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rineptune · 2 months

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hello! can i get a lucifer x fallen angel!reader, that is maybe seen as another parental figure for charlie, and there’s some jealousy from luci in the beginning before he realizes how much care reader has towards charlie? if that makes sense?

hell’s greatest parent.

summary: in which charlie thinks of you as a parent figure and once again lucifer’s genuinely distraught and scared that his one and only daughter would no longer need him.

a/n: he’s jus a little insecure, but lucifer’s doing his best and that’s what matters!!

lucifer could feel it. an irritated, uptight smile threatening to make itself known in his face.

“what was that, kiddo?” lucifer asks charlie.

“yn’s going to teach me how to make pancakes!” charlie answers. “it’s a great bonding activity that enhances familial relationships. they told me all about how pancakes made in heaven are soo different from the ones made here— i just had to ask if they could teach me!”

“she’s quite the persistent lady, your highness,” you chuckle. “i’m assuming she got that from you?”

“...yes,” he grumbles, straightening his posture. “but, charlie! why didn’t you just call me? no offense, but i make out-of-this-hell pancakes, too!”

“because, dad! you weren’t awake yet, and i wanted to surprise everyone here in the hotel with heaven’s recipe for a devilishly delicious breakfast,” she preened, hands clasped together. stars are shimmering in her eyes, possibly a candidate to outshimmer the pentagram in the skies.

lucifer sighs, defeated. “oh, alright... but i’ll watch.”

“ok! this could be a refresher memory for you,” she beams. “what first, yn?”

“well, to start, we need to wear our aprons.”

you held up one for charlie, the fabric littered with small red hearts for its pattern, which she gingerly took with delighted awe. you also offered one to lucifer, but instead of accepting what you had brought with you, he simply snapped his fingers, and with what’s left of his angelic magic, he conjured one of his own, which he wore with a smug grin.

“how efficient.”

“heh, i could do a lot more than that,” he proudly says.

“i would never doubt it, your highness.”

your indifference to lucifer’s (perfectly wrapped under the radar) jealousy is just perfect. not only did he deal with the radio demon, who had the balls to even duel him in a sing-off—now he had to win a cooking contest, too?

it’s crazy!

crazy if he doesn’t participate in it and properly show you why he’s the boss!

“and careful to put the batter, charlie,” you guide her hand to pour the batter onto the heated pan.

“whoa—.. i did it!” she cheers.

“good job, sweetie,” he tells her.

lucifer is on charlie’s left, observing how his daughter works herself around the kitchen. he had to admit, you were a pretty good teacher; that even he learned a thing or two about making pancakes.

would you look at that?

lucifer learning new things that he already thought he knew.

“now, what would you want to go with your breakfast, charlie?” you ask.

“there’s bloodied-sweet syrup, mini fresh eyeballs that a friend of alastor brought in earlier; oh— ah, here it is,” you pulled out maple and strawberry syrup along with some butter and fruits— actual fresh fruits that you managed to smuggle in your bag before the fall.

“what?! they actually have maple syrup, and not stale-oak sap?”

“yes, they do,” you chuckle. “would you like to try them?”

“do i? i’m so happy to!”

lucifer sits at the end of the table as charlie decorates her pancakes with the toppings and condiments of her liking. a smile is seen on his face.

he remembers the time when it used to be like this, simple and sweet. how times have gone by, really.

“pancakes?”

your offer brought him out of his trance of thought. a breakfast shaped into one of his favorite things in the world.

a duck with a little apple slice on its head.

“thank you, though you didn’t have to go through the trouble of...” lucifer’s absolutely speechless, and if it weren’t for the façade he has on, you bet your wings he would’ve been jumping up and down in joy. “serving it in this shape.”

“it’s no trouble at all, really.” you smiled.

and holy hell does that smile ease his worries.

“dad, oh my gosh! thesh are twe besht pancwakes, ever! like, weally—the absholoo best!” charlie says, words somewhat audible because she had her mouth full.

“charlie, dear, don’t talk while your mouth is full; otherwise you’ll choke,” you sigh, yet there was a smile on your lips, taking initiative to wipe away the excess syrup on the corner of her mouth with a damp cloth.

charlie giggles sheepishly, nodding.

“than’ weu!”

the realization sets in when lucifer sees this. that you actually care for charlie and are not there to replace him totally. he’s reassured, and happy as he finally takes a bite of his warm, delicious breakfast.

#classic ໒꒱ ink #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x y/n #hazbin hotel x you #lucifer x reader #hazbin hotel lucifer #lucifer morningstar x reader #hazbin hotel fluff #lucifer x y/n #lucifer x you #lucifer fluff

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uglypastels · 7 months

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okok I've had this idea brewing in my filthy mind for a few days so imagine sanji discovering camgirl! Strawhat reader and becomes kinda obsessed?? Maybe one day she wears something of his(maybe a ring or his shirt) live and he goes absolutely feral and has his way with her??😵😵💫

I took out the camgirl aspect because I just wasn't sure how to incorporate it into the universe?? (I'm still new to it, so trying to figure out the dos and don'ts haha.) but I hope it's still good.

masterlist | inbox - requests open

reminder that reblogs and comments are the best way to support writers on Tumblr

warning: 18+ content. MDNI. simp sanji. masturbation. suggestive language and actions. light biting.

Laundry Day.

'Can someone remind me again whose brilliant idea it was to fight the giant squid?' You looked down at yourself, stiff as a board, as you felt every inch of your body to be sticky with black ink.

When you looked up again, the rest of the crew had all found a sudden interest in the most mundane parts of the ship, not daring to meet your deadly glare.

'Thought so,' you mumbled. 'I'm gonna go change.' Awkwardly, you made your way downstairs to the bathroom to try and wash off the black goo the sea monster had spewed onto you. You scrubbed for what felt like an hour, with the stains just never seeming to seize. The water poured down your body, slowly turning from a black abyss into a drabby grey until it finally recovered to its natural clear state, and the smell of fish was exchanged for your hair conditioner and body scrub.

stupid. fucking. squid. You kicked around your thoughts as you got out of the shower, nearly falling over in the process.

Too tired to cross the ship to your room, you instead walked to the small laundry cabin that was next to the bathroom and picked up the first pair of shorts you found and a button-up shirt to throw on.

You had thought it was one of yours, always being fond of having some larger piece of attire to throw over a short sleeve, but you soon realised your mistake when you entered the kitchen.

Sanji was in the middle of setting some water to boil, glancing up at you from his work with a soft smile. That smile then quickly froze in what you could only describe as a shock.

'I know I look like a mess,' you sighed, reaching over to the cupboard where the crew kept their hardest liquor. The day just called for a shot. Or three.

'Not the words I would use.' Sanji said, the clicking of the gas stove intercepting him, 'Is that- is that my shirt?'

You glanced down, noticing the blue striped pattern on the material and the actual tailoring of the shirt as opposed to the ones you were used to wearing.

You cursed under your breath. 'Sorry. I'll go change.' You began unrolling the sleeves, already seeing how they started to crease.

'No,' Sanji coughed out. 'It's fine. Honestly.'

'You sure?' You looked up at him apprehensively, but he just shrugged and continued on cooking.

You poured yourself a drink and made yourself comfortable opposite Sanji, enjoying the show that was his meal prep.

'Where's everyone else?' you asked as he began chopping up vegetables.

'Uhm, probably sleeping off the squid,' he chuckled, focused on the ingredients. As he kept going, you realised his answers kept getting shorter and shorter with each question. What usually would be full of quips and flirtatious remarks was cut down, blunt, like the edge of a dull knife.

And at first you had brushed it aside as him concentrating on his craft, but the longer he cooked, the more noticeable it was how he avoided your gaze. Even when talking, he didn't dare look up.

'Are you really ok with me wearing this?' You asked eventually when he was done and washing his hands in the sink.

'Of course, darlin',' he wiped his hands on a towel. He was about to turn around, but you saw the moment as your chance and swiftly slithered by his side. He stumbled back slightly in surprise.

'So why have you been ignoring me for the past hour?'

'I haven't,' he slipped by you elegantly and got to packing up the prepared food into storage boxes.

'But you have-- you didn't even look at me until now.'

'Sorry, sweetheart. I was working.' Usually, his saying something like that would make you think things were back to normal, but he seemed nervous, and before you could say anything else, he excused himself to his cabin.

Confused and a bit flustered at the sudden departure, you stood in the kitchen for a moment. You had planned on going upstairs, to get some fresh air, when Luffy stormed into the room.

'Ah!' he exclaimed, 'glad to see you're back to your ink-free self.'

'Yeah, thanks, Luf.' You took another shot quickly and watched as the captain raided all the cupboards. 'Watcha looking for there?'

'The tangerine cookies that Sanji made yesterday. There should still be some here.' He stretched his arm out to pat around the back of the highest drawer.

'You sure you didn't eat them yet?'

'Nooo,' Luffy looked at you sternly. 'Because I put them there specifically so I wouldn't eat them earlier.'

'Right,' you nodded. 'Well, Sanji had been busy around here, prepping lunch for tomorrow; maybe he moved some things around,' you suggested. 'You could go and ask him.'

'Aaah, I could,' Luffy wavered, 'but I was hoping to do this without Sanji's help.'

'Did he ban you from the kitchen again?' After the last incident of Lufft stuffing himself full of snacks right before dinner, the cook had given him strict orders not to eat an hour before meals. Looking at the clock, you could see it was closing in on dinner time.

Luffy scoffed, which only confirmed your assumptions. With a sigh, you got up. 'Fine, I'll ask him. But he might be asleep, you know.'

'Thanks. You're the best.' Luffy said, arm the length of the room as he opened cupboard after cupboard. You just rolled your eyes and made your way to Sanji's cabin.

'Hey, Sanji,' you knocked softly, unsure if he had maybe decided to take a nap. With no response from the other side of the door, you tried again. You thought to just let it go and leave him be, but then you heard the clashing of the pans in the kitchen, followed by a Luffy 'I'm ok!' and knew that you needed an answer for your captain. These were desperate times.

'Hey, Sanji,' you opened the door. The only thing you had really seen was the shape of his body splayed out on the bed, and it was more of an instinct or a gut reaction that told you that you should not look any further. So, quickly apologising, you shut the door again as Sanji cursed out in shock at the door opening.

'Sorry!' You shouted through the door, simultaneously trying to comprehend the blurs of your vision and trying to forget anything you might have seen. He wasn't... no, that wasn't... no.

There was some stumbling coming from his room, followed by a few more curse words. You didn't know why you were still standing beside his door, but he certainly didn't expect you to have stayed there, and so, when he entered the corridor, your bodies practically collided.

'I didn't see anything!' You blurted out before Sanji could say anything. Both your faces were wide in horror. 'I swear- I just,' you made the mistake of taking his appearance in. His shirt was untucked from his trousers, belt unbuckled and hanging at his sides. Oh god. 'I just... I was wondering where the tangerine cookies were. The ones you made yesterday.'

He was still hard. Most of it was hidden by the layers of clothing, but there was no denying it. You did your best to keep your eyes on his face as he listened to you blurt out words like a maniac, but it sure was difficult as all the puzzle pieces came together.

'They should be in the left cabinet, bottom shelf. Behind the baking ingredients. I hid them so Luffy wouldn't eat them before dinner.'

'Good thinking,' you laughed, probably a bit too loud for the situation, but the nerves were getting worse by the second. 'Well, bye then.' And with that, you ran off to the kitchen, leaving Sanji in all his unspeakable glory behind.

In the kitchen, you were met with Luffy picking up the pans he had dropped and Nami looking at him with what could only be described as disappointment. Without acknowledging them, you walked over to the left cabinet, opened the bottom half of it and searched the bottom shelf for the box of leftover cookies, slamming them onto the counter. Luffy immediately lunged forward to them, oblivious to your shocked state, but the navigator was a bit more perceptive.

'What happened to you?' she asked, declining the offer of a cookie from the captain, who already had two in his mouth.

'Nothing,' you shook your head.

'You look like you've seen a ghost.'

'I didn't! I didn't see anything!' Nope, nothing at all. You definitely did not see that. Or how big it was... or how his hand looked wrapped around it... or his face when he- NO.

'Hey, is that Sanji's shirt?' Now, Luffy decided to be observant. You looked down at your shirt as if you had only now noticed what you were wearing.

'Oh, I guess it is.'

'He must be having a field day with that,' Nami snickered, to which you looked at her confused. She, in turn, rolled her eyes 'Like you haven't seen the way he looks at you on a regular day.'

'I- no?' you blinked, trying to grapple with what she was talking about.

Nami just shrugged before grabbing the last cookie from Luffy's hand and walking out of the room. If you thought he would be aware of anything that you had just talked about, you would have asked the captain if he knew what Nami meant by her comments but instead just contemplated on it all by yourself.

Against all your survival instincts, you walked back in the direction of Sanji's door and knocked again. This time loud and clear. There was shuffling coming from the other side, and a second later, the door opened to reveal Sanji. His lips were pulled in a tight line of a smile as he looked down at you.

'Hey, can I come in?' you asked softly.

'What?' Sanji asked before the initial question properly connected in his mind. 'Uhh, I don't think that's a great idea.'

'Sanj, we should talk about what happened earlier.'

'Do we, though?' His voice raised in pitch nervously, but you just glared up at him, unimpressed.

'Sanji, please just let me come inisde.' You pushed out any thought that just burst through your mind that did not have to do with the current situation, but it was hard to see the images of what you saw in his room before were still very much playing over and over in your head.

In the end, Sanji gave in and opened the door for you. As you walked in, he stayed behind you, hand running nervously through his hair, as he spoke: 'Listen, I'm really sorry about... everything that happened today, really.'

'You have nothing to be sorry for.' You turned to face him. 'I'm the one that stole your shirt and stormed into your room unannounced.' It was his room. He had the right to do whatever he pleased in it.

Sanji laughed awkwardly, looking away to the far side of the room, but even then, you caught how his eyes glanced and slightly lingered over your body. The blue-striped shirt still hanging over it.

You, in the meantime, fought the urge to look at his body, combined with the memory of what you had caught him doing.

Maybe it was the few shots you had taken earlier to forget about the giant squid attack that instead did nothing you had hoped for but only made you bolder as you asked: 'were you thinking about me?'

'What?'

'You know, earlier. When I walked in. Were you... thinking of me?'

'Shit, don't make me say it.' He combed his fingers through his hair. You walked over to him, closing the gap between you lightly.

'Why not?'

'Because I don't want to make things weird between us.' His jaw clenched as you came towards him, and you couldn't help but laugh at what he had to say.

'Oh, it's definitely too late for that now. Things are already weird.'

'Super weird, aren't they?' he asked softly, strangely intensely.

And so, when you responded, your agreeing words were only as hushed as he had been, too focused on each other's proximity. The two of you stood there, frozen between actions, taking each other's bodies in at the new lack of distance until Sanji took the final step over the edge, kissing you with his hands on cupping your cheeks.

You stumbled back at the force, steadying yourself when you caught onto the shirt he was wearing. One of his hands moved down to your waist, guiding you to his bed until the back of your knees hit the wood, and you lightly fell back.

Sanji placed himself over you, and as his weight pressed over you, you could feel his hard-on through his trousers. A curse fell from his lips when you reached for it and your fingertips moved over the material.

'You've been drivin' me insane the whole day, walkin' around in that shirt.' He said as he began leaving a trail of kisses down your neck.

'Figured,' you couldn't but be a bit smug about it, which he did not seem to appreciate given the pinch of his teeth you felt on your sensitive skin.

You wrapped your legs around him, pulling him even closer to you, trying to get some, friction out of the movement as he pressed himself against you.

'Cocky are we?' He smiled into his kisses, and at this point, all you could do was nod in agreement.

Sanji kept himself up over you with one hand as he used the other to unzip your shorts. One-handed and without a clear view, taking them off turned out to be a bit more of a challenge, far more awkward than expected when you tried to shuffle out of them, but his touch on your skin made up for it by tenfold.

You were about to make a start on unbuttoning the shirt you were wearing when Sanji stopped you. 'No, keep it on.' and kissed you before you could make any other snarky remark on his behalf. But when he pulled away again, though slightly dazed by the passion, you still managed to comment.

'If this is the treatment I receive for stealing your clothes, I might just do it more often.'

To this, Sanji groaned through his teeth. 'You're gonna be the death of me, sweetheart, I swear.

#sanji x reader #sanji x y/n #sanji fanfiction #sanji fanfic #sanji smut #sanji fluff #sanji fic #one piece fanfiction #fanfiction #smut #fluff #fic #request

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justmystyles · 2 months

Text

Smoke and Mirrors

read my other work here!

pairing: Harry Styles x plus size reader

*i say it's a plus size reader, but it is not something that i focus on explicitly in my fics, because your size should not define you. it will only come up if it comes into the story organically.*

word count: 2,554

summary: Harry asks you to move to London with him, but a new opportunity for him makes things a little more complicated than you'd both expect.

a/n: first and foremost, i want to make sure that it is clear that this not me taking a stance or making a statement on the status or legitimacy of Harry's relationship. i just got inspired by all the theories and conspiracies, and thought to myself, 'hey, what if Harry was in a real relationship while he was also doing a PR relationship', and wrote this.

tags: @abby8694 @allthelovehes @ameerakane20 @ash-craze @bethanysnow @blue-ballad @blueraspberryreader @brightlightsinlife @creativelyeva @cute-as-ducks420 @deannaard @fanficismydrug @gem1712 @golden-hoax @gothmingguk @groovychaosavenue @hillzrry @iceebabies @indierockgirrl @jerseygirlinca @jng4kook @jooniesbabie @kaverichauhan @laurxn-robinson @lexiecamposv @likeapplejuicenpeach @lilfreakjez @mrs-anna-styles211994 @n0vaj3an @potterheadandsherlocked @rach2699 @ravenclawdirectioner @stylesfeverr @superchrystaldrug @tenaciousperfectionunknown @tiaamberxx @thechaoticjoy @theekyliepage @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @youknowwhaaat

You shut the refrigerator door and sigh. You weren’t even hungry, you were just bored and figured eating or cooking could kill a little bit of time. The longer things went on this way, the more you were starting to feel like a prisoner in what was supposed to be your new home.

When Harry proposed the idea of you moving to London to live with him, you couldn’t have been more excited. You had spent the week with him when he performed four sold out nights at Wembley Stadium, it was a monumental time for him, but he seemed more excited to show you his home than to perform. You had never been to London before, and Harry did everything he could to make you feel welcomed and comfortable. Especially in his house. He had made room for you in the closet, significantly more than you would need for just a couple of days. You thought it was adorable how at home he wanted you to feel. And then, one morning, toward the end of your time there, you discovered why he had been trying so hard.

“This is really nice.” Harry hummed as you rested your head on his chest, his fingers tracing random patterns on your arm. “Waking up to my girl, in my bed. This is what life is all about.”

You sighed happily, soothed by the rise and fall of his chest, and the beating of his heart against your ear.

“What would you think about doing this after tour, like all the time?” His voice suddenly got quiet and tentative.

You looked up at him curiously. “Yeah, I’d love that baby. Anywhere I get to wake up in your arms is good with me. Where do you want to go?”

He took a deep breath. “I was uh… thinking here. Maybe you could… I don’t know, move in with me?”

Your eyes widen and you sit up, resting your back against the headboard. “You want me to move in with you?”

“Yeah,” he replies nervously. “Listen, I know it’s a huge move for you. You’d be leaving everything to come halfway across the world to a country you’ve only spent a couple of days in. I totally understand if…”

“Yes,” you interrupt him.

“Yes?” He looks so confused, you’d think he’d forgotten what he asked you.

You giggle at his reaction. “Yes, I’ll move in with you.” You smile. “When I started dating you, I knew that if we were going to be a long term thing, this would be an inevitability. I’m ready, I want to.”

“Really?”

“Of course,” you assure him. “But I’m going to need a tour guide, someone to help me get settled. Do you happen to know anyone?”

He pulls you in, kissing you deeply. “You have no idea how happy this makes me, angel. I promise, I will be here to show you everything. I don’t have any work commitments once the tour is over. I’ll be all yours, I’ll show you all my favorite places, I’ll teach you everything you need to know.”

Here you were three months later, and you were still a complete stranger in the city. You managed to find your way around the block so that you could get out and get some fresh air from time to time, but that was the extent of your exploration. And it had been done alone.

You understood that Harry liked to keep his personal life private, that you wouldn’t be walking red carpets on his arm and he wouldn’t be professing his love for you in interviews, and you were fine with that. He told you that he knew how to fly under the radar when he was home, so that you could enjoy your time together unbothered by fans and paparazzi.

Then, he came to you with some news you hadn’t expected, news that changed your post-tour plans.

“I’m so sorry Har, I thought I was going to have everything done in time to be with you for all of July. I’m going to have to meet you in Lisbon and go from there.” You apologized from the other end of a FaceTime call.

You had only just gotten home from the London shows, and were determined to get your affairs in order as quickly as possible so you could get right back on the road with him, but preparing to move internationally turned out to be a bit more complicated than you had hoped.

“It’s alright angel, as long as you’re there for the last show, and all the nights after that, that’s what matters.” He smiles, but you notice that it doesn’t reach his eyes.

“What’s wrong?”

“I uh… I had a meeting yesterday, about the Loewe deal. I got it.” He says, you notice he’s not as excited as he should be.

“Baby, that’s incredible! But why do you seem so sad about it?”

He lets out a deep sigh as he pinches the bridge of his nose. “They have some stuff they need from me, I’m going to have to go out when we get back to London, be seen in their clothes, stuff like that.”

You give him a sad smile, you know how much he was looking forward to having time off, without any work responsibilities, but you’re determined to cheer him up. “Oh you have to wear fancy designer clothes and walk around London. What a tough life.” You giggle, but you notice that his expression doesn’t lighten up. “Harry?”

“They want to pair me up with one of the other brand ambassadors, have us go around and get some candid shots out and about.” He pauses for a second before continuing. “Her name is Taylor, she’s going to be in London for a bit working on a play.”

Your face falls, understanding washing over you. “They want rumors going around that you two are together.”

“Angel, I don’t have to. I can tell them no. I don’t want to –”

“But you’ll lose the contract if you tell them no, right?” He nods.

The last thing you want to do is hold Harry back, especially from something he’s so excited about. He’s been talking about this opportunity for months, you would hate to be the reason it fell through. Besides, you’re confident in your relationship, you know that this would only be for press, and that you’re the one he’d be coming home to every night. It’s no different than if he were taking a roll in a movie, he just happens to be playing himself.

“I think you should do it.” You see him look up in disbelief. “Seriously. You’re my boyfriend, I know that and I trust you. So you’ll have to go on a couple of coffee dates, and hold hands with another girl a couple of times. You’ll just make up for it when you get home to me. In our house.”

Adjusting to Harry’s new job was difficult, especially when Taylor joined up with him in Vienna, two weeks before you were able to get back to him, and became a part of the entourage for the remainder of the tour. You already had your own guilt about not being there in that time, that combined with the constant need to remind yourself that it wasn’t real became a lot. You were careful not to let it show when you spoke to Harry though. He had enough going on, worrying about you would just be a distraction.

You felt better once you were able to get to Lisbon. You were reunited with Harry, and you were able to meet Taylor. She was incredibly sweet, and thrilled to meet you, she said Harry had been talking about you non-stop. You didn’t need the reassurance, but it felt nice nonetheless.

The last few days of the tour went by in an emotional blur. Before you knew it, you were relaxing in Italy with Harry’s closest friends, celebrating the end of an amazing and grueling tour. Taylor had to go straight from the last show to London to prepare for her play, which was a relief to you.

But now you were here, in London, and Harry was spending most of his time out and about in the city, while you sayed home. Between having to be photographed out and about with Taylor, and the time he was spending reconnecting with his good friend, James Corden, now that he was also back in London, it left little time for him to spend with you. You didn’t feel you had any right to say anything about it though, you were the one that encouraged him to sign the Loewe deal, knowing that this was going to be a part of it. But you didn’t realize just how much time Harry would be spending out on the town, leaving minimal time for him to spend with you.

Tonight, Harry is out watching Taylor’s play again. You’ve gone to bed early thinking that sleep will be the best thing to pass the time. However, sleep eludes you. As you lay staring at the ceiling, something inside of you snaps. You pick up your phone from the bedside table, and begin looking at flights. Before long, you’re out of bed, and pulling your suitcase from the closet.

“Honey, I’m home!” Harry calls cheekily from the entryway. When you don’t respond, he assumes you’re asleep, and quietly makes his way up to the bedroom.

He opens the door, and his soft, happy expression, the one he gets when he knows he’s coming home to you quickly turns into one of confusion and worry.

“Y/N? Are you going somewhere?”

You jump slightly, too focused on your packing to notice he had come into the room. You take a deep breath, knowing that this isn’t going to be a good conversation.

“I’m going back to the states.” You reply quietly.

He comes up behind you, placing a hand on the small of your back. “Is everything okay? How long will you be gone?”

You shake your head and take a seat on the end of the bed. “No, Harry, I’m moving back.”

Harry’s eyes go wide and he drops to his knees in front of you. “What? Why?” He takes your hands in his and grips them tightly.

“This isn’t working, Har. I’m sorry.” I look down at our joined hands and sigh. “I’m not mad or anything, it's just… the timing didn’t pan out as well as we thought it would.”

“Y/N, baby, what do you mean? Please, talk to me…” The pleading tone in his voice breaks your heart, and you struggle to hold back your tears.

You take a deep breath before continuing. “Me moving here was a great idea when you were going to have all this time, and we were actually going to get to be together, but the plan changed. I’ve been in London for a couple of months now, and the most I’ve seen is the grocery store around the corner. I spend my days home alone, trying to keep myself distracted until you get back.”

Harry moves to sit beside you on the bed, one arm goes over your shoulders. With the other, he tilts your chin so that you’re looking him in the eyes. “My love, why didn’t you say anything?”

“Because it wouldn’t have been fair of me.” He gives you a confused look and you sigh softly before continuing. “I’m the one that pushed you to take this Loewe deal, I told you I was fine with it. I can’t just decide now that I’m not getting enough attention, because you’re making good on a deal I encouraged you to sign…”

“Hey,” Harry interrupts you, nothing but kindness and care in his eyes. “It’s okay to change your mind about things. You didn’t fully understand how it would play out. Hell, I didn’t even expect it to be this much. But I’m not a mind reader baby, you need to tell me when something is bothering you.”

You nod your head and look down at your lap. He immediately slips an index finger under your chin, forcing you to look at him.

“Talk to me now, you know I’m not…”

“No no no!” You insist with wide eyes, before he can even finish his sentence. “I know you’re not cheating on me. That’s not it at all. I just… I miss you.” You say softly.

“Baby…” Harry coos and pulls you into a tight hug. “I miss you too, I’m so sorry. Please, just don’t leave, we’re going to figure out a way to make this work.”

The feeling of his arms wrapped around you, combined with his reassuring words and loving tone cause you to lose the control you had over your emotions and a soft sob escapes you, and Harry feels his heart break even more. He hates when you cry, and on the rare occasion when he is the cause, it’s absolutely devastating for him.

You stay like that for a few moments, neither of you speaking. Harry just holds you as you cry; he knows that you’ve been keeping these feelings inside for a while, so he wants to give you all the time you need to get them out. As you cry against his chest, he rubs your back and presses soft kisses to the top of your head, making sure that you know he’s there, and that you are his priority.

When you’ve finally gotten it out of your system, you pull back just enough to look him in the eyes. “S-sorry…” You say as you sniffle.

You start to lift your hand to wipe your cheeks, but Harry beats you to it, cupping your cheeks as he wipes your tears away with his thumbs.

“Are we okay?” He asks softly. You nod in reply, and he breathes a sigh of relief. “And you’ll stay?”

You give him a soft smile. “I’ll stay.”

He pulls you close, kissing you tenderly. “Good, now let’s get to bed. I’ll make a few calls in the morning to take care of everything, and then we’re going to spend the whole day together. I’m going to show you my London, I’m gonna make a proper Brit out of you.”

You giggle and shake your head. “Right-o, mate!” You reply in a bad British accent.

Harry scrunches his nose in mock disgust. “We’d better get to sleep, we have a lot of work to do.”

You slap his chest playfully as you stand up, returning your suitcase to the closet before slipping under the covers with Harry. As soon as you’re both in bed, he pulls you close, resting your head on his chest. He kisses the top of your head.

“Thank you.” He whispers softly against your hair.

“For what?” You ask curiously.

“For staying, for moving here in the first place, for loving me.” He says tenderly.

You tilt your head up to lock eyes with him, and smile softly. “Trust me when I tell you, it’s my pleasure.”

He presses a soft kiss to your lips, and you both drift off into a peaceful sleep with the promise of a new day, and a new start in the morning.

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles x fem! reader #harry styles x fem!reader #harry styles x plus size reader #harry styles headcanon #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fan fic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fan fiction #harry edward styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles x you #harry styles blurb #harry styles oneshot #harry styles one shot

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delta-pavonis · 8 months

Text

Ficlet: O that I were a glove upon that hand

Dreamling || Human AU || Rated E || ~1100 words

(Because Tom doing Romeo at VogueWorld 2023 gave me some feelings and Ferdie is often in his Venice Preserv'd look in my head... although with longer hair.)

This has, perhaps, gone too far.

Let's back up.

Everyone in the department, most people on campus, and – because of a viral video of him going off at the director during a dress rehearsal of a Shakespeare in the Park performance of A Midsummer Night’s Dream – a damned large swath of London all know of Dr. Robert Gadling's particular and peculiar hate of the Bard. It is what makes this whole thing incredibly frustrating.

Gifts. Hob has been getting gifts. Left for him in conspicuous places, each more finely crafted and expensive than the last. And each with a goddamned Shakespearean love sonnet on it.

If it wasn't for the nature of the gifts themselves Hob would be absolutely certain someone was taking the piss. (Jo, that would probably be Jo.)

But each gift is so bloody thoughtful; carefully chosen with an uncannily tuned awareness to Hob’s personal needs and tastes. This person either really cares for him or… well, he would think the person a possible stalker except that everything they have done relates to something that has happened in public, with full easy access for many people to make a judgment that Hob likes or needs something.

There have been six of them now. And aside from the fact that Hob’s living room wall now looks like all those movies where the authorities are frantically tracking a serial killer, complete with a map of London and lots of red sharpie, he is rather… flattered?

It has been a long time since… well. The anniversary of Eleanor's death will be rounding on eight years this winter.

Hob thinks he has worked out a pattern to when he gets the gifts, is like 80% confident he can guess when they have gotten placed in each location, from his university office, to the men’s dressing room at the White Horse Community Theater, to his usual table at the New Inn. Add to that his approximately 60% confidence in the reasoning behind the temporal spacing of the gifts, and he is ready to roll the dice.

He locks up his office a tick early, as usual on Thursdays, and makes all appearances to head home before going to that evening’s rehearsal. But as soon as he gets home he is donning a new hoodie no one has seen him wear before, slinking back out the garden door, over the hedge, and jogging to the theater. Hob closes himself into the darkness of the men’s dressing room a solid two hours before anyone is scheduled to be anywhere near the place.

And he waits.

Hob is good at waiting.

He is crouched where he will be behind the door when it opens, but this puts him immediately next to some of the accessories storage for costuming for this show. And oh, they have gotten in a new pair of leather gloves for him.

Just because he is good at waiting doesn’t mean that he never gets bored.

Hob slips on the new gloves and works his hands in them. These will be perfect to swordfight in, fantastic.

And then the door creaks open.

He freezes and watches, only the sliver of light coming from the hallway to help him. A masculine figure, slim, in a peacoat, walks silent as a hunting cat to the second chair from the far wall, just where Hob usually gets ready.

A hand runs softly across the back of the chair once before a small box is left on the tabletop. Then as quietly as they came in, the person turns to leave.

Just before they get to the open door Hob pounces.

There is a shout and a scuffle, the two men – for it is another man, of that Hob has no doubt – grappling as one tries to escape and the other hold on.

Which is how Hob ends up with his black leather-gloved hands wrapped around the pale swan neck of his longest friend.

They haven’t seen each other in… fuck, it feels like more than a hundred years. And they had not parted on good terms.

“Christ, Dream?” Hob pants out the nickname but does not let go.

Diamond-sharp blue eyes that could belong only to one person stare at him from beneath heavy lids. He parts his lips to speak, but at the same time Hob shifts the grip of his hands and any words Dream was going to say get lost in a breathtakingly thready moan.

Barely a heartbeat later they meet in the middle, Hob’s hands going to the back of Dream’s head and Dream’s arms going around his shoulders and their mouths fit together like goddamned puzzle pieces and Hob knew, he fucking knew, it would be like this.

They knock over no less than two chairs, collapse against a wall for a minute, then one of them pushes off and they are almost going ass over tea kettle onto the couch. A bit of quick footwork on Hob’s part and they are on the opposite side of the room.

By the time Hob has Dream sitting on the vanity they have gotten their shirts off and his bare back slams into the mirror’s surface, sliding and squeaking with the thin sheen of sweat. He gets his hands under Dream’s thighs, hikes him up to grind their clothed erections together, and once Dream has his legs wrapped around Hob’s hips he brings one hand to his mouth to pull off the gloves.

An unsteady hand grabs his wrist. “Leave them on.” Dream’s voice is even lower than Hob remembers it.

There is fumbling to get flies open and then Hob has his hand wrapped around both their cocks and is pumping. Dream’s fingers are now tugging on Hob’s hair, his body arching prettily as Hob gets his lips and tongue onto that beautiful neck.

Hob is about to be embarrassed by how quickly he is nearing completion when Dream pulls him into a kiss, moaning into his mouth as he shudders through his orgasm.

“Come with me, Hob,” is whispered against his lips and Hob is absolutely lost to it, shouting into Dream’s collarbone.

They are still panting, large heaving breaths, when Dream tugs Hob’s hand up from where it is wrapped around their spent pricks so that he can lick the leather clean. Hob watches that pink tongue dance between his fingers and his cock almost twitches in interest. He huffs a laugh and takes Dream’s chin in his grip, pulls their mouths back together so that he can speak against them.

“Hello, Stranger.”

#Dreamling #Pavonis writes

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sparrowrye · 2 months

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Demi Demon || Alastor x Reader, part 14

Synopsis: soulmate AU where you have the same mark on your body as your soulmate, and if your soulmate dies, you die too. Alastor needs to make sure that his soulmate is safe so he can continue his reign - whatever that takes. Though it looks like we have a couple secrets of our own.

Previous part

Part 14: snake demon

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I slithered through the heavy crowd. Everyone had either a drink or money in their hand. The matches were about to start and everyone was putting their bets in. I held my human appearance but I kept scratching my neck where my short hair touched my skin. I wasn't used to this new hairstyle.

It had been a few weeks since I left Alastor's manor. During that time, I had found my new purpose. My first morning of freedom was spent dealing with ring guards and getting children out of cages. Those under 18 I brought to the orphanage while those above that went with me to the next town to find a job and make a living. I felt guilty leaving them to figure it out on their own, but it was a much better fate than dying worthlessly in a fighting ring.

Evading Alastor and Husker had been a challenge. At first I hid in old attics during the night and only ventured out at midday. I cut my hair short and stayed far away from any shadows.

It didn't take me long to discover what Husker looked like with his human appearance. He looked like an angry wolverine and his body emitted an orange glow from using his magic. I could sense and smell his presence as soon as he stepped foot in town.

I moved from town to town without pattern. I was surviving off the generosity of others or my own sneaky tactics. I had found a map in one of the general stores and decided to live in a town close to Ultopa. The two surroundings towns had recently legalized fighting rings, which meant there was a huge amount of trapped fighters. I would live nearby and make it a routine to free these enslaved fighters.

Ultopa was also far from Alastor's manor. I had a feeling he wouldn't think to look for me so close to a legalized ring fighting town. He knew my history and how much I hated these things. Why would he look for me at the one place I despise?

It wasn't until I was on the last leg of my journey near Ultopa that I realized I was making a name for myself. Word had gotten around that a Snake Demon of sorts was attacking ring fights. I guessed they used the term snake because there were rumors of the fighter Python being the savior. And I knew they used the word demon because I looked like one. The world still has yet to know what Full mages really are.

The name felt nice, to be honest. I was making a new name for myself in the way I wanted. I was saving people and causing problems for criminals. Fighters were no longer fearing my name, but wishing for it.

However, that meant that security around the rings went up. I discovered this at the town I would call home. I had secured a job that day as an Under Cook for a noble house. I was in charge of making sure the servants who fed the nobles were fed themselves. It kept me busy during the day and off the streets, away from prying eyes. At night, I disappeared into the forest to attend a ring fight.

At first I walked around the bleachers to get a feel for how upstairs worked. Who made the bets, where were they kept, who were the masters, and so on. Once I overheard a master praising their fighter, I would step in and ask to see. I had seen other people do this before and masters were always willing to show off their caged fighter.

This allowed me to see what underneath looked like. It felt strange and uncomfortable to be walking around with masters while fighters coward in cages I knew all too well. Their eyes looked at me with desperation, anger, or nothing at all. Pretending to be impressed was even more challenging at first. Eventually, though, I grew more accustomed knowing I was going to save them that morning.

"You're not leaving, are you?"

I was about to before a man stopped me. He was tall, ridiculously so, and he had a long stick that served as a smoke. He was bald but wore a fuzzy pink hat and long coat. I had just left the underground cages and was about to walk back through the forest.

"Something came up and I have to run back," I answered, "But I'm hoping to be back before they're finished."

"What could have possibly come up at this time of night?" he questioned.

"Personal matters." I turned to leave but he sped through the air to stand in my way. I could see his pink outline fade away. Based on how strong the color had been, I immediately knew he was a Demon.

"Come now, you wouldn't want to miss the first fight. They're always the best one. Unless, of course, that's not your fancy." He tapped his smoke so the ash fell. "Though I'm not sure why you'd be here, then."

"I'm sorry but I really must be going. It's very time sensitive." I walked around him. Fear tickled the back of my throat as I stepped into the shadows.

"You know, we have a policy in place for undercover cops."

I stopped. “You think I'm one of them?" I turned to face him, firmly planting my hands on my hips.

"Our rules here is anyone who comes to watch must stay the whole time. It's for security reasons, I'm sure you can understand."

I realized then that I was talking to the owner of this ring. "Well, I'm new in town and wasn't made aware of this rule. Perhaps you can grant me an accommodation this time?"

He laughed so his sharp teeth glinted in the light from nearby lanterns. One of them was gold. His outline grew bright pink again. "I'm not a very forgiving man," he said, "and I have been running this operation for far too long to allow someone to ruin it. So, if you're not a cop, then stay. Enjoy the show. It's why you came in the first place, is it not?"

I was silent for a moment. He knew what my human appearance looked like, which meant he could find me in town. Yet if I followed through with this, he would notice that I didn't belong to the police. I could keep my act up without moving. This was the only town close enough to Ultopa and the others.

"I suppose my matter could wait," I said with a smile. I stepped out of the shadows and walked back up the path.

He chuckled. "I thought so."

The bleachers had grown more crowded as everyone quickly found their favorite seat. I went to hide among them when the owner grabbed my arm.

"Come, sit with me," he insisted, "I want you to have the best seat in the house." He didn't wait for an answer and pulled me up the steps. At the very top of the bleachers was a pink couch and a television camera.

"You broadcast these?" I asked.

He laughed in response. "It's an exclusive offer to certain patrons. Perhaps you'd like the opportunity?"

"I prefer them in person," I said.

"Of course. Come, sit." He sat on the couch and drew in a huge breath of his smoke. I forced myself to sit down and keep myself proper.

This was going to be a challenge. I had never watched these fights before. I had always left before they started in order to dye my hair black before arriving a few hours later. I was going to have to pretend to be invested. I could feel the owner watching me as the first fight began.

The first fight was between two adults who seemed equally good at fighting. Everyone was shouting their bet and cheering when one of them landed a good hit. The guards around the ring kept their Slight magic from reaching the audiences. I leaned forward on my knees and started whispering. I kept my gaze focused on the girl, never once letting my eyes leave her. My facade was going to be focus. Extreme focus.

Eventually, after a long, five minute fight, the man slammed her head into the wall and her body fell limp. I slammed my fist into my knee and sat up straight. Had he killed her or just made her unconscious?

"I told you the first ones were the best," the owner said, tapping the ash off his smoke again.

"Do they always last that long?" I asked.

"The first ones do. Gets everyone all rile up and ready for the next one."

We went through several more rounds until the crowd visibly grew bored with the quick fights. Each time a fight ended I was either happy or angry, always hiding my disgust and sadness behind my hands until it ended.

"Now comes the fun part," the owner laughed.

"Huh?"

"I haven't seen enough blood today. Soo..." he gestured to the ring as the new fighters stepped in. It was two teenagers. One of them looked normal but the other was on all fours, drooling all over the place and making weird noises.

"What happened to them?"

"Oh we just gave them a little something to help boost their chances." He pulled out a bag of pink powder.

"What is that? A type of drug?"

His chuckle was deep in his throat. "Indeed. It makes the recipient...revisit some memories. They become incredibly susceptible to anything they're told."

I fell silent. That must be the same drug that was used on me, both in Rosie's store and at Alastor's manor. That must mean the teenager was currently visiting a horrible memory and reliving it as if it was real. And they were taking it out on their opponent.

"You don't seem too happy about this."

I cleared my throat. "Doesn't it dampen their fighting? It doesn’t seem very...authentic."

"Oh it's authentic alright. Most fighters use magic to kill their opponent but where's the fun in that? Everyone comes here to see blood and desperation, not a magic show."

"That's true." I turned my attention back to the fight, internally letting out a sigh of relief. He almost caught me.

The crazed teenager was chasing their opponent in circles. Even when their arm broke they kept moving as if it hadn't happened. It was only a matter of time before their opponent grew tired and they tore them apart, literally.

My face paled. Everything in me tensed. Don't look away. Don't look away. Don't look away.

"You know," the owner's voice was in my ear, "you seem awfully familiar. Have we met before?"

"I don't think so," I answered without looking.

"Perhaps not in person. But tell me, where did you get this scar on your cheek?" He brushed the back of his finger along the fine line on my cheek.

"Alastor." I closed my mouth too late. Why did I say that? I reached out with my magic to feel for his presence. But there wasn’t anything there. He wasn't in my mind? He took another smoke but this time it came out pink.

"That's interesting. How did you survive a fight with the Radio Demon?" he asked next.

"He saved me from bounty hunters."

Shut up! I couldn't stop myself from answering. Everything felt warm, then it grew way too hot. I was sweating and the image of Striker started to come to mind. It felt like he was sitting right next to me.

"How generous of him. Say," he leaned in close so our faces were almost touching, "does he have a matching cut on his face?"

"Yes."

Then I felt his presence. I immediately pushed back and kept him out of my head. My shields held as he fought against me.

"Did he take you anywhere?"

I was sweating so much. My eyes stared down at the bloody scene. My body wasn't moving, wasn't listening. I needed to run. He kept pushing me, trying to force his way into my head. My shields were starting to bend.

"To a house."

"What house, sweetheart?"

I pushed harder against him. If I couldn't move my body, I was going to keep him out of my head. I felt him give a little.

"Is it on a cliff?" he asked next.

"Yes."

"Tell me sweetheart," he put his sharp claws on my shoulder, slammed into my shields, and practically yelled in my ear, “is he your soulmate?"

"y-y...ye..." I pushed back hard. I squeezed my eyes shut and mentally screamed as I pushed him completely out of my head. He dug his claws into my shoulder and the pain brought me back. I grabbed hold of my body and abruptly stood up. "Thank you for your kindness, but I must be leaving now. Until next time." I turned on my heels and marched down the stairs.

I left the ring and bolted into the shadows. I carried myself all the way back to my apartment with the wind. I had lost. He knew Alastor was my soulmate. How long before he started sending people after me? Kill me and you've killed the Radio Demon.

Why am I so bad at this?

****

The next day I had disappeared from the town. I hitched a ride earlier that morning to the town neighboring Ultopa and stared out the window. Surely living in this town would be normal. I didn't want to live in a town that legalized ring fights but now I was out of options.

The town next to Ultopa was a trading port, called Kelendale. It was relatively small and known only for its ship repairs. The next big city wasn't too far but ships that suffered from a bad storm needed somewhere closer to repair and restock.

I scavenged the town for a job but came back with nothing. Roles had already been filled in such a small town, leaving me with nothing to do and nowhere to go. I would have to try somewhere else. But for tonight, I hid in the ship yard and died my hair black already. I had overheard one of the sailors talking about the ring fight between here and Ultopa. Apparently they shared a ring on this side with Kelendale and another with their other neighboring town.

I didn't bother with surveying the ring. I waited well into the night before making my way through the wilderness. The familiar crawl of nerves went up my spine. I followed the road until I came to the clearing that held the ring. It looked like someone had picked up a building from town and plopped it right in the middle of the field. It was a three story building and people were still crowding outside, desperately trying to see in.

It wasn't long before the fighting for the night had come to an end. People got in their cars or carriages and drove back home. I stayed hidden in the bushes until everyone had left, which took a surprisingly short amount of time. Everyone had gone for the night and the lights on all levels turned off.

I waited another ten minutes before I dared to venture out. I kept myself hidden in the dark shadows of the tree then melted into the building's. I went to the backdoor were a woman stood guard. She let out a sigh, looked around, then pulled out a phone. I took a slow, calculated step forward, raising the rock in my hand. I put my hand up to her head, careful not to touch her, then brought the rock down.

Her body went limb and folded on the ground. I pulled her to a sitting position against the wall. She wasn't dead but I had only a short time before she would wake up.

Inside was pitch black. I used the moon's light to lighten it just enough for me too see. My mouth gapped open as I looked around. The floors had been cleared out save for the edges where people probably watched from. Everywhere above me were hanging cages that held the fighters. In the center of the whole thing was a massive chained net. This was no traditional fighting ring.

The fighters didn't notice me. They were all fast asleep. It wasn't uncommon for them to drug fighters at night. They could be a hazard when left unsupervised and able to converse with each other. That would make things hard for me, though.

I opened my wings and flew up to the top floor. The net reached all the way to the third floor and came to a point. This point was attached to the ceiling to allow those on the third floor to look down into the fighting net. There was a small opening on the one side that told me how they put the fighters in. A net like this was hard to fight in since it moved around with the slightest of movement, making the fights even more interesting. The platforms surrounding the net were furnished with all kinds of cushy seating. Bottles and paper lay scattered all over the place.

Countless pairs of eyes all stared silently down at me. The fighters up here were awake. Some of them waved desperately to me for help. I was surprised to hear nothing from them. It was quiet, too quiet. Had their tongues been cut? If that was the case they would still be able to make some sort of noises. They always did when the opportunity of freedom was presented to them.

The silence was making me uncomfortable. I looked around for a trap but there was none. The only noise came from the occasional clang of the chains from the wind or the soft screeching of metal from the cages. Something felt wrong but I couldn't figure out what. It wasn't as if I could stop.

The problem was moving the sleeping fighters. I would probably have to move them last. There were too many of them that were asleep. This ring had a normal amount of fighters, which seemed strange for a legal ring, but waking them up would drain me. I had done it before but the process took a lot of energy. I would have to save only a few then come back another time.

At the very least I could free those who were awake. I went to each cage and helped lower them to the ground. They didn't wait for each other, instead running off down the stairs to freedom. The locks all had a magic touch to them but it wasn't hard for me to break through it and melt it off.

I went to one of the cages near the net and opened it. The man was larger than me and his cage was dangerously close to the opening of the net. One wrong move and he would plunge down into the net. I could only imagine the injury that could cause. I used the wind to start swinging his cage from side to side. I hung on the side of the cage and waited for him.

He jumped and I flew after him. I grabbed his arm and furiously flapped to slow his fall. Pain shot through my wing. A gunshot echoed through the building and I screamed as I fell hard into the floor. A huge gust of wind slammed into me and pushed me towards the edge. I hid my wings but it only made the pain go through my spine. I flailed helpless as I was pulled through the opening and into the net.

I grabbed onto a chain and screamed when my shoulder popped. The bar slipped from my hand as I plummeted down. I casted wind beneath me but it only cushioned my fall so much. The chains dug into my shoulders as I landed.

The lights all turned on, momentarily blinding me. People starting filing in from the entrances, coming dangerously close to my injured figure. I used my good arm and struggled to pull myself up to my feet. The bottom of the net was a square but it still swayed as I moved. My back was searing in pain.

"Well well, look who we have here folks." A man with slick brown hair and a dark blue suite stood at the very top of the net. "If it isn't the infamous Snake Demon. The wonderful savior has graced us with her presence. You're all in for a real treat, tonight."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Author’s note:

Ta daa 😘

#alastor the radio demon #alastor x reader #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel #hazbin husk #soulmate au #soulmates #reqs open #hazbin hotel husk

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heliomanteia · 2 months

Text

My personal list of criticisms for the series because if I don't put these somewhere I will actually go crazy in my room within the panopticon. I thankfully saw some other people share their lists and here comes mine.

Here I'm looking back at the episodes with the perspective of the viewer who knows what has and has not been properly used.

I rewatched the whole thing so this is EP1 through EP8.

🔱 Episode 1:

The ADHD & dyslexia rep stops episode one like it was forgotten about. It will become a pattern.

I am very, very bitter about the introduction of the "not everyone who looks like a monster/hero is actually one" through Perseus' story because in the context of Percy's life, he is - at least in PJO - a hero. Don't make the boy doubt himself more.

If they did introduce the "looks are deceptive" idea, I fail to see why this was not alluded to later with Luke.

I feel like neither Nancy nor Mrs. Dodds are really given screen time enough to actually showcase how much of an impact both have on Percy's life.

I still hate everything they did to Gabe's character. RIP Sally's Jackson empowerment story.

Blue food. They never really explain why it's significant.

They had budget to showcase Percy's dreams but instead of obvious enough dreams with animals it's Exposition.

Sally knows too much. They messed up her role as a character by taking away her book archetype. She's going from The Guardian to The Knowledge Keeper to The Victim back and forth.

Percy figures out too much too quickly. It has been discussed back and forth, so just putting it down here.

They mention the Minotaur smelling Percy but they never use it to explain Sally's unnecessary marriage? Potential lost.

Looking back at the Big Bull fight, they really don't let Percy act. The luring trick is his thinking, not Sally's. RIP the horn getting stuck and torn away. I can't exactly believe a young teenager had the power to break off a giant horn, in the rain, in the dark. Bad execution, the tree trick is a way to showcase Percy's wits.

🏺 Episode 2:

I wish they let Percy be dark-haired desperately. Hair color swap is bad design-wise because there's already one recognizable curly-haired blond in the series (Will). It's just a disservice to the actor.

RIP blonde 'Beth. Annabeth being wrongly seen as a "dumb blonde" is half of her character's thing. If they thought it no longer worked for her, they needed to play off another "perceived stupidity" stereotype.

Ugh I wish they let Percy be alarmed around Dionysus because in the book his gambling & "familiarity with alcohol" trigger Percy's PTSD.

Percy's PTSD is not a thing.

So, after the entire season: They had no reason to hide Sally's survival from Percy. Them doing it never got mentioned again. Traumatize the boy some more why don't you.

Luke's speech about the importance of glory doesn't work because his failed quest is never mentioned.

I think Clarisse is a miscast. She's pretty whereas in the books it's sort of the whole thing that she's "big, ugly, and mean-looking". She's one of the examples of deceiving looks as we learn in SoM and later on. Making her pretty just makes her lose purpose.

RIP showing friendly interactions or any true bonding with Luke.

All of that talk about Annabeth's wits and strategies in EP2 only to have it never play a major role in the rest of the season. Told you it's a pattern.

🐍 Episode 3:

Annabeth's story keeps getting decimated. There's so much talk about her closeness to Luke, but there's no showing it.

Ugh, I dislike how they keep making Mrs. Dodds so neutral - enough to just tell Annabeth everything? This is a whole new character.

The Medusa reveal still sucks so much, the tension & suspense are just non-existent.

Upon rewatching, I'd say Medusa overall was a decent monster because she barely did anything but it felt like the entire story was offered up on a silver platter and got resolved too quickly.

"You can't ship the head off" makes no sense, none of Athena's arc makes sense in this show. They established that heroes earn glory through mighty deeds (such as killing monsters) and established that Athena cursed Medusa. Percy is for once right.

Overall, this is the episode where Percy's starting to take up the Exposition Character role and I really don't like that.

🌊 Episode 4:

RIP book Sally Jackson I loved you. Sally's starting to go down the "showing visual frustration towards her neurodivergent child" which is a) utterly out of character b) breaks down her arc even more.

The Furies, the Minotaur, and Medusa are not children of Echidna. The monster's great despite looking extremely boring, but her motivation being personal doesn't work in their specific case; they didn't kill any of her kids.

Small complaint but "a temple is a temple" isn't exactly making much sense. We just established Athena-Poseidon rivalry, we just announced that Athena's place is safe for everyone and protected from Poseidon's earthquakes. The idea to call upon a rival God sounds stupid.

Athena's portrayal is just horrible. She was written badly in the books, like most women, but the show's literally saying: Yeah she would gravely endanger her kid for the "mistake" that wasn't even hers. And... it is never brought up again.

Making Athena such a bad mother while Poseidon goes out of his way to save his child from death seems a bit eh.

I. Am. Tired. Of others. Telling Percy. How and what to feel! Please let the guy discover things on his own.

🏛️ Episode 5:

I will die on the hill of "Annabeth is not supposed to be the one to see the Fates and no, her closeness to Luke does not matter" especially when her and Luke's connection has been buried!

It's Percy's quest, it's his prophecy to handle, it's for him to witness the yarn being cut. It's for him to put things together. I do not get why they keep switching Annabeth and Percy's places in the plot.

So, the fugitive twist is abandoned and never handled again. This is a pattern.

It makes absolutely no sense for Annabeth to be talking back to Ares when she knows who he is and how powerful he is. They keep making her play Percy's part and him - play hers.

I mourn Annabeth's geekiness over architecture. The sole time she seems entranced by something that distracts her is Hephaestus' mechanical wonders which is engineering but not exactly book Annabeth's focus.

I am pretty sure Ares doesn't hate his children in the book, he's just a hard-to-impress dad that lets his children fight their own fights. Making him "hate his kids" added zero weight to his character.

Why is Percy mansplaining mythology to Annabeth.

"Seaweed brain" doesn't work when he just explained a myth to her while she stood there listening as if she has never heard it before.

Ares doesn't really have an impact on the three that he had in the books. This was supposed to be the moment Percy first learns his mom's alive. Since Ares was messed up later on too, I call it lost potential.

🎲 Episode 6:

There's no real reason to suspect Ares or Clarisse in the theft, that scene/realization are lazy cop-outs. They do not begin to suspect Ares unless they literally find the bolt.

Lotus Casino my detested. Worst case of "they already know it" that I've seen in this show. The Casino is meant to be a trap, they are not supposed to know where they are going.

Suspense is nonexistent. They literally figure out the lotus-eaters the moment they step into the place, this is boring!

"Wise Girl" doesn't work when they spent less time letting Annabeth talk the smart talk than Percy.

It has been said a multitude of times but the Casino is boring.

"If you don't know what chances do I have" pretty high ones because they've been writing you off as the wise boy, Percy.

Personal pet peeve: I heavily dislike Hermes' casting.

Hermes' scene is far, far too early in.

Arcades are not too old to put into a 2023 series, VR is lame.

Why is the "is it because of me?" scene so awkward, why are they making Grover feel guilty/implying he's guilty. It was literally not his fault.

Hermes' involvement is so messy, there's absolutely no reason for him to hold them back in any way.

THE SOLSTICE PASSING MAKES NO SENSE, IT DIMINISHES ALL STAKES, AND IT DOESN'T EVEN CHANGE ANYTHING

💀 Episode 7:

It has been discussed deeply but everything about Procrustes' scene was done with utmost laziness and letting him live when he was just proclaimed a murderer makes absolutely zero sense.

RIP Sally Jackson's entire character. Show Sally is not above stressing her 9 year old out, getting visibly annoyed by his "outbursts" (they are really tame), putting the blame on him instead of explaining things to him in a calm manner, and raising her voice at him. Not only is this directly polar to her book self, but it also finalizes the show's destruction of her character.

The Underworld: ugly, incomparable with the book's version, boring. All that CGI and they could only pull up a LOTR movie Isengard.

RIP court of Kings, RIP Fields of Punishment, RIP actual Asphodel Meadows, RIP Elysium. The Underworld is done lazily.

Sally Jackson would never let her child think she's getting rid of him. It baffles me that she's not explaining anything to Percy.

This is not Hades and you cannot at a gunpoint make me accept that this is the terrifying, glorious, intimidating God of the Dead that puts awe into Percy Jackson and terrifies his own child. This goofy mf is not Hades, this is clownery. Another utterly decimated character, entirely off-point.

"These grudges go on forever" is hilarious (/neg) to hear from a God whose children are canonically stated to hold grudges as a fatal flaw. They really can't get the single clearly depicted person right.

Percy single-handedly figuring out it's Kronos with no clues is undoubtedly the worst part of the whole season. Go home kids, there's no tension anymore.

I hate how little Annabeth matters in this show. Her tie to Luke is severed, Percy does her job retelling the myths, she's not obsessive about her interests, and she's not even there with them when the biggest revelations are made. Her sole function is carrying the invisibility cap around (and apparently her friends can't even explain that to Hades). The show has killed Annabeth as a character and it's sad.

⚔️ Episode 8:

Sword lessons are far too late in the season, they would do much more impact building Percy and Luke up if they happened earlier.

I know that in the book Ares' curse is largely forgotten about, but they could have easily included it into the fight.

I feel like Percy has never been explained that monsters don't exactly "die" because not once does he seem surprised that Dodds is back.

Olympus is ugly!

The whole Luke reveal is a mess. Percy jumps to the conclusion far too fast, his sole direct argument it is Luke is the shoes, but he realistically has no other reason to assume Luke's the traitor. He has just given Percy the reason why he kept quiet about Clarisse. Percy and his Super Knowledge I guess.

Luke having a portal-opening tool at hand ruins the whole purpose of Thalia as a character and narrative function.

RIP Annabeth's arc.

Oh, Gabe's story line is horrible. We know they purposefully made him non-abusive (c), meaning turning him into stone doesn't really do anything. Like, you just killed a guy; an annoying but non-threatening guy. Lame.

My overall impression was more negative than positive.

My main complaints regard Richard himself for his shameless misleading promotion and poor writing, the casting directors for missing the "vibe" with too many characters (actors have certain types of charisma and this show is hit or miss with them), the producers for slacking off with prioritizing CGI where it doesn't need to be, and for costume designers. Whoever worked on the Camp sets did a decent job, but the Underworld and Olympus suck so much it's unbelievable.

Doesn't work as an adaptation for me. I wouldn't give it more than 2/10 - only for some set designs.

#🏛️#pjo show crit #pjo tv crit #rr crit

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hanniluvi · 4 months

Text

( 🚋 ) NOT OUR LAST GOODBYE — KOGA YUDAI FIC

[ DAY THIRTEEN ] of the advent calendar !

( 🚋 ) SYNOPSIS . . . after a heated argument with K, little did you expect that the last time you’d see him would be at his departure, after leaving you in silence for days.

( — ) PAIRING . . . best-friend!k x gn!reader FT. EJ &TEAM

( 🚋 ) GENRE . . . angst lolz, misunderstandings, friends 2 …?

( — ) WARNINGS . . . INSPIRED BY THE MOVIE “20TH CENTURY GIRL” (sorry guys), k and reader kinda frustrating ..

( 🚋 ) NOTE . . . Hi!! Super late Sorry!! but originally this wasn’t even gonna be angst if i be honest … but train station … 20th century girl … so yes!!! also pretend the pics above give christmassy vibes LMAO it js seemed right to keep it like this and yes i can hear u quivering miles away Ms Sonata 😊

Once again, and unsurprisingly, K had missed yet another hangout. You really tried waiting and being considerate, but not even him in sight. Seated alone in the cafe with two drinks you bought with your own money, frustration grew. The plans had been made two weeks prior, and despite K's assurances, he was nowhere to be found.

Unable to bear it any longer, you navigated to your contact list and pressed on his icon, hoping for an explanation. Anxiously biting your nails, you waited through two beeps until he answered with a casual, "Hello?" Your scoff was loud enough for him to hear, a response to his nonchalant greeting after ditching another hangout without any warning.

"Again?"

"Huh?" Did he genuinely believe he had the right to question you after what just happened?

"Are you serious right now? You just missed another hangout, K." His mumbled apology reached your ears, sounding like he was cursing himself for even forgetting. "Damn it—I'm so sorry, YN. Can I make it up to you tomorrow?"

"You've got to be kidding me." You couldn’t help the anger slowly rising in you. “I’m here, waiting in the cold for you just to not show up again?” The hot air escaped your mouth as you scoffed. “You know, you shouldn’t suggest ideas for a winter hangout if you’re just going to not appear.”

"It—it just slipped my mind! I'm sorry," K explained, but you weren't buying it. You've let him slide too many times.

“It just ‘slipped out of your mind’? We planned his hangout 2 weeks prior—you even promised to show up today! Do you think I’m really going to buy that bullshit?”

“I know, I shouldn’t have done that but—”

“You say this all the time. What the hell have you been doing?”

“Listen—I just…” You could hear him trail off, as if restraining himself from saying more. What could he be hiding that's so important? “I’ve been busy.”

“And so have I? But I've always spared time to hang out with you and show up to everything you schedule. And suddenly you can't show up to something we both agreed on? K, you're slowly becoming distant with me.”

“It's not like I'm trying to!” He lowered his tone, recognizing his anger taking hold. “I just couldn’t do it today. It’s just—it’s not something I can tell you that easily.”

“I'm your best friend, what the hell do you mean?”

“I—I can't say. Not right now.”

“You really have to be an idiot if you think I'm gonna believe that. This friendship can’t work if you’re like this.” You pushed your hair back in frustration. "I get it, you're busy. But this is a pattern, K. A pattern I can't keep ignoring," you stated firmly.

"I know, YN. I'm sorry. Let me make it up to you," K continued apologizing.

"I've heard enough apologies, K. You're not the only one with a busy life," you replied, frustration evident in your voice.

"Please, just give me another chance."

But the more he apologized, the more irritated you became. "I need some space, K. Figure out what's going on with you. We'll talk later."

“But YN—”

“Just leave me alone, will you?” You angrily said, clearly sick of his pleading. “You clearly have no problem doing so, it seems like, anyways.” Without another word, you hung up, leaving K with the dial tone and a realization that he screwed up real bad.

And you’ve made it your goal to make him feel how you felt every time he ditches you.

DAY ONE. K attempted to act as if everything was okay, anticipating that you'd eventually give in and talk to him as you always did. Little did he know, you were determined to make him feel the weight of his actions—even if it felt harsh.

“Hey YN,” he greeted, met with your silent response.

“You need help?” you simply shook your head.

“Wanna go together?” He tried once more, but you walked away without a word.

Undoubtedly, a sense of guilt crept in, but the memory of that night kept replaying in your mind, fueling the anger you harbored toward him. K seemed to notice the shift, creating awkward moments and growing distant—much like that regrettable day.

You didn't care; in your eyes, it was deserved.

DAY THREE. You're enduring the silence longer than you initially thought. Ignoring him, refusing to even cross paths, felt strange considering how inseparable you used to be. School had become a bit dull without him, but you were determined to hold out for a week…right?

“Are you seriously not going to talk to him?” EJ asked, straw twirling between his fingers. “You're really creeping me out.” He says, as if you aren’t supposed to be the one creeped out by him instead for drinking an Iced Americano during the first days of winter.

“What do you mean?” you blew onto your cup, closing the lid back to take a sip of your coffee.

“You never hold grudges like this—what's up with you?”

“Okay...but he messed up.”

“Did you hear him out?” EJ maintained eye contact, sipping his drink. “Not blaming you or anything, just wondering.”

“Well…no.”

“YN…”

“Well—if he wanted to, he would’ve reached out by now!” you tried defending yourself, but he was already sighing.

“You’re both too stubborn, aren’t you guys?” EJ shook his head, smiling a little. “Give him another chance—oh look, he’s right there,” he pointed, making you whip your head around, only to turn back to EJ when your eyes accidentally met.

“I have to go,” you hurriedly grabbed your bag, saying a quick goodbye. “Thanks, EJ!”

“YN, your drink—” But you were already running off, footsteps following closely behind. You wanted him to reach out, yet here you were, fleeing and feeling like a loser. But facing him seemed unbearable in your current state of embarrassment.

“YN,” a familiar voice called out, a hand on your arm, pulling you toward him. His warmth had such a contrast from the chilling weather today. You turned around, finding K with a serious expression. “Can we please talk?”

You wanted to be petty. For some reason, having K reach out first, you weren't going to make it easy for him. “I don't think there's anything we need to talk about.”

“Can you stop being like that and just talk to me?”

“Like what? Just some lame excuse about why you're missing time with me?”

“It's not useless—” K scoffed, running his free hand through his hair, locking eyes with you. “Do you really think I'm just here to tell you the same stuff I've been saying all the time?”

“So you've been lying?”

“That's not what I'm trying to say—”

“I've heard enough.” You tried to pull away from his grasp, but he held on, disappointment evident in his eyes. “YN, what is so hard about sparing a minute of your day? Why is it so hard for you to fucking listen?”

You took a deep breath. “Me? How about you, huh? Have you ever listened to me? Do you think you have the right to say that to me with all this shit you’re doing to me?”

“YN—”

“Here’s your answer then. Because I've spent so much time waiting for you to explain, and you only choose to do it now.” You give him a stern look. “I’m tired of hearing your bullshit—your constant, useless reassurances when you clearly don’t keep your word!”

“I'm tired of waiting for you.”

“YN! Please–”

You turned on your heel, determined to walk away and put an end to the conversation. As you took your first steps, a part of you hoped he would chase after you, while another part was tired of hoping for something that seemed uncertain.

K stood there, conflicted. He debated in his mind whether to let you go or chase after you once again. He longed to. He longed to reveal everything to you. Yet, was it the right moment? Were you even in the proper state of mind to even grasp onto his words? Letting out a substantial sigh, K pivoted, reluctant as he was, and proceeded to walk away from you, leaving you both to walk on two different pathways.

DAY FIVE. K hasn't been showing up to class for the past two days. You felt guilty – you didn't know why, but you had this nagging feeling that it was somehow your fault. EJ quickly picked up on your changed demeanor, his face reflecting concern. As you walked home together, he blurted out, "Did you say goodbye to him?"

You turned to him, confusion etched on your face. You had no idea what EJ was getting at, and he wasn't sure if you even understood the gravity of his words. "Say goodbye to who?"

"To K...?" he hesitated, confirming his suspicions when your expression shifted to one of shock; you were completely unaware. EJ wished he could vanish on the spot.

"EJ, that's not funny." You looked at him, not seeing his joking face he’d usually have. “You’re joking…right?”

"Well, I'm being serious. I'm not the type to joke about that."

“Why did I have to say goodbye?”

“He’s leaving today, YN. Did he not tell you?”

“Can we please talk?” You didn’t hear him out.

“YN, what is so hard about sparing a minute of your day? Why is it so hard for you to fucking listen?” He wanted to tell you something important. It was your fault.

“YN! Please–” It was your fault. All yours. No one to blame this time.

“You mean like…right now?” You looked at EJ, hoping you still had time to make things right with K. With glossy eyes, you could see his hurt expression, knowing what you had put yourself through. “Yeah. About to leave at the train station nearby.”

“I have to go.”

“YN! Be careful; you might get hurt–” You didn’t care. You didn’t care if you were going to get scrapes on your legs, you didn’t care if EJ was yelling your name—nothing could hurt more than losing a best friend that you didn’t leave off on good terms.

You ran as fast as you could, disregarding the chill in the air and the sting in your lungs. The train station came into view, and there he was—K, standing with a suitcase, staring into the distance. Your heart raced as you approached him, a mix of relief and fear coursing through your veins.

"K!" you called out, breathless.

He turned to you, surprise and uncertainty flickering in his eyes. "YN? What are you doing here?"

"I... I heard you were leaving," you panted, trying to catch your breath. "I had to see you before you go."

He sighed, his gaze dropping to the ground. "I messed up, YN. I messed up big time, and I'm sorry."

"Let's talk about it," you urged, reaching out to touch his arm.

"I thought it was too late for a conversation," your heart shattered upon hearing those words. "But it was my fault anyway. I should've been truthful with you."

"Quit blaming yourself. It wasn't your fault—it was mine. I should've been more empathetic." Tears threatened to spill over as you maintained intense eye contact with him, your insides twisting with emotion.

“I didn’t mean to avoid you,” K began, his eyes searching yours for understanding.

“I know I messed up too,” you admitted. “I should have listened instead of shutting you out. I should’ve not said those things to you either.”

He nodded, a sad smile playing on his lips. “We both made mistakes, didn't we? But, let’s not worry too much about it—we’ll get over it like we always do. I’m leaving for a while, but I don’t want us to end like this. I care about you—damn, I even like you, YN," he said, causing you to gasp a little. "I’m sorry if this is too sudden—I just don’t know if I’d be able to tell you this any other day."

As you stood there, absorbing his unexpected confession, the reality of the situation sank in. "K, why didn't you tell me earlier?" you questioned, a mix of emotions clouding your mind.

He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. "I was scared, afraid it would ruin our friendship. But now, facing the distance, I couldn't hold it back any longer."

“K—” The train's arrival interrupted your conversation, and K looked at you with hopeful eyes. "I'll be back, YN. Let's talk when I return, okay?" he pleaded.

You nodded, and he pulled you into a hug, and for a moment, it felt like everything might be okay. “You should go,” K whispered, releasing you from the embrace.

“Take care, okay?” you said, holding back tears.

“You too, YN. I hope we can figure things out when I come back,” he said, a mixture of hope and uncertainty in his eyes.

"You promise to come back?"

"You know me. Who am I to fail to keep my promises—well, besides about the hangouts," he joked, attempting to lighten the mood. You smiled, finding comfort in his smile. "Then can you promise me on this one, and try not to break it?"

"I promise," he extended his pinky finger, waiting for you to interlock with him. Once you did, the warmth of his hand—similar from last time—transferred to yours, making it such a bittersweet moment. He brought his hand closer, kissing the side of your hand. "Hope that wasn't too sudden."

He smiled at your blushing face, releasing your hand. He had noticed how little layers you were wearing—did you really run like this just to see him? Taking the scarf of his neck, he wrapped it around yours, looking at you lovingly. "I'll do something sweeter next time. See you later, yeah?" You nodded, and he finally carried his bags to the train.

As K stepped onto the train, you stood there, gazing into his tear-filled eyes. How badly he didn’t want to cry in front of you. Waving, you declared, "I like you too, K!"

His heart warmed slightly. "I can't hear you," he teased, as he would've done by your side. Smiling, you shouted, "I like you so much!"

The doors closed, and you glimpsed K crying. Witnessing his tears always tugged at your heartstrings, and your own tears flowed uncontrollably. The train started moving, and as K disappeared from view, you stood there with tears streaming down your face. The reality of his departure hit you hard. "Come back soon," you whispered to the wind, as if it could carry your message to him.

Your heart felt heavy, and you couldn't shake off the overwhelming sense of loss. As you wiped away your tears, you realized how much K meant to you and how the abrupt end to your argument had turned into a farewell.

Walking away from the train station, you carried the weight of mixed emotions. The confession, the unspoken feelings, and the promise of a future conversation lingered in the air. Most importantly, the emptiness lingered, but the promise of a reunion kept you going. Determined to make things right when he returned, you whispered to yourself,

“I’ll wait for you, K.”

ADVENT CALENDAR MLIST — @en-dream @i-yeseo @yizhoutv @yuma-is-mine @wtfhyuck @sansfransisco

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donelywell · 4 months

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My interpretation of how Chaos Energy and Super Powers work in the Sonic Universe.

Enough people asked for it, so here's my ramble! This is all completely headcanon, I just wanted to make Chaos Energy more integrated into the world than it actually is in the games. It's been cooking in my brain ever since I got back into Sonic, and it's only been growing as I've continued. I don't believe this is how it actually works in canon, but this is how it works in my Headcanon Shatterverse Headscape Place (tm).

Chaos Emeralds can be used by anyone once they are properly judged, filling the user with insane amounts of clean Chaos Energy. Since having that much Chaos Energy inside you is a health risk, that's why you lose rings over time when you're Super. When a user runs out of rings, they become exhausted, passing out on the spot. But as a user gets more and more adjusted to the Emeralds, they can drop their super form before losing all of their rings, thus not over exerting themselves.

I haven't fully ironed out how the Chaos Emeralds (or the Master Emerald) work here yet, so I'll have to come back to this some other time.

But being able to use Chaos Energy is different from harnessing the Chaos Emeralds.

Example: Sonic is able to go Super with the Emeralds, but he has a Chaos Ability: His speed.

The way I show if a character has a Chaos Ability is with colored markings on them.

(This is a recent thing I started implementing, so I gotta redesign some characters like Shadow, Sonic, and Knuckles)

Example of characters with Chaos Abilities: Tangle, Blaze, Kit, and Silver.

They have a color wrapped around their ear and iris, and most of their beans have the color too. Plus they got patterns on them with said color.

Characters without Chaos Abilities for example are Whisper, Tails, and Amy.

They all have extraordinary abilities, but those are either because of a weapon, or they're gifted in that skill (like a Guinness book of world records person).

Chaos Abilities are not too common, but not enough Mobians have them to call it a 50/50 split.

A Mobian can have their Chaos Ability appear when they are 5 years old. The child often has a huge celebration to see if they will get an ability or not.

When the user has their Chaos Ability develop, it doesn't take too much for them to get tired, but as they continue to use it, they can use their abilities longer and do more daunting stunts with them.

In the future, when a user starts out, they normally need to wear Chaos Energy Inhibitor Rings (which looks a lot like Silvers cuffs wink wink nudge nudge) to suppress their inner Chaos Energy until they can get a hold of it. The more powerful the Natural Chaos Energy is, the more Inhibitor Rings you gotta wear. A user can survive without them, it’s just safer for everyone if they do wear them when they get started.

The ability's difficulty is based purely on how much Chaos Energy the user naturally has. It also affects what the ability a user will get by how much energy they have, sort of as their body's way of figuring out how to use it properly. (Mobians without Chaos Abilities have Chaos Energy too, it's just not enough to give them an ability)

If they are a Low-Level Natural Chaos Energy User: it's stupid easy for them to master it. Because their body doesn't need to do as much work. Pyrokinesis and Stretching Limbs are fairly easy to master because of that.

High-Level Natural Chaos Energy Users have a hard time grasping how to use their abilities at first, some even needing training from people with similar abilities to get out of Chaos Energy Ring Inhibitors. Super Speed and Telekinesis are a few difficult abilities to master.

You can tell if someone has too much Chaos Energy or not enough by looking at their markings. Too much will have the already glowy patterns light up BRIGHT, while if the user doesn't have much left, it becomes a dull light.

Like a lightbulb, if there’s a lot of power in it, it’ll shine REALLY BRIGHT, but too much and it’ll pop. If there’s little to no power in it, it’ll flicker and fade into a dim light until it eventually turns off.

Chaos Abilities have 2 branches: a sort of projection ability or a physical one.

Projection is like your stereotypical 'this guy has powers!' ability. Pyrokinesis, Aquakinesis, and Telekinesis are a few examples. The user well... uses the Chaos Energy inside them to bend the Chaos Energy that flows freely around them to do what their Ability is.

The Chaos Energy in the air is different from the Chaos Energy inside the user. It's like water. The energy inside of the user is some sort of food dye and the Chaos Energy in the air is like water, when the 2 mix, the water (chaos energy) outside changes into what your dye (users chaos energy) is and spreads it to wherever you choose.

Projection Chaos Abilities are fairly common.

Projection Chaos Users get drained physically if they use their abilities for too long, since they are technically spewing their Chaos Energy out into the world.

Physical are rarer (I’m talking 1/1,000 chance). Since it physically enhances or changes the user. The ability to stretch your tail to comical lengths, super speed, and changing your size at will are a few examples. The user is like a sponge, they soak up the Chaos Energy around them and the energy inside of them guides it to do what it needs to do.

Physical Chaos Users feel worn out if they over exert themselves because they have to hold so much Chaos Energy inside of them.

There are legitimate health risks if either over exert themselves.

Projection Chaos Users can actually put their life at risk if they lose all of their Chaos Energy, since every living being needs at least some to survive. If a user uses everything, they better have a Chaos rich thing nearby or they'll pass out. At worst, they could be in a coma (well, aside from death, but that's very hard to do) as their body is forcibly trying to recover. The user recovers Chaos Energy naturally by eating or resting, so a good way to replenish the energy used in a fight is to eat a quick snack or take a nap.

Physical Chaos Users can overcharge if they absorb too much, since they're taking in so much Chaos Energy. Too much energy could potentially lead to a person to literally catch on fire as their body is trying to burn the energy away. The user typically runs a higher temperature (and steam if it's a lot) when they naturally release the energy they built up inside them, basically giving them a fever. This is their body trying to safely burn away the excess energy. If the user wants to recover faster, you should give them a heated blanket or something to warm them up.

Shadow is a special case because he literally lives off the Natural Chaos Energy that the Chaos Emeralds and Master Emerald release into the world. Where a normal Chaos User can live perfectly fine if there isn't any Natural Chaos Energy outside because of the stored Chaos Energy inside of them, Shadow will be seriously ill if there isn't any Natural Chaos Energy outside since he doesn't have any inside of him.

And that's all, I hope my ramblings made even an ounce of sense.

#chaos energy theory #chaos energy

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sweetlittlegingy · 1 year

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Tis' The Damn Season

✦ Previous Chapter | Next Chapter | Better Man Universe

✦ Group Chat: tis’ the damn season addition

✦Pairing: Father Figure Jake x Single!Mother

✦Word Count: 1.8 k

✦Warnings: Fluffy Jake, Dad!Jake, Maty is an amazing big brother, early Christmas, holiday vibes!

✦A/n: This was quite literally me on the first of November... and I have no regrets

✦Library (Follow for updates! I no longer have a taglist.)

You glance in the mirror of your car and your gaze meets Mathew. A smile falls on your lips as you watch him play with Josephine, he wiggles the small doll at your 5-month-old, and giggles ring through the car from both of them. Your thumbs tap away on the steering wheel as you drive home, the three of you had gone out for coffee, well Maty got hot chocolate and Jos was still breastfeeding, but the coffee date just what the three of you was needed. How it turned into going to Target, was a completely different story.

Lacey had called after you all had gone out for coffee and claimed that she needed a buddy for Target. Of course, you couldn’t tell her no, Mathew loved Auntie Lace, and you had been missing her as well. School had kept her busy, so the fact that school was off for Friday, almost automatically meant the pair of you would be together.

“Now baby, what do we say if daddy asks where the new decorations came from?”

You might have gone a tad over-bored when you saw the new Christmas decorations and though it was only the 1st of November, you couldn’t help but want to set up early. Lacey had made no objection and had even joined in on the Christmas shopping.

“Mommy found them.”

“Yes, good job!”

It wasn’t a lie, well not a direct lie, you had found the decorations… in Target… You would never have Mathew lie to Jake, but if the man didn’t ask for specifics, then that’s on him.

Jake and the team were busy today helping with fresh recruits and while you would normally be in the office, you were still on maternity leave.

You pull into the house and notice Jake’s missing truck, meaning that he was still on base, and he couldn’t stop you. You absolutely loved the holidays and while it wasn’t exactly normal to start decorating in November, you couldn’t help yourself. You loved Thanksgiving for the food, but Christmas had always been a magical time.

Your family loved to celebrate Christmas and from your first memories of the holiday, it was always filled with joy. You couldn’t wait to do sugar cookies with Josephine, even if she was still little, it was her first Christmas. How could you not be excited! Plus, it usually helped cure your seasonal depression, and that was always a positive.

Getting out of your car, you make quick work of getting Josephine inside, tucked safely in her car seat, while Maty helps you unload the trunk.

“Are we setting up today momma?”

The small box in his hands held a miniature Christmas tree, and you can’t stop the laugh that comes out as he struggles to get it up the steps and into the house. He had been adamant that it was his tree and that he didn’t need any help from you.

“Do you want to bubba?”

You receive a nod in agreement and after you unload the rest of the decorations, as well as the ones you had in the house already, you get to work.

…

You had put Josephine down for a nap an hour ago after she had spent ample time staring at the different Christmas lights. Mathew had made sure that with each ornament he hung on the tree, he showed them to Jos, who had been stationed in her bouncer and loving the interaction with her brother.

In the past three hours, you had really made progress in transforming the house. The living room was complete with stockings hung and the tree up. The pine garland around the entryways had tiny lights strung throughout them that lit up the house.

You had changed out the fall seasonal blanket and throw pillows, and in their place sat red and white patterns, which filled you with Christmas spirit. The melody of Santa Baby plays through the house, as you hang a row of lights along the staircase. From the corner of your eye, you see Mathew run to the window and then book it out the front door.

His sequel of delight and the echo of Jake’s laugh eases you. Every day when Jake came home was the same; Mathew would wait close enough to the front window, so he wouldn’t miss Jake’s arrival, and then run out to Jake. Who would always pick him up and toss him in the air. You didn’t know how Jake could still throw the 7-year-old, you had a hard enough time even carrying him anymore, but Jake had always made it look easy.

You feel the lights in your hand shift slightly, before turning back to finish putting them up. Tying the bow around it to hold it in place along the banister, the sound of the front door closing signals that Jake and Mathew have made it inside.

“Darlin’?”

“Hi, baby!” The cheerful tone in your voice almost makes Jake laugh, as he stands in the entryway with Mathew on his hip. His eyes slowly move throughout the house, starting with you and so forth. He lands on the Christmas tree, which is only half decorated, before glancing between you and Mathew.

“Sweetheart, what are you doing?”

Your lips pout at his tone of voice and the facial expression makes Jake start laughing while setting Maty down on the floor.

“I was organizing and found decorations…” Your eyes cast to the floor, as Jake’s stare peers at you, and your eyes trace around the room, looking at anything that isn’t Jake. You notice his movement, though don’t look towards it, in hopes of avoiding the question.

Though as Jake comes to rest on the step just below you, his hands settle on your hips and squeeze gently. With the tip you’re your chin, you can no longer avoid his gaze.

“Darlin’?”

The smirk he wears is teasing and you can’t stop the laugh that bubbles from your chest, as Jake’s hands run up and down your sides.

“Yes, Jacob?”

His teeth click at the use of his full name, but his smirk never falters. The hands at your waist gently tug on you, causing you to stumble slightly and land in Jake’s chest.

“I miss you today; give me a kiss.”

You push back from his chest and glance up at him, the green in his eyes stands out against the Christmas lights, and a full smile breaks across your lips. You reach up quickly and wrap your arms around his neck, to pull his lips onto your own.

The kiss is gentle and sweet. Your lips melt together perfectly and though there is always a heat between the two of you, this kiss was different. You loved having heated make-out sessions with Jake, but kisses like this, based on pure unfiltered love for one another, were your favorite.

Jake is the one to pull away, and your hands twist in the white tee shirt he’s wearing as he places another kiss against your brow.

“You gonna answer my question?”

The words are mumbled against your brow, though you hear them clearly. You hum quietly in answer to the question. Jake would never get mad at you for shopping, though you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction, of knowing about your addiction to Target.

He teased you about it constantly and the only saving grace was that Robert constantly teased Lacey too. It was a rare event that either of you went alone, it had become a habit to always go together and to bring Natasha when she wasn’t stuck on base.

Your eyes move up to Jake and you met with a wide smile as he tries to hold in a laugh. Your lips pursed in reaction and you shrug your shoulders in silent answer.

“Hey bud, where did momma get the decorations?” the question is thrown over his shoulder to Mathew, who had been placing more ornaments on the tree.

You look over Jake’s shoulder and see Mathew round the corner into the hallway. Jake is still watching you though, Mathew gives you a small smile before glancing at Jake.

“Momma and Auntie Lace took us to target.”

You’re sure that your face fell in slow motion, and the sucking of your teeth only cause the laughing Jake, to laugh harder. His hands still sit on your waist, though he is now bent over and his head rests against your stomach.

“Maty remember, we talked before daddy came home. We weren’t gonna tell him about Target.” Your eyes widen to add emphasis, though he only shrugs his shoulders.

“I tell daddy everything.”

The statement is so simple and sweet coming from the 7-year-old, and before you can reply he’s back to work on the tree. Jake rises and a sweet smile rests on his face. Your reach your hands up to tangle in his hair, softly scratching his scalp. He practically keens in response, though his eyes remain on you.

“Did I ever thank you, for being the best father?”

“A million times baby, but you’ve never needed to.”

You hum quietly before pulling Jake’s lips against yours now and mutter,

“I love you.”

Jake's reaction is to pull you in tighter, as his hand tangles in your hair and lean your head back. Every part of you is touching Jake, and the moan that slips past your lip as he grabs your ass is absolutely sinful. Though before you can go any farther, a harsh cry echoes through the house. You both pull away slightly and rest your foreheads against one another.

“You go shower and all get the princess.”

The soft pat you lay on his chest tells him not to argue, that you knew he had hard days and wanted him to unwind. You press one more kiss to Jake’s lips before you turn and head towards Jos’ room. You look back over your shoulder and call out to Jake before he can get through your bedroom door.

“I got match PJs for us, they’re on the bed. I thought we could watch Home Alone? Only if you want though.”

You’re sure that Jake will say yes, though the small doubt in the back of your mind makes an appearance. Jake can only smile at you, overwhelmed with how madly in love with you he is.

“That sounds perfect Sweets.”

You smile and there’s a small bounce in your steps as you turn to get Josphine, though you stop when Jake calls for you now.

“Darlin’ Merry almost Christmas.”

The wink he sends you makes you giggle slightly, and those butterflies in your stomach, whirl around like they did the first day you met him.

“Merry Christmas Jakey.”

#better man universe #better man updates #jake seresin x you #jake hangman seresin x you #jake hangman seresin #jake seresin #jake seresin fluff #jake seresin x reader #jake hangman imagine #jake hangman x reader #jake hangman seresin x reader #top gun: maverick #top gun maverick #top gun #jake seresin fic #hangman x reader #jake seresin imagine

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lurkingshan · 3 months

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Fermat's Cuisine is an Intergenerational Trauma Narrative

When @troubled-mind pitched Fermat's Cuisine to me, I knew I'd be watching it soon, and I went in expecting it to be a kind of classic high stakes restaurant drama with a twist, about a math prodigy slash newbie chef learning the ropes from an intense mentor, figuring out how to translate his special skill and function as part of a well-oiled cooperative team, and taking the restaurant world by storm.

And it was that, partly (until it wasn't). But the core narrative in this drama is not really about food or math or a classic success through adversity arc at all. Instead, it's about the intergenerational trauma passed down through a lineage of abusive haute cuisine chefs, the deep psychological damage they do to each other, and the way our protagonist and his mentor ultimately come together to break the cycle. Obviously, because I am me, this revelation was a goddamn delight and a very welcome surprise. I'm going to dig in on how this theme defined the narrative, so spoilers ahead, folks!

There are many dramas that touch on how extremely high stress restaurant environments are as workplaces and how rampant abuse can get in kitchens. It's quite a common theme explored in most stories about professional chefs. But this drama didn't simply nod to these elements or include them as an added tension point, it doubled down on them and built in an additional layer by centering its story on a lineage of chefs (Shibuya->Kai->Gaku) who explicitly took their protégés into their homes as parent figures.

Shibuya found Kai when he was an unhoused and orphaned child and raised him, bringing him home to live with him and providing him with shelter and material support and a chosen career path. And then he proceeded to mentor him in such an emotionally abusive way that it's kind of a miracle Kai still had any humanity left in him by the time he found Gaku and began to repeat the cycle. Shibuya taught Kai that his entire worth as a human being was dependent on his ability to cook, not just well, but at a level that few in the world can ever hope to achieve. He raised him to strive to "surpass God" with his food and to feel worthless if he couldn't continually top himself. And he raised him to think there was only glory in this achievement if he did it alone, without relying on bonds with other people to support him.

This is deeply fucked up stuff, and it predictably fucked Kai up, especially once he developed an illness that impacted his ability to taste, and therefore, his ability to cook. He found Gaku and repeated the patterns he learned in his childhood to try to quickly mold him into the same kind of chef he feared he could no longer be, and then abandoned him alone with all the same impossible expectations he was raised with, turning him quickly from a sweet kid with a genuine love for learning how to master his job into an abusive tyrant in his own right. Gaku was just a kid, however, no matter how talented, and he couldn't sustain these responsibilities Kai put on him, so it all came crashing down rather quickly, pushing Gaku to go in search of his wayward mentor and pulling them back together in their shared failure. And ultimately, they decided that their only option left was to try working together to achieve their dream in defiance of Shibuya's teachings.

Which led to one of the best scenes in the drama and the one that clinched this story for me, when after cooking a meal for him together, Gaku directly confronted Shibuya on Kai's behalf and demanded that he acknowledge Kai in the way he deserves, giving Kai the catharsis he has been desperately needing for years. Did Shibuya suddenly change his perspective and apologize for his wrongs? Of course not. But the drama showed us how wrong he was by bringing Gaku and Kai together, with the support of their colleagues, to defy his teachings and make beautiful food together their way. And Shibuya was forced to relinquish his hold on Kai, finally giving him the approval he was so desperate for and releasing him from his expectations. Kai broke the cycle with Gaku's help, and thus began to heal. And in helping Kai, Gaku saved himself, as well.

Now, can I claim the execution of this arc in the show was perfect? No, I definitely cannot. This drama is extremely watchable, has a great cast, and was built around a fantastic main idea, but it also has some pretty significant flaws in how it all came together. There were serious pacing problems in this story--some character information was withheld for too long, some narrative beats were rushed to the point that they barely landed, and some character turns were simply not well grounded enough to feel believable. I have a whole reef of notes about how to rearrange the story elements to make it all work on a higher level. But the core of this story is solid and the ending rings true, despite some bumps on the journey to get there.

I highly recommend y'all check this drama out for something a little different and very refreshing. And hey, it's not often that Japan puts their content on major western streaming services and gives us all easy access to enjoy their work, so we should encourage the practice.

#fermat no ryouri #fermat's cuisine #jdrama #shan recommends #shan shouts into the void

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sunflower-fields070 · 6 days

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so- I found this song and decided that I was gonna cave and do a breakdown of the lyrics and why it's c!Icarus coded.

The song chosen is "This Is Love" by Air Traffic Controller.

(THESE ARE ONLY THE LINES I HAVE CODED MYSELF)

“You're no good, you're no good

You could kill me and you should”

This during the season 2 prison duo incident, with Icarus keeping Centross in the prison. Centross saying that Icarus isn’t a good person and so is he, and that Centross should be killed by them based on everything that’s happened.

“I'm an idiot for thinking

This was anything but blood”

Centross again, and still in that prison incident from season 2, where it’s Centross realising the reasons why Icarus was doing what they’re doing. Can also be taken as season 3 current brothers, where Rae is realising what Icarus is doing with Fable.

“You must like being the victim

You've done nothing to get out

Of this pattern of pain”

Icarus still being stuck in the cycle of pain, and sometimes not bothering to get out of it and just moping around.

“You'll forgive me if I promise

And do nothing but the same”

Icarus saying that they won’t do those things again, and yet still doing them again and again, breaking everyone’s trust.

“This is life until death

Could be my last dying breath”

Centross saying during the drunk stream that he won’t be around much longer, this turning out to be true from the Cathedral stream.

“Forget everything you used to know

I think you better tell your friends to go

Stick around 'cause I'm about to show you

The beginning is the end”

Each reset, and when a new villain arc happens for Icarus, everyone else has to scatter and try to figure new things out because it didn’t work like the first time.

“Yeah, I know wrong, I know right

But I just love to pick a fight”

Season 3 Icarus saying they know what the wrongs and rights are of what’s happening, but they prefer the fight as a main solution (which the arguably never succeed in)

- Can also be taken for season 1 corrupt!Icarus, how they always fought with everyone except a few (Easton, occasionally Athena, Momboo, etc.)

“If there's any sleep at night”

Season 3 Icarus, and how the nights seemed to be sleepless once Centross died.

Again, can be taken as season 1 corrupt!Icarus, and the fact they never really slept during Ominous bane, or throughout the time of corruption in general until they were broken out of it.

“I got my knife, got my gun”

Corrupt!Icarus talking to Athena (or Ominous Bane) before the Three Strikes stream, and the “knife” being their sword, with their “gun” being their bow (which I believed was named “Gun” in season 1? I may be thinking of another time thought)

“Let’s see how fast you run”

Three Strikes stream, Icarus chasing after Athena and threatening to shoot their arrow at him. (I think that speaks for itself, yeah?)

“You might think that you can hurt me

But the damage has been done”

Icarus talking to Rae or anyone trying to “hurt” them during corruption, saying they can’t be hurt more as whatever damage spoken had already been dealt.

“If I was sorry for my actions

Would I ever stoop so low?”

Icarus saying that if they were sorry they wouldn’t be stooping down as far as some of the things they’ve done. Probably current Icarus/season 3 Icarus.

“I was good but then I quit

Everyone that tried to fix me

Knows that I can't change a bit

I've got no shame, got no pride

Only skeletons to hide”

Icarus saying that they tried to be good, they tried so hard but it ended up in them still being a villain, no matter what everyone did to try “fix” them. Everyone (Icarus and the things + maybe fable and/or coworkers) knows that they don’t change no matter what, and the “skeletons” being those they’ve killed. Momboo, Haley, all the gods, and technically Centross though that was more Fable’s doing.

#fable smp #fsmp #icarus morningstar #centross #prison duo #fablesmpblr #fsmpblr #fsmp icarus #song breakdown #analysis post #song analysis #i have so many thoughts you guys #please help my brain won't stop with these thoughts

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delopsia · 3 months

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You dont write for him but miles miller has such omega energy 🔥

Oh! I haven't seen an ask for Miles in such a long time 😭 I do write for him! It just...falls into a more by-demand basis, lmao.

Miles is such a handful of an omega to start with; more than once, he's been courted by someone who later backed out because of how much attention he requires.

Like most things, omega's fall on all sides of the neediness spectrum. The clingy omega subtype is romanticized; most think they can handle it until they're in too deep; one party is thankful they're no longer they're feeling suffocated, and the other is torn up about it, thinking that the problem lies within themselves. They're the common denominator, after all.

So when you do meet Miles, a meek little hotel clerk who can hardly keep hold of the pen that he hands you, he's already had his heart broken more times than he'd care to count. Just a whiff of your scent is enough to make his knees weaken, has to cling to the counter to keep himself upright. His lonely heart wonders what it would be like to be wrapped up in your arms, but his head reminds him that it will never work out.

But you're a surprising regular at this hotel. Your job requires you to float between two offices, and this place just so happens to be the perfect middle ground. You leave the office late in the afternoon, stay at the El Royale for the night, and then finish the other half of your trip the next day. It's not your ideal setup, but your employer foots the bill and the rooms are clean. But you'd be lying if you said part of the reason was because of that sweet little hotel clerk.

You're on your thirteenth visit when most of the staff walk out, saying something about sketchy management, but that doe-eyed omega is still here. Bouncing around, struggling to keep up with cleaning, running the front desk, supplying the bar, and all of a sudden now he's got to figure out how the hell to work a kitchen.

An oven fire is what gets you two talking; his poor attempt at baking a premade pie because your preferred flavor was sold out ends in you ordering pizza and sharing it with him. He's flighty at first. Has to be convinced to take a slice, then comes moseying out the back room a few minutes later, shyly asking for another.

And just like that, he starts coming around more and more. He remembers your name and memorizes the pattern of your visits. Always seems to have your favorite room reserved for you, with a few extra linens and amenities that weren't there before. At first, you presume it to be an omega thing, but the longer it goes on, you begin to wonder if it's his shy way of courting.

You don't particularly remember when your relationship started. Maybe it was when he showed up at your room for the first time, or perhaps it was before that. When he didn't realize he'd started his heat, and you'd walked in on a particularly irritating alpha staring him down in the lobby. Miles had meekly requested that you scent him because, theoretically, the pheromones of another would serve as an off-limits sign. But then he'd snuggled beneath your chin, and he couldn't move a muscle.

He's got a bit of a nest in the maintenance room, a bunch of ratty blankets cobbled on top of a lowly single mattress. When you'd offered to look after him, the greater half of you was expecting him to jump on you the moment the door shut, but all Miles wanted to do was snuggle on top of you. Whining low in his throat and nuzzling into the juncture of your jaw. Medicine takes hold and wards off the worst of his heat, and he's better by morning. For once, the circles beneath his eyes aren't so dark.

The next time you see him, he bounces right up and barely manages to stop himself from jamming his head into your neck, squeaking and stuttering. But he's welcome to do that; you don't mind.

He pops up at your door that night under the guise of giving you a slice of pie that he's only marginally burnt this time. Barely protests when you offer to let him in, and one way or another, he winds up snuggled on top of you again. It happens again. And again. And again. Bringing all sorts of pie slices until you finally tell him that he's welcome to visit without it.

You've been visiting the El Royale for nine months when you find yourself caught up in traffic; a rough storm has rolled through and put more folks in the ditch than you can count. It's midnight when you make it to the hotel, and Miles damn near runs you down, slamming into your chest, babbling that he'd thought something bad happened. And before either of you can think twice, he's kissing you.

He quits charging you for your stays sometime after that. At some point in your absence, he had another heat and couldn't rest until he'd thrown everything out of one of the storage rooms and turned it into a makeshift bedroom. A proper-sized mattress that he hijacked from a closed room, away from the one-way mirrors and where he can still hear the ring of the bell. You don't mind it. Too content to lay with him and kiss his pale forehead as he snuggles into you. He's never truly quiet, chirping and making all sorts of funny noises. Sporadic, too. One moment, he's on the other side of the room, and the next, he's got to be right next to you. Chatting and stuttering and switching between wanting to hold your hand to wanting full-blown hugs.

There's a night when the hotel is completely dead. Not a soul in the building, aside from the two of you, and you find yourself with Miles between your legs. Drooling as he eats you out, desperate to feel you cum on his pretty pink tongue. Doesn't entirely know how to act when you wrap your hand around his cock, jams his cute face into your chest, and whimpers high in his throat. Oh, oh, oh, he wants to ride you so bad, but you didn't pack a strap, and he's got to settle for your fingers instead. Devolves into a wonderfully noisy little mess that makes you feel dizzy to look at; you just want to wrap him up and take him home with you.

But then you get the news that you're being transferred to an office far away from California and Nevada, and you're in no position to reject the offer. All of a sudden, you've only got three more nights to spend with the doe-eyed omega who's been the highlight of your life for the past two years.

He takes it horribly. Speaking through wobbly lips and watery eyes, begging you to not leave him behind. He could hardly let go of you before; now, he's practically glued to you. Doesn't want to answer the ring of his bell or do his job. No, he can't stand to lose a single second. You're offering to take him with you; your apartment will have two bedrooms, and he's only got a few bags to his name, but for lack of better terms, he's trapped at this hotel.

He asked you to bring a toy for your final visit, was still dying to ride you, but when he saw it in your bag, he dissolved into a sobbing mess. Muttering about how he couldn't do it; he couldn't stand to get any more attached to you when you were leaving for good.

You leave him with as many kisses as he can handle, a phone number, and an address. If he ever wants to come, he can. But you don't think you've ever experienced an omega's scent go downright sour like it does. Clinging to you even as you step through the unfamiliar front door of your new home.

The calls come for a while. Miles talking your ear off from the front desk, but then they stop all of a sudden. A letter comes in revealing that someone ripped the telephone line clean out of the wall. No more phone calls. Only letters. And Miles can only afford so many stamps. Those stop, too.

For seven months, you don't hear from that odd little omega. The only sign he ever existed is the scar he accidentally left on your collar when he got too nippy and a t-shirt that fell off the bed and into your suitcase.

You're heading home one afternoon, head fuzzy with the endless papers you've been forced to deal with and what needs to be taken care of as soon as you clock back in. But then you turn the corner and find a small figure sitting against your door.

Miles. Toying with the frayed edge of his bus ticket. Has nothing but a tattered bag with him. His hair is a little longer. Messier, too, has lost a noticeable amount of weight, but he's every bit of the man you left behind.

A lot of folks warned you against opening your home to an omega like Miles. He doesn't have the ideal history, is dead broke, and the only thing he can bring to the table is himself, but that's all you could possibly ask of him. And funny enough, those very people are now the ones twinging with jealousy.

At a glance, Miles looks like the perfect house omega; he fits the stereotype incredibly well. Indulging in his instinct to take care of you, fussing over paper cuts and nearly has a heart attack when you trip over the rug in the kitchen. Greets you with nuzzles and kisses when you come home. Always keeps the apartment perfectly clean, the sheets are always soft, and he's taught himself to cook. But that's not all there is to him.

In the safety of a home he can call his own, he's flourished. A more vivid version of himself, as compared to back at the El Royale. Still stutters here and there, but he's confident. Unafraid to flash his teeth at someone for getting too friendly with you, speaks his mind and does things his way. He's not much for being ordered around; he's got an opinion, and he'll be damned if someone tries to silence him, but you wouldn't have it any other way. He does these things because he wants to, not because it's expected of him.

And you've spoiled him, truly. Because the Miles you met, never would have pushed you on the bed and rode you to his heart's content. This Miles doesn't worry about his playful nips giving you the impression that he's trying to be mean. Doesn't give a damn if the neighbors overhear him. His favorite nights are the ones when he gets to tease you until you snap, pinning him by the nape of his neck. Loves to be manhandled and taught a good lesson; there's something about rebellion in the safety of his own home that makes him feel alive again.

His heats never truly change. The first night is always the worst, you have to thoroughly wring him out before he can even consider sleep, but after that, he prefers to spend the rest of it in your company. Sometimes, that means laying on top of you while you watch television, or it can also include the simple comfort of being in the same room together, performing vastly separate tasks.

He'll probably always jump at the sound of fireworks, bolting to you at the slightest fright and coming off as meek to those he isn't familiar with, but that's just another part of Miles that you love. Simply a diamond in the rough who needs a little more comfort and attention than most. He wouldn't be Miles otherwise.

And as you come home from work, listening to him chirp as he peppers you with kisses, you can see the television from over his shoulder—an unnamed reporter standing in the burnt remains of the El Royale. Some old, cheap hotel that will be long forgotten in a matter of years but just so happened to bring you right to the love of your life.

#yeah i got carried away again #delgato's asks #miles miller x reader #miles miller #omegaverse

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project-sekai-facts · 4 months

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How do you figure out future card distribution, I’m trying to get into it

there's this account @/prsk_matomebito on twitter which makes really useful spreadsheets compiling all the cards and attributes, etc which is really useful and i use their resources a lot of help me gauge who's more likely to show up on event rateups.

there's a few other details you have to consider too

a character can never have 4*s on two consecutive events, there has to be at least one in-between (the exception is Ena getting a 4* on immiscible discord and resonant town, but staff notified players in advance that that would happen)

there has to be at least 2 months between a character getting lims. for example, in 2022, Shiho got lims in June->August->October

characters very rarely go more than 11 months without a lim. the two exceptions to this rule so far are Len (12 months) and Kanade (15 months). Due to the very very messy scheduling caused by 3rd anni, more characters are probably going to break the 11 month rule.

to date, no character has at any point had more 4* cards than Miku. it wasn't until november that anyone even caught up to her (kanade, mizuki and shiho currently have the same 4* count as Miku

there used to be a pretty consistent pattern of one 2DMV event, one 3DMV event per month, but since WLEs have been intoduced this kinda died out.

To date, a unit has never gone more than exactly 4 months without an event, although you have to count WLEs. if you don't count WLEs, N25 broke the rule by going 5+ months between Mafuyu4 and Kanade4.

it's rare for a character to have a unit event and mixed event in close proximity. the closest we've had to date is Tsukasa's White Day and Dazzling Stage events, An’s Wishing For Your Happiness and Vivid Old Tale events, and Nene's Island Panic and Close Game OFFLINE events. In all three instances there were 3 events in-between the two character focuses.

it doesn't matter how long the gap is between a character's mixed event banners. Mizuki went just over 3 years between hers and Emu has gone longer than that.

the longest time any character has gone without a 4* is 191 days, held by Airi. most characters tend to get 4-5 4* card a year

the time between reward cards is very inconsistent and ultimately doesn't matter. tsukasa went 811 days without a 2* card, the current record for time between 3* cards is held by Kanade and is 769 days.

once again characters never surpass Miku in 3* or 2* count

i hope this is kinda helpful lol. there's some other things to keep in mind too like what are the most common combinations for unit event rateups because it can help you to work out who isn't going to be rateup on events (example: Nene was 4* on Tsukasa's first three unit events, so it was fairly obvious that Rui who had only been on one Tsukasa event was going to be the rateup card), and also what character interactions make sense for mixed event lineups. while mixed events are often used to introduce characters to each other, usually there's a common connection somewhere, like Saki and Mizuki both knowing Airi prior to meeting each other in slapstick cafe.

#asks #mod talks

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iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia · 3 months

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Vesuvia Weekly: Fashion Intervention

~ here's another sketch of an afternoon with my fandom self-insert :P ~

1.8k words

One of the best parts about being the type of person to prefer sitting in corners is needing to worry less about my appearance.

One of the worst parts about being the type of person who doesn't worry much about appearance is having six friends who definitely do.

The part I don't understand is when my fashion sense got so horrifically bad that said six friends actually banded together to stage an intervention. In the marketplace. While I'm writing. With Selasi, that delightful baker, enabling them.

"Ah-ah-ah, don't try to resist! You're a fine young man, my friend, but we all have our weaknesses. Appearances are easy to fix!"

My neck is going to start hurting if I keep having to look up like this. Julian is gesturing enthusiastically, his coat billowing in the breeze as he gets caught up in his monologue on self-improvement. Do I point out the irony, or -

"He doesn't look that bad, he just needs some more ... smrthrgnh." The last word of Asra's sentence is muffled by a mouthful of bread. My bread. Why is he eating my snack?

"Why are your clothes so shapeless anyways? Show off a little something! You should do like I do and get everything tailored. Work that figure!" Lucio takes a few heeled steps and then spins, striking a pose to show off his suit. Muriel frowns.

"It's okay if you don't want to show off." Thank you. "But maybe you could ... pay attention to patterns." I take it back.

"Yeah, what's up the funky looking skeleton? There's no way the fabric it's painted on is going to last longer than a few washes."

"It's merch, Portia." She huffs at my defense and plops down across from me, brushing my parchment out of the way. "I like it because of the pattern, the quality is just ... unfortunate, sometimes."

"I believe we've made our intentions clear." Nadia sails into the discussion and gives me a no-nonsense look. "It would be remiss of us to allow our friend to sit in a public space with so little care for his appearance. Especially when he is one of Vesuvia's aspiring authors."

I try a pleading look, but the only person who starts to look remotely guilty is Julian. Portia's elbow to his ribs makes quick work of that.

"I have shi- I mean, I have stuff to write. And to get done. If you want to look through my wardrobe and help me put together outfits later, we can, but I don't want to leave my corner right now."

"I cannot say this response is unexpected," the Countess gives me a sly but friendly smile, "so I've prepared something for you in advance. When the time comes to return it to me, I expect you to do so with a cleared schedule and an open mind to fresh aesthetics." She holds out her hand, an intricate set of silver chains dripping from her fingers. "From my personal collection - I expect it will suit you nicely."

I sigh. The sooner I accept, the sooner I can go back to not being scrutinized by six pairs of frustratingly kind eyes. "Thank you. I'll take very good care of it."

Nadia moves the jewelry out of the way as I reach for it. "I desire something in exchange."

"What ... what something?"

"I'd like your sweater, please."

"My hoodie? But it's so comfy!"

Her eyelids droop in poorly concealed annoyance. "Your 'hoodie' is in a severe state of disrepair. I can see the threads poking out from the seams, young man, I don't care to see my prized jewelry hidden under such a tired item."

"... okay." I squirm out of my hoodie, handing over the pile of fabric in exchange for the chains. The short sleeves of my undershirt leave my arms exposed, something that I thought I did more often, except -

"You have tattoos?!" Portia's reaching across the table, snatching up my wrist to get a closer look at the slowly growing sleeve. "That's so cool! I've heard that they can really hurt."

"That's a familiar symbol," Asra eyes the lineart on my upper arm where its stretched across the table in front of them. "What do the other ones mean?"

"There's one on your neck, too!" Lucio sounds almost scandalized. "Let me see it!" Before I know it, my freshly exposed neck and arms are being closely examined while a few more sharp eyes focus in on the hints of ink peeking out on my shoulders and chest. This is why I wear hoodies.

Muriel's quick to notice my discomfort when the attention shifts to my neckline and bound chest. "My turn," he grumbles, dropping a navy blue scarf around my collar.

"Thanks."

"Don't mention it. Now give me the second hoodie."

It's hard not to scowl, but I untie the backup hoodie's sleeves from my waist and hand it over. Dang it. "Here."

"You look chilly, my mentally decaying friend!" Good lord, when is Julian going to stop ribbing me over my pen name?

"It's brainrot." He doesn't falter.

"Allow me to rectify your situation! I guarantee you this trusty cloak will protect you from the fiercest of storms." He pulls the massive, dramatic coat from his shoulders in a rehearsed sweep and twirls it to fall behind me. He keeps the armholes open with an excited grin until I push my hands through them.

"This is ..."

"Warm? Comfortable? Touching?"

"Huge." I can barely hold back my laugh. "There's no way even your arms come out the other end of these sleeves! ... but thanks, I'm definitely not cold any more."

"I'll help you roll them up," Portia chirps. Her nimble fingers make quick work of the endless fabric, and I can see my ink stained hands again in no time. "Now give me your socks."

Oh no. My boots are sitting next to the pile of cushions, my socked feet tucked under me for maximum comfort. It's not the stink I'm worried about - for all my poor fashion sense, I never miss my daily shower, or laundry day - but to say that I walk gently would be a blatant lie. I briefly size up the determined look on her face before sighing and shucking them off under the table. "... remember, you asked for this."

Hey jaw drops. "Please tell me you have at least one pair of socks that don't have holes in them."

I shrug. "As long as I can still wear them ..."

"No!" She slams her hand on the table, rattling the now-empty bread bowl sitting in front of a shameless snack thief. "These aren't socks anymore, they're practically cobwebs! I'm knitting at least five more of these."

She shoves a pair of knit orange socks into my hands, lovingly covered with Pepi's cat hair and decorated with little blue bows. "Put these on, I'm burning the rags you gave me."

We both know my pout is just for show. It's not my usual style to wear anything that isn't black (or very, very dark grey), but the bright orange gift is supremely comfortable when I put it on.

"My turn," Asra begins with an innocent smile.

"Where's my bread?"

The dimples deepen. "Give me your head covering, and I'll tell you."

"My beanie?"

"Is that what it's called?" He holds out his hand, taking a closer look at the shabby knit fabric when I pass it to him. "I don't see why, there aren't any beanlike qualities about it. Ooh, unless they're invisible beans ..."

Nadia's sharp cough sets them back on track. "Wear this instead, until we can find a better replacement." Oh god, tell me it's not -

It is. It's his iconic wide brimmed hat, complete with the oversized neon rainbow feather nodding from the band. I don't have time to protest before they're plopping it onto my head and wobbling it into place with a laugh. "Now you're unnoticeable." I highly doubt that. "As to your bread, Selasi's been asked to bring you some of the next hot batch. Can you forgive me?"

Nothing about a smile as smug as his says "guilty", but to be fair, I was never upset. I nod. "So ... can I go back to writing now?"

"What about me?!" I glance from Lucio's outraged pout to the rest of the group. I'm fairly certain that, even if he was invited to the planning for this, he didn't follow through on deciding which offending article of clothing he wanted to replace. "You didn't tell me I had to bring something!"

Portia rolls her eyes. "Well maybe if you had listened when I was talking to you, then you would've known." I don't miss the quiet smile lurking in the corners of Muriel's face as Lucio turns bright red and sputters.

"Well joke's on you, 'cause I'm going to give him something anyways!" He starts taking a hasty inventory of his outfit. "Yeah, that's right! I'm gonna give him ... I'm gonna give himmmmm ... this!"

He unfastens his smallest medal and leans over the table, poking the pin of it through the thick leather of Julian's jacket, disregarding the whimper of protest from the doctor behind him. "It's supposed to be airtight, to keep out the bad humors ..."

"There!" The ex-count grins down at me proudly. "Now your outfit isn't boring. You can give that back to me when you have a better look."

"Thanks," I tell him, and I mean it after noticing the way he glances forlornly at the new empty spot on his sash. "I'll make sure it gets back to you."

"We should go now." Muriel's already half-turned away. "... I'm still not sure this worked."

Asra steps back to his friend, surveying my new look from a distance. "Maybe this will motivate him to let us fix his look sooner."

"It looks better with my medal on it," Lucio announces proudly. Portia lays a firm hand on his shoulder and starts heading away, dragging him with her.

"You'll look better once you make time for us, promise!"

"You should be somewhat protected from the elements, at least." Julian eyes his cuffed coat critically. "If you fasten it correctly, it's airtight, humors proof, water tight, blood proof, pus proof -"

"We'll leave you in peace." Nadia smiles again, amusement dancing in her eyes every time she looks at me. "I suggest you prioritize finishing this project soon."

The six disappear back into the crowd. I lean back against the stone wall behind me, Asra's hat knocking forward over my eyes and giving me a moment of peace. Sure, I may have looked shabby before in my all black-and-grey, well worn clothes, but now -

I'm startled out of my blissful shuteye by a surprised choke. Selasi's standing by my table, a fresh bowl of spiced rolls in one hand and the other clapped over his mouth. "Would you - would you like a mirror, my friend?"

I hold out my hand for the rolls, mentally taking it as a consolation prize for what I've just been lovingly wrangled into.

"Oh, don't think I'm not aware that you let this happen, Selasi."

#vesuvia weekly #borrowing clothes #ask arcana brainrot #the arcana #the arcana game #the arcana fanfic #asra the arcana #julian the arcana #nadia the arcana #muriel the arcana #portia the arcana #lucio the arcana #asra alnazar #julian devorak #nadia satrinava #muriel of the kokhuri #portia devorak #lucio morgasson

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ofstormsandsaints · 2 years

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You could do a post about Yui and her outfits when she was still living with her father in the church (along with some headcanons)? It's canon that Yui had a rather austere and humble life, so I'm guessing her clothes were always used or second hand.

It's longer than I expected-

Fashion Headcanon - a Yui Komori lookbook

Humble coquette meets the church girl roaming in a forest full of violets.

-Her colour palette is soft. So, so soft.

-Beige, white, pale pink, baby blue mixed with bits of faded navy blue and brown.

-Loves plaid pattern or those very delicate floral designs on clothes, colours slightly washed out, making everything cohesive.

-Doesn't mind vibrant colours in general. She finds beauty in many, many things but she knows that jewel shades will look garnish on her.

-Yui prefers when her clothes aren't too tight around her chest. Her tops are generally puff sleeved, off-shoulder with ruffles on the neckline to blur the shape of her torso.

-That, even before those fuckers would make her self-conscious about her chest. Pricks.

-When wearing tank tops or t-shirts, she would wear a cardigan or a wrap-up top that has subtle strips of white lace at the end of its sleeves.

-She's simply more confortable with showing her legs or her shoulders. For instance, she loves how her pale curls fall and brush the line of her shoulders. (but the diaboys too😔)

-Knitted mittens, square necklines, lacy lolita socks, vintage chiffon blouse embedded with little flowers, myosotis, daisies, stars of Bethlehem.

-She knows how to sew and to mend her clothes when it's needed. She is cautious with her belongings though.

-Wears second-hand clothes. Because life at the church was obviously more austere and Yui grew without the materialistic need to buy and own stuff just to see it piled up in her closet. Plus, she never wanted to appear spoiled rotten or anything.

-But she likes second hand clothes also because the fabric is soft. It's comforting for her to know that the clothes she owns now, had a life before.

-These grandma blouses with small embroidered details on the sleeves or on the collar ? Stan.

-Second hand fashion allowed her to explore a different sense of fashion - to create outfits that looked good on her and not trying to look like models in magazines. So you can find a sweet blending of reminiscent 2000s and 60s fashion in the way she dresses.

-Keeps her outfits simple and practical all in all, because she's known for being quite active.

-She cooks, cleans, helps the nuns in the garden or during charitable works.

-Therefore, she would never wear heels too high, skirts too long or too short.

-When going out to do some groceries, she always ends up looking at some shops, as there is something soothing for her in watching all these different clothes and shoes displayed behind the window. She doesn't buy anything, but she envies just a little bit the groups of girls who enter these shops, giggling and ready to buy something nice.

-No jeans or leather jackets like the girls of her age. Her father didn't allow her to wear those - he never even bought her clothes.

-Well. Not never never, but until very late, Seiji would only gift her books, stationary supplies, some tea...but never clothes, makeup or jewellery. This, combined with a certain solitude and the absence of a feminine figure in her life, Yui didn't have much choice but to observe a lot. She wanted to care about her appearance. She didn't know how at first.

-Interestingly, books and art influenced her style. Without even realising it, Yui would become the modern version of spring faerie, living a peaceful life in rhythm with the bell and the services.

-Spends hours making jewellery.

-The floral hair pins and the matching necklace? Her doing.

-She is crafty and loves doing activities that require patience and creativity, pearls glistening under the sun, tinkering with little hearts and stars. Nothing complicated. Just what she needs to give that graceful faerie twist to her outfit.

-She works like this, at her vanity or on a bench outside, in front of the garden for hours. Sewing or crafting the most precious details that no one except her will notice. She works until her eyes are tired and the tea remaining at the bottom of her cup is cold. But it is during time like this, that she feels the most a peace. The happiest.

#diabolik lovers #diabolik lovers headcanons #diabolik lovers fashion #yui komori #requests open #shu sakamaki #reiji sakamaki #laito sakamaki #kanato sakamaki #ayato sakamaki #subaru sakamaki #ruki mukami #kou mukami #yuma mukami #azusa mukami #carla tsukinami #shin tsukinami #kino

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