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lanitalay · 2 months

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Back to the basics

Cassian x reader

Premise: Cassian has been working too much, reader is upset

a/n: hello loves, this is my first cassian fic and I'm kind of unsure about it since I've never written for him specifically but hopefully you enjoy it!

warnings: tiny bit of angst (minuscule)

Masterlist

“Cass!” You yell from the bottom of the stairs and wait for your mate to answer.

“Cassian!” Now climbing up, and a little agitated you walk into your bedroom and expect to see him sprawled out on the mattress. But the room is empty and the bed is cold. You roll your eyes and send Rhysand a mental insult. There’s only one place he could be.

You had grown tired of asking him to take a break and rest. Maybe it was selfish, but you missed your mate. Wanted his attention only on you, like the old days. When he would whisk you away for picnics and spontaneous camping. You couldn’t say you were the outdoorsy type. Having been born and raised in the heart of the Rainbow, you were a proper city girl. But Cassian loved all of that, and you loved him more than what was rational.

The door to the study was closed and you could hear him shuffling around in there. Probably frustrated with something happening in the Illyrian Mountains, or maybe Eris sent word of Beron’s newest antics. It must not be grave though, since no one called an emergency meeting. Whatever he was dealing with could wait.

Once the tent and food supplies were packed you barged into the office. “I’m busy right now, sweetheart.”

“Cassian, I’m going to say this with love. You are a workaholic.” He scoffed “just give me a few minutes-”

“No! You’ve been in here for who knows how long. I supposedly have a mate but I never see him. We never talk and if we do it's “Devlan this” or "Kier that” or “Eris said” and I’m sick of it! I’m pulling you out. Come on.” You grab his arm and drag him out of the stuffy office. All the way down the stairs he’s complaining “sweetheart, I’m sorry but I have to work, it's time sensitive-” he finally stopped talking when he saw all of his camping gear packed up in the middle of the sitting room.

“What-”

“We are going camping. Like we used to, you remember? When you still paid attention to me?” Cassian groaned, “I’m sorry I’ve been caught up with work-”

“Nope. That word is forbidden. If you mention anything to do with work you will have to face… undesired consequences. I’ve told Rhysand to leave you alone for a few days. Let's go.”

“Are we walking or..?” You smile, he didn’t put up much of a fight.

“You are flying us, silly.” Hand him the bulky gear and then open the door for him to walk out.

“We can’t go too far if I’m going to be carrying all of this.” You jump in his arms and kiss him on the cheek “let’s go to that little island where we used to see the dolphins.”

He considered it. The flight was longer than what he would have wanted but you had some precious memories there and he knew that you were trying to do something nice for him. “Alright.”

After a comfortable flight, Cassian immediately set you, and all of the gear down. “What should we do first?” He asked as he looked around, trying to find a spot to set up camp.

“Let’s set up the tent, then go fishing.”

Cassian nodded and pointed out a level patch of grass nearby. You begin by taking out the tent from the bag and organizing all of the little sticks and stakes in bunches so you knew how many you had of each.

“Do you remember how to do this?”

“Well… I think this went together-” he snaps a few sticks together “and then it goes through the loops on the tent.”

“No, I don’t think that’s right.” You distinctly remember that the loops were for securing the rain tarp. Cassina sighed. “Sweetheart, I’ve set this tent up enough times to know how.”

“Well, sweetheart, you haven’t touched this tent in over fifty years so you’re probably misremembering.”

“Do you really want to fight right now?”

After a deep breath you reply “no, but you’re wrong. Those things go through these sleeves.”

Cassian did as you said and the tent was up in a matter of minutes. You grabbed the fishing rods and walked towards the shore. There was a dock that ended near a reef where fish were abundant. It was also the place where you and Cassian had your first kiss.

Back then you were smitten with the giant Ilyrian but Cassian was sweating cold, unsure if you felt the same. He brought you here for a picnic and when the sun began to set you grew frustrated and asked “Cassian, be honest, do you want to kiss me?” He choked on a piece of cheese and struggled to articulate that “yes, but I wasn’t sure if you wanted me to kiss you and-” you pounced. Latching your lips to his and kissing him until you were both panting.

“I’ve been wanting to do that for a while.” You smile at him. Months later Cassian told you that he knew he was done for when you smiled at him like that, wild and wicked.

“Cass?” He hums, eyes focused on the line he just threw, waiting for it to bob.

“Do you still like me?”

“What?” You throw your own line.

“Well, we’ve been together for so long I sometimes wonder if you like me. Like if you saw me walking down the street would you still feel attracted to me?”

“Of course I’d be attracted to you. You’re the most beautiful creature I have ever seen and I mean that as a fact not a compliment.”

You give him a soft slap on his shoulder “you old sap.”

“What about you?”

“I think you only get more attractive as the years go by.” The fishing rod bends down, signaling that a fish took the bait. This is where Cassian always takes over and pulls out the catch with minimal effort.

The sun was setting and you sat flush to Cassian, head resting on his shoulder as he hoped to catch at least one more fish for dinner. You were drawing idle lines on his hand and forearm, just how you knew he liked it. “Cass?”

“Yeah?”

“Is it that I’m annoying to be around or something?”

He shifted “what do you mean?”

“Well you’re always doing something else and I… it sometimes feels like you’re taking on so much because you don’t want to come home and spend time with me. I mean today I had to drag you out of that study.”

He sets the rod down and turns to face you. His hands come up to cup your face, he almost flinches when he sees your eyes, hard and unfeeling. He knows you’re bracing yourself for whatever he’s about to say and something inside him cracks. “Y/n, I… I’m so sorry if you feel that way but that is the farthest thing from the truth. I treasure our time together and… if I’ve been absent it has nothing to do with you.”

He feels the roll of your eyes like a stab to the heart “you say that but you don’t even make it home for dinner most days.”

“It's just- y/n, we came so close to losing everything. The war, Hybern, the Cauldron- we are still here by pure luck. I was out there doing my best to keep you safe and it was not enough. Nothing I did was enough. But now we’re here and we know something is happening. Koshchei, Beron and who knows if Hybern had other allies looking for retribution. The only thing I can think about is that now the world knows Velaris exists and you are here if something were to happen… if another attack happens and you get hurt- that would kill me. So I try to stay on top of everything because it's the only way I can sleep at night. Sweetheart, I love you, I love you with everything that I am and everything that I’ll ever be. I’m sorry, just-”

Cassian stops talking when you wrap your arms around him in a desperate hug, face buried in his chest. He hugs you back and his heart sinks as he hears you sniffle and moisture pricks at his skin. “Sweetheart you don’t need to cry- I’ll be home more, I’ll-”

“No Cas, you don’t need to do anything. I- I’m just so selfish and self centered. Here I was mad at you while you’ve been carrying all this burden and I could only think of myself. You deserve better than a spoiled brat and-”

“What are you saying?”

“I should be apologizing to you!” Tears are cascading down your cheeks now as you burst with emotion “please forgive me, we can go home right now if you want.” You begin to stand up but Cassian pulls you down again.

“Don’t you see? You’re right. I’ve been obsessing over potential problems but I haven’t been home and you are entitled to react to that because I vowed to you to always be by your side and I’m sorry I failed you-”

“Don’t say that! You haven’t failed anyone. I just- I miss you.”

“I miss you too.”

“So how are we gonna fix this?”

“I’ll be home everyday for dinner and we can have lunch together in a cafe and-”

“Don’t suggest I train with you.”

“But babe it would be quality time spent together.” You giggle and wipe away the drying tears from your eyes. “I’ve seen you train and trust me, I’d die.”

“Are we good?” You nod and crawl into his lap to straddle him. With both hands on his neck, you pull him towards you in a kiss that reminds you of your first.

He deepens the kiss with a nip to your lower lip and his hands come to squeeze your hips. You pull away “do you want to-” before you can finish, he mumbled a “yes” and began carrying you back to your campsite where you would not be getting any sleep.

#acomaf #acotar #acowar #acofas #acotar fanfiction #acosf #cassian acotar #cassian #a court of silver flames #a court of wings and ruin #a court of thorns and roses #a court of mist and fury #cassian x you #cassian x reader #cassian x y/n

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subdee · 3 months

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The more I think Phantom Troupe thoughts, the more I become convinced that "actually the phantom troupe wasn't responsible for the Kurta Clan massacre" is the funniest twist the manga could make, BTW.

Not in a "the Phantom Troupe did nothing wrong" kind of way (bleugh), but in a "they are a group of thieves and mass murderers but THIS PARTICULAR mass murder was someone else" kind of way.

Partially because Kurapika starts the manga SO SURE it was them, and instead of asking what evidence he had we all just accepted it.

Partially because it would be in character for what we know about Uvo for him to lie about committing mass murder to Kurapika just for the purpose of motivating him and making it a better fight.**

Partially because FOR YEARS the fandom has interpreted Chrollo's cryptic remarks when Kurapika kidnaps him and interrogates him in the car as evidence of his solipsism or his sociopathy... But what if he's being cryptic because he doesn't want to tell the truth about what happened (that the phantom troupe didn't do it), for whatever reason*** but he also knows someone on Kurapika's team can tell if he's lying? So he just says something technically true, and let's Kurapika draw his own conclusions...

But mostly because it would make some parts of the fandom real Big Mad. Haha.

Anyway, I'm going to like ...convince myself this is true if I keep this up, so just to be clear, I don't have any evidence that they didn't do it. I DO think that would be a massively funny (read: interesting, unexpected) turn for the manga to take.

**The 1999 anime actually has a similar plot point with Killua during the Hunter Exam... It's been a while but I FROM WHAT I REMEMBER Killua takes credit for killing this girl's father and fights her even though it was Illumi who killed him, just because karmically he is guilty of killing a lot of people so it's not like he's innocent in general, even if he didn't kill this particular person. And because avengers trying to get him is such a common thing that he doesn't even bother trying to explain himself to them... it's episode 11 of the 1999 anime btw if someone wants to check that I'm not totally misremembering this.

***Why would Chrollo not simply say they didn't do it, if they didn't do it? Maybe they were paid to take the blame. Maybe they have accepted blame for 10 years to bolster their rep as mass murderers and it would be weird to back out now. Maybe he doesn't think Kurapika would believe him - Melody or not - if he said they didn't do it, and he doesn't have evidence they didn't do it, so he finds it pointless to argue. There could be many reasons. But those lines in the car have been weird for a long time, I would love an explanation from Togashi for why Chrollo was such a weirdo in that scene.

#hxh #hxh meta #phantom troupe thoughts

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sassyfrassboss · 5 months

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So I have been following along quietly for a few months now. Not gonna lie, pretty burnt out on all of this. Pretty much at the point where the BRF needs to shit or get off the pot when it comes to Harry and Meghan. Strip the titles and give the US Gov a strict ultimatum, the UK or THEM. Take them off the royal website and shut down any and all connection to them for good.

I will tune in if there is a divorce. No way in HELL would I miss that. Especially since I have been dying for one since May 20, 2018.

As for the new book and Omid once again showing his true colors...yeah we all knew that was going to happen. I knew in advance this book was going to be a total dumpster fire and a pile on Kate. Don't need insiders or a psychic to tell me that...

However, it never crossed my mind he would claim Kate was one of the royal racists. I truly didn't think he, nor Meghan, would go that low. But alas, I was wrong.

I figured he would call out Charles as one of them but I thought he would claim William was the other.

Remember also, Meghan claimed that there were MANY conversations held regarding Archie, although according to Harry this was before Meghan was even pregnant and Meghan was never part of these conversations.

Back in 2018 before the wedding, we all know Kate was pregnant with Louis. Now I can see Harry inquiring about Kate's pregnancy and what it was like to prepare himself for future fatherhood. I can also see a conversation happening in regards as to who this potential baby would take after looks like since George looks like Mike Middleton and Charlotte looks like William. Heck, this conversation could have happened before he even proposed to Meghan.

What I can see happening is a casual conversation between Harry and Kate being mentioned to Meghan where Harry says "yeah we talked about what the baby would look like" and Meghan turning that into it being racist. Then over time the exaggerations begin and the next thing we know, Meghan has claimed on Oprah that skin tone was brought up and she was there...even though later corrected her saying it was before she was ever pregnant and she wasn't there.

So that's my thought on that...

As for Omid...

The biggest issue with him denying that he NEVER wrote the names of the royal racists and that it was a "translation error" is something he got right from the book of Meghan. Deny till you die or until they actually find proof you're lying.

Omid has already been caught lying under oath and he got a free pass. He is taking a page out of Meghan's book and expecting people to forget that he is a habitual liar or that he "misremembered" what actually happened.

However, we have the actual translator coming out and saying that the book she received included the names and that she did NOT mistranslate the book. All this woman needs to do now is show her copy of the manuscript she received (hopefully she still has it) and we have proof once again Omid lied.

Guaranteed though he will claim that the publisher must have been the one to change the manuscript and he is innocent...

Which either scenario leaves him without credibility or any future jobs because no publisher or network will touch him after this...

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prettybabybaby · 1 year

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tw: drunk reader, gaslighting, noncon but not fully described.

waking up one morning after getting shitfaced with rafe and the guys. he always takes care of you when you're drunk. no one questions it at this point when he drags your stumbling body into seclusion. this morning though, you can't shake the feeling that something bad happened.

you can't fully remember what happened but there is enough hazy memories to make you feel a certain way. blurry thoughts of rafe putting you down on your bed, the weight of his body on top of you, him murmuring in your ear, a cloudy memory of his face looking down on you. when you stand, in between your thighs aches and you can't help but walk crooked. your mind can't help but wonder if something happened last night.

so you try to avoid rafe and the others for the day. not showing up at the country club like you were supposed to. having your mom tell them you feel sick. as the day goes by, you still remember more things that just don't sit right. that he was too close last night and doing things he shouldn't. anytime a thought comes, you try to fight it off. rafe always takes care of you. everyone jokes about how rafe fights guys off who try to approach you when your wasted. because he cares about you. loves you.

as night comes, you lay down and try to think of what you'll do tomorrow. then your door opens up and you see rafe coming in with a wary smile. your mom let him in after he brought stuff to make you feel better when you were sick - see, rafe is always looking out for you. he talks with you but the conversation is hard. you just don't feel right and eventually, you tell him why.

if you hadn't been looking for excuses to make yourself feel better, you would've noticed how obviously rafes' heart dropped. swallowing down his guilt and worry while he shuts your door (and locks it). palms getting sweatier the more you describe to him what you recall. he sits down, rambling out reasons why you're wrong.

rafe would never touch you like that. he only touches you to clean you up because you are such a messy drunk. really, you got so shitfaced, - like you always do - your lucky rafe took care of you. most friends would find that annoying. not rafe though. because he loves you. think how many times he's cleaned you up after you spilt a drink on yourself. or held your hair back while you threw up. you're probably misremembering because of a show you watched. too much svu. it's alright, though, because rafe will forgive you.

so you believe him. you hug him and start apologizing, feeling so guilty for what you just accused him of. he's your best friend! how could you be so naive? rafe must be right. you were just being dramatic. he always takes care of you. i mean, if rafe did it last night, surely you'd remember him doing it before.

right?

¡ 18+ only ! ¡ minors do not interact !

¡ outer banks masterlist !

right.

rafe would never lie to you. but the memories get clearer the longer you think about them despite how much you try to push them away. they're still foggy, but it's like you can still feel the ghost of invasive touches on your skin, feel the harsh grip on your tender thighs, and hear panting and possessive mumbling in your ears. but it was just your drunken imagination, you have nothing to be concerned about.

though, the next time you go to a party you're wary of his proximity and the constant refills of your drinks. you try to brush off the feelings again, letting yourself indulge. you fall into his arms like normal and let him haul you away with a simple, "that's enough for tonight."

but you're not drunk enough this time, feeling rafe recline the seat. you're limp in his arms as he lifts your hips to slide off your panties, playing with your swelling mound as he kisses up and down your neck. the sound of his belt rings in your ears as your weak hands graze his strong arms, a whine slipping out of you instead of the intended protest. why would rafe do this?

the waves of pleasure as he sinks into you, snapping his hips once your walls have stretched have you gripping his shoulders. your cunt pulses around him as he bends over you, "my good girl. mine."

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flanaganfilm · 1 year

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Hi there! I recall hearing at some point that in Midnight Mass, there was a deleted scene where Erin speaks in the confession booth about knowing Bev killed Pike, but doing nothing about it (or something to that effect? Apologies if I'm misremembering). I thought that was an interesting bit of characterization, could you elaborate on what that scene was like and why it was ultimately cut?

Yes, that's correct! It was a great scene, too. Very well acted by Kate and Hamish. The general gist of it was that Erin confesses to Father Paul that she was pretty sure Beverly Keane was the one who poisoned the dog, but that she knew she wouldn't do anything about it, given her standing in the community and her feeling that nothing would happen to Bev. And she knew that Father Paul was obliged to keep it secret because of the nature of the sacrament of confession - he couldn't tell anyone. She also talked about how her mother, who was abusive, was celebrated by the community even when they knew what she did, and how that made her feel like she would always be viewed as the problem child. No one would listen to her, she figured.

It was meant to show Erin being too afraid to do something in this case, even though she knew it was the right thing to do, and then we'd see her make a different decision at the end of the series when the stakes were at their highest. It was also meant to help demonstrate one of our central themes about the spread of fanaticism - that early in that process, good people often see what's happening and choose to believe it'll get better on its own, or that it isn't their place to intercede. And finally, it was interesting to me because it gave Father Paul an early glimpse into what Bev was capable of. He tries to persuade Erin that she might be wrong, that maybe there was another explanation - something else I quite liked thematically. He tries to rationalize it and reframe it right away, which is an important character trait of Father Paul's when we later learn how he responded to the Angel. I really loved this scene. It was cut because Netflix wanted the episode to be shorter, and had targeted that scene specifically as one that they felt "dragged". They also were confused as to why there wasn't a consequence to Bev, "why doesn't Father Paul do anything with this information" and weren't moved by my argument that 1) that isn't how confession works, and 2) his denial of what he learns is an important character trait. First we tried a shorter version of it, but it was one of those situations (frequent on that show) where a truncated version made the scene less impactful - shorter wasn't better. Ultimately they pushed for its removal and we conceded, opting to save our powder for a different creative battle. I regret cutting it. The show was better with the scene intact.

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panlight · 5 days

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re: Bella's blood type, searched the PDFs of the books.

Midnight Sun says O Positive (1 time) Breaking Dawn suggests O Negative (3 times)

Didn't find a reference to it in New Moon or Eclipse, but happy to stand corrected if anyone else can point to one!

And the outtake explicitly says it's O Negative, pointing out that of course Bella would have the hardest blood to supply. But it's only an outtake so not canon.

I think the intention was that she was O Negative because it's very Bella to a) be the type that can't receive any other kind of blood and b) to be the universal donor--Bella the martyr and all that.

My guess is SM misremembered which of the O blood types was the universal donor one and got it wrong in Midnight Sun, although I guess it could be a retcon. Don't know why she'd bother to retcon it, though. What purpose would it serve?

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opbackgrounds · 4 months

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You didn't really answer my qustion though. What can you name that should be edited out? For example: which warlord do you cut out? Which arc they brought do you feel is unneeded and should be taken out? I promise I'm not being mean or snarky, it's just I've heard the 'too many randoms' all over, but nobody can actualy point to an actual character they find should be cut out so it kinda sound like 'just make it better'. And unless wiki is wrong, Tama is Koruzumi, not Kozumi - the fact you mixed it up kinda shows it didn't really matter, though I would argue it is important from narrative perspective of showing Koruzumi were not 'evil by blood' despite all names one being villains. Also: Zoro's lineage was also released trough SBS and I don't see people break up about it? Again, I'm just honestly curious about what you think.

my point is not invalidated because I misremembered a name, and Zoro’s lineage is another thing that either should have been in the manga or not been a thing at all. If Oda wasn’t going to do anything with it, he should have kept the connection between he and Wano be through Kuina. The Zoro lookalike characters during Yamato’s flashback only set up expectation in the audience that wasn’t followed through with. I understand that Zoro doesn’t give a fuck, but if that’s the case then don’t make it a thing in the first place.

But to answer your question let’s look just at Wano. The Nine Scabbards should have been reduced down to a more reasonable number. I love them both dearly, but you could easily combine Dogstorm and Cat Viper into one character. Raizo doesn’t do much after Zou, so replace him there with someone else—I’d say Izo, since that’s the character who could have used some time with the main cast to make their ridiculous death more impactful. You could say after Marineford they were trying to get back to Wano and stumbled upon Momo and the rest while traveling. Shinobu can handle being the main ninja character, and no Raizo means you don’t have to have earlobe guy so now there’s no meaningless 25 chapter fight.

With Izo reintroduced thusly, there’s no reason for Marco to show up at all. In fact, he has a built-in reason for not showing up by protecting Whitebeard’s homeland. This will require some rewriting of the arc, but imo he ended up taking away too much valuable hype from more important characters to really justify his presence, so get him out of there.

It was clear Oda was having a hard time finding a purpose for Drake, and Hawkins, and Apoo. Of those three, you could easily get rid of Apoo and not lose anything. Have a quick flashback of him dying epically in the Kidd Pirate Alliance battle against Kaido. It would have been a better showing than he gave in the arc itself.

And that’s just off the top of my head. I haven’t done any rereading of Wano since that chapters were released. If someone went over the arc more carefully there would be more (like, does Carrot really need to be there? Do any of the other Zou characters?) I really think you could get the Scabbards down to 5 characters if you tried, but I’d have to figure out how that would fit with the rest of the story.

My problem with One Piece isn’t the number of arcs, it’s that the arcs themselves are too long. Enies Lobby was epic in scale and had a lot of different factions to account for, but it didn’t take three years to get through. Theres going to be some ballooning in size as the crew has gotten bigger, but even that could be worked around. Have more tag team fights like on Thriller Bark, for example, so the enemy crews don’t have to have so many people. Reduce the roll of side characters and give their feats to the Straw Hats who haven’t gotten enough love after the time skip. There’s lots of things Oda could have done, but he hasn’t.

#sarc talks

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vickyvicarious · 6 months

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This has confused me even back when I first read the book, but is Van Helsing even meant to be his actual surname or was Bramothy just not aware of Dutch naming conventions? Of course there's toponymic surnames and I assume they were already in use by the Victorian era, but I think it's the capitalization of "Van" that always throws me off, if only because I'm so used to seeing it in lower-case in other names. As a funny haha, I also like to believe Jack messed up his professor's name so much when they first met (be it due to misremembering or misunderstanding), but Abraham was too nice to say anything, so "Van Helsing" just stuck.

Without doing any research I can fairly confidently assert that Stoker just didn't know/care about Dutch naming conventions. I think the capitalized Van Helsing is just a reflection of that. Last year I matched how it was written in the book whenever I talked about it, but this year I've found myself shifting more towards the lowercase van Helsing as would've been more typical. (Although apparently Belgian custom would be to keep the capital V? Maybe the Professor's actually from Belgium, and that was Jack's mistake).

Speaking of your funny explanation... actually I just went to check, and everything van Helsing writes up to this point (27 September note, and also amusingly his 4 October recording) is signed in all caps, so it's theoretically possible Jack made a mistake and he just has never corrected it. But if that's the case then he adopts it himself later, because I'm fairly certain in days to come he will refer to himself with the capital-V spelling several times.

Which could actually still be very funny: (spoilers)

van Helsing, writing a record to be read by his good Friend John should he die before completing his quest: Let me be accurate in everything, for though you and I have seen some strange things together, you may at the first think that I, van Helsing, am mad—that the many horrors and the so long strain on nerves has at the last turn my brain.

van Helsing: ....wait. Friend John would feel most foolish to know that he has been writing my name wrong all this time. *writes over the 'v' to turn it into 'V'*

van Helsing: There, that's better. Now, to continue the tale of this so fearsome journey...

#dracula daily #van helsing #dracula daily spoilers #only under the cut

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maesterchill · 3 months

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WIP Snip

Ha. I got tagged again, thank you @elskanellis @wolfpants @mallstars for the tags! This is Another snip from my Dronarry (8th year) - it's a bit earlier in the story than the last one I shared.

The only person Draco tells about the scar is Pansy. Pansy is delighted, of course, the cow, casting a Lumos under the bedsheets, and then smoothing her fingers over the zig and zag of it, her eyes dramatically wide.

“What’ve Mungo’s said about it?”

Draco laughs right in her face. As if, after the shame and carnage and awfulness, he would honestly present himself to a Healer and say ‘Yes, hello, how do you do? I have a lightning scar on my stomach. You know, just like that chap has, the one who just saved the world from He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. That sort of scar.’

No, Draco won’t be doing that.

“Pomfrey, then? She might know.”

“No, Pans. Just drop it. It’s just a coincidence.” Draco buttons his pyjama top back up.

“But you said the Dark Lord used an Avada on you. That's— there's no way you’d survive that.”

“Maybe I misremembered,” Draco says tiredly, flopping his head back onto the pillow. He knows he didn’t though; the cold enunciation of the words had been crystal clear, the jet of light that hit him unmistakable in its sickly greenness. "Could have been some other spell."

“Unless.” Pansy rolls closer to him, smirking. “Unless it means that you’re the next Chosen One.”

“Har bloody har,” he replies. “Who’d choose me? And for what?”

“I would, Draco. You know I would. I could put you to very good use.” She slides even closer, her tits pressing against his arm, all soft and fleshy under her nightie.

Draco groans. “Go to sleep, you horny old hag.”

She laughs. “I’ll never turn you, will I? Such a shame, the most beautiful boy at Hogwarts.” She strokes his hair and he closes his eyes. He’s so grateful for her. For Greg too, and the others.

He feels the delicious pull of sleep, tugging at him softly. Perhaps tonight he’ll be spared the nightmares.

It’s been helping having Pansy next to him. Holding him. They comfort each other. Pansy’s suffered from anxiety ever since Draco’s known her, but it got ten times worse following the war. This seems to be the only way they can get a proper night’s sleep. Millie and Greg have been sharing a bed too, both grieving.

“You’ll need to tell Potter,” she whispers. “He ought to know.”

“Wrong on both counts,” Draco mumbles back. He throws an arm around her waist and pulls her closer. She rests her head on his shoulder. Her hair smells of tea tree. “Now shut off that meddling brain and close your eyes.”

I'd love to hear a snippet from @starquestingfordrarry @rainstormradish @drarrymyheart @greattemptation @sillywives @hoko-onchi-writes @apricitydays-lazynights @annanother-thing @myrtlefics @geesenoises @basicallyahedgehog @pl0tty @stationintern if you'd like to share, that is 🥰

#wip snip #drarry #dronarry #maesterchill writes

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finniestoncrane · 15 days

Text

A Classic Bit

Batjokes, word count: 900 hi i went feral over this idea please be gentle with me it's my first ever batjokes lmao 💜 request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist minors DNI!! 🔞 cw: no sex, but plenty of suggestive stuff, restraints (also tiny cw for dubcon)

Heavy breaths echoed in the vast, empty warehouse. Each exhale steaming, droplets of condensation forming and falling to the floor in the almost freezing air, joining the pools of rusted water that lay there, otherwise completely still.

How many times can this happen? How prepared can you be? Everyone has their flaws, and often they go hand in hand with the flaws of others, a soul mate on some level, the balance and imbalance providing one of you with the upper hand in any given situation. And in this case, Bruce had lost.

The back and forth. And he was back.

He let out a short grunt as the rope was tightened once more, squeezing his firm, wide torso. Compact, restrained. A brief memory of Selina flitted through his mind, the same intensity, pleasure and pain. The palpable fear, and the excitement that always followed it. One final tug, tight on his chest like a harness, knocking his breath slightly.

"Oooook, done!

White gloved hands were whisked out to the sides of his tall, thin body in a dramatic flourish that begged for applause but received none.

"A bad job is one worth doing well, don't you think?"

Bruce blinked hard and slow, his focused eyes settling on the long, slender frame in front of him, bent at the hips, pointed nose almost touching the front of his cowl.

Another quick, sharp movement and Joker had straightened back p, tugging at the cuff of the sleeve which protruded from his violet and lilac pinstripe suit. With an intense stare he gazed at the watch on his wrist, then shouted, his exclaim echoing as he continued speaking.

"Ah! We've got time for the monologue! My favourite part. How about you, Bats?"

As he held his hands out in a flourish, Bruce could make out the watch face, no hands, no numbers. And while Joker began rambling, he let his mind float to a more peaceful place. A space he reserved for analysis, quiet and focus.

It had been a while since he was last in this situation, or a configuration of it. The two of them. Alone. It seemed stranger though, not like usual. Time wasn't contributing to any misremembering, he was certain of that. It was almost like there was something missing. Or something new added. A tension. An atmosphere. Softer, like a delicate lace handkerchief dowsed in chloroform.

Reminiscent of Talia.

How odd, he thought, that his mind would go to her. That it would go to Selina before.

"You know, Bats, you are a good listener! And I won't even make a joke about echolocation, low hanging fruit and all."

With a quick spin, he landed himself against Bruce's chest, leaning his entire, albeit limited, body weight against him and sighing, deep and long, romanticised.

"It's nice to get together and chat every once in a while. You and I, we're on the same wavelength. I can really have a conversation with you. None of that 'how've you been?' or 'any plans for the summer?' nonsense. I can really just talk."

To punctuate the statement, he had turned to face the cowl, fingers holding onto Bruce's chin and holding it still, stronger than his looks suggested but weaker than he had been before. Either that, or the grip was intentionally loose.

"Now... what shall we do with the rest of our time together? I would be lying if I said I didn't have something in mind."

Joker's fingers edged closer to the bottom of the cowl, dangerously close to removing it. He leaned in, eyes wild and crazy, an almost toxic shade of green that reflected in the blue pools of the ones below.

A nervous flinch made Bruce's shoulders twitch, a feeling he hadn't experienced in so long. Adrenaline founded in temptation. Something wrong, but potentially enjoyable. There had been a familiar atmosphere after all.

His thoughts were quickly interrupted at the realisation that Joker's fingers were now teasing at the bottom of the cowl. Struggling against the restraints that bound him, Bruce tried to break free. Deciding it was a futile waste of energy, he looked up to meet the Joker's eyes once more, in time to notice how close he was to him.

Bruce's throat closed. He considered every person he had kissed from the first to this moment. The way his lips flitted to their lips, to Joker's lips, so certain that was what was happening though no one had ever said as much. An understanding between two people, between him and his enemy. Between him and his soulmate.

"Don't..."

It was all he could muster, all that his frenzied mind could conjure up.

"Don't what, Bats?"

"Don't take it off."

A wide grin pushed Joker's bright red lips into his cheeks, creasing the pale white skin as the satisfaction reached his eyes, twinkling as he relished in Batman's defeat and his understated consent.

"That's the part you're worried about? We'll have a far more pleasant evening together than I thought in that case!"

With a long, obnoxiously loud cackle he pulled himself away from Bruce's body, which was heating up with the embarrassment, blushing cheeks thankfully still covered by his mask. He only had a moment of reprieve though, as Joker was quickly back against his, hands closing around the stiff ears at the top of the cowl to control Bruce's gaze, focusing it back on himself.

"Don't worry though, dearest. I prefer anonymous sex, the risks make it more exciting."

#joker #the joker #batman #batjokes #batman x joker #joker x batman #finnie writes

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avatarmerida · 1 year

Text

Um idk what to say about this except Hunter deserves to receive more compliments and Amity has never known how to process Willow’s taste in men

“Okay guys, just gimme like 10 minutes, okay?” Willow said, running eagerly ahead. “I just wanna check on my plants real quick. I’m sure they’re okay but I just wanna be totally sure because I-.”

“Go on, we’ll be fine!” Said Amity, seeing Willow was slowing herself down for their sake but desperately wanted to run ahead. Willow didn’t need to be told twice as she darted full speed up the stairs to her room. From the sound of it, her plants were just fine and delighted to see her. As they headed back to the Owl House, Willow’s house was on the way and when she had asked if they could make a quick pit stop Camila saw nothing wrong so long as they were quick and stayed together.

Hunter smiled at the distant sound of Willow happily greeting her plants as he looked around the living room, suddenly aware that it looked stuck in time. A few months ago it was brimming with life and light, and now it was dark and cold without Willow and her dads gracing the rooms with their love and laughter.

“Hey, what are these?” Hunter asked, turning to the dining room table which was covered in glossy brightly colored books.

“Oh, those are just some silly magazines Willow and I used to read when we’d do our homework,” said Amity as she walked in from the kitchen, the vibrant colors reminding her of a less chaotic time. “We would fill out the quizzes inside and gush about these bard coven bands and argue over who our favorite was.”

“Really? Heh.” Hunter flipped through the pages with a quizzical smirk, remembering Willow had once mentioned listening to a band once while they were messaging on penstagram back when they had first met. “Who was Willow’s favorite?”

“Take a guess.”

“Probably the most handsome one, right?” He said pointing to the obvious front man whose face was featured much more than the other members in the collection of mini posters that occupied the series of pages.

“Uh, not exactly,” said Amity, pointing to the corner to the “mysterious loner” of the group. His smile was more reserved than the others and his overall demeanor carried something... familiar.

“Him? Really?” Hunter chuckled, swearing he saw imprints of faded green lipstick stains near his photo. He wondered just how long they had been fading.

“I dunno, Willow has... unique taste.” Amity said with a shrug and slightly soured look. “We very rarely agree on things like that. I mean, she does not get Azura like at all, which just doesn’t make sense if I’m being honest, because I think...”

As Amity continued ranting, Hunter flipped through the pages and read the silly answers written in Willow’s bubbly handwriting, each ‘I’ dotted with a flower and the words twirling at the end as though they were carefully arranged vines. He treated her circled answers like a treasured artifact, admiring the little hearts and daisies she doodled in the corner of the pages. He also couldn’t help but want to take the silly quiz himself and see if their answers matched.

“...but I guess disagreeing can inspire debates. I mean, like the other day I was telling her how when I first met you I called you scrawny and that practically set her off because when she first met you she thought you were sooo cute, so obviously we don’t-.”

“She thought I was cute?” Hunter repeated, tuning back into Amity's rambling.

“Huh? Oh.” Amity’s hand sprang to her mouth, quickly realizing she should not have said that. “Uh maybe? Ya know, ha, it was so long ago, I might be misremembering. Actually, she might have been talking about a wet cat she saw on her way to school so actually-.”

“You just said you were talking about it yesterday.”

“Did I say that? You know, it was so long ago who can really remember what I said, we should-.”

“Amity, if you’re gonna make fun of me could you at least not use Willow? I don’t know why you’d think-.”

“I’m not making fun of you! I just, uh...” Amity insisted, quickly looking back at the staircase to make sure Willow wasn’t coming back yet. She changed her voice to a harsh whisper. “Ugh, okay listen, Willow would kill me if she knew I told you this but... do you remember before Halloween when I told you to change out of your costume?”

“Yeah?”

“She was actually really upset that I said that because she thought that you looked... handsome.”

Now THAT is a look

“Me?” Hunter asked as though there was someone else she could’ve been referring to.

DON’T listen to her.

“Yeah?” Amity replied, still unable to give a reason. “I mean, she was so mad at me for telling you to change, she threatened to summon a cactus to my bus seat before I sat down.” Amity laughed at the memory, knowing Willow was only a little serious about following through. “And she stared at the photo she took of you like the entire ride, like you were a magazine model or something.”

“She thought I looked... handsome? In my costume? Like the costume I’m wearing right now?”

“Shh! Yes, but you can’t tell her I told you,” said Amity, looking around paranoid. “I wouldn’t lie about that though, I promise.”

Hunter made his way into the living room, finding his reflection for the first time in a hall mirror. It was dusty but still he could see the difference from the last time he had seen his own face. There was a lot to process. Days ago he looked completely different and now it was though he had suddenly aged, he was tired and dirty and covered with scars.

“Do you think... she still thinks I look handsome in it?” He said, his hand tracing his newest scar. “Ya know, with how... different I look?”

“Well,” Amity started, knowing there was more within the inquiry. “She also talked about how much she liked you, ya know? The way you talk, what you talk about-

“She never mentioned my voice being... annoying?”

“No, actually,” Amity said, realizing Willow was probably the only person she had never heard refer to it in such a way, even as a joke. “Which is saying something because she used to always say that having bad eyesight made her hearing better,” Amity recalled. “I don’t know if that’s true or not but Even when you wore those hideous shoes with the holes all over them she still thought you were so cool... for some reason.”

Handsome AND cool? It seemed too good to be true.

“Does she... talk about me a lot?”

“Ya know, if you really wanna know what Willow thinks about you then you should ask her,” said Amity softly, putting her hand on his shoulder reassuringly. “But don’t tell her you talked to me, otherwise she’ll get suspicious.”

“But has she said anything about... the way I look now?”

“Oh no, you’re not getting any more information from me!” said Amity dramatically, walking back to the kitchen table. “I’ve said too much already, if she ever found out that I said any of this I’d have more than a cactus to worry about.”

“But why wouldn’t she want me to know? Is she embarrassed?”

“Well I dunno, do you tell Willow you think she looks nice every time you think she looks nice?”

Hunter opened his mouth to offer a smug response before he realized that while he did in fact let Willow know she looked nice it was usually agreeing with someone. She would walk down to the basement to show off a new dress she had found while thrift shopping with Vee and wanted to show how nicely it complimented the cardigan Hunter had repaired for her and Hunter would be in awe of how she always managed to pick colors that brought out her eyes. He would think how lovely, how stunning, how utterly beautiful she looked but he never said these words.

Instead, Gus would usually deliver the compliment. He’d say “Wow, Willow you look great!” and then nudge Hunter in the ribs with his elbow as he’d raise an eyebrow and say “Doesn’t she Hunter?” Willow would look at him with anticipating eyes for his thoughts, but the sparkle that found her eyes with her expectations only increased the things to say, and Hunter would end up only being able to nod in agreement or mumble a simple “yes.”

Is that how he made Willow feel? How could he ever...?

“Fair point,” He cleared his throat and tried not to convey the journey his mind was on and hoping he seemed like he was totally normal about the question. “Thank you for your clarification, I shall keep the matter between us.”

“You’re not gonna act... weird about this are you?” Amity asked, fairly certain she already knew the answer.

“Me? Weird? No! W-w-why would I be weird about this?” Hunter sputtered nervously.

Oh, she definitely already knew the answer.

“Okay, well I hear her coming back so zip it,” ordered Amity. “If I wake up with a cactus in my sleeping bag, I’m taking you down with me, spaceman.”

Hunter wouldn't know how to bring it up even if he wanted to.

“Sorry it took so long,” said Willow, entering the room on a vine. “But they’re doing great, luckily the automatic water system I instilled has been working perfectly.”

“That’s great, Willow.” said Amity with a smile.

“Yeah that’s totally great!” agreed Hunter, his voice sounding panicked for no apparent reason. “Awesome! Cool! Yeah...”

“Yeah,” agreed Willow, confused by the room’s vibe. “But uh, we should probably get back to the others. I don’t want Camila to worry.”

“Oh yeah, good idea,” agreed Hunter.

“Oh, before I forget,” said Willow, pulling something off her wrist. “I found this yellow scrunchie in my room and I thought since your hair is longer again, you could use it to keep your hair out of your eyes.”

“Really?” he said, as she slipped the hair tie onto his wrist. “Thanks, Willow.”

“’Course,” she said with a smile. “It’s your color, after all. Plus we gotta make sure we can see that pretty face of yours.” She added with a wink.

“Haha yeah o-o-okay,” he said with a gulp. “I should uh, g-g-go check if the coast is clear.”

He ran ahead as Willow chucked to herself, clearly pleased with his reaction. She watched as he ran to the doorway and pulled his hair back into a ponytail and secured it with Willow’s scrunchie.

“Woah, did it just get hotter in here?” Willow whispered to Amity, a faint crimson gracing her cheeks as she watched fondly as he scanned the outside area, his pulled back hair making it easier for her to see his defined jawline. Before Amity could offer her comment on the change in temperature, Willow cut her off as she continued in a dreamy tone. “Never mind, I think it’s just Hunter. If ya know what I mean.” she added playfully, bumping Amity’s arm with her elbow.

“I really, reeeally don't,” groaned Amity as though she was in physical pain, having endured this talk for months in the human realm and now realizing that there was no end in sight. “You have got to stop saying things that to me I am begging you!” Amity pleaded.

“I’ll stop when he stops,” said Willow with a shrug, fanning herself with her hand for emphasis (half to upset Amity further and half because she was truly grateful she had found that scrunchie).

#huntlow #winter toh #willow park #hunter toh #toh #huntlow fanfiction #the owl house #amity blight

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after-witch · 2 years

Text

Room 1406 [Yandere Feitan x Yandere Chrollo x reader]

Title: Room 1406 [Yandere Feitan x Yandere Chrollo x reader]

Synopsis: All you wanted was to get a shower and step into clean clothes. But the clothes you laid out on the king-sized bed shared by you, Feitan and Chrollo are nowhere to be found.

word count: 2501

notes: yandere, kidnapped reader, humiliation, references to sex, implications of sexual blackmail

The hotel room was just deluxe enough to border on ostentatious, and it always made you wonder what Feitan thought of the places Chrollo typically booked for the three of you. Feitan always seemed out of place in fine surroundings--you’d never voice that, of course, because you weren’t a complete moron--whereas Chrollo fit seamlessly with the gilded touches, the fine silk sheets, the pretentious room service options that were more “expensive snack” than “filling meal.”

Still, you couldn’t complain. You enjoyed the comfortable beds and the hot showers and yes, you even sometimes enjoyed the pricey meals that were delivered by quiet bellboys with rolling carts.

Of course, you would have enjoyed it all the more if you weren’t kidnapped and being held against your will by two powerful Phantom Troupe members who were utterly obsessed with you… but there was nothing you could do about that. So you made the best of it.

Like right now. You’re not thinking about the oppressive nature of your life. You’re not thinking about the porcelain eggshells you always walk on. You’re not thinking about the way Feitan and Chrollo are like some horrible gravity, always pushing and pulling, twisting you this way and that to suit their selfish needs.

You’re only thinking about the luxury of hot water, the fragrance of the expensive shampoo on the shelf, and how nice it will feel to dry yourself off with the fluffy luxury towel that probably cost more than you made in an entire day in your old life.

When you’re suitably clean, you wrap yourself up in that luxury towel, enjoying the softness, enjoying the feel of it in your damp skin. You pat your hair until it’s damp enough not to drip--you can always fully dry it later, if your captors decide to take you out--and step out of the steamy bathroom to get dressed.

Only… hmm.

The outfit you laid out on the king-sized bed is gone.

You scan the bed, thinking perhaps Feitan or Chrollo moved it, or you misremembered where you set it down. Nowhere. You glance beyond the bed to the edge of the room, where the extra twin bed Feitan always requested at hotels was pushed against the wall. He liked to sleep on his own sometimes. Though he usually ended up on the big bed by the morning, sleeping or not.

You see that he’s currently stretched out in an almost bizarrely leisurely fashion, a paperback novel in his hands. Not even looking at you. Which, of course, immediately raised your alarm bells. It was too nonchalant to be normal.

“Feitan?” You ask, keeping your voice level.

“Hm?”

You reach up to adjust your towel, tucking it in tighter. You didn’t exactly think you’d be stuck wearing it for more than a few minutes.

“Where are my clothes?”

He doesn’t respond right away. Instead, he seemingly finishes the page, turns it, and finally glances up at you. His cowl is pulled down, but his own expression is painfully neutral as well, making it even harder to get a read on him.

He looks you up and down, taking in the sight of your damp skin, the towel that just barely covers your freshly cleaned body. You fight against the goosebumps that went to pimple your skin.

“You forget them?”

You press your lips together. “No. I put them on the bed before my shower. And now they’re gone.”

His eyes return to his book.

“Dunno. Not my job to babysit your clothes, you know.”

It takes far too much inner strength to fight the urge to sigh, but you use it, because you know that getting annoyed and pouting will get you nowhere.

“Of course not,” you say, apologies in your tone, as if you did something wrong. “I was just wondering if you knew, because you were sitting here, so maybe you saw…” You hesitate. You can’t accuse him or Chrollo of taking them, though at this point, you’re assuming that’s what happened. In your pause, he looks up at you, and there’s the smallest hint of a smile that digs its claws right into your chest. “Maybe you saw… what happened to them?” you manage, shrugging, pushing down the irritation in favor of mild sweetness.

He flips a page. Is he even reading the book now?

“Hm.” His eyes flit back down to his book. “Maybe I saw something.”

“Oh,” you say, voice thick with relief, and it’s not entirely feigned. “Great. So…” You decide, swiftly (not too swiftly, you hope) to make a bold move, and make your way to the other side of the king bed, sitting down so that you’re facing the wall--and Feitan. “What did you see?” You’re smiling at him, now, and you press a fist down into the mattress to keep that fact from making you scream.

It makes you feel sick, that smile, and the way you’re asking him about this like you’d ask someone how their day at work was. Where are my clothes, serial murderer who co-kidnapped me? Golly gee whiz.

Feitan sets his book page-side down on the bed and rests his chin in his hand. The edge of his lips quirks up just enough for you to notice.

“Guess what I want, and I tell you.”

Fucking hell.

Feitan has never been easy to gauge. And even with the sight of him lounging in front of you, eyes occasionally raking over your body, you’re still not sure. There are a few usual guesses. Sex? But he usually didn’t want it out of the blue, not without something that pushed him over the edge from “however he normally feels around you” to “anxious to push you down onto the bed and fuck you roughly.” A kiss? No, not when he’s reading; kisses were rare, and like sex, usually came after certain parameters were met.

But if he was reading, then… maybe. You nod to yourself and take the plunge, standing up and making your way over to the in-room coffee maker. Feitan is silent as you brew a quick cup--thank god for luxury hotels and instant coffee--and bring it over to him.

“You could use a cup of coffee while you read, I bet.” And if there’s something a bit prideful in your voice, if there’s a little beaming smile on your face, you can’t exactly blame yourself for taking pride in the little things you’ve figured out. Like what Feitan might want, lounging on a twin bed, staring at your barely clad body while he reads a book about gruesome murders.

“Cute,” he murmurs. But he takes the cup, getting in one steaming sip before he sets it on his nightstand to cool.

And just like that, he reaches over and pulls your blouse out from underneath his pillow. It’s wrinkled, but at this point, you don’t care.

“Thank you, Feitan.” You don’t need to fake the gratitude, sick as that is, and you hold it close to your chest and wait for the rest.

And wait…

And…

“Still standing here?” Feitan asks, and this time you can easily detect irritation in his voice.

“Um, I just thought…” You hold up the wrinkled blouse. “Where’s the rest?”

He directs his gaze to the doorway separating the bedroom from the living area in the hotel suite.

Ah. Chrollo. You should have known.

“Thank you,” you say, prim and hollow, before you dip back into the bathroom to put on the blouse. At least this way, you can rewrap the towel so that it covers more of your bottom half, instead of covering just enough to keep anyone else from getting a look at your privates. Not that both men hadn’t already been well used to that view.

Afterward, you step into the second room of the hotel suite, feeling every muscle in your body begin to tighten. Feitan was one thing. Chrollo was another. You couldn’t say which was worse. Maybe it depended on their mood, and your mood, and whether it was a Tuesday evening or a Sunday morning. Maybe it depended on so many things that you sometimes felt like you were losing your goddamn mind trying to track it.

Today, though, Chrollo feels worse. Going to Chrollo feels like watching a very satisfied cat licking up a bowl of fresh cream. And you’re the godforsaken cream.

He’s sitting at the writing desk, old fashioned parchment under his hands. Because using a ballpoint pen would never do, pretentious bastard.

Unlike Feitan, he doesn’t keep up the pretense of work when you enter. Instead, he carefully sets down his tools, gently nudging the pot of ink to the side and out of his way. His eyes appraise you immediately, a sensation you’ve experienced so many times but have yet to become comfortable with; would you ever?

“How impressive, dear. And here I thought you wouldn’t be able to convince Feitan of anything today.”

He glances down at the towel you’ve wrapped over your midsection, covering everything from the waist to mid-thigh.

“Won’t you drop that towel for me?” His voice is low and weighty. But it’s not a command. Not yet, anyway.

“I’d rather not,” you quip, shifting on your feet. “I’d much rather have the rest of my clothes.” He stares at you. “Please,” you add.

He sighs. Slow and languid. As if you’ve presented him with a difficult conundrum, and not the simple request to let you get dressed.

“I don’t know why you’re in such a hurry,” he says. “After all, don’t you remember our conversation yesterday?”

Your chest tightens. Yes, you do. It was less a conversation and more a slight breakdown on your part. In the end, you were crying, yelling--not at them, because you’re smart enough to avoid that whenever possible. But yelling nonetheless. About how stressed you were, about how you didn’t feel like a person sometimes.

“You said last night that you wanted us to understand you, didn’t you?” He lets his gaze travel down your body. “To see you.”

You gesture to the very body he’s ogling. “This is not what I meant by that.”

Chrollo raises his eyebrows, feigning--or perhaps really feeling--offense. “Neither did I. Don’t be obscene, dear.”

There are times when you know that Chrollo is trying to rile you up, and you know this must be one of them. You feel huffy. You can feel heat rising to your cheeks, a trickle of sweat beading on the back of your neat. He wants you like this. Agitated and loose and more apt to make mistakes.

So you take a deep breath. “I’m not being obscene.” Your mouth twitches. “The opposite, actually. I’m just trying to get dressed.”

Chrollo smiles, just a little, and as with Feitan, it goes so far to making you hate him. “What a shame that is.”

You smack your lips and take a slow, shuddering breathe.

“Chrollo, dear. Dearest.” The nicknames rolls off your tongue sweet as vinegar, and you should stop yourself, but you know that using them at all is something Chrollo considers a win. A minor one, but still a win. “I would really enjoy being dressed, so please let me know what you want me to do to get my pants back.”

He leans back in his chair, considering your words.

“Why do you want to get dressed?”

There’s a limit. You know there is. There is a limit when so much of your life has become a mind game, a psychological struggle, an endless waltz between keeping you captors appeased and maintaining some shred of personal dignity and sanity.

You’ve been passed the limit before. Sometimes it took so long to get there. And other times, like tonight, it just takes a touch more irritation than you thought you’d be feeling that night to send you hurtling over the edge.

“Because,” you bite out, “All I wanted to do tonight was take a shower, get myself clean, and then maybe read a book or watch a show while being dressed like a normal person. Is that too much to ask?” You don’t wait for an answer, clenching the towel underneath your fingers tightly. Your breath comes quick and shallow now, and your chest feels warm and heated.

“Apparently it is, because the two of you think it’s somehow entertaining to make me fight for my clothing like some kind of--kind of… sick, twisted fucking mind game. Maybe you two need to… to… get a hobby that isn’t fucking with me for once.”

The worst part is that every word comes out pinched and slow, thoughtful, weighted. You know you shouldn't say them, you know you should stop yourself. But you don’t want to. This is all you have, and you’re taking it.

No, you take that back. The worst part is that Chrollo doesn’t even respond to your little verbal tantrum. His facial expression doesn’t change. He doesn’t move. He doesn’t look at you with furrowed brows and give you some twisted punishment for your infractions. He simply stares at you, calm and patient, like you’re a toddler who just argued with their parent because they weren’t allowed to eat ice cream for dinner.

And that shoves you even further past the line, stumbling and uncertain.

“You’re an asshole,” you mutter, clenching your fists in the towel around your waist. And the moment you mutter it, you know you went too far over that wavering boundary between the two of you. Moron, you think. I’m a moron.

In an instant, he lifts his hand, and there they are--the trousers you set on the bed just a half an hour ago. You step forward, reaching instinctively, but he snatches them away just as quickly and you’re left with a view of nothing but his triumphant face.

“And you’re not getting these anytime soon with that mouth.”

His lips curl into a smile and you watch helplessly as he rearranges the writing tools on his desk, bringing back the quill and ink, pressing down on the parchment. He studiously begins to write again, staring down at the table, though you think he’d much rather be staring up at you.

A bead of sweat finally trickles from your neck down your back. You almost feel like you haven’t showered at all--clammy and warm and irritated, when you should have been clean and soothed and doing anything but standing, half dressed and pissed off, in front of Chrollo.

“You might consider begging,” he murmurs, voice flat and calm above the scratching sounds of the quill. “On your knees, perhaps? There is room underneath the table.”

You say something, sputtering, unintelligible words that don’t quite form. He wanted you to--right here--just to get…

He looks up at you then, dark eyes appraising, teasing.

“If you guess what I want,” he begins, voice almost cooing. “I’ll tell you where they are.”

In the bedroom, you hear the soft but distinct sound of Feitan snickering.

#yandere chrollo #yandere feitan #yandere hunter x hunter #yandere #afterwitch writes

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front-facing-pokemon · 4 months

Note

I just found this blog so I'm jumping aboard the plushie bandwagon.

First we got Absol. (i feel like maybe i should've taken a closer-up picture but it's the face sooo)

Then a Wooloo

And, saving best for last, this Leafeon plush I own... of which I swear on my life is official merch.

I also have some more eeveelutions (plus an eevee and a few more) but: 1. I didn't want to send too many. 2. Eeveelutions are more popular so I wanted to give some other people the chance to submit their own. 3. I don't know where my Pikachu and Snivy plushies are cuz I own too many stuffed animals.

Only reason I submitted Leafeon was so I could show off this ~masterpiece~ of a plushie I own. And it's face isn't the only thing wrong with it too lol. Also I just noticed I accidentally had one of the ears hanging back but I'm too lazy to go take another photo but i hope this amuses you nonetheless.

ALRIGHT THERE'S BEEN A LOT OF YOU AS I'VE BEEN OUT WITH MY FAMILY FOR CHRISTMAS HUH

let's start with these guys. beautiful. wonderful. i do not believe that that leafeon is official merch. this statement is baffling to me. welcome to the front-facing pokémon family. i love the eyes on that absol and wooloo is one of my faves. i was rather obsessed with it when it first came out and have a whole wooloo tag on my main blog because of it. though i guess i cleared that whole thing out recently so i don't anymore

let's get the nose ratings out of the way:

↑ this is a lie. 10/10 chespin

it's very wide and also 10/10 you're being too harsh. merry day to you too

circular face indeed. did i already post this one? if i did you can have it again

clodsire be upon ye. clodsire fans this is your treat until gen 9

this is a trend now. i think tumblr just crunched this image to hell for some reason so here's what the text says:

"Felt like joining the others for front facing pokeplushies [images] I have more pokemon but its early morning and these are the plushies that are easy to access"

i have not but i imagine "a moment" has long passed by now. my apologies but apparently today was an important day or something? idk

YEAH it's super unbelievably fucked up. i think i kinda remember the circumstance being a bit dire so everyone else was more worried about either 1. protagonist getting stomped on brutally or 2. saving the world from kyurem / the bittercold. i was totally under the impression that he was dead in that moment but i guess the characters may have known that he would just come back? i seem to vaguely remember partner being surprised that he came back and being like "but we watched you die :OOO" but maybe i'm misremembering that. i do create a lot of pmd lore on my own time so i have a hard time telling the difference between canon and fanon sometimes

two a day makes the world go round! this blog started when i started college, paused for 80% of my college career and now has started back up and i just graduated college a week ago. i would say "how time flies" but it has been a very, very long year

i've said it before and i'll say it again: gen 6 is my favorite gen, so you'll be seeing lots of favor for this gen from me in the tags i'm sure. maybe gen 6 is my excuse to start doing other things here. like that stream i keep talking about

if they put meloetta as a little obscure puzzle thang in sv, i'm sure they'll do something for genesect. i hope. at least for keldeo probably. genesect i'm not sure is very popular, unfortunately, outside of the tumblr crowd. if the general public's opinion on genesect is favorable, then maybe

okay and then i tried to scroll down further in my screenshots for more asks and saw the wobbly will smith in a hospital bed Gimme a Hug, Man that i copied from the "i get a little bit genghis kanghis" post so that's it. to everyone who christmases: merry it. it is today. although it's basically over by now so! merry boxing day for tomorrow if i don't say anything tomorrow. but i probably will. now i'm gonna go queue up today's 'mons because i haven't done it yet today. see you all in a few weeks when those post

#gti spoilers #under the cut. don't look if you haven't played it it's an amazing game #not pkmn #nose ratings #about to queue up gogoat and pancham so be ready for those in a while

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