introduced himself politely despite Perry’s grumbling.
Needless to say, Thomas Wayne is…Intimidating.
“I’ve heard about your research on metahuman physics, Mr. Wayne. It’s brilliant.”
“Oh, that? That was all my boy, really. He’s got all these ideas about reinventing the healthcare system for everybody or something like that. Hell, he wants to invent some bandaids for that Superman fella. “
“That,” Clark blinked, “Actually sounds amazing.”
“Right?. The other day he came to me like, ‘Can I have 30,000 for a research expedition?’ You should’ve seen him in his little lab coat, — cutest thing. Hold on, I have pictures.”
Clark expected a particularly eccentric 10 year not, not a — gorgeous— adult man in what looked to be a great amount of eyeliner and one hell of a scowl. “He’s…” gorgeous, “He seems interesting.”
“Ain’t he? You should meet him sometime. Hates talking to the press, but, I’m sure we can arrange something. “
“Good luck with that. I tried interviewing the kid alone for 10 minutes and Mr. Wayne here kept getting in the way. Probably because he has something to hide.”
“Bruce ain’t really made for the camera, so I had to step in, ya know how it is. He ain’t really the independent kind.” Thomas shrugs. “I know, I know, — you gotta leave em to fly sometimes, and while I bet he’d look cute tryin’,”
Thomas chuckles, but it doesn’t sound amusing. At all. “No bird leaves MY nest.”
Clark finds out why Perry can’t prove Thomas Wayne is Batman. It’s because he’s wrong. He’s listened to Batman’s heartbeat before. And Thomas doesn’t stutter.
Bruce Wayne does, thought.
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inkskinned · 3 months
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yesterday while feverish i wrote about how boats can moor next to each other like pigeons, cooing with the gentle rap of water against their hull. you once said that that the way i see things - birds in the water, feathers in marina paint - was "childish and naive." you said i'd been misdiagnosed - "it can't all be adhd. you might be just kind of stupid and lazy."
i still do certain things like how you taught me - turn the pillow case inside out before putting it on. drive defensively. hate myself entirely.
the prompt for this poem is "mahler's fifth." i wish it wasn't, but mahler's fifth was our song. it ended up in my book. every person that knows your name has promised me they'll give you one swift rabbit punch, right to the face. dean read the book and showed up on my front porch, drenched in sweat from running the 8 miles at 4 in the morning. he was shaking. pacifist and gentle - he works with children - i'd never seen him furious. a punch isn't going to do it, he said, and then said i'm sorry. i had to come to see if you were okay.
mahler's fifth was mine first, like my girlhood. i like the way each movement piles onto the next movement, each instrument bleeding into the next. i like the horn version the best. before i met you, i danced to it on grass still-wet from sprinklers.
later you would tell me that the way you heard it was somehow better. you understood something in it that i couldn't quite wrap my fingers into. once, on our anniversary, you asked the classical music radio station to play it for us. we missed hearing it because we were fighting. one of the things people get wrong about abuse is that sometimes victims are, like, brutally aware of the stupidity of our situation. what do you mean that you thought i wasn't good enough for you? you? you're just... nothing.
sometimes people can pull the poetry out of your life. i watched my words become clothesline, and then thin out into kite twine. i watched you chew through every good syllable of me. so many good songs and places and moments were ruined. i am glad you didn't like most of my music - less to tie back to you.
but still mahler's fifth. the music swells, and i am 21 and throwing up in a bathroom on my birthday. a woman i will later refer to as lesbian jesus runs a cool hand down my back, her perfect pantsuit starch-pressed. she told me to leave you. she said - and this is true, and not an invention of rhyme or fantasy - i'm you from the future.
i am 22, and i got home from an award ceremony, and i remember you telling me - you act so proud of yourself when you're actually so fucking embarrassing. i took you to disney world. you took my virginity. i gave up visiting spain for a week with my family - i instead choose you, to spend the time just-cuddling. you called it "our fuck week." the music swells. it probably should have been a red flag that for about 3 years - i just gave up on crying. my grandfather died and you said nothing. my uncle died and you ghosted me for 3 weeks. you said i need to protect myself from your ongoing tragedy.
every so often i come back to the memory of one of our last afternoons in person. i had just told you that i wasn't going to law school, despite the free ride - i was going to join a creative writing program. master's in fine arts. i was going to finally do it - i was going to follow my dreams. this blog was already internet-famous. however reluctantly, i would occasionally refer to myself as a poet. i got into umass amherst's writing program for fiction authors. it is one of the the top 5 programs in the country.
wait are you seriously considering actually attending that? dumbfounded, you turned completely towards me in your seat. for the 3rd time in our relationship, you almost crashed the car. you actually want to be a writer?
the first time i went viral, it was for a poem i wrote about you:
he wants to say i love you but keeps it to goodnight because love will take some falling and she's afraid of heights.
every time i see that, i want to throw up. you weren't in love with me, you were in love with the control you had over me. a little truth though: i am afraid of heights. you caught a rabbitgirl and skinned her alive.
mahler's fifth still makes me sick.
give me that back. give me back music. give me back everything i had before you. give me back fearlessness. give me back bravery. give me back a scarless body.
give me back what you took from me.
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danveration · 3 months
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Wherever you go, I won't be far to follow
Parings: Creepy!Vox x GN!reader
Summary: Vox is obsessed with you and he uses his VoxTek to stalk you
Word count: 1437
Warnings: Obsessive behaviour, one mention of Vox getting a hard-on, Vox being delusional, jealousy, k*lling, Vox jerking off
A/N: First time writing for Vox!! I got this idea from some amazing person on discord:’) I immediately went insane w the idea and had to write it up
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“I can’t get them out of my HEAD!” He yells angrily, banging his fists on the table.
Valentino and Velvet have noticed his behaviour towards you and tried to talk sense into him.
“They’re nothing special, Vox! Just another sinner. Get over them.”
“You tell us to not ruin our reputation but look at you. You’re a mess.”
“Maybe just.. go talk to them? Instead of being a fucking creep.”
Vox doesn’t listen. He wants to know what you’re doing 24/7 and who you’re doing it with. He has cameras set up everywhere. In your room, bathroom, hotel (as you’re currently living at the hazbin hotel), the street lights. Absolutely everywhere. He doesn’t want to meet you just yet, not until he learns everything about you so he can charm you off your feet.
You don’t even know him. You’ve heard of him through hell, yes. But you’ve never actually seen him face to face. Alastor has told you all that he isn’t anything to worry about, in which you believe him. Apparently he owns all the electronics in hell or something like that? You’ve seen posters of him and you think it’s kinda neat how he has a full on tv head as a face. But other than that, you never gave much thought to him.
———————————————————————
Today was just another day. You woke up, took a shower, went downstairs to have breakfast, and hung out at the hotel. Nothing of which you thought anything of, it’s just a normal boring day.
But Vox on the other hand thought differently. He thought everything you did was the most exciting, interesting thing ever.
“Oh! Fuck fuck fuck, they’re waking up.” He says, getting closer to one of the MANY tv screens he has in this room.
He looks at you in awe, touching the tv screen gently.
“So fucking cute when they’re waking up. Look at them, my god.” He whispers.
He watches you as you get out of bed, yawning. Watches you get undressed, and into the shower.
“Such a perfect body. I’d treat you so right. Better than anyone else could.” He says as he watches you wash yourself. He feels himself get a hard-on, but ignores it. He needs to have all his attention on you.
Watching you shower, learning your routine and what product you use, he stores all the information in one of his computer folders.
After you get out, he watches you choose what clothing to wear.
“Aww, that’s my favourite top on you.” He says in awe.
Then, you go downstairs to eat and hangout with your fellow hotel members.
Vox knows all your favourite foods and least favourite foods, to when you come over to live with him one day. He wants everything to be perfect. You wouldn’t have to lift a finger.
“You’re gonna haaavee..” He starts while you’re picking out what to eat.
“Fruit with cereal!” He shouts just as you pick it up.
“HAHA! Fucking knew it.” He says.
After you eat, he watches you interact with people.
He hates it. Hates when you talk to other people. What if they get too close to you? What if you like them more than him? So many thoughts cross his mind.
“Oh don’t you dare talk to-“ He starts while you’re walking up to Alastor.
You start talking to Alastor about something and Vox’s eye twitches.
He remains keeping his cool, but inside he wants to march over there and take you away. But he can’t do that, can he? That would be a horrible first impression! Even though he’s sure you’d fall for him in no time, he can’t risk it.
Right now, you’re sitting on a chair, scrolling through your phone.
Of course, Vox has hacked your phone too. He has another tv in which he can see exactly what you see.
He’s intently watching you play Angry Birds, when an ad comes up. Not just any ad, but a VoxTek ad.
You’re intrigued because this is the “Vox” you’ve heard of. You click it and Vox almost falls over.
“OH MY GOD. YOU-“ He scrambles to get as close as possible to the screen.
You start scrolling through the VoxTek website. It seems pretty cool, honestly. There’s a lot of “Trust us.” quotes, which you find kinda suspicious. But nonetheless, you’ve been wanting a new laptop since yours broke a while back. Why not give it a go?
You find a good priced laptop that actually seems like it’ll work really well, so you decided to buy it online.
Vox’s eyes widen.
“YOU- I-“ He stares in shock. You bought something from HIS website. You KNOW about him, it’s confirmed now.
He has the great idea to hand-deliver you the laptop. That’s a great first impression isn’t it?
He jumps up and goes to put on his best outfit. Making sure he looks 11/10. He cleans his screen, puts a mint in his mouth, and walks to the room where they keep all their product, finding the one you ordered.
He looks to his right, seeing the one you ordered, but then he looks down and sees one that’s 10x the money you paid for that one, and it’s their BEST laptop. It has so many features that he knows you’ll use. It’s their most high end product. He’s gotta give you that one instead. You deserve it.
He picks it up and puts it into a box, sealing it and putting a nice red bow on it. He kisses it and walks out.
“Vox? Where are you going? You’re looking quite fancy.” Valentino stops him as he’s about to walk out of the building.
“Oh nowhere!” Vox answers as he walks out. He doesn’t want Val to give him a hard time about this.
Val looks in question, but just walks off.
As Vox is walking to the hotel, he’s rehearsing his lines.
“Ah! Y/n. Hello there, I’m here to give you your laptop.” He mumbles. “No that sounds so fucking.. Hi, Y/n! Here’s your laptop.”
He mumbles a bunch of fraises when finally, he arrives on the doorstep.
He adjusts his bow tie and takes a deep breathe, knocking on the door.
You perk up at a knock on the door, you’re the only one at the hotel right now, other than Niffty. You go to answer it, wondering who it’ll be.
As you open the door, Vox’s heart stops.
It’s.. Vox? That tv guy! That’s weird, you literally just ordered a laptop from his site about 20 minutes ago.
He’s staring at you, mouth open.
“Uh.. hello?” You say with a questionable tone.
“Oh! Oh, shit. Hi! I’m here to hand deliver you that laptop you ordered.” He chuckles. “Well, actuallyyy, I got you a better one.” He whispers that last part.
You’re very confused. Do they hand deliver every laptop that someone buys?
“Oh um.. thank you! Thanks a lot.” You say, reaching out to take the box.
“Oh of course!” He says with a smile, handing it over to you.
“Do you like the bow? I picked it out just for you, Y/n.” He says.
You feel a weird sensation in your stomach when he says your name. How’d he..? I guess you have to put your name in the website when you order it. So that’s probably how he knows your name!
“Oh yeah! It’s.. a great bow.” You chuckle awkwardly.
You stand their in silence as he’s looking at you, seemingly so to be admiring you.
He realizes this is probably weird for you and takes a step back.
“Well! Haha. It was nice to meet you.” He says with a smile, sticking out his hand for you to shake.
Adjusting the box to hold it with one hand, you take your other one and shake his hand. As you do, you feel an electric shock.
“S-sorry about that.” He says, pulling his hand away.
“Oh it’s alright, don’t worry!” You answer, finding it kinda interesting.
Vox’s internal monologue is screaming. He just TOUCHED your hand. He’s never washing this hand. Ever.
He doesn’t want to leave but he knows he overstayed his welcome. It doesn’t matter though, he will see you again soon. There will be more meetings, more and more and more until you beg to see him.
“Cya, Y/n!” He waves at you, walking away with a satisfied smile.
“Bye!” You say, walking inside.
He goes home and jerks off to the hand you touched, moaning your name and cumming all over himself.
He’s got it bad for you.
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rockatanskette · 1 year
Text
One of the running themes in "humans are space orcs" circles is the idea that humans will bond with anything. I can think of plenty of stories of humans making friends with wild animals, alligators, predators, creatures that aliens would immediately recognize as too dangerous for contact. But I was reading a story about two orangutans released back into the wild today and there's a certain element to that story I haven't seen so often: humans will bond with animals regardless of whether the bond is reciprocal.
For every story of a human making friends with some unlikely creature, there are dozens of stories of conservation specialists tranquilizing animals, tending to their wounds or illness, and releasing them because they're too dangerous to handle consciously. Stories of tagging birds of prey and timber wolves and Siberian tigers. Fat Bear Week? Any of those bears would rip your face off without hesitation. But they're round and fluffy and intimidating and beautiful and we love them even though they hate us. We make an effort to protect our monsters, because we love our monsters.
Imagine an alien planet that's experiencing ecological degradation. Their flora is dying, and they can't figure out why. And, offhandedly, in a diplomatic mission, an allied planet mentions that humans have successfully reversed similar devastation on Earth. So they reach out and Earth sends some experts to check it out. And what do they suggest? Reintroducing an apex predator that used to be a scourge against alien settlements. The species still exists in other regions of the planet, but it is slowly disappearing outside of its native habitat.
The aliens are askance. They've told bedtime stories to their young of these creatures: how they tear apart their prey, how they've eaten their organs and rip apart their homes. Some suggest that it's a trick—that the humans are trying to prompt them into destroying themselves.
But there are many alien cultures on this planet, with many different stories and some of them agree. The world watches in anticipation as the humans help their predators. They seek them out, these fearless otherworlders, putting them to sleep and tending their wounds. They keep track of the beasts, not to harm them, but to protect them.
At first the doomsayers' prophecy seems to come true. The predators devour prey animals like a feast, like a slaughter to people who have never been so close to the circle of life. But then, slowly, not over months but over years, comes change. The prey no longer eat the leaves and buds of every tree; some are left to bloom and fall. The refuse rots in the dirt, and the floods cease as the soil grows thick with compost and rotted bone, thick enough to hold water. The shapes of rivers change to protect their surroundings from the rain. The pollinators rebound.
Decades later, other cities and nations begin to accept this human myth of "conservation." Champions arise, alien champions, now, who go into the depths of the wilderness and the seas to protect those predators from the apathy of time.
Not all of them make it. This is something else the humans teach. Sometimes the tranquilizers are not enough. Sometimes the timing is wrong. Sometimes accidents happen. And when they do, the aliens look to humans for an answer for why they should protect these creatures who have killed those they love?
"Because they knew the risks," the humans say. "Because they would be the first to speak to save them. Because they taught you to see the beauty in the wild and you must not close your eyes."
So, despite themselves, they don't.
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yandere-daydreams · 10 months
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Fox Hybrid!Childe, who arrives at the sanctuary where you volunteer in the dead of winter. He's brought in by a group of hunters who found him in a decade-old bear trap on the verge of freezing to death. He's aggressive at first, still rattled from such a close call, but comes around quickly after a warm bath, a visit with your on-call vet, and of course, something to fill his stomach.
Fox Hybrid!Childe, who can't be released back into the wild while he's still in recovery or left alone overnight, not when he's so eager to play fight with the other hybrids. He gets along well enough with all the volunteers, but he's constantly trying to get your attention, either sulking as you tend to another hybrid or drinking in your generously-given affection. You're clearly his favorite, so you're the one to take him home. He's ecstatic about the change in scenery, to say the least.
Fox Hybrid!Childe, who takes to being a housepet like a fish takes to water. You try to make up for the lack of stimulation with a never-ending supply of thrifted toys and as many walks as his injured leg will allow, but he prefers to spend most of his time curled up at your feet or trailing after you, ginger ears perked-up and blur eyes wide and bright. He's surprisingly good at household chores for a wild animal. By the end of the first week, he's cooking and cleaning on his own, and when you insist that he's your guest, that you don't want him to get too domesticated, he just laughs and tells you that he likes it, that he's used to hunting for his siblings. Since you won't let him bring the birds and rabbits he catches past the front door, this is how he's decided to provide for you.
Fox Hybrid!Childe, who destroys your apartment the first time you leave him alone for more than an hour. It makes sense, even if you can't say you've ever seen another hybrid react so violently to being separated from their handler. Foxes are social animals, and he hasn't been on his own since he was brought to your sanctuary, since the day he stumbled into a trap he couldn't understand or struggle his way out of. Still, when you come home to find all his toys gutted and all of your furniture overturned, you can't say you're thrilled. Childe spends the rest of the day buried in your sheets, pouting until you finally give in and forgive him. Childe goes wherever you go, after that.
Fox Hybrid!Childe, who suddenly seems a lot less friendly than he did, when you first took him in. You try to write it off as him being overly protective of his temporary skulk, but it's a little hard to tell that to your male friends when he bares his teeth and snaps at their hands. In public, he refuses to leave your side, his tail constantly thrashing and his ears pressed flush to his scalp. He'll still smile, laugh, promise he doesn't get jealous that easily, but it's difficult to take his word for it when he holds your hand so tightly.
Fox Hybrid!Childe, who's been scenting you in your sleep for weeks, nuzzling into the crook of your neck and gripping at any flesh he can reach and humping your thighs until he inevitably climaxes and has to clean his cum off of your skin with his tongue. He makes a point of 'accidentally' staining anything he doesn't want you wearing in front of anyone but him, letting you think he's too vulnerable to his animalistic urges to not mark your favorite top with his cum, that his separation anxiety is just too severe for you to shower without him, let alone close the door when you change.
Fox Hybrid!Childe, whose leg has been fine for months. You're too much of a bleeding heart not to buy it when he puts on a half-hearted limp, and while he hates having to lie to his future mate, he hates being away from you more. It's not a permanent arrangement, either - he'll be able to tell you the truth when you're fully bonded, when you're heavy with his pups and coming undone on his knot every night, every minute he can get with you.
Fox Hybrid!Childe, who's not going to let anyone take him away from his precious mate now <3
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imfinereallyy · 1 year
Text
hummingbirds
Steve’s crying on the porch of his parents' house, with a duffel bag and baseball bat, when Eddie pulls into the driveway.
“Jesus, Steve, what happened?” Eddie crouches down to get eye level with Steve. Despite being dark out, the sun set long ago, and the outdoor lights weren’t on. Steve turns to look at his parents' car in the driveway and thinks back to when the lock had distinctly turned shut on the front door. They were around to switch the lights on; they just didn’t care anymore to do so.
Steve is grateful for the moonlight, as he can see the pretty lines on Eddie’s face. Even if they currently curve into a frown.
“Hey Eds.” Steve’s voice cracks.
“Stevie…what happened?” Eddie asks again, this time it’s gently. It cradles Steve and holds him softly. He wishes Eddie’s hands would do the same.
“Did you know hummingbirds are the only birds that can fly backward?” Steve sniffles.
Eddie’s face scrunches in confusion, “What? Birds? You lost me.”
Steve pushes past Eddie’s confused face. “They are the only birds to fly backward. Surprisingly, it wasn’t Dustin to teach me that out of the munchkins. It was actually El. She’s apparently going through a bird phase. And I don’t think the others are very interested. So I try to pay attention when she talks about it. And she taught me about hummingbirds.”
Eddie settles on his knees, “That’s great, man and those little shits should listen to her more, but I’m not sure what that has to do with what’s wrong. You called me to come pick you up and hung up before I could even answer.”
Steve bites his lip, “Sorry, my dad clicked the phone off.” Eddie’s face shows surprise, but Steve keeps talking before he can interrupt. “And well, I guess hummingbirds have nothing to do with anything. It’s stupid, really.”
“No, no. It’s not stupid. Tell me about the birds, Stevie.” Eddie’s hand finally reaches out to Steve. He brushes the fallen hair out of his face, and something in Steve just sets him off.
“You see, they can fly backward. And well, no, I’m getting ahead of myself. You see, my cousin Tucker is here to visit. And let me tell you, he is the worst. Like Eddie, you would hate him. Conservative, capitalist enthusiast, real bootlicker kind of guy.”
“Sounds like the worst. Especially if he made you use the big words.” Eddie’s hand falls away, and Steve mourns the loss. Normally, when people make jokes about his intelligence, it stings. It makes him feel small. But when Eddie does it, it isn’t mean or a poke at how stupid Steve is. With Eddie, it’s almost like he’s reminding Steve that he is smart. That maybe Steve is the one making himself small.
He is.
“Anyway, he’s visiting, right? So my parents come home. And I haven’t seen them in months, since before spring break. It’s nearly October, and I haven’t seen them, and I can’t tell if I’m excited or dreading their arrival. It’s always a fight when they are around, how I’m not good enough, how I should be more. Their visits always end up being cut short, and me feeling like shit. But this stupid, stupid part of me was hoping it would be different this time. They haven’t seen me since the “earthquakes.” Surely they’ll be happy to see I’m okay, right?”
Eddie stays silent, his face revealing nothing.
“Of course, it’s not. They only came home because my cousin Tucker was in town. All the way from Indy cause it’s so far. And my mom ‘made’ dinner, as in she ordered it and pretended she made it. It wasn’t even that good, but we all pretended it was the best thing ever made. Cause that’s what they do, pretend. And the dinner is fine, boring. Most of it is just me staying silent while my dad and Tucker talk about the business. Tucker runs the Indy office while my dad is in New York. Ya see, Tucker has been gunning to take over for my dad when he retires, which is another word for dies—“ Steve let’s put a bitter laugh; he wonders if his parents are listening. He doubts it.
“—and they are going on for the whole meal, and I’m almost through the home stretch when my dad brings up me, coming to work for him.”
Eddie reacts finally, “You’re going to New York?” His voice is strained, like he is trying very hard not to yell, not at Steve, but at anyone who will listen. Steve is quick to correct.
“No, no, I’m not. This was news to me to Eds. I have no interest in my dad's business, and as far as I was concerned, he didn’t want me a part of it either. Guess that has changed. Has? Had? I don’t know…” Steve trails off.
“Harrington.”
“Don’t call me that. It makes me think you’re mad at me. Besides, it doesn’t fit me anymore.” Steve bites.
“Sorry, Steve. I’m not mad. I promise. Just, what do you mean?” Eddie’s head tilts to the side, his curls cascading down his shoulder. It reminds Steve of a river, dark water rippling in the moonlight.
“I was so shocked, Eds. When he said that. That I was quiet, I should have corrected him, maybe. Maybe I could have fixed it. But Tucker was so quick to act. He was pissed. He knows my working for my dad means me being set up to take over. And Tucker, he’s worked too hard to make sure he does get the business. But instead of yelling, he just gets this concerned look on his face. And he…”
“He what?”
Steve wrenches his eyes shut as he recalls the rest. As he recalls the way Tucker’s face faked worry as he struck. Like he has been waiting for the right moment to ruin Steve. He manages to open his eyes eventually, only to see Eddie’s face once again. The honest look on his face is enough to push Steve on.
“In the summer, Robin was feeling sad. This was before you guys knew about each other, and I was the only one who knew about her. And she was sad cause nothing had happened with Vicky and she felt so alone. And I hated seeing her like that. And so, so I took her to Indy. And, and—“ Steve starts to hyperventilate.
Eddie takes him by the shoulders. “Breathe for me, Steve. Come on, baby, match my breaths. It’s okay. It’s okay.”
Steve matches Eddie’s breath. Ignores how the word baby calms him down instantly. “Tucker told my dad that he saw me in Indy. That he saw me come out of a gay club, Eddie. And he went on about how they should focus more on getting me help, than putting me in a power position, again Eds, which I don’t even want! And how I would be a bad look for the company. How would it look if a company whose whole image is family values, only successor, turned out to be gay.”
Eddie flinches a bit, but doesn’t let go of him. Steve feels instant regret. “That isn’t what I meant, Eddie.”
Eddie shushes him, “I know, sweetheart. You’re just upset. I know. Did you tell him that you weren’t there for you? Or maybe that Rick was mistaken; it was a regular club?”
Steve rubs a hand down his face, “And what? Tell him that my two best friends in the entire world are gay? So that I can be shipped off to New York and never see them again? Yeah right. I’d rather face the bats again than be removed from you two. And I’m not going to out you guys like that.”
Something warm crosses Eddie’s face, “So, you lied then?”
“Before I could say anything my dad reacted.”
Eddie freezes, a darkness swims in his eyes. “He put his hands on you?”
“No, no!” Steve panics, and he purposely leaves out the ‘not this time.’ Eddie isn’t necessarily a violent person. But he does have a protective streak. As admirable as it is, Steve doesn’t want him to get hurt.
Eddie relaxes but only slightly.
“He was actually pretty calm, which is even more terrifying. I expected him to yell, throw things. But instead he just turns and says, ‘Is this true, Steven?’. And what gets me is they didn’t even question why my cousin was anywhere near that club in the first place. Why did he see me there? Instead, he just asks me if it’s true. And it’s the first time in a long time, if ever, that my dad asks me this. He always just assumes I’ve fucked up. And this time, he really asked me about the truth. And I couldn’t, I couldn’t lie. I don’t know why, but it felt wrong to. So I didn’t. I just told him, ‘Yes. It’s true.’”
“Stevie…”
Steve throws out a bitter laugh, “And you know what? He still doesn’t freak out. He just tells me I have five minutes to get my shit and get out. That I needed to call a ride because the car was under the name Steve Harrington, and I was no longer a Harrington. And he was so calm. And my mom just sat there, and I just listened. I didn’t fight. I am so tired of fighting.”
“Steve, why not just tell them the truth? Tell them you were there for a friend?” Eddie’s tone isn’t scolding, only curious.
“See, that’s because I started thinking about hummingbirds, Eddie. I started thinking about how they fly forwards and backward and how they are the only ones that can do that. Isn’t that fascinating? These small birds are so strong and interesting, and can do something no one else can do. But no other birds understand; the rest of them just fly forwards Eds. And I—I feel like that sometimes. That I’m not flying in one direction, ya know?”
Steve feels like he isn’t making much sense, but then Eddie nods and looks at Steve. Like really looks at Steve, and sees him. And Steve feels raw, stripped of his skin, exposed, and it should hurt, but it feels so fucking good. And Eddie stares deep into Steve’s eyes and says, “Yea, I know.”
“I didn’t want to lie. Because even though Tucker was wrong, he was also right. I wasn’t there for me, but I think I needed to be there. To get it. And I think that I’m flying backward, Eds. And I’m worried it’s wrong of me, that it shouldn’t be allowed. And that there is no purpose to me flying backward if I can just go forwards. If I can just fly with the rest of them. But I don’t think, I don’t think I’ve ever really taken flight before. Not before I understood I could also go backward.”
It’s in this moment, where Steve is covered in tears and snot that Eddie finally takes his hands and cradles Steve’s face. Steve’s never felt safer.
“Listen to me, sweetheart; there is nothing wrong with you. Okay? Nothing wrong with you. Just because you can fly forwards doesn’t mean you have to, doesn’t mean you should. Sometimes you’re going to have to fly backward; you’re not going to have a choice. It’s just the direction you’re fast, huge, hummingbird heart takes you. And it might take you a bit to learn that. To understand that, but I will make sure that you do. Because you, Steve Harrington, are fucking fearless and fucking beautiful, and I am so goddamn proud of you.”
Steve finally reaches his breaking point and collapses in Eddie’s arms. Full body, ugly sobs wreck Steve. He is sure that he is soaking Eddie’s favorite Black Sabbath t-shirt to the bone, but he can’t find it himself to care. His fingers dig into Eddie’s back as he clutches tighter as his breathing picks up.
“Breathe, baby, breathe. Remember that. I got you. I got you.” Eddie whispers into Steve’s ear.
Steve picks his head up when he finally calms down, and looks at Eddie. “You.”
“What’s that?” Eddie says softly, rubbing circles through Steve’s polo.
“I called you. Because, I think—no, I know, that I’ve been flying backward, to you. For a while now. And I knew that, even if you weren’t too, you’d still show up. And I just—just need you to know that. I am so grateful you showed up.”
Steve knows he should feel nervous telling Eddie all this, but he isn’t. He strangely feels like his dad at this moment, calm and unmoving. Steve doesn’t understand many things in this world, but he understands that even if Eddie doesn’t love him like that, Eddie still loves Steve in plenty of other ways.
It’s still nice, though, when Eddie leans forward and kisses Steve’s forehead. Steve closes his eyes and releases a breath.
Eddie slides his head down slightly so their foreheads are pushed together affectionately. “Stevie, I’ll always fly backward to you.”
Although it’s awful how they got here, Steve can’t help but feel happy at this moment. He also can’t help the silly giggle that comes out of him, “I think we have just lost all meaning to this metaphor at this point.”
Eddie snorts, “Oh, have we? And here I thought we were having a nice moment, a poetic one at that, telling each other ‘I love you.’”
Steve blinks at him, “You love me?”
Eddie frown lines finally turn upwards, “Yea baby, I love you.”
“I—“
Eddie cuts Steve off. “Tell me in the morning. When your tears have dried, and I’ve woken up with you in my arms. I want to hear it in the daylight. Okay? Let’s go home.” Eddie stands, offering a hand to Steve.
“Home?”
“Yea home, got to fly back to our nest.”
Steve can’t help the snort he releases, “Dork.”
Eddie just smiles, “Thought I told you to save the ‘I love you’ til the morning.”
Steve smiles back as he takes Eddie’s hand, “I didn’t…”
Eddie squeezes Steve’s fingers, “Yea, ya did.”
****
I’m back, not dead, and in my feelings. Thinking about expanding on this one. I hope you guys like it. 🧡🧡
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fuxuannie · 1 year
Note
Hi sage!! I hope you're doing well<33 do you mind doing jealousy headcanons for dan heng, jing yuan and any other characters you chose?? Thank you 🤍🤍 you're keeping the hsr x reader tag alive 😭
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* pairing(s) : various hsr men (4, again) x gender neutral reader
* prompt : jealousy bites like you like a poisonous snake, the bite hurts, but its the venom that gets you.
* authors note : hi anon !!! (๑´ㅂ`๑) thank you for requesting, you're so sweet for the last msg omg tysm <3 i hope u enjoy !
* brief warning : blade kills a man, very blade of him. (his is also more of a joke im sorry blade lovers) ALSO THIS PROGRESSIVELY GETS SHORTER EACH CHARACTER, I JUST REALLY LIKE DAN HENG IM SORRY LMAO.
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DAN HENG can't hide the way his eye twitches, how tightly he grips onto his spear or the way he'd mutter things under his breath. He despises it when he's jealous, but he hates it more when he sees the reason for doing so.
He knows he's.. not exactly like all your previous partners, it stemmed an insecurity in him. He wasn't all too funny, and knew he couldn't make you laugh with a corny joke.
So the way Sampo keeps making you laugh, making you smile, it was sparking a jealous flame in his heart. But more than anything, it saddened him that he couldn't make you laugh like that.
God, your smile was so pretty.
After a while, he interlocks his fingers with yours and mutters a small 'Can we go?' to you. You immediately notice his saddened tone, and thank Sampo for his time before walking home with your boyfriend.
"Dan Heng?" You say softly, noticing his rather saddened mood. He lets out a small hum to acknowledge your call for him, and you sigh. "Are you upset?"
He nods his head.
"Is it.. because of Sampo?"
He hesitates, but that alone gives you an answer.
Dan Heng takes a deep breath, before looking at you, his eyes filled with honesty. "I was.. jealous. I know I can't make you laugh the way he does, and it frustrates me. I want to be a man who makes you smile everyday but-"
Amidst his rant, he sees how your gaze softened at his words. This entire time, he was insecure? He hid it well, so well, at the very least from you. "I'm sorry, this is stupid-"
"N-no! It's not, I should be apologizing if anything! I failed to realize these things.. I'm sorry, my love. Sampo.. he makes me laugh, but you make my heart flutter. You make me feel things no one else can, okay? I'm yours, as you are mine."
He smiles at you, he's just happy he communicated his feelings, and you understood. "I'll be sure to try and tell you how I feel next time, okay? As long as you promise you'll stop hanging out with him. I was honestly afraid I was gonna have to get rid of him."
You blinked a few times, but he sighs. "I'm kiddinngg.."
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JING YUAN knows he's far too good of a man, therefore doesn't get jealous.
He's yet to be disproven in the first part, but his golden eyes are filled with annoyance as the stares of a certain enemy of his lingers far too long on you.
You were filling in for Yanqing, he was absent for the day (something about falling into an ice cold river and getting sick or something...) and so someone needed to be there as the General would be meeting Blade.
And Jing Yuan couldn't ignore how Blade's eyes never left your form while he spoke, hanging your head down low and so you wouldn't notice. That made him greatly annoyed, almost unable to focus, but he had a mission at hand. And so he forced his jealousy to subside.
Needless to say, the small marks on your neck was embarassing to have seen in public. (And the small bird constantly pecking at Blade's hair was definitely also not Jing Yuans doing.)
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GEPARD is so understanding, he evaluates every situation with logical thinking, as expected as a leader.
So it wasn't hard to figure out the intentions of the 'friend' that was speaking to you, how their voice was almost sweeter, and the way they clinged onto your arm was signalling red flags.
Gepard wouldn't have minded this, it could've easily been friendly gestures, but Serval is one of your closest friends and you were within a friendgroup. And she knows that person has a crush on you, and it was painfully obvious.
So naturally, he swiftly and surpisingly gently pulls you from the waist out of their grasp especially with how firm his grip around you was. He gives them a not so friendly glare, and plants a soft kiss to your lips. "My partner." He states, pulling you close as you're left to be stunned with the sudden posessiveness of your partner. "Mine."
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Blade simply stares down at the person even attempting to approach you with clearly bad intentions. And if they dare to try to push their luck, Blade comes home with blood on his hands.
"What did you do??" You'd ask, you already knew the answer after already learning what Blade was truly like. "What was necessary." He replied, a kiss on your cheek as he walks in through the door to wash his hands.
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hyperfixat · 1 year
Text
How they show affection, demon brothers!
roughly ~700 words :3 side characters ver
Mammon bites.
Seeing how quickly Mammon took to you, he started showing affection around day three of knowing you, after forming your pact. At first you thought he was sniffing your hair, and maybe you needed new conditioner, but then you felt the graze of teeth on the lobe of your ear and a gentle bite.
You don’t react, save for a mild blush, and Mammon’s makes an oddly bird-like chiro, before pulling away from you.
“What was that?”
“What was what?”
“You bit me,” you acusse. It’s not like you’re mad, but knowing why might be nice.
“Stupid human, you’re imagining things,” and if you didn’t believe him from the tone of his voice the aggressive sunburnt red that eclipses his whole face shows he doesn’t mean it.
Satan headbutts.
It took a while for Satan to be affectionate with you, maybe shortly after the Lucifer slash London incident was when he first rammed his (thankfully horn-less) head into your arm. You thought he just bumped into you, maybe he stumbled and to spare him embarrassment, you didn’t mention it.
But then it happened again, this time he made eye contact with you before shoving his scalp into your chest. You melted.
Satan’s so sweet to you, for real for real.
Lucifer purrs.
Now don’t ask him or accuse him of purring because he will deny it, vehemently.
((The Avatar of Pride does not purr, don’t be ridiculous, MC. (Lying through his teeth.))
You only had the opportunity to hear it once in your first year at RAD, the night before you left, he had let you hold his head in your lap and bask in the warmth of your stomach and thighs in between the other activities you did that night.
Lucifer’s eyes has lidded and he gaze up at you with near heart shaped pupils, eyes nearly completely red, and a low rumble began in his chest.
At first you had thought he was growling and you did something wrong, but when you had stiffened up for a brief instance, Lucifer had snuggled his face deeper into your skin.
Asmodeus rattles.
You can’t see where it’s coming from, but it sounds like a baby rattle or the rattle of a snake.
“MC!” [aggressive rattling]
It was really confusing the first couple times and you had to eventually ask if there was a bug somewhere. Asmo, naturally, got offended, but as soon as you told him it was okay and you were just curious, he tells you it means he’s happy.
Cutie Patootie!!
Belphegor licks.
Belphie doesn’t give short little kitten licks, he gives long, drawn out licks across whatever he can access easiest (usually your neck or chest). His tongue is rough and tends to feel a bit scratchy against your skin and sometimes catches on your clothes.
The first time it happened was shortly after the attic incident, and you had thought you were alone in your bed and nearly had a heart attack when a lazy, oddly thick tongue went over your exposed forearm.
You, as one does when startled, screamed.
Belphie leans upward with a grumble, eyes alert though. “What’re you screamin’ about, MC?”
Beelzebub bites and buzzes.
He tries to keep it to just licks, he knows his teeth are sharp :( and he’d hate to hurt you by accident. But after you get your pact and harming you becomes much more unbearable, he will play-bite much more often.
AND he buzzes (like a fly, teehee) when he is especially content.
Leviathan purrs(?).
It’s probably some deep sea monster echolocation thing, but the closest you can describe it as is a purr.
Now getting him to purr is harder than getting Lucifer to purr, he gets up in his own head a lot, so usually when he’s sleepy he purrs (maybe it’s a trill?) into your side.
Bonus for Memphis, TN. (Mephisto)
Since we have not seen his demon form (thx solmare), I have to use what I know of my babygirl to guess what he is like.
I think he probably taps MC with his cane, like a poke or something idk it’s cute give me more mephisto content pls.
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bixels · 5 months
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Portal 2 is still the perfect game to me. I hyperfixated on it like crazy in middle school. Would sing Want You Gone out loud cuz I had ADHD and no social awareness. Would make fan animations and pixel art. Would explain the ending spoilers and fan theories to anyone who'd listen. Would keep up with DeviantArt posts of the cores as humans. Would find and play community-made maps (Gelocity is insanely fun).
I still can't believe this game came out 12 years ago and it looks like THIS.
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Like Mirror's Edge, the timeless art style and economic yet atmospheric lighting means this game will never age. The decision not to include any visible humans (ideas of Doug Rattmann showing up or a human co-op partner were cut) is doing so much legroom too. And the idea to use geometric tileset-like level designs is so smart! I sincerely believe that, by design, no game with a "realistic art style" has looked better than Portal 2.
Do you guys remember when Nvidia released Portal with RTX at it looked like dogshit? Just the most airbrushed crap I've ever seen; completely erased the cold, dry, clinical feel of Aperture.
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So many breathtakingly pit-in-your-stomach moments I still think about too. And it's such a unique feeling; I'd describe at as... architectural existentialism? Experiencing the sublime under the shadow of manmade structures (Look up Giovanni Battista Piranesi's art if you're curious)? That scene where you're running from GLaDOS with Wheatley on a catwalk over a bottomless pit and––out of rage and desperation––GLaDOS silently begins tearing her facility apart and Wheatley cries 'She's bringing the whole place down!' and ENORMOUS apartment building-sized blocks begin groaning towards you on suspended rails and cement pillars crumble and sparks fly and the metal catwalk strains and bends and snaps under your feet. And when you finally make it to the safety of a work lift, you look back and watch the facility close its jaws behind you as it screams.
Or the horror of knowing you're already miles underground, and then Wheatley smashes you down an elevator shaft and you realize it goes deeper. That there's a hell under hell, and it's much, much older.
Or how about the moment when you finally claw your way out of Old Aperture, reaching the peak of this underground mountain, only to look up and discover an endless stone ceiling built above you. There's a service door connected to some stairs ahead, but surrounding you is this array of giant, building-sized springs that hold the entire facility up. They stretch on into the fog. You keep climbing.
I love that the facility itself is treated like an android zooid too, a colony of nano-machines and service cores and sentient panel arms and security cameras and more. And now, after thousands of years of neglect, the facility is festering with decomposition and microbes; deer, raccoons, birds. There are ghosts too. You're never alone, even when it's quiet. I wonder what you'd hear if you put your ear up against a test chamber's walls and listened. (I say that all contemplatively, but that's literally an easter egg in the game. You hear a voice.)
Also, a reminder that GLaDOS and Chell are not related and their relationship is meant to be psychosexual. There was a cut bit where GLaDOS would role-play as Chell's jealous housewife and accuse her of seeing other cores in between chambers. And their shared struggle for freedom and control? GLaDOS realizing, after remembering her past life, that she's become the abuser and deciding that she has the power to stop? That even if she can't be free, she can let Chell go because she hates her. And she loves her. Most people interpret GLaDOS "deleting Caroline in her brain" as an ominous sign, that she's forgetting her human roots and becoming "fully robot." But to me, it's a sign of hope for GLaDOS. She's relieving herself of the baggage that has defined her very existence, she's letting Caroline finally rest, and she's allowing herself to grow beyond what Cave and Aperture and the scientists defined her to be. The fact that GLaDOS still lets you go after deleting Caroline proves this. She doesn't double-back or change her mind like Wheatley did, she sticks to her word because she knows who she is. No one and nothing can influence her because she's in control. GLaDOS proves she's capable of empathy and mercy and change, human or not.
That's my retrospective, I love this game to bits. I wish I could experience it for the first time again.
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suguru-getos · 6 months
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୨・┈﹕✦﹕ Kinktober Day 27﹕✦﹕┈・୧
-> Event Masterlist
Yandere Hawks x F!Reader -> Ruts
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Warnings: Dub!con, filthy dirty talk 😭, prone!bone, dóggy!, squirting, nicknames -> Baby bird, love bird, mentions of breed!ng, cumflation, plugging, overstimulation. Yandere tendencies, threats, wings as a source of threat, kidnapping. Let me know if I missed anything.
Summary: How you latched yourself as Hawks’ little thing after being just an avid fan, now caged and loved (in his own ways) and mated to. <3
You hate the crumbling feeling on your stomach that comes with Keigo's presence, your heart aches, your sanity gets crumpled under his dominant, ruthless gaze that hides oh-so-well behind his suffocating love. Keigo knew the moment he saw you for the first time, sparing your time at a coffee shop in the evening, the same shop he sometimes likes to visit. The coffee there is immaculate, not the 'gutter like' canned coffees he drinks for the hell of it. You were just as enamoured by the rest of the fans, gazing at him, some are nervously asking for his autograph, some of them are asking for selfies. Yet, nothing phases Hawks. It's as if he's made for this. Made to show everyone why he's the Number Two hero. You could almost swear it gave you strength and guts to ask yourself, so you get up from your place, walking towards him with that unhinged confidence, mingled with a hint of nervousness because of just how much you adored him as you urged him for a selfie. Mostly, Hawks takes respectful selfies with women, distancing himself just enough not to look probing, yet close enough to look friendly. Yet, she selfie you clicked with him didn't turn out to look so planned, so thought out. It almost seemed like Hawks wanted the momento you carried to have an imprinting significance.
Then, it was as if fate was responsible for what comes next, or that's something stupid you'd leave your old self to believe. Hawks saved you from harassing villains, taking you home couped up in his lap. Why wouldn't you ask him to come inside, why wouldn't you offer him a drink?
Now you're just a kidnapped nobody, your family thinks you're dead, your friends think you're dead, Keigo made sure of that. You see- he could easily date you, but patience is not something he harbours so perfectly. He could earn your love, by being the doting boyfriend, by being everything you'd ever want.
Then again, he can do that once he has the surety of you being couped up in his house. That's exactly what he did.
"Come on Baby bird, I am trying to be nice." He coos softly, watching you scream and cry and beg, it breaks his heart why don't you understand.
"Maybe I can write my name on your hand?" He holds up his feather blade, it's half threat, half unhinged devotion. "Promise you won't feel a thing!"
"Hey I got you, your absolute favourite food lovebird, come here." He croons, urging you against your will to settle in his lap as he feeds you.
He is tolerant, even tempered, hopelessly funny until you piss him off. You know better than to piss him off after being with him for a few months now. You can't even recognize him when that happens, rageful daunting echoing through the walls as his flowy feathers encircle your body like a threat, Hawks is a threat. You mustn't forget that.
He thinks sex can solve it all, what more than to make love to his mate, to get intimate and make you take his ridged member in your hole over and over until it slides in without your squirms and moans. He can tie you up if you do though, no disturbances please-
You haven't seen the real, gruesome, cruel self of Hawks yet. You will soon, his rut is approaching. The symptoms are clear to him, and weirdly to you as well. He has discussed this several times during the 'aftercare' of you. "You know, there are certain times when.." his thumb rubbing your palm soothingly, "When the avian side of me becomes dominant…" He says it so softly you'd almost feel it's harmless.
Not right now though, when it's actually impending and happening.
"Baby bird, did you fucking put your clothes in laundry?" Keigo yelled from the washroom, the restroom's echo making him sound even more terrific than he usually is. You visibly flinch like a dried leaf, shuddering, "Sorry- Kei I- uhm, sorry they were dirty." You don't know the reason of this outburst, you'd rather not find out.
You give yourself strength to drag your defiant feet towards the rest room, finding him pathetically curled up on the left-over set of your used clothes. He looks almost cute if it weren't for his intentions.
"God I- I want you so fucking bad." He almost whimpers, soon turning into an aggressive growl.
"On the fucking bed, all fours." You shake up at the sudden order, were you being punished for something like this? Keigo's crazy but he's not this- off his clock. "Why? What- what did I do wrong?" You bite your lip, one feeble attempt to want to know what you're up against.
Hawks sighs, his expressive wings faltering as he took two steps towards you, wanting to lessen the distance. You wanted to run so bad, the instinct in you screaming to run, yet the panic in you freezing you up.
"Nothing, pretty girl. Told you I got my rut approaching, didn't I?" Hawks is slightly tender, though from the way he's straining himself to be polite, you know not for long. "On the bed. All. Fours." He gripped your face with a single hand, puckering your lips and leaning in, forcing a painful whimper with the way he kisses you roughly.
"Good girl." He parts away, the string of saliva parting like a thread of fate.
You don't want to make this hard on yourself, so you walk towards the shared master bedroom, it's designed in colours which are neutral, yet suit perfectly to the Hawks palette. As his fan, or ex-fan, rather, you always thought of how his aesthetic would be, and it perfectly matches your imaginations.
To please him a little more, you take off your clothes, arching your back up perfectly to let him see your pre-abused cunt, sitting perfectly down your tightened asshole. You bury your head on the mattress, letting it be cushioned in the fluffy pillows.
An audible hiss escapes Hawks, he can't fucking control the lewd desires that tear him apart when he marvels at your body. "These next few days, would be tough, Angel." Keigo warns, and before your brain could register, or formulate a response, You feel Keigo spitting onto your cunt, the dribble of the liquid making you throb, moistening your walls as his fingers pinched at your clit. A small whimper escapes you when you find your sensitive bundle of nerves under his mercy. "Aw, little slut loves a little pain with it." Keigo snickers under his breath, spanking the fat of your ass hard, one single hit shoving you into the mattress more, though the hold on your clit forbids you to. It feels like a clamp being pulled, you're left with nothing more than a scream as a response.
"Oh good girl, sing for me." Hawks hums, spreading your ass cheeks and watching your now relieved clit twitch, along with your walls. "This pussy begging for me?" He warns, and you nodded as if there's no other answer you can give him.
"Going to fill you up, breed my little mate until she can't take it anymore. Give you so many loads your pussy can't have any other option but to give me a little Keigo, or a little Y/N." He groans to himself, taking his hardened cock out, shoving it deep into your walls, in one swift go. You can cum as many times as you want really, because normally, Keigo's stamina covers up for it, this time- worse. He's rutting like an animal, achy, needy, all for you.
"Then- you know what I'll do?" Hawks breathes out, gritting his teeth as you scream in pain, laced with the perfect amount of pleasure.
"Then, I'll plug this pretty pussy up, none of my cum can escape. Then when I want to, I'd unplug and fill you up again. Little cum jar." He laughs, "My pathetic little cum dump, aren't you?"
Hawks is filthy, absolutely unhinged and filthy with the way dirty talk laced with degradation spouts out from him.
You nodded, hating the way your body betrays you at his words, the way your cunt clamps onto him in a silent affirmation.
"Good (thrust) girl (thrust), gonna (thrust) fill'ya (thrust) up."
Your moans and whimpers echo throughout the shared bedroom, it feels almost sinful, the way his dick kisses your cervix, brushing against your G-spot and making you dance around the waves of pleasure. "So fuckin' tight even though I fuck your pussy up almost err'day." Keigo leans his head back, praising you as he rails onto you, one to two thrusts every second, hands gripping your waist with a bruising grip so you can't possibly run away. "Atta girl" He loves how your moans break into a jerk with the way he's thrusting. Loving the way your petite body tries to clamp up around him, loving the way you try to keep up.
"Aw she's clenching, yeah? Go on, massage my cock and cum. NOW." Keigo commands, an order which would come intertwined with punishments if you don't listen. You croak out, as you orgasm, the constant poking of your G-Spot makes you remember the familiar sensation when you squirted last time, it's so embarrassing, how you gush out at the roughness, and you find yourself doing exactly that. "Aw yes baby, yeah baby," Keigo encouraged, riding out your high as he thrusted his own load, deep into you, still continuing, the same pace, no break.
"Ngh- Ah- please- no. You- I can't." You can feel yourself squeeze down, pathetically so as another orgasm builds to betray your words.
"No no no, where'dya think you're doing Baby bird?" Keigo chuckles, laughing at your feeble attempt to run away, loving how your legs give out.
"Hmm? Want Prone bone? Oof, nasty little song bird." Keigo commented, adjusting your legs, using your tiredness to his advantage as his pelvis slaps your ass with the aggressive way his cock thrusts into you. It's akin to an actual spanking, and you tip off the edge of your delicious orgasm once more. Gritting teeth at the overpowering waves of pleasure. "Gah- can't-"
Your whimpers are paid no heed, another sticky load from Keigo creaming inside you. "That's two, got a lot more in me." Keigo warns, while you feel dizzy at the shaking way your body is being used.
He stops a little though, wanting to give you just a few more minutes before you can start giving him orgasms again, his beautiful little cock massager.
Keigo loves it, how giving you a break makes you slightly reset to be used again.
"Say you love me." He croons, almost sounding like a hurt child, though you know that persona would quickly change.
"I love you." He makes you say it so many times your own definition of the term 'love' is slightly going hazy, not accustomed to your own terms and blurring out with his.
"Gonna make you turn on your back now Little one." Keigo coos, watching you tenderly and moving again.
Oh it was going to be a long night for Hawks' mate. You only hope you'd be able to bear him on you, just as he hopes of you loving him as much as he does.
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