One Of Norton's Favourite Things To Do In His Down Time In The Eternal Manor Is To Relax. Especially

Hello, and congrats for the blog's birthday! :D It's been a pleasure to see you in this blog, so here's a req. from me (hehe):

Luca and Ithaqua (if you write him, but if you don't feel free to replace Ithaqua with Orpheus!)

For Luca, perhaps the scenario would be about insomnia- like, how does he deal w/ it? How would he deal w/ it when his s/o can't sleep? etc

For Ithaqua/Orpheus, maybe some shenanigans in a friendly match! Any works, I just wanna see how these two would vibe if the hunter goes friendly (for Orphy) or if said hunter went friendly (for Ithaqua)

(disclaimer for both: idm if you go platonic or romantic with these, but if its okay, I'd like for it to be romantic.)

Once again, I wish you all the best and I hope you have a lovely day!

— 🌸🍒

HELLO AND THANK YOU SM!! of course - im gonna be writing for ithaqua (and sangria, too) ^_^ you too!!

luca balsa dealing w/ insomnia hcs⚡️

he can't cope for shit honestly. once luca realizes he's not gonna be sleeping any time soon he's making himself a jezva full of strong coffee and sitting himself by his desk

i mean, what else can he do? he just deals with it the most logical way he sees it, no matter how unhealthy it is

although, once you scold him enough times, he's going to be curled up next to you in bed no matter if he likes it or not (he always likes it)

when it's him dealing with insomnia, what helps him the most is having his head held - no matter if it's you curling your arm around his neck, you pressing your palm onto his forehead or laying it onto your lap/chest - and having his hair played with. it's one of the rare things that lull him to sleep immediately, especially considering how he didn't get a lot of physical attention in his life so he melts right under your fingertips

when it's you dealing with insomnia, he prefers being the big spoon (in a "clinging to the little spoon like he's a backpack" way) and gently tucking his head by your neck, will also gladly make you a cup of warm tea at any hour to calm you down

he finds physical affection to be the best cure as he's not accustomed to it and the feeling of safety calms him down almost immediately

ithaqua going friendly hcs🌫

his 1# favorite activity is playing hide and seek, and his favourite map to be friendly on is leo's memory!

very competitive when talking snowball fights. can be a bit of a sore loser too

will use his weapon to drag survivors around in the snow, sounds weird but it's actually quite fun!

itha likes doing parkour and climbing when he's not hunting, climbing onto the trees or up the lakeside boat

survivors can often get evil and swoop his weapon under his feet to make him trip and fall😭 it's just them channeling their inner anger from losing to him so often (or sometimes they just want to make him angry. at least that's not too hard to do lol)

if his s/o is in the match he's going to be subtle, playing with everyone but paying you extra attention - taking his precious time when tying you up or pulling you out of a locker and carry you for what seems to be a minute or two longer than usual... would definetly not mind having some alone time with them either, hidden on the 2nd floor of leo's factory or in the basement, laying their beloved onto his lap and cuddling together where no one can see them🤭

How do you think norton and a shy s/o would become friends in the first place? Or start talking in general? (if this counts as a request ignore me pls🙏)

I think it would partially depend on what the setting is! Ironically, I think a modern Norton would be the hardest to get close to. He's a loner, defensive and self-reliant. There's much less reason for any kind of forced cooperation.

In the manor setting I use, a certain level of cooperation and understanding between survivors is necessary. You HAVE to understand each other's communication styles. It helps that Norton's introverted ness gives him perspective into what other people see as "shy." Like he gets not wanting to talk, and that makes it easier for him to say "alright let's get this over with" and approach you to build a base-line rapport. And after that it just builds slowly! There are plenty of opportunities when you're stuck in timeless not-hell.

In a modern setting, you'd have to either work together or have some REALLY specific, like rom-com level divide intervention stuff going on. Work is similar to the manor, you HAVE to communicate and that forces him to get to know you. With the other one...idk I guess fate and soulmates exist LOL

Me when I play him fr

this is how i feel when i use this ping as puppeteer

☆ florian brand ; general sfw & nsfw headcanons

pairing / florian brand x afab gn! reader

disclaimer / possession, jealous themes, manipulation themes, overstimulation

word count / 1,174 words

⭒ florian brand is a man who masks his true nature. he presents him as need be, a humble and altruistic man. in reality, he is a man who does what needs to be to get by. a man who hides himself from the rest of the world.

⭒ when he first saw you, so helpless trapped in the fire. this was not a new sight to him but oh, something awoke in him. the mere sight of you completely overwhelmed the man of want. of need. your arms frantically clutching his shoulders as he carries you out of the fire. he can’t help but think how pathetic you are, just like everyone else. “i am your savior. you do not need anyone else.”

⭒ his brain is already going into gear mode, racking up on how to mark you his. and so he decided, he doesn’t wish for you to just want him. he needs you to need him, unable to do anything but depend on him. “no one could ever love you like i do.”

⭒ he is a manipulative and cunning man, that you had already suspected ever since you met him. he seemed far too good to be of a man with that sham of a smile. he scared you with the way he looked at you, already having expectations of you. it was intimidating to be in his presence.

⭒ in this tiny town, there are far too many fires to be marked as “wildfires” and too little of individuals who’d just want to start fires every now and then. there can only be a serial arsonist you suspect and you can only be cautious to florian brand. yet, everyone brandishes him as a savior. he was this town’s liberator and even though he was the one who saved you from the fire, he was simply off putting to you.

⭒ he knows of your suspicions on him and finds it so humorous of you to be scrambling around about. after all, there will never be any evidence that points back to him. dropping tiny little evidence and hints every now and then just to tease your little self, he was done playing with you and decided that it was finally time for him to approach you more. not just as the boy next door, but something much more.

⭒ he’d frequent and commute to your house your neighborhood more often. since it was a tiny town and florian is a busy, sociable man in the morning and day, the townspeople around you didn’t suspect at all. it’ll start with morning visits, you’d open your door to start on your chores and already, florian is passing by your house. greeting you with a “good morning!” and then nodding his head and waving to the rest of the townspeople in acknowledgment.

⭒ then, as time progresses, those morning acknowledgments would be nightly visits. he’ll finish his work shift and you’ll find himself knocking outside your door. don't let the little fire investigator in.

⭒ kissing with florian are straight up make out sessions, no matter how soft you go at him at him, he’s going to have his tongue deep down in your throat and your lips will start to bruise.

⭒ when you’re finally all in, he’s the type to be showing you off. he loves physical displays of affection and loves to brandishes you in his love. your shoulders (his favorite place to mark you) would be littered with his hickies. he loves to give you kisses, repeatedly in one area. and especially in a private setting, he’ll be giving you trails of kisses down your waist to your hip.

⭒ florian is average in size and in width, much skinny (even though he’s very strong). however, give him some time with you and already, he knows exactly where to get you absolutely mindless.

⭒ he’s such a childish man, he gets too easily jealous as if he’s a little school boy competing for his first love. he’d absolutely have jealous sex with you, repeatedly ranming himself into you in that same area of yours and yet, it hits differently and so deeper each time.

⭒ he’s the type to just fuck you over and over as he blabbers on and blabbers on in your ear. when he gets really into it, he’ll start biting your ear to the point it’ll feel like it’s about to break off and you have to give him repeated jabs in his back for him to finally notice he’s hurting your ears. or better, pull his hair and make him look at you. god, he loves that fiery look in your eyes and that sharp pain that comes with it.

⭒ he loves oral (reader receiving). he loves to suck on your clit and getting lost in it as he goes down on you. he’s the type to close his eyes and just enjoy it all but every now and then, he’ll look up at you and bats his little eyelashes with his eyes upturning and you know, he’s chaffing at you and loving it. after he’s done, with your legs shaking with how many time you came in his mouth, he’ll show off his tooth eating grin to you with your essence dripping down his lips.

⭒ he loves to overstimulate you and everything about your body parts. he’ll flick and play with your clit on hours and end, humming to himself and whispering lovely pet names to you such as “dear” and “honey”.

⭒ he gets off on your praise. everything you say with him, especially praise, keeps him going during sex. even degradation as any emotions that you feel towards him. whether it be happy, sad, or even mad at him, it has his blood boiling with endearment. he loves your attention and every form of it. as long as it’s directed towards him and nobody else.

⭒ he loves overstimulation. he loves to br overstimulated, you bouncing on his cock or him ramming you in to the point your mind goes blank and you’re practically twitching by the end. he gets so full of himself when he sees that sight of you.

⭒ he loves mirror sex. balls deep in you and having that sight all to himself, your bodies touching each other and you gripping his shoulder like the first day he met you. he’ll take you by your chin and have you turn your head to see yourself and him. “look how good you’re taking me darling. so lovely.” sex with florian is all messy, filled with need and want.

⭒ during sex and aftercare, you can always smell a faint gasoline on him. but what can you say? in fact, you already stopped caring about that little investigation of yours. you must be imagining. who are you to question him as he cleans up the mess and as he stradles you so lovingly in his arms with soft, buttery kisses to put you to sleep.

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Hello, I hope you and your family are well. Can you please help me recycle the post on my account? 🌺 And help rescue my family from the war in Gaza? 🙏🙏

Hello everyone, I am Karam Al Nabih from Gaza. All my dreams have been shattered now in Gaza. I am a software engineer in my last semester, but now my home, my dreams, and my university have been destroyed.

All my dreams have been destroyed 😞 I hope you share , support and donate

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― interlude

norton campbell x you he finds you crying in your room out of anxiety

(this was requested here)

As you slip out of the manor’s ballroom, the sound of lively conversation follows behind you. Voices blend together the further you go, dulled by the winding hallways, and soon you can’t tell them apart anymore. Once in a while a hearty laugh will ring out, shrill and distinct above the rest—a laugh you can usually identify as Demi’s, her self-restraint long lost to copious glasses of wine.

By the time you reach your room upstairs, the chatter is still thrumming through the floorboards. That rhythm is all you can focus on: the pulse of the party, the drum of your heart. You shut your bedroom door behind you before sinking to the floor. All night you’ve felt like an anvil has been weighing down your spirit, and it’s finally snuffed out the last of your strength. With shaking fingers, you clutch your mouth and choke out a staggered gasp, no longer able to stifle your cries.

The manor’s walls are thin, you know that well. Maybe you should feel lucky that the party under your feet will drown out any noise you make. But you still feel the need to make yourself quiet as a ghost, afraid a single sound might hush the entire downstairs into curious silence. As if they’d be climbing over each other to press their ears against the ceiling, eager for a chance to hear the crying guest upstairs. But the party goes on, and your tears go unnoticed.

Time starts to blur in the dim confines of your room. You don’t care to count the minutes, but enough time passes that you rub your nose raw. Before long it starts to feel like you’re teetering on the edge of sleep: swaddled by the pitch-black room, with the neverending song of muffled laughter and clinking glasses as your lullaby. If you shut your eyes long enough, maybe you’ll really fall.

All of a sudden a foreign sound cuts through your haze. Heavy footsteps, like that of a pair of boots. As they drag down the hall your ears prick up, the entirety of your body freezing over. They trudge along slowly, then stop in front of your door.

It’s Norton. He doesn’t announce himself, but he doesn’t have to. You know it’s Norton from his weary gait and the faint whistle in his breath. He pushes open your door without bothering to knock first. It’s clear he’s not expecting anyone to be on the other side of it, because he loudly clicks his tongue when it jams into you, and keeps trying to force it. The wood thuds against your back a few times before he releases the knob with a scoff.

“It’s me,” he says, striking the door twice with the flat of his hand. “Move whatever’s blocking the door.” His knocks feel urgent, but careful. Even when pressed flush against the wood, you don’t feel the jolt of his usual aggression. Still, your eyes squeeze shut. There’s no strength left in you to muster an answer.

Norton himself isn’t what concerns you. It’s having to show him the state you’re in. He’ll have nothing sensitive to say about it, and you’re not in the right mind to brave through that callous indifference of his. Honestly, the thought of addressing anything feels utterly impossible. You’ve been holding your breath ever since his footsteps came trudging down the hall, wishing you could just disappear.

“(Y/N),” he presses.

I’m sorry, you think.

There’s nothing you can offer him that he wouldn’t be able to find at the party. It doesn’t matter what he wants or if you let him in—your answer won’t change from a mortified I can’t help right now, sorry I’m so useless. At least staying in here eliminates the need to say it to his face. He’ll get the memo eventually.

. . .

. . . .

. . . . . .

When you’re certain he’s not fussing with the door anymore, you lean back into it, waiting for the click! of its close. Then you exhale, shallow, shaky, but quiet still. The fresh air tastes sweet in your lungs. It’s your own fault for holding your breath so long, but you’ve never been kind to yourself, especially not in moments like these.

You decide to wait a few seconds before locking it. Every sound you make is another tick on the time bomb, after all. Counting down to what exactly, you wouldn’t know; that’s a detail you’d rather not uncover.

Right when you’ve decided enough time has passed and you fumble for the lock, the door bursts open again. The force catches you off guard, practically sweeping you across the floor, and Norton strides in before you have the chance to push him out again. His eyes lock on you, shadowed by the dark of your room.

It’s an odd, silent reunion. You almost feel like you’re in trouble for something. He doesn’t even greet you before he tears his gaze away, peeking around your bed and bookshelf. Perhaps he thought you’d snuck off with someone.

“N-No one else is in here,” you croak.

“Where are the matches?” he asks, brushing off whatever you were insinuating.

He digs around your drawer until he finds a matchbox, then lights your bedside candle. From your spot curled into your knees, you gaze at his large figure, backlit by the candlelight. You’re still not sure what he came in here for. Though Norton isn’t exactly known for his transparency, not even with you. While he’s occupied at your nightstand, you try to wipe the puffiness from your eyes. It still doesn’t stop the next wave of tears from welling up.

“I’m sorry…” you murmur. He glances over his shoulder, waving out the match.

“For what?”

For crying. For leaving. For shutting him out. But with your words failing you, all you can do is shake your head — ‘forget it’ — and nuzzle deeper into your knees. It’s embarrassing to be the only one who’s ever crying between you two. Norton closes off his heart so stubbornly that you can’t even imagine a tear in his eye. You’re sorry for that, too. For burdening him and not extending the same care in return.

He doesn’t say anything for a while. Stillness overtakes the room — with him standing by your bed, watching you; with you buried into yourself, soft sniffles leaking through. Finally you hear him approach. He crouches in front of you, bringing the candlestick holder with him.

“Hey.” His tone of voice always has a biting edge to it, even when he’s trying to be gentle. He takes your hands, guiding them away from your bloodshot eyes. “Stop crying.”

I’m trying.

“Why didn’t you come get me?”

You shake your head again. “I’m okay,” you insist between snivels. “You didn’t have to come up.”

What use is there in saying that? One look at you gives the truth away. Norton would never take the bait that easily. He reaches a hand for your cheek, wetting his thumb as a stray tear falls.

“You’re a lousy liar,” he says. His hand is warm. Rough, but warm. It tempts you to lean into it, to rest in its gentle hold for a little while. But even with him wide open in front of you, your lingering guilt anchors you in place. You meet his brown eyes, the flickering candlelight reflected within them. Come here, they say. You’re sure you’re just imagining it.

Seeming to sense your hesitation, Norton makes the decision for you. He scoops you up effortlessly, and as you’re raised into his arms another rush of tears floods through you. At the same time, the heaviness you felt before begins to lift. It’s as if you’ve finally been given permission to cry, no longer weighed down by the shame you felt previously. Or maybe you’re just too relieved to care about that now. You wrap your arms tightly around his shoulders.

“You never have to ask,” he murmurs to you. It’s a reminder you’ve ignored too many times before. He lays you gently on your bed, and you refuse to unhook your arms from around him. He slots himself beside you. You think you mumble out a reply, but you can’t remember what it was before the cloak of sleep comes over you.

minor writing smut , hand kink [?]

Luca whose hands are, to put it plainly, dirty. Oil and grease can be found underneath his fingernails from the constant work on the cipher machine, while dirt finds its way in the cracks and slivers on his palms.

Luca whose hands are littered with small cuts and scars from the electricity that bolts through him, refusing to settle down for even one moment before another currency charges through his body.

Luca who uses these same hands to worship your god like body in front of him. His fingers, smeared with black from being burnt poke and prod at the curves and blemishes on your body. The inventor finds it all so incredible how you let his hands, stained with blood, find your most sensitive area. How you let his hands gift you the pleasure you oh so deserve. And how you let him witness your fall into pleasure all over again.

note: consider this my apology for the lack of a proper fic lately, things have been busy. I’m working on two right now, and I hope to get them both out in the coming weeks.!

© fishermanshook — no stealing , translating , plagiarizing or reposting my work on other any other sites + reblogs adored !!

It is 2 am and I certainly don't have time to be spamming a tumblr's inbox...... but

The other anon commenting about Nikolai being romantic just gave me something to rant about omg. Because i've seen so many people misunderstand Nikolai and genuinely call him insane and a crazy sadist like... ahhsjkdaksjjdks it runs me up the walls

First of all Nikolai's philosophy partially derives off him being inherently good. He wants to escape the mind, emotions it gives, and to sum it up his humanity; so he does things that is against his own self. One is killing. Nikolai literally sees murder and torture as something that is opposite to what his humanity makes him. that's why he does it. And even after mutilating unknown amounts of people he still feels guilt, he still feels emotion (i've seen others say that he was lying to atsushi during that whole speech about his guilt but i don't think so?? He took off his eyepatch, which in every single scene he's done so he's shown to be telling the truth of his character. It's a signifier, a literal 'unmasking'. And he says to himself, when Atsushi says he doesn't get nikolai's ideology that "only dos-kun understands" inferring him being truthful. Plus how he reacts to Fyodor's death which will be covered, too), he still hasn't parted completely from his guilt, empathy, humanity.

And Nikolai loves dearly. Deeply he feels for those who GET him. Nikolai craves connection, another thing he attempts to distance himself from, and found that in Fyodor. And he loves so dearly that once he thinks Fyodor is dead he betrays going against his ideology to do something so human for him; getting down on his knees, bringing Fyodor's severed hand to his face, and mourning him. It took a man who knew him for a brisk time and had to only understand him to be enough for Nikolai to crumble for, at least just once. And it proves after all this mental anguish he's caused himself, he still isn't numb and he will probably never be "free". But I also think because of this all, Nikolai, if given the right set of circumstances, would be a deeply intimate and beautiful human being.

If this makes you lower your word count limits I am so sorry 😭 (i checked, this has (updated) 450...)

Final message: Nikolai is lovely, so so tragic, I need his backstory, need him to crush my head between his thighs and dry hump my face till he cums in his pants, I don't know how to make words on this app small, and your writing is amazing i'm going to sleep now goodnight

i do believe nikolai is a deeply sentimental person at heart. but i also think his insanity and sadism is a part of him. i like to think that, over time of trying to be as monstrous just to detach himself from being humane—perhaps he does feel some kind of euphoria when hurting someone, as he knows he's doing something that's beyond humane. but i also think that euphoria is just temporary, since we can agree that he does feel guilty for murdering and hurting people. and mayhaps, his sadism is also a way for him to cope with his guilt.

i definitely agree that if he's brought up in different circumstances, he could be a very empathetic person. i mean, he is already empathetic to his victims where he made them believe he's just a monster