She/her and call me Aya.. or sophiaaya... Or... Sophia... Idfc...
Fil🙀 bi😦
Request are so open please please please ignite me with stuff, I need thisssss
Fandoms I write most are:
Genshin Impact (especially Scara/Wanderer or any variant of him), Blue Lock, Honkai Star Rail, Cookie Run Kingdom, Alien Stage, PASWG, Slam Dunk, DoL, Obey Me, WhB, KnB, Diabolik Lovers, , ETC...!
I can write almost everything but pedophillia or anything with kids that are romantic or sexual... Kys if u like tis stuff or ask for tis stuff, don't care if it's fictional, go kys.
I also can't write ships... Sorry,,, not sorry actually, cause I dislike ships :(( especially anything with scara because I LOVE SCARA SM I'M TOO ATTACHED.
X OC's are experimental, if I'm interested enough.
I only do x reader. (Mostly fem as it is written for me, but I write in you/your, I don't like describing appearances unless it's crucial liek if you're vampire, I will use pale cause it's what vamp mostly are lmao, or unless the request SAYS so.
All those rape, or incest or anything that are taboo and shit can only be written in a way where it doesn't happen to reader specifically, but happens to sum1 reader knows, which is why I'd have OC's or "nobodies" in those shit. And also a happy ending for those. I also put more of a psychological reason or smth on why incest happens like trauma or some shit but never justify this shit.
I can write dead dove do not eat tho... I don't fw this irl though, eww...
I cannot handle writing like actual romances or normalized stuff with those... Eugh.. pls don't pull up with it ... pls no👎
I am also all for reader's having specific au or persona like... Ermm DROP ITT?? Not appearances tho cause I'd prefer if the reader stays a blank slate when appearances, but personalities ARE MY FAVORITE AAAA.
And also YANDERE is my main content, I can't see myself writing fluff w/o yandere mentions, or angst just makes me want to pull up with "revenge" ahh plotlines. I can try tho!! It depends on my mood.
Like example: [char] with a reader that's a traitor?
Or [char] with a reader that's [insrert every specific detail]
ORR [char] with a reader that acts like [insert another char]
I will cry and kiss u
Anyways, I have school, and I still have to deal with certain shit irl, so writing takes time. ACTUALLY reading and seeing people's support gives me so much happiness and motivation, I love all of u people who comment or reblog or like my posts 💜💜💜
I get sad with hate comments
I can write smut, but when I write it, it depends on my mood a lot.
I also drawww !! Tho i'm not too proud with drawing alongside my writing HAHAHA
Just pls don't make everything abt sex, I don't like writing porn with no plot...😕😕
If ur minor, tis is on YO ASS. And like do not interact at all.
I guess that's all for now
⋆｡‧˚ʚ MASTERLIST ɞ˚‧｡⋆
TW: my main content is yandere, because it's really all I can handle writing...
A/N: FORGOT BOUT ALL OF THESE! wow can you tell I was. going through it. also ignore how they're all like a copy and past I had no motivation but like.. needed this ... ok ... they were all don't within the span of a month🤔 when I shoulda been working on asks 🤔🤔🤔 but oh well🤔🤔🤔🤔🤔🤔🤔🤔🤔🤔🤔might allow reqs for this with other charas 🤔🤔
edit at EXACTLY 3:00 WOOWOWIWIEIWIEI ok I'll post the other parts later IM TOO TIRED and uh yeah I also js really wanna post this to see if ppl will like it🤔 if not then I'll just 🤔🤔 not post the other parts🤔 or finish Sebs🤔🤔🤔
the message arrived at 2:13 a.m. vil was awake, as he often was, surprisingly. though he hadn't intended to be checking his phone. he was halfway through reviewing tomorrow's schedule when your name appeared across his screen, followed by a message so short that his heart seemed to stop before he'd even finished reading it. "thank you for everything. i'm sorry. goodbye." vil stared at the words. once. twice. a third time, as though looking at them long enough might somehow change what they said. "...no." his chair scraped violently against the floor. he called you immediately. no answer. again. nothing. his mind, usually so disciplined, became a storm of terrible possibilities. he didn't remember grabbing his coat. he barely remembered leaving the dorm. all he knew was that he had to get to ramshackle, that he had to find you, that whatever had happened could not be allowed to end with a final message on a screen. the journey there became a blur of cold air, pounding footsteps, and one thought repeating itself over and over: please be there. please let me be in time. after that, his memory fractured beneath the sheer force of his fear. he remembered reaching ramshackle. he remembered calling your name. he remembered panic swallowing every ounce of his usual composure. and then—nothing he wanted to remember.
morning came quietly in the infirmary. vil sat beside your bed with his hands clasped so tightly together that his knuckles had gone pale. he'd barely moved since you'd been brought somewhere safe, and the exhaustion beneath his eyes was painfully obvious. when your eyelashes finally fluttered, he immediately straightened. for one awful second, neither of you spoke. then you whispered his name. vil's expression crumpled. not dramatically. not beautifully. there was nothing polished about the way his shoulders shook as he lowered his head, pressing one hand over his eyes. "...do you have any idea," he whispered, voice trembling despite every effort to steady it, "what that message did to me?" guilt immediately twisted through you. "vil, i'm—" "don't." his voice wasn't angry. that somehow made it worse. he looked at you again, violet eyes shining with exhaustion and fear. "don't apologize for frightening me. don't apologize for needing help. and don't you dare tell yourself that you were some burden i had to carry." his fingers curled against his palm. "i was terrified. that's the truth. utterly, completely terrified. but whatever pain brought you to that point..." he swallowed. "...it wasn't something you deserved to face alone."
for once, vil didn't know what beautiful words could possibly make the situation better. there was no perfect speech. no flawless gesture. no performance capable of undoing the fear of the previous night. so he told you the truth instead. "i have spent so much time telling you to be stronger," he murmured. "to stand tall. to take care of yourself. to become someone who could withstand anything." his expression tightened. "and perhaps i became so focused on teaching you how to endure that i forgot something important." he reached toward your hand, stopping just short as though giving you the choice. when you slowly offered it, his fingers carefully closed around yours. "you don't have to withstand everything." his thumb brushed gently across your knuckles. "not alone. not silently. and certainly not to make everyone else comfortable." his voice broke slightly on the final words, and he looked away. "...i should have noticed how much you were hurting." you squeezed his hand. "it's not your fault." vil immediately shook his head. "i know that." a pause. "...at least, i know i shouldn't make it my fault. but knowing something and feeling it are two different things."
the silence afterward was gentle. vil remained beside you, refusing to turn the moment into a lecture or demand explanations you weren't ready to give. eventually, though, his gaze dropped to your joined hands, and something in his expression changed. he'd been frightened before. now he looked almost vulnerable. "there's something else i need to tell you," he said. your eyes met his. vil took a slow breath. "i love you." your breath caught. his cheeks colored faintly, but he didn't look away. "i've wanted to say it for longer than i care to admit. i kept convincing myself that there would be a better time. a more appropriate time. some perfectly composed moment when i could say it elegantly and you would know exactly what i meant." a tiny, humorless laugh escaped him. "apparently, life has very little respect for perfect timing." his grip on your hand tightened. "so i'll say it plainly. i love you. your successes, your mistakes, your difficult days, your good ones. i love you. and that means i want you here. not because you're obligated to stay for me, but because i want you to have the chance to see how many mornings are still waiting for you." your eyes stung, and vil immediately softened. "and if another night ever becomes that unbearable..." he paused, carefully choosing every word. "please tell someone. tell me. or a friend, anyone you trust. wake someone up. make noise. you don't have to make it graceful. you don't have to explain it perfectly. just don't... disappear by yourself."
you were quiet for a while before finally whispering, "...i'm sorry you were so scared." vil closed his eyes. when he opened them again, the sharpness had disappeared from his expression entirely. "i was," he admitted. "but i'm here now." he lifted your hand carefully, pressing it between both of his palms. "and so are you." something about those four words finally broke through the last of your composure. your eyes filled, and vil immediately leaned closer—not touching you until you gave the smallest nod. then his arms carefully wrapped around you, holding you with a gentleness that seemed almost at odds with the fierce determination in his voice. "you don't have to promise me you'll never struggle again," he murmured. "that isn't realistic. promise me something smaller." you sniffled. "...what?" "promise you'll let someone know when you're struggling." you hesitated, then nodded against him. "i promise." vil exhaled shakily, his cheek resting against your hair. "...good." for a while, neither of you said anything. outside the infirmary window, morning continued as though the world hadn't nearly shattered during the night. vil held you a little closer, and for once he didn't care whether his hair was perfect, whether his makeup had smudged, or whether anyone saw the tears in his eyes. he only cared that you were here. that there was another morning. and, for the first time, that was enough.
In which they think you want to break up! ⊹ ࣪ ˖
incl: 7 demon brothers + thirteen & barbatos
a/n: My beautiful intelligent Barbatos could never get the wrong idea ✌️ first post in MONTHS yikes sorry guys take this as a peace offering…😓 I will try to post atleast once a week again now as I finally have some motivation!! again I’m very sorry for the complete lack of posts, I appreciate you all!! <33
when they overhear you talking lovingly about them [genshin men pt.2]
⋗ ft. albedo, illuga, kaveh, lohen, varka, wanderer, wriothesley, xiao
⋗ ~0.3k | fluff | gn!reader
Albedo
He’s waiting rather impatiently. The delivery should already be here, it is crucial to his work. The task at hand demands to be finished immediately, but without the necessary components Albedo can’t continue and his mind runs in circles of frustration and impatience. Similarly, his own steps circle around the room for something to do.
There are quiet voices outside the door suddenly, nothing new, yet in his current state his ears catch the sound and latch onto it. With you as part of the equation, his interest is piqued for the time being. He doesn’t appreciate interruptions while he’s deep in his work, but seeing as there’s nothing he can do, he comes closer to the door.
He jolts back once he can hear the words like they burn him. Frown tugs at his features. What are you even talking about - with whom? Something inside him must be getting messed up and thrown off balance. Something inside of you must be wrong. A chemical reaction going haywire. Why else would you feel like that towards a being such as him? Same as the base of your existence might be… Could you truly…?
The delivery finally arrives. When Albedo opens the door upon hearing the familiar sound of steps weighted down by the package, you jump away in fright. Instead of pointing out it was you who picked this precise location to spill your feelings, he gives you a gentle smile. Then - his lips move on their own, his tongue won’t listen to reason. He invites you inside.
It’s so impractical - he’s not done. This is a precise work requiring his full focus, and while he usually doesn’t struggle with devoting his senses and his mind to what he’s doing, right now it seems to be a challenge. He’s like a magpie drawn to the jewels of your eyes. His hands shake imperceptibly, and yet it’d be enough to lead to failure.
So he lays everything down. It seems his attention and interest is already elsewhere.
Illuga
On nights like this he tends to stay out longer. Both his duty and his curse. It’s cold and especially dark with no moonlight to illuminate the paths and some of the already sparse lights flicker like dying fireflies, soon to be extinguished. They really need to hound Aino into teaching them how to repair the technology, Illuga thinks.
Nonetheless, he makes his way towards home, towards you. The thought blows life into the embers in his chest, spreading warmth through his half-frozen body running on fumes at this point. Only a little further. He’s passing through the gap between the houses when he hears your laugh - and then more. Though he can’t tell who you’re speaking to, one of the neighbours, maybe, it doesn’t matter. It feels too much like a dream.
He clears his throat. He’d love to listen more - he truly would, but it’s rude to listen in on what you wanted to convey privately. Illuga would prefer to hear the rest of what you were to say in person, without secrets and hiding. You look like a rabbit caught in a trap, so utterly adorable that he almost feels bad.
So he doesn’t bring it up immediately. Instead, over the warm soup that’s your dinner, you talk about your days. He holds your hand in his, absentmindedly drawing circles on the back of your hand. You help each other undress and dress again once you’re ready for bed. And only then does he ask, only with you tucked under his chin, cocooned by blankets.
Illuga knows he could fall asleep like this and have the most peaceful sleep of his life, yet he resists the temptation. Instead, every shy confession of yours he meets with just as quiet whispered prayers of love. Pieces of his soul laid bare. With each exchange you bring yourself closer, he pulls you in tighter, as if you wanted to melt into a singular being.
Kaveh
The world is spinning in that familiar, dreamy way. Kaveh is swaying to the music surrounding him. He leans on the railing, looking down at the strangers living their life underneath his balcony. Headache is starting to form behind his eyes, a problem for future him. For now, he feels peaceful. And sleepy. Resting his head on his arms, he feels strength starting to leave him and his body leaning to the side-
Yet before he hits the ground, he’s pulled up and steadied. Another warm body presses against his, familiar and comfortable. He lets himself be guided and maneuvered, though he can’t say why he trusts you so much. He shouldn’t. He shouldn’t let you see him like this, and yet he’s so tired and weak that he can’t help but crave that care.
Kaven allows himself to be pushed onto bed and cleaned up. As soft as the touch of the wet cloth is, as smooth as the feeling of fresh pajamas is, they’re pushed to the background of his mind. His focus lingers on your words. Are you aware he can hear? Are you aware you’re saying all that… Do you mean it? He feels so pathetic it makes his eyes water shortly before he falls asleep.
When you wake up, Kaveh is nowhere to be found. A ghost, nobody is of any help as to his whereabouts. And he wants to keep it that way. Despite being haunted by guilt and his own self-doubt, he remains hidden while his mind races. A cursed circle of awareness and paranoia. You wouldn’t lie, you talk like that about him to his face, to your friends, when he’s there and when he’s not. Why can’t he accept it?
He keeps running away from your feelings until he can’t anymore. And then, and only then, does he run straight into your arms. He throws both of you to the ground, clinging to you desperately. And so the cycle begins anew.
Lohen
Slacking off? Lohen’s lips curl up, a cat who caught the canary. It was a highly unusual sight - after all you knew better than this. You knew exactly what it takes to be a knight of your standing, and you knew that one doesn’t keep their position by standing around talking about the weather.
What’s more - one doesn’t get to keep their life by chatting up strangers. At least not on his watch, not the one that’s his. Still, this isn’t an appropriate place for recklessness, and so he creeps closer, staying in the shadows.
The other guy sounds scared and… something more, is it confusion? Is it anger? If Lohen had to say, it’s the kind of panicked anger a cornered animal might feel in the face of a stronger beast. So he listens intently to your words that follow.
What he hears is so surprising and ordinary that he barely stifles his laugh before he lunges forward. In a second, the dude disappears. You on the other hand - you stand still, as relaxed as before, as if there wasn’t a dagger’s blade pressed against your throat. The edge has already tasted your blood, not enough to make it drip, but enough to make it clear you should be careful about how deeply you’re breathing.
“You’re losing your edge,” he sneers into your ear.
“Me? I’m not the one getting worked up over a love confession,” you huff, “From my lover no less.”
The sting of a cut is there with every word. Yet - yet, the blade stops the bleeding as much as it slices your throat. It’s nothing serious anyway. Nothing he’ll get told off for either, the captain’s already given up trying to understand your spats.
Besides, since the dagger’s not a threat, there’s an opening for you to slip from him with a few practiced moves. And so danse macabre begins, as much a proof of his devotion as a lesson in mortality.
Varka
It’s loud. Almost unbearably so, but Varka is long used to it. It’s just how taverns get after a successful expedition, successful battle - which was it again? He doesn’t quite remember, the booze buzzes through his veins loud enough to erase the memories of everything but victory. The one beacon of hope in the darkness of neverending struggles against the odds.
The air, however, is getting too stale so he finds himself heading outside to fill his lungs with the clean air of the night, warm and carrying the scent of flowers native to his homeland. Just what he needed.
He truly didn’t expect to stumble upon you here - just behind the corner, sitting at one of the tables outside, chatting where the roar inside is just a background noise. And definitely not with someone who’s not him. So he stalks closer, curious what made you leave the party. How foolish he was for thinking he’d leave your mind.
It’s not very gentlemanly of him, but so be it. Hearing you talk like that - that beats a thousand nights of celebrations thrown in his name. His heart pounds harder than it does preparing for a fight. So his strategy is to wait for you to be done talking, and then he struts over, ignores your panicked squeak and your friend’s laughter, and picks you up to carry you further away where it can be just you and him.
Even then, however, Varka holds you, safe and steady in his arms as he rests his forehead against yours. His eyes carry that same tenderness with which he looks at you when you share a bed. He stops, a moment of charged stillness, before his lips crash against yours. He easily takes control of the kiss, purring when your arms wrap around his neck. Gradually, though, the kiss slows down, less hungry and more desperate, reverent. It takes you a moment to realize that what he’s murmuring between each kiss is a thank you.
Wanderer
The sun’s reached its peak in the sky and beams down mercilessly on the city. The people weaving around him glisten with sweat, a plight he’s freed from. There’s no need to rush while everyone seems so sleepy with the sun’s heat.
Without a destination in mind, Wanderer lets his feet take him wherever - to the market, down to the docks. Then back towards the houses, because perhaps he could laze around today and go through some of the academic texts he took out to study.
Yet reaching the humble abode he shares with you, he finds words flowing from the open window, unguarded, and centered around him it seems. He can’t quite stop the poisonous flames of doubt and fear twisting themselves into anger from licking at his fingertips, spreading across his body.
It must be a performance, he decides. Nobody would ever talk about him in this way without a reason. Though a conversation with a friend can take many turns, he doubts they should ever get this… personal. You must’ve spotted him, although he knows you lack the skill. But what other reason would there be for your voice to soften like this? For these words to leave your mouth? He feels like you’re sitting at different sides of a confessional. Yet why does he feel like the sinner although he remains completely silent? He grits his teeth.
It leaves a bitter taste in his mouth. Don’t you speak like that, don’t you whisper those confessions while holding his face when there’s nothing to gain, too? The off-chance that you mean every word is worse. Doesn’t everyone like that leave or otherwise discard him? Why would you be any different? He cannot let anyone know his feelings, however, he cannot show his weakness or it’ll speed up the inevitable process.
So when you find Wanderer lying in the grass next to your home, he only gives an excuse about why he didn’t come in. He hesitates when you grab his hand to drag him inside.
Wriothesley
He enjoys being where he’s not expected to be. It’s a good way of getting a general idea about the mood inside the fortress, and Wriothesley would prefer to remain on top of things if there was anything that’s causing conflict. So he carries the box of snacks he acquired for the tea break you’re supposed to meet for shortly, having retrieved it himself.
And who does he not stumble upon? And engaged in conversation so deeply that you don’t even spot him, too. Ideas swarm in his mind until he catches a bit of what you’re saying. Then time just seems to stop. He draws back, enough to remain within earshot but hidden from sight. Definitely not so he can lean against the wall of his cover as the world tilts on its axis. Or so that nobody witnesses how heavy his breathing gets.
When you enter Wriothesley’s office later. He seems deep in thought. His gaze is unfocused, staring into the steaming tea as if it held answers to all the questions of the universe. Yet the moment you come closer to his desk, his attention snaps to you.
He offers you his hand, brings you closer and pulls, dragging you into his lap. His head suddenly rests against your chest, his arms hold you like you’ll disappear if he lets go any tiny bit. You’re the safety he’s always been longing for, he realizes. You. If he has you, the whole world can burn.
“I’m not going anywhere,” you reassure him and watch magic happen. The towering figure of a man melts into you, a putty under your touch.
He doesn’t tell you why, or what happened. He simply stays completely pliant. It doesn’t matter if he’s drinking tea or helping himself to a slice of cake, he stays just as he is - leaning his head against you, closing his eyes in pleasure when you knead the muscles on his shoulder. His voice sounds much softer than you’ve ever heard it.
Xiao
When was the last time he followed the steps of a mortal for no good reason? Xiao doesn’t remember. Yet he can’t pinpoint why is it that he follows after you. Maybe because you don’t treat him like others do, with blind respect. No, gentler. Like the face of a rock, caressed by the wind and waves, eroded with time, its sharp edges smoothed, he himself finds he similarly softened towards you. The cravings of gods and mortals, demons and holy beings, don’t seem that different, after all.
He remains hidden, high in the branches of the willow you decide to rest under. Even from high up, he can see how peaceful your face becomes, the tension easing off your shoulders. Why were you so anxious coming here? He’s written off the nervous energy radiating off you as worry about your safety. The slimes and hilichurls of this area can be particularly nasty. But he was wrong.
He freezes, only his centuries of meticulous training and experience keeping him hidden and safe balancing on the unsteady branch. With your head leaned back against the bark, you beg for guidance. Who - Xiao has no idea. His name is all he can hear - his name in the center of the maze of fond feelings you try to navigate. Fond. Perhaps that doesn’t even begin to encompass it.
You talk for so long that you fall asleep in the shade of the tree, slouching against the trunk. Only then does he climb down, watching your sleeping form in a new light, with a new furious storm raging inside of his chest. He crouches down, his hand no less gentle than a falling feather as he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. Then, he does the unthinkable - he leans forwards and presses his lips against your forehead. You don’t stir, you only smile in your sleep.
Xiao looks around. Where can he hide to accidentally meet you on your way back?
I didn't want to reopen commissions because I still have unfinished commissions from last year, and I feel guilty about that. However, given my current circumstances, I'm taking a chance and opening a limited number of slots.
Last March, I was hired as a Customer Service Representative at a local call center, where I worked for four months. I eventually had to resign due to an unhealthy work environment, including persistent rumors being spread about me, an overly demanding team leader, and repeated physical bullying from a coworker.
Since then, I've been actively looking for another job but haven't had any luck. I was also supposed to receive my final pay today, but unfortunately, it still hasn't been released, leaving me in a difficult financial situation. On top of that, I've recently been dealing with some health issues and am currently recovering from a fever.
As a result, I've had to return to university, and I'm currently struggling to cover my dormitory rent and other expenses for the semester.
I completely understand if you're hesitant to commission me because of my unfinished work from last year. I don't take that lightly, and I sincerely apologize to everyone who's been waiting. If you choose to support me despite that, I truly appreciate your patience and trust. Thank you for giving me the opportunity to get back on my feet.
My rates are:
• 300 - 500 words - 2$
• 500 - 1k words - 10$
• 1k - 2k words - 15$
You can send me a DM via here or on Kofi. Dark content is always welcome.
after Bad Bunny won they added a Latin song category and after Rosé got three nominations the grammys added a k-pop/c-pop/j-pop category they have always been afraid of well-performing artists of color challenging white artists in mainstream categories
The seven kings of hell this. The seven strongest demons of hell that. Wrong! The most powerful one is you, their master...
Despite wanting to keep up looks and reputation, Lucifer is one of the weakest one's for you. All you have to do is flash him your best puppy eyes and express you want something and it'll happen. You don't even have to try and you'll already get everything you want. Of course, he doesn't let you off so easily. He'll give a small shy and shake his head with a tired, "you've gotten so spoiled," before flicking his wrist and summoning whatever it was you wanted. He can't help it! You're just the perfect one for him. And then when you just want him? All you have to do is kiss his neck and pull him into the bed by his sleeve. He easily gives into you then...
Mammon isn't even that hard to convince. Whatever you want, he wants and more. There's never a 'you' or 'I' in the relationship, it's always 'us' and 'we'. He may not have the money - all the time - but he always gets it done. He spends extra time going to casinos and getting jobs to get money to spoil you, making sure to give it to Lucifer right away so he can keep it for you. But the moment you express any loneliness? He's cashing out the moment you call him at the casino and basically bolts back to the mansion. It'll only be three minutes later and then suddenly a vary excited, yet tired Mammon is bursting open your door before falling on top of you in bed. Yeah, he's weak...
Levi is one of the hardest to convince. He may not go outside with you often, but he tries to make it up! You can mention a game or movie once and he has it the next day, queued up and ready for a marathon and night in with you. He prefers doing things behind closed doors. But the moment you ask him to go somewhere with you? It'll take a lot of convincing and bribing but he'll do it. He'll venture outside with you with his hood up and his arm on your sleeve. You'll occasionally hear mutters and grumbles from him but nothing that would make you mad. He wouldn't be able to live with himself if he did that...
You don't even need to ask Satan; he knows what you want before you do. You'll walk into his room to ask him for something and then it's already there. You'll be surprised but delighted, and he takes that as a chance to keep you to himself for the rest of the day. You always end up next to him in bed, with nothing but thanks and kisses. He tries not to show it but he's very flustered whenever you shower him in affection. Yet, he always smug. He can't help it with you on his arm...
Asmo is easy, in more ways than one...He's running to you with his phone open and a practiced smile. Flopping on your bed next to you and asking you for things with a sweet voice. Never anything you need to buy though; he's got hundreds of older demons with money to ask that. No, he's asking for spa dates and quality time. Then when you want something? He'll smile and throw his arms around you with a sweet kiss to his cheek. Reassuring you that nothings too much or expensive for him. Like I said, he's got older, richer demons for that...
Beel doesn't even know what's going on half the time because he goes with the flow. You two will be halfway to a amusement park when he's asking where you two are going, while he's munching on a sandwich. All you have to do is flash him a small look and he'll immediately make it up to you. Winning all the games and buying all the food you want as an apology, he even forces himself to not eat it so that you can enjoy it first. Then after? He lets you drag him around to anywhere you want. When you're happy, he's happy. And that's all that matters! Especially to him...
Belphie also doesn't even know what's going on but because he's half asleep. You're still dragging him around but he's more like dead weight than anything else. You'll sigh and complain how he's not being much fun, and all you'll get is a sleepy complain in response. But when you two get home, suddenly he has everything you want on the bed and floors of his room. He may not act like it, but he listens. A lot actually. He tries not to act flustered, but when you jump into his arms and shower him in affection, he's gone, completely. He tries; he really does...
the concept and idea of “you can always start trying to be a better person” is extremely important to me both in media and irl and i continue to be deeply deeply disturbed by the trend on this site pushing that these ideas in media are bad writing or even morally reprehensible
because theyd rather someone stay terrible or just straight up die than become a better person
from a compassionate point of view it’s deeply distressing
and from a pragmatic point of view it’s outright frustrating
I think part of the pushback about this is the idea that, to “redeem” bad people, their victims must first forgive them for unforgivable acts.
This is false. No one is obligated to forgive you. You can learn from your mistakes and become the best, kindest person on earth, and the people you’ve hurt still won’t forgive you, and you’ll have to accept that. And that doesn’t mean you aren’t allowed to grow. Because we aren’t just “pure” or “sinful”, we’re complex.
REBLOG RIGHT NOW. As someone who has been in a rough patch for a while, I can deeply understand the severity of this!! Please reblog, it only takes a second. You can save someone's life. You can be a hero, bring the change that the world needs to see!
This has been something I've struggled with for a while now. If enough people had shown me that they actually cared if I lived or died, maybe my state of mind would be different. Maybe I wouldn't have done some of the things I did to myself, that I deeply regret now. Everyone matters, no matter how insignificant you may think you are, don't pick up that blade. Please. It will ruin you. This is important. Please reblog. This can save lives. This can help so many people. This isn't a joke. This is a serious issue that people need to be more aware of.
Had multiple situations involving friends almost committing, as well as one that mentions it a lot. So I don’t take this stuff lightly. Please re-blog if you see this, thank you.
Scara, can I just explain how much I was thinking about the art where he's bloody and all cause like oh my gracious I just remembered this one fic, not that I read it (I would never read a ship fic with Scara it'll be some kinda ancient torture device against me bro) but I saw it's summary, and I was like ooh, so then now I was all imagien where Scara's a cannibal where he can make people fall in love with him on some shit, wherein I thought of him
Being some kinda being who enjoys eating people both mentally and physically, so while alive, his victims are fed well with love and the fear when dying, until he meets —— (me /hj) where live to death, —— loved him till the very end and the start. Some typa red means I love you + join me in death + he's my man + unhealthy obsession + masochism tango if I was the one that's obsessed ig
THEN, with that amazing situationship he goes on and keeps the skeleton or whatever part he hasn't eaten as all his, like some kinda taxidermy typa way, then even moving on to the sh*p actual thing, he can never love that person the same way he loved —— because it's not —— and will never be ——.
Yeah you get me? Yes you do. Yes Aya! Yes.
I guess I drew abt yandere simulator too (ft my redesign for taro), then there's lohen, and there's caejose for a friend
Imagine a reader who's so tired of everyone's bs and with a resting bitch face that automatically makes everyone distance themselves but it still doesn't stop people from being annoying around you. Until one day you met Ayato Aishi, the most lonely boy in school.
Honestly you don't know how it happened but suddenly you two have been hanging around each other. You two can be as dead as you want and none of you would judge. Not even his random mumblings will move you. Something about his crush and how she's nice and that people need to stay away like okay dude good luck.
You lean against him as you accompany him with your own ramblings. Mostly during lunch but it doesn't stop you from doing it anywhere. You even start to worry if you're annoying him more that you realised. Whatever you'll find out soon, he's blunt with his words anyway.
Once you two were hanging out during lunch at the rooftop, you were complaining about Musuko(Musume but 'son' meaning) and his bitchass group + fans and you let out a slip of, "they're so annoying OMFG I might actually punch or kill them one day istg" and then you hear your dear friend say "I can do that for you." Which obviously made you stop and look at him before laughing as if it's a joke.
He was not joking. You found that out when he almost tried to kill one of them. Yeah turns out you're his new crush after all that hanging out or maybe he's just a protective friend? You don't know, you're just exasperatedly tired. So now you got this blood leech on a leash or else he'll snap.
