#I know they’re not human bodies but just in case

[loveydovey-leviathan]

can i request the Obey me brothers and/or the datables reaction to you being jealous ☺️

mc gets jealous

obey me x gn!reader

🍉 from the river to the sea, palestine will be free 🇵🇸. this account stands with palestine, and so— i require everyone who interacts to educate themselves, and/or support/donate. READ THESE; 1 and 2, HELP HERE, BOYCOTT. | credit 🍉

a/n: the intro is so long in comparison to what i wrote for the characters lmao

cw: the gender of the person flirting with the characters is not mentioned. they don’t leave even after he’s told them to [belphie’s part]

.

The two of you have been spending less time together lately, your personal responsibilities keeping you apart longer than they usually would. But when you realised the both of you hadn’t gone on a date in weeks, you decided to surprise them with one at a popular cafe in the human world.

Once seated at a comfortable corner, you kiss them on the cheek and tell them you’ll be right back with your orders. The trip from the counter to your seats couldn’t have taken more than 4 minutes but when you walk back, there’s a stranger at your spot next to them. By their body language, it’s clear they’re trying to snatch up your obviously irritated significant other.

Maybe it’s because today was finally a free day for the two of you, combined with not seeing them as much as you would’ve liked– but when you finally arrived at your table, you set down your orders with a little more force than necessary.

With eyes as cold as a storm as you possessively inserted yourself by your lover’s side, you asked the stranger in your seat, “Do you need something from us?”

lucifer

A smug little smirk makes its way to his handsome face when the stranger decides not to start anything and walks away.

And while a part of him doesn’t even want to wait until they’re out of earshot– the same part of him that wants to kiss you senseless in front of the many suitors you have– he refrains from doing anything too rash in public.

If he was in his demon form, his wings would ruffle from how you pridefully claimed him to be your lover in front of this “threat”. Not that anyone has the potential to be one when you’re all he ever thinks about in the late hours of the night.

When you sit down next to him once more, still obviously slightly angry after the ordeal, he gently holds your hand and presses it to his lips.

Just in case it wasn’t clear to anyone else in the cafe that the two of you are together.

“There’s no need to be jealous, my dear. I’m all yours.”

mammon

He gets a little flustered when you’re at his side but he soon gets over it and pulls you closer.

“In case it wasn’t obvious, I’m taken. Now, scram.”

Unlike Lucifer, he doesn’t even wait until the person leaves before he gets up to kiss you (on the cheek, he can only handle so much PDA).

“Took ya long enough! Seemed like you were takin’ forever.” “I was gone 5 minutes, Mams.” “Same thing.”

He’s sweet. And needy– but that’s why you love him. Another kiss on the cheek and it seems like he’s already forgotten what happened.

He hasn’t obviously. He’s going to daydream about this for the next 4 months every night before he goes to sleep because it proves you’re just as greedy for him as he is for you.

He’ll tease you about it, of course. “You must really love me if that got ya jealous.” He’ll stop if you ask him too but he’s still going to be giddy about it.

leviathan

He’s so relieved once you’re here because he had no idea what to do. He doesn’t even realise that he’s leaning towards you.

It isn’t until the stranger leaves that he realises that he’s still extremely close to you while in a public cafe.

He instantly gets so embarrassed and wants to leave.

It doesn’t take you long to put the pieces together– so you take your orders to go and pull him outside the cafe and into a nearby park.

“S-Sorry… I know you really like that place.” Now he’s worried that you might hate him for getting embarrassed and potentially ruining the date for the two of you.

When you reassure him that it’s fine and that you can always go to some other place, he calms down enough and the situation completely dawns on him– you got jealous because you thought someone else wanted his affections (which he still isn’t completely sure of btw).

His face is flushed pink when he thinks about it. You love him enough to fight for him.

“What? Oh- uhm.. it’s nothing– just thinking about how cool you looked back in the cafe when you got jealous, hehe.” < is imagining scenarios in his head and totally planning on telling Henry 2.0 about this exciting development in your relationship.

satan

He was about to commit a crime right before you came along.

Usually, he would be better at keeping his anger in check but this is your first date in a while and he’s not about to have some rando ruin it for the two of you.

“Leave.” is all he says to them with a glare sharper than Asmo’s heels.

He calms down as soon as he sees you seated next to him once more.

“They’re lucky you came when you did. The absolute nerve of some people–” he shuts up once you kiss him on the cheek.

While the two of you eat your food, he realises that your actions may have been caused by a spur of jealousy. He’s quick to tease you about it.

“Was somebody jealous? Well, now you know how I feel whenever one of my brothers take you away.”

He thinks you’re so cute when you’re jealous, but he refrains from teasing too much lest you lightly make fun of him when he’s green with envy.

asmodeus

Don’t get him wrong, he absolutely loves attention– but not at the expense of the two of you spending time together.

As soon as you’re next to him, he stands up and pulls you even closer than you already were.

“Ugh, MC~ where were you? I was so bored.”

He’s acting all whiny and needy, pressing his face into the crook of your neck and completely ignoring the other person.

It’s not long before they turn red in the face and storm out of the cafe.

“Finally, they’re gone,” he complains, checking underneath his nails like he was afraid some of their filth might have latched itself to him.

“You’re adorable when you’re jealous, have I told you that?” 

He’s so quick to tease, even though he’s 100x worse when he’s jealous.

Somehow, he’s even more clingy the rest of the date. He's holding your hand, kissing your cheek, pulling you close to him the entire time– his own way of telling you and everyone else that he’s yours and you’re his.

beelzebub

He’s pretty clueless as to what’s happening and what the stranger’s intentions are– but when you come along, his passive face instantly lights up with a smile.

He is so in love with you, that you’d have to be blind to not see the way he looks at you, like your presence alone makes his heart full.

The stranger realises that they didn’t have a chance from the beginning, and Beel doesn’t even notice them leaving.

He notices that you seem angry at something, so he gently takes your hand and seats you beside him again– handing the slightly ruined food to you.

“You look angry. You should eat, it’ll make you feel better.”

He was right, it did make you feel better. Along with him happily eating all the orders you got him.

He won’t bring up the stranger unless you bring it up, but if you do, he’ll just shrug.

“Them? I don’t know, they just came up to me and sat on our table. I don’t mind when people do that but they were interrupting our date. I didn’t want to get angry and make a scene.”

belphegor

Belphie is spoiled. And he is tired.

When someone comes and sits on your seat, trying to flirt when the two of you came in together– he is instantly pissed off.

He wants nothing more than to “make” them leave, but he can’t (at least not in the way he wants to). So he just decides to be upfront instead.

“Do you mind? That seat is taken by my s/o– the one who walked in with me, in case I need to remind you.”

When they still don’t leave, he’s very seriously considering putting a curse on them.

But before he starts the incantation, you arrive in an equally bad mood.

Recognising that it’s two against one, they roll their eyes and leave, muttering something under their breath all the way.

“That was so tiring…” < (he spoke three sentences)

If you offer to go home, he refuses, saying that you both planned this already.

“I’ll try my best to stay awake but I can’t guarantee it. When we get back home, you owe me a nap.”

The sly little bitch managed to turn the whole thing in his favour.

#obey me #obey me fluff #obey me x reader #obey me x you #lucifer x reader #mammon x reader #leviathan x reader #satan x reader #asmodeus x reader #beelzebub x reader #belphegor x reader #obey me x mc #lucifer fluff #mammon fluff #leviathan fluff #satan fluff #asmodeus fluff #beelzebub fluff #belphegor fluff #obey me fanfic #om fluff #om x reader

[inkdrinkerworld]

post!prison Spencer realizing you’re not always sunshiny and happy when one day he spots you crying in the hall before wiping your eyes and walking into the bullpen with your usual megawatt smile like you hadn’t been balling your eyes out five minutes before

It’s a call with your brother that really gets you started.

Spencer watches you take the phone call that starts off pleasant, you’re all smiles and then you frown, dark and full of an anger Spencer hasn’t ever seen on you.

He knows humans are capable of all emotional spectrums but it’s so foreign on your face and in your body language that he’s shocked a little still.

You walk to a secluded part of the office, hushed, rushed, heated words that Spencer feels horrible for straining his ear to listen to but it’s a strange sight.

He’s never seen you like this.

“How is that my fault? I can’t drop everything and take a plane over there every time shit hits the fan. They’re big kids now.”

What’s worse is your voice cracks and he wants desperately to rush to you, comfort you but he forces himself to stay where he is.

He strains his ear and hears you whisper,

“I’m not doing this again. I can’t be that person anymore. They’re 20, I can’t move back home just to baby them again. I’m not going to be walked all over by them anymore.”

You’re not together, you’re just friends- not super close but closer than anyone else on the team. Spencer feels like he should be comforting you when he moves to the kitchen and watches the first tear tumble down your cheek.

“Hey have you seen, Y/N?” Emily asks and Spencer turns his body to block you from view.

“She went to the bathroom, do we have a case?” He asks, stirring a pound of sugar into his coffee.

“Yeah, when she comes out tell her meet us at the jet.” She hands off a file to him and Spencer glances through the pages quickly.

Spencer watches you compose yourself, swiping at your face, fixing your hair and rolling your shoulders back.

Then he watches almost sadly, as you plaster a smile back on your face.

“Hey, Spence. Where’s everybody?” You open the fridge like you usually do and reach for the canister of whipped cream you keep tucked away.

“We have a case,” Spencer watches you shake it and spray some into your palm, connecting the dots over the many times he’s seen you do that in the last couple of months.

You’d always said it was just a, ‘pick me up’ and Spencer hadn’t thought twice about. You all have little things you do to keep you going in the job, but he realises now it’s less to do with work and more to do with your upset.

“Oh shit,” you spray another heap of cream in your palm. “I’ll get my go bag, can you fill me in while we walk, Spence?” You’re already turning to your desk, fiddling about the last draw for your go bag.

Your eyes are still a little red, and he watches you switch your contacts for glasses as soon as you get hold of the bag. “They burn a little right now,” you supply when you catch him looking and he nods like he doesn’t know the truth.

“Alright, let’s go,” he opens the case file Emily handed to him and starts, “So the unsub seems to be a woman hater? I’m not sure how no one figured him out before this is his sixth victim.”

You frown as you tuck your go-bag over your shoulder, “And the geography is all the same? No crossing state lines?”

Spencer admires how easily you slip back into work mode, but as soon as the case is over he needs to find a way to have you talk to him.

#spencerreid #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid blurb #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fic #spencer reid x black reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x yn #spencer reid x y/n #dr spencer reid

[river-of-wine]

I know I’ve mentioned this plenty of times before but I’m still kind of annoyed by how the fanbase just kind of completely declawed the four lords and placed the entirety of the responsibility for their wrongdoings on Mother Miranda.

The Baker family are great, I love them, they’re an incredible unit of antagonists who are intended to be very sympathetic, at least for the most part. Jack and Marguerite in particular have lost all control over their minds and their bodies, turning into extremely violent murderers and cannibals who threaten and attack their own family, kill anyone unfortunate enough to come across them and, especially in Marguerite’s case, lose complete autonomy over their own bodies. Marguerite turns into a walking bug hive who’s only purpose is to feed her family and birth her new children. Jack is an unstoppable murderous force of patriarchal violence who has so much fun chasing down and harming his victims, which in the Daughters DLC includes even his own daughter. The exception to this is obviously Lucas, who has been cured of his infection and his acting of his own free will. All of this is caused by Eveline, everything Jack and Marguerite do controlled by her, and yet Eveline is just as sympathetic as the rest of them. She’s a ten year old girl. Even Jack, who has watched his family and their victims suffer because of her infection, doesn’t seem to hold any of it against her. She just wants a family of her own, after all. It’s a complex and tragic situation.

The four lords, while I suppose being similar in structure, are not the Baker family. Not in dynamic, not in character, not in the kind of tragedy that they embody. I could talk for a while about just how completely different they are, but I don’t know if I really need to.

The Baker family are so tragic because they were just innocent bystanders trying to help a woman and a little girl they found in a shipwreck out in a storm. That’s the only reason they ended up in the situation that they were in. While the lords have similar origins, being victims of Mother Miranda’s experiments to bring her daughter Eva back, an important distinction between them is that in the case of the lords, all four of them are still acting of their own free will. Yes, Mother Miranda has undeniable power over them. She leads the cult they are part of, she has control over the village, she is their superior. However, I really dislike when every negative action by the lords is pushed onto her, as if the lords are not all grown adults who are for the most part acting independently of her.

With Alcina, she is the head of her own extremely brutal crimes. I think a lot of people have forgotten quite how horrifying the situations of the maidens are, possibly due to the prevalence shipping between Alcina and the maidens, and though we have minimal information what we do know is very frightening. Alcina uses her work force like livestock, draining them for their blood in a cellar full of horrific torture devices, and leaves their corpses to shamble around, armed and ready to attack any unwanted guests that have slipped out of the daughter’s clutches so that Alcina still doesn’t have to do her own dirty work, given how highly above everyone but Mother Miranda she appears to view herself as. While yes, Alcina does need human blood to survive, her methods are brutal, and none of this has been enforced upon her by Mother Miranda. Similarly to Jack on occasion, she takes a great deal of pleasure in hurting and attacking Ethan as he runs from her. Additionally, everything she does to Ethan is against Mother Miranda’s request. While yes, it is retaliation after he killed Bela, the part I often see people leave out is that Alcina is equally as upset that he entered her property and was attempting to steal from her, and she isn’t just after him to kill him.

Alcina has also been an active participant in aiding Mother Miranda with at least one experiment, considering that I’d how she got her daughters. While I’m sure her strong admiration for Mother Miranda and Mother Miranda’s power over her has absolutely had an affect in this, that’s not something I’ll deny, Alcina is still a grown woman and in her written entries about this shows no qualms about her participation in this. Her general attitude towards others, using young women as a good source and turning men into scarecrows, also leads me to believe that she does not exactly care who gets hurt or taken advantage of when it comes to her and Mother Miranda’s personal endeavours.

Donna and Moreau are the two more sympathetic people within the four lords, but they are not innocent. To start with Moreau, he’s desperate for Mother Miranda’s approval, as well as the other lords. He’s insecure and lonely, and he’s doing what he has been instructed by Mother Miranda when it comes to protecting the flask. However, he does also take quite a bit of joy in trapping Ethan in the reservoir and swimming after him with the intention to eat and kill him. Moreau though, given his conditions and circumstances, is the one I think is the least to blame for what he does.

Donna is hard to discuss because we know so little about her. Her parents are dead, as well as whoever Claudia was to her, she communicates through Angie and she can cause those who enter her house to hallucinate. According to Mother Miranda, Donna is severely mentally ill and that is what has made her an unfit vessel. I think a lot of people took this to mean that Donna is unaware of what she is doing, that the hallucinations she is showing Ethan are frightening, but after having been a fan of this game for years I just can’t agree with that anymore. Donna intentionally lures Ethan into her house with visions of his supposedly dead wife. Donna is going after fears she likely knows Ethan has, making him relive Mia’s death, take apart a mannequin of her, listen to her voice panic over something being horribly wrong with Rose, all building towards the horrifying baby that chases him through the house. There is no way Donna doesn’t understand how what she is showing Ethan is distressing, especially when you consider that, given how she can make herself appear and disappear at will within Ethan’s vision and that Angie is sitting in the hallways stationary and unspeaking, Donna was likely close by Ethan at all times and could see and hear his frightened reactions to what she was intentionally showing him.

Donna’s death is upsetting, but Ethan was not just chasing her down and killing her. Donna was attacking him, or at least she was controlling her dolls to do so. It’s still a hallucination, but Ethan doesn’t know that. When faced with a threat that is keeping you trapped and trying to end your life, you will likely try to get away or try to fight back, as Donna is doing to Ethan after he starts to attack her and Ethan is doing to Donna when he thinks his life is still in danger. I would also like to remind everybody that Donna communicates through Angie. What Angie is saying, that’s Donna. Angie doesn’t talk or move once she’s dead, it is Donna who controls her.

Lastly, Heisenberg. I think Heisenberg is the one of the four most entrenched in headcanons. Headcanons are fine, I am never in this post trying to suggest they aren’t, but my issue comes in when people use them to try and change the canon of the game. For example, it’s fine to believe that Heisenberg was experimented on by Mother Miranda as a child, but that isn’t canon. It’s fine to believe that Heisenberg mourned the deaths of his siblings, but that isn’t canon. The opposite is, with Heisenberg not viewing the cult as an actual family and being very openly mean to all three other lords, even Donna and Moreau who seemingly haven’t done anything to slight him. While his goal of killing another Miranda is a very understandable and sympathetic one given what she has done to him, using a six month old baby as a weapon and trying to bring her father into the mix only to try to get him killed when he denies him is not. I cannot overstate quite how little Heisenberg actually cared for Ethan and Rose’s safety when it came to his goal, and given that we are playing as Ethan, Rose is the priority.

Heisenberg has built an army of corpses he has presumably stolen and desecrated. This is kind of fucked up actually, and done completely independently of Mother Miranda. He also puts Ethan through a very dangerous lycan gauntlet before he even reaches the factory, which makes it even stranger to me that people seem to interpret Heisenberg’s deal as something that would have benefitted both him and Ethan and as if he ever had Ethan’s safety in mind.

All four of the lords have tragic aspects to them and there are definitely reasons to sympathise with all four. They’re victims of Mother Miranda, who knows they will all be killed. She wants them to be, giving her less to deal with by the time she has Eva back. They never meant anything to her. Not Alcina or Moreau, who were desperate for her attention. Not Donna, suffering from her unspecified but apparently severe mental illness. Not Heisenberg, who was seemingly her favourite creation. However, all of them are grown adults who do their own bad things independently of her.

And it’s fine to still like them. It’s fine for them to be your favourite character. It’s fine to have happy or nice headcanons about them or want to kiss them or be their friend or to want them to have survived. It’s fine to like characters who do shitty things. It’s to be expected in a game series like Resident Evil. It’s a horror game series. People are going to do bad things.

I just find it so boring when people take away all their bite. What makes a character like Lady Dimitrescu so fun it’s that she’s completely over the top. She’s campy and ridiculous, her castle layout makes no sense, she’s got three kids made of swarms of flies dressed like a set of goth triplets, she’s a lesbian who’s castle is full of naked statues of women, she turns into a big dragon and laughs maniacally while flying around and trying to eat you. She’s evil and it’s fun. It’s the same with Heisenberg. He’s a campy show off with a fun voice and a massive hammer he never actually uses. He can control metal. He looks like a cowboy. He pronounced Miranda in a funny way. He talks to you over an intercom while trying to get you killed. They’re fun and evil and they fight over who gets to kill Ethan like they’re two little kids. It’s absurd.

What makes a character like Donna so scary is that she’s silently working in the shadows, unassuming at a first glance and unseen for most of the time in her house. She is the least threatening of the four upon first glance, and yet she has undeniably the most frightening part of the game. Pretending as if Donna is completely unaware of what she is doing and babying her like she is an incapable child waters her down completely and takes away from the effectiveness of her character.

Villain characters are great! They’re very often the highlight of the story they are in, and they aren’t real! The four lords especially are often so completely exaggerated in what they do as well. It’s fine to like villains! It doesn’t make you bad! Characters can be bad people and you can still like them!

It’s just frustrating seeing a group of very fun and exciting villains, all designed with different aspects of horror, all over the top and campy and stupid and fun, all doing their own set of fucked up things, watered down to a set of poor innocent victims who have never done any wrong ever. If you want Jack and Marguerite, take Jack and Marguerite. Lady Dimitrescu loves killing and eating women and Karl Heisenberg turns corpses into soldiers. They’re bad people and they do comically exaggerated bad things. If you can’t stomach liking a character like that, horror is probably not the genre for you. Unless it’s Resident Evil 7, I suppose, but apparently tall women aren’t hot when it’s Marguerite Baker crawling on the walls.

#I just wanted to ramble abouts the four lords they’re fun as villains and I’m really bored of how their edges keep getting rounded off #resident evil 8 #re8 #lady dimitrescu #donna beneviento #salvatore moreau #karl heisenberg #resident evil 7 #re7 #jack baker #marguerite baker #eveline baker

[writingwithfolklore]

How to Nail your School Essays

                Not to brag, but I’m kind of a big deal when it comes to essays at my school. Since I started highschool I haven’t received a grade less than 90% on an essay—so I’m here to share my secret. This works for the classic essay, but you can also use the same advice and fit it to formal reports or other academic writing.

1. Your essay is about 2 things, demonstrated 3 or more times

This is how I’ve always thought about essays. They’re about two ideas, demonstrated as many times as you need to fill the wordcount. Shakespeare + Feminism, Media + Truth versus Misconception, etc. etc. If you’re lucky, your teacher or prof will give you one of your elements. You’ll get assignments like, “write an essay about Hamlet” or “write an essay about the American dream” lucky you, that’s your first thing—now you need to connect it with another.

This connecting idea is my favourite part because you just get to choose a concept or idea you’re interested in. Here’s a tip, if your first/given topic is something concrete, choose an abstract connecting idea. If your given topic is something abstract, choose a concrete.

So, Hamlet (concrete) could be paired with any abstract concept: Loyalty, Truth, Feminism, etc.

However, if your prof gives you something like, “truth” or “race theory”, you’ll find it much easier to connect that with a more concrete thing, like a book, movie, or other piece of media, or even a specific person.

If you are luckiest, your prof will give you both things, “write about the American Dream in The Great Gatsby” in this case, you’re onto the next stage.

2. Stick to the formula

Tried, tested, true. Nothing wrong with a formula, especially not when it gives you A+ grades. Typical essay structure is:

Intro with thesis

2. 1st Body

2a. Evidence that proves it 1

2i. Justify its relevance

2b. Evidence that proves it 2

2ii. Justify its relevance

Etc.

3. 2nd Body

3a. Evidence that proves it

3i.Justification

Etc.

4. 3rd Body

4a. Rise and repeat, you know where this is going.

5. Some may argue…

6. Conclusion

Let’s break it down.

Thesis:

                Thesis completely outlines all your points, or the three+ places you’re demonstrating your connection, and why it matters.

                Here is an intro + thesis I wrote a couple years ago:

“This literature review will explore the impacts influencer marketing has on the children that regularly consume social media content. Specifically, this review will focus on how influencers can impact children’s brand preferences, dietary choices, and lastly, the influx of children taking advantage of this system and becoming influencers themselves.”

Or

“Burned discusses the human aspect of sex work and reverses reader’s expectations on sex workers, while Not in My Neighbourhood discusses prostitutes as victims of a system created against them. Both challenge readers’ perceptions of sex workers, effectively drawing attention to the ethics of displacing sex workers from their cities.”

                So you have your connection (children and social media)/(Burned and Not in My Neighbourhood and sex work), and the different ways you plan on exploring or proving that idea (children’s brand preferences, dietary choices, children becoming influencers.) etc.

                You may also have a more specific stance in your thesis. Such as, “In Macbeth, ambition is shown to be Macbeth’s ultimate downfall in these three ways.”

The Body Paragraphs

                You start out every body paragraph with the point of the paragraph, or what it’s aiming to prove. Such as, “Influencers often include advertisements within their content, which can encourage children to feel more amiably to certain brands their favourite content creators endorse frequently more than others.”

                After this claim, you spend the rest of the paragraph further proving it through examples. This will look like citing a specific source (a book, academic journal, quote, etc.) such as, “The authors claim likeable influencers can associate their likeability with the products they use, influencing children’s perception of brands, referred to as ‘meaning transfer’ (De Veirman et al. 2019)” (super important to always cite these sources!)

                The last part is after each example/proof--you need to justify why this proves your point/is important. So, “This proves children are more influenced towards certain products depending on how close of a relationship they perceive to have with the influencer.”

                Typically, your evidence will all lead into each other so you can transition to the next piece of proof, then the justification, rinse and repeat until you’re finished your paragraph. You can have as many pieces of evidence as you want per paragraph, and the longer your word requirement, the more you’ll want to fit into each point (or the more bodies you want to have.)

                Piece of evidence + why it matters, rinse and repeat.

Some May Argue:

                This is a small paragraph just before your conclusion where you anticipate an argument your readers may have, and disprove it. So, for example, you’d start with, “Some may argue that with parent supervision, the impacts of influencers on children could be lessened or moot. However…” and then explain why they’re wrong. This strengthens your argument, and proves that you’ve really thought out your stance.

Conclusion:

                Lastly, you want to sum up all the conclusions you came to in a few sentences. Your last line is one of the most important (in my opinion). I call it the mic drop moment. Leaving a lasting impact on your reader can bring your essay from an A to an A+, so you really want to nail this final sentence.

                My final sentence was, “Ultimately, it is hard to know in advance how technology and social media will impact the development of children who have always grown up with some form of screen, but until they grow up, parents and caregivers need to take care in the content their children consume, and their very possible exploitation online.”

This sentence is backed by the entirety of the essay that came before it, and usually leaves a little something to chew on for the readers.

Any other tips I missed?

#writing #creative writing #writers #screenwriting #writing community #writing inspiration #filmmaking #film #books #writing advice #how to nail your school essays #essay writing #academic writing

[iwritenarrativesandstuff]

I’m just going to throw down my thoughts now real quick. Someone is obviously going to get taken over by Fyodor. This takeover seems to require blood to activate. Here are the potential options, rated lowest to highest by my own personal interest.

Random character we’ve never met - the easy and boring answer. Fyodor will body snatch one of the vampire guards he was communicating with. Fair amount of likelihood since he could easily have made the transfer of blood at any point, though I’m not sure yet if it needs to be an instantaneous thing or if his blood can lie dormant. Either way I think it’s a bit of an ass-pull with no stakes on our cast so I’m hoping this isn’t the case.

A named character outside Meursault - Probably someone he’s had a lot of contact with, so Fukuchi. This depends on the blood having a latency period and is also insanely contrived. I actually hate it more than the random guard.

The Catgirl thief - I’m assuming this is extremely unlikely since the host needs to be alive. But anyways. Women lovers here’s how we lose even worse.

Having said this now, I think it’s fairly obvious it has to be one of the other Meursault four. This is appropriately thematic and tragic, given that all of them place a lot of value on free will and self-determination, which a takeover by Fyodor would rob them of.

Chuuya - He spent a lot of time around Chuuya to be sure but there’s no blood on him. If there’s a latency period though, it is possible. I’m not feeling this one though, to be honest. I don’t see what narrative purpose it serves - Chuuya hasn’t had enough of a role in the manga for this to mean much, other than royally pissing Dazai off (which to be fair is definitely in character for Fyodor). I think it far more likely that Chuuya is going to be a witness for whatever comes next.

Sigma - High likelihood. He did get stabbed and had the memory transfer. I can’t remember whether Fyodor touched him with his wounded hand. It would be brutal for this to happen to him after he’d just broken free from his manipulation. But honestly I don’t know that Sigma getting taken over is all that interesting. For one, they’re going to need his knowledge (though that may be a reason for Fyodor to off him truthfully), and for another, I just don’t think Sigma’s… done enough as a character. I feel it would kind of render his arc in Meursault pointless to end his story here.

Nikolai - The most likely possibility to me. He is holding Fyodor’s severed hand, which he touched to his face. Fyodor’s ability probably kickstarts after his death, and Nikolai was the first to get his blood on him. Sadly, I suspect that if this is the case, this will be the end for Nikolai. If he gets taken over, I can’t see a reason or method to restore him to himself. What a horribly tragic end this would be to our favourite clown, his freedom snatched away for good by the one person he couldn’t help but get attached to.

Dazai - I dismissed this off-hand at first. Of course I did, Dazai is immune to abilities. I also want to be clear that I seriously doubt Asagiri will off his favourite boy like this. But oh man. What if Fyodor’s ability isn’t an ability, much like in the first skk manga team up? What if them both being there is a call-back to Rimbaud who snatched corpses, and Lovecraft who could hurt Dazai? What if Fyodor really has become no longer human - and this is the proof? I was kind of hoping the Meursault arc would end with Dazai (temporarily!) out of the picture, and this would be a way to do it - Atsushi and Akutagawa would have to step up, Chuuya could be more relevant. We could even have more Kyouka if what I’m starting to wonder is true - that Fyodor was involved in the death of her parents. At the same time, Dazai’s special boy plot armour nullification and mysteriousness gives us a plausible reason to bring him back. And all the while maybe they could continue their mind games, with Dazai being an annoying little pest in the back of Fyodor’s mind.

#I’m screaming asagiri please give us bad ending #also I think chuuya would rapidly lose the idgaf war if he saw dazai being taken over like that which is. just a bonus for me. #realistically though my money’s on nikolai. sorry jester man I think you might be doomed :( #bsd #storyrambles #bsd meta #bsd chapter 114 #bsd spoilers #bsd fyodor #bsd chuuya #bsd sigma #bsd nikolai #bsd dazai

[oikasugayama]

Late happy new year!! First of all, I just wanna say that I LOOOOOOOVED ur akutagawa nsfw alphabet!! It was really in character imo especially cuz I've started simping for him a lot lately. Can I request an nsfw alphabet for Dazai??

Happy New Year!! Thank you, I'm so glad you liked it and I find it very satisfying that you thought it was in character!!! Hopefully I can do Dazai's NSFW alphabet the same justice :D

Dazai honestly kind of fucking sucks at aftercare. It's not that he neglects you or pushes you away or anything, but he does the bare minimum because he's already in shut-down mode after using all his energy to fuck you nice and good. He'll cross his ankles and lay back with his hands behind his head, grinning up at the ceiling and you'll have to roll over and cling to his side and tell him to hold you. He does it happily, wrapping his arms around you and kissing the top of your head. “You were so good for me,” he whispers. “I can't wait to do that again.” It's nice but it's about all he does, letting you both fall asleep sweat-sticky and covered in cum. The showers in the morning are incredible, but the stains on the bedsheets are annoying.

His favorite body part is your tits. He likes that they fill his hand nicely. He likes playing with your nipples and making you whine. He likes just holding them and squishing them. He likes that he can look at them at absolutely any point in the day and they’re just pretty and nice and he can’t help it, he’s just a man, he likes boobies. He especially loves when you’re cuddling and you let him hold your boobs just for fun.

He’s an expert at making you cum on his tongue. He loves lapping it up and slurping it out of you and sucking it off his fingers. He doesn’t play that “it’s okay if I don’t cum” shit. You’re going to cum, especially if your past partners haven’t made you. He’s obsessive about his goal and he will pull out all the stops to make it happen. And when you go down on him, he sure likes when you swallow his cum but he won’t make you because he likes it just as much splattered across your face.

His dirty talk game is unparalleled. He’s a fucking demon. Part of what makes it so intense is that he’ll start it absolutely anywhere. It doesn’t matter if you’re at work, in public, with friends, on the phone, or at home in peace. If he wants to turn you on, or if he wants to fuck with you, he’ll use his low, calm voice and lean in so, so close. He’ll crowd into your space, slowly pull your hair back from your shoulder, tuck it behind your ear, and say something like “I bet Kunikida could use a lesson on how to eat pussy. Why don’t I spread you out on the table so we can teach him?”

He doesn’t talk about how experienced he is, but based on how skilled he is, there’s a good chance he’s had a lot of practice. He never confirms whether that’s the case, or if he’s just picked up all his tips and tricks through his vast study of human anatomy. If you expressed that it truly bothered you to not know, he’d confess that he’s actually not been with that many people and that yeah, he knows what to do because he studied extensively, but if you don’t ask he won’t tell. He likes to keep the suave facade.

His favorite position is pretzel (cartoon depiction). You both like how deep he can get in doggy, but he wants to see your face. Watching your reactions to what he does to you is his favorite part of fucking, so he found another position. You lay on your side with one leg in the air, he straddles your lower leg and fucks you from there--he loves it, he likes holding your leg and kissing it while getting balls deep and watching your eyes roll back as he fucks the deepest part of you.

He absolutely can be goofy in bed. Sometimes he’ll randomly stop all movement and start laughing, and you have to ask what happened, and he can have a range of weird ass responses. One notable one was “I don’t know why but in my head I just called my dick ‘my little dinky’ and now I can’t stop laughing.” He genuinely collapses on top of you laughing about that one and eventually once the laughing has subsided his hips lazily start humping you again and it’s so ridiculous and you just have unserious silly-talk sex after that.

Dazai honestly kind of hates hand-jobs. It’s not that he doesn’t like your hands--they are nice and soft and he likes holding them or having them roam over other parts of his body!-- but if he’s getting pleasure on his dick he wants it wet. Your mouth, your pussy, or even your ass if you’re into anal. He wants his dick in something tight and wet that he can cum deep inside.

He absolutely loves fucking in inappropriate locations, hence why he dirty talks with you anywhere he so pleases. He honestly needs a partner who’s a bit more respectful of appropriate sexual spaces than he is otherwise he’d do something ridiculous like sneak you into Chuuya’s office and fuck you over his desk just to piss off his old partner if he catches you in there. Actually, he’d really like to do that, now that it’s on his mind…

He jacks off a lot :/ He hasn’t had a partner in a long time and as much as he flirts with people he’s not actually very successful in pulling one night stands. This is why when he has a partner he wants to cum inside of them rather than because of their hand-- he’s so fucking sick of his own hand. If he has to jack off one more fucking time he might launch himself off the roof. Please for the love of god let him cum inside.

He definitely has some kinks. He likes sensation play, he likes edging and orgasm denial, he can absolutely get into impact play if you want him to spank you. He doesn’t want to be degraded or talked down to because no matter how much it’s reaffirmed that it’s only words during sex, his brain tends to hold onto it and obsess over it. He doesn’t really like to degrade you either for the same reason; for his own mental health he needs the verbal focus to be filthy rather than insulting.

When he realizes he loves you, the way he fucks you changes. At first you’re having fun, he’s blowing your back out every night, he’s eating you out for so long and so intensely that you’re sensitive and sore for hours. When he realizes he’s in love with you, he lays you down gently, making out with you slowly and sensually. His hands move very delicately, tickling you and teasing you. He fucks you missionary this time, staying as close to your body as he can. His thrusts are slow and measured and he keeps kissing you, kissing your neck, occasionally moving down to suck on your tits before coming back up to say you feel so good and “fuck, thank you,” and when he cums he might accidentally whimper that he loves you.

His sexual motivation is mutual pleasure. He has a high sex drive once sex is a habit for him again (i.e. when he doesn’t have to masturbate to get his rocks off). He wants you every day and he gets whiny if he can’t have it. (The best time to dom him is when one of you has been away for a few days and he’s desperate to get his hands on you--push him down, tell him to shut up and do what you say, and he’s putty in your hands). Like mentioned before, he doesn’t play with that “you don’t have to make me cum” shit. He! Will! Make! You! Cum! Or! He! Will! Die!

Also as mentioned, Dazai says NO to most degradation. Once you point out that calling you a dirty little whore and a cock slut technically counts as degradation he’s like “okay, well that’s fine,” but he never allows anything like “you’re useless unless you’re being fucked,” because his brain stops after “useless” and it just makes him feel bad. Almost anything else he’d try. He’d honestly be turned on if you dragged the tip of a knife around his body (without cutting him). He’d think it’s hot to watch you fuck someone else (but he’d have to be tied up otherwise he’d get jealous and rip that other person off of you). He doesn’t want to fuck anyone besides you unless it’s as a threesome+. You have to be involved.

Dazai fucking LOVES GIVING YOU ORAL. Again, he has studied human anatomy immensely. He knows exactly what to do to make you cum. He knows how to move his tongue, where to move it, how fast, how long. He knows how to finger you at the same time to double or even triple your pleasure. He could literally eat you out until his lips wrinkled up from being against your wet pussy for so long. He definitely gets hard from eating you out and could rut against the bed and nut in his pants from making you cum.

He has no pace preference; he very much goes for what the day demands. Sometimes you’re grumpy or cranky and he’s pent-up and feels like brat taming and he gets you into bed and fucks the absolute shit out of you. Sometimes he’s overwhelmed with how much he loves you and he takes such sweet, slow care of you. It all depends on how you’re both feeling!!

Dazai will never turn down a quickie, though it always leaves him wanting more. If you both work at the ADA he’ll coincidentally run out of pens and offer to go get more from the supply closet at the same time that you leave the office to go to the bathroom--and then he’ll follow you in, lock the door behind you, and fuck you against the sink, hoping none of the other girls need the toilet for the next 15 minutes.

He definitely will take sexual risks. He’ll fuck you at work, he’ll ask you for a blowjob any time you pass a random alleyway, he’ll put your hand on his crotch under the table at dinner, he’ll try to finger you under your dress in the back of a car as someone drives you home. He’s a little horndog. He’ll also take the risk of cumming inside you even if you’re not on birth control--he insists you’ll find a way together to take care of any consequences but please please please let him cum inside it feel so good he wants it in you it’s so hot please let him please please please.

Dazai has a lot of stamina, thus why he can eat you out for hours at a time. He could start teasing you or making you cum in the morning and still drag orgasms out of you by the end of the night. It’s about pacing. He’ll have you bounce on his fingers, cum on his tongue, then he’ll fuck you doggy in front of a mirror and after cuddling you while idly playing with your nipples for almost an hour he’ll be hard again and have you ride him, and on and on and on and on…

What doesn’t turn Dazai on? He’s a simple man. You could walk into the room, flash him your tits, and his dick will literally spring to life. Just look at him and say “I want to have sex. Do you?” and his balls twitch. He likes when you’re confident and when you pretend to be a sweet little innocent thing for him to wreck. He likes you in clothes and out of them. He thinks it’s hot when you say something smart. He thinks it’s hot when you use your ability. He’s so smitten by everything you do.

He can be unfair as fuck in bed. It’s not even funny. Yes, his policy is that you will cum by the time he’s done, but that doesn’t mean you’re going to cum fast, or even as many times as he does. He’ll edge you for literal hours meanwhile he’s cum so many times he’s literally shooting blanks. He’ll edge you for so long and so intensely that when he finally says “okay, you can cum” and he flicks his tongue over your clit, you bust almost instantly. He was the Port Mafia’s best interrogator, remember? He knows how to make someone squirm and now he uses it to sexually torment you.

Volume: HIGH. He’s loud in bed and he wants you to be too. If his neighbors (sorry, Kunikida and Ranpo!!) aren’t sending him angry texts to shut the fuck up or buy them noise-cancelling headphones as an apology, he must not be doing a good enough job and he needs to up the ante! He doesn’t try to be loud, he just lets his body do whatever it wants, and what it wants is to moan and shout and yell. He makes you do it, too, telling you that his neighbors can’t hear it (lies). He loves when you scream after he’s edged you for so long. He wants your screams of pleasure to drown out all the memories of screams of torture that he used to cause.

The most out of pocket sexual wild-card that Dazai pulls on you is *dramatic drumroll* fucking you in Chuuya’s office. Yeah, after he mentioned it that one time he couldn’t stop thinking about it and so he dragged you to the PM buildings, snuck inside with you, found Chuuya’s executive office and started absolutely going to town on you. You’re honestly kind of scared shitless, but he reminds you that if he falls, the PM goes with him, and you calm down a little…until the office door opens, and Chuuya starts screaming at Dazai for being in here and also What the fuck is wrong with you, I thought you were kidding!! Wait, what? Turns out Dazai not only told Chuuya he was going to fuck you in his office, but he invited Chuuya to join and Chuuya jokingly said “yeah, if you can manage to sneak into my office with some hot babe I’ll tag team her with you,” and shit, here you are (o_o) [i wrote it, click here to read]

Dazai likes watching x-rated videos with you to get ideas. Sometimes the best way to find new positions or find new roleplay ideas is to watch porn together, sooooo… You know he never does work at home, so whenever he has his laptop out it’s gotta be time to cuddle against his side and watch porn like normal people watch reality TV. “Ohh, this one’s labeled ‘sex education’ and it’s called ‘top 10 best sex positions’.” “Do you wanna try wife-cheating-on-husband roleplay?” “I can pretend to be a plumber coming to fix your sink and you can coerce me into sex for payment?”

If you ask Dazai why he’s so obsessed with sex and why it seems to be the only thing he thinks about or wants to do with you, he’ll do some serious self-reflection. He just really desperately yearns for you, and for closeness to you, and he doesn’t really know how to fulfill that so he resorts to sex because the climax of an orgasm definitely gives him a wave of good feelings. Turns out, he likes sitting with you and having deep, serious conversations as well. He feels weird opening up about dark things in his past, but when you do it because you trust him, he realizes he trusts you too and tells you things he’s never told anyone. He learns that he can be close to you without sex (but he’s still a horndog, he still needs it).

Dazai likes fucking you to sleep. He likes imagining the little zZzZz floating out of your mouth when you’re still spread out on the bed, naked, sweat still drying on your skin, pussy still glistening with cum and wetness as your exhausted body makes you sleep after finally cumming after hours of play. He always tries to tell you that if you close your eyes after you cum, you’re going to fall asleep, but you never heed his warning and it happens all the time. He just lays with you and takes a little power nap <3

#ask answered #dazai smut #dazai x reader #dazai headcanons #bsd x reader #bsd smut #bsd headcanons #bungo stray dogs smut #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungo stray dogs headcanons #technically also chuuya headcanons #technically also chuuya x reader

[gremlingottoosilly]

I know there’s a human resistance rebellion they could probably snatch some baby humans from or something, but what about like human breeding or something? is that a thing in this universe? Since they’re more akin to pets I was wondering if there was some sort of like human breeders.

Since there’s also like selective breeding for pets there could also be selective breeding for only the most fertile humans (even if it technically doesn’t work that way). They might not even keep the males, it could be like how they just harvest sperm and artificially inseminate them?

Just worldbuilding from your silly local rice ball lover 🍙

That's a really good point, thank you, Onigiri anon!! Yes, some humans are kept as nothing more than breeding mares to move humans. Unfortunately, in the initial uprising, a large population of humans, especially the most vulnerable ones, were killed by monsters, hunger, and the elements when the civilization fell into dystopia for the first time. Monsters quickly learned that just killing every human they see isn't really a viable scenario, and someone had to pick up where the others have fallen. Men and women are both viable for reproduction, esp for species that lay eggs, like Konig or Gaz. With monsters of egg-laying type, no matter if they are birds or reptiles or sea life, they are using humans as incubators, since they need warm and soft bodies for the eggs to nourish on. It's more like a reverse seahorse situation, when you're inserted with eggs, but don't really have a genetic intake on how the babies are going to turn up. There is a chance of a more traditional pregnancy with children resembling both parents, but it's extremely rare and frowned upon by monsters - after all, humans are deemed inherently weak by any monster. Selective breeding saves both male and female specimens, as long as they have more advantages to raise the monster brood properly - I imagine wider hips, softer bodies in general, resilience to pain, and the submissiveness that gets really stuck in their heads as a result. With humans sold in pet shops, it's no wonder that some monster species are taking their role as caretakers and raisers of new human generations for further breeding - as fucked up as it might be. some humans get released by human resistance, although if a person comes from this indoctrinated, monster-pleasing background, they wouldn't be able to survive in the wild, in most cases. Also as a fun fact, humans have much larger life spans than any human would - Konig can easily clock up at least 100 years and more and more, as long as he isn't killed - but the thing is, that human's biology gets irreversibly changed after a prolonged and repeated exposure to monster semen. Our poor breeding wifey, she doesn't even know that aging isn't a problem anymore( death of old age isn't going to help her get free of Konig, they have mated, and she will be alive for much, much longer, her life span increasing with every time an egg or semen gets deposited in her.

#cod #konig x reader #yandere konig #konig #tw: monster fucking #monster!141 #cod x reader #monster!konig

[doitforbangchan]

It’s not fair - S.C

Masterlist

Changbin x reader (afab)

Summary: As your best friend, he can't just let you rot away... especially since he's in love with you.

This was an emergency request from my lovey Bumble Bee @ayejaii who I just adore. I hope you enjoy, my dear friend :)

Warnings: Angst, crying, hurt/comfort, fluff, kissing, suggestive, cursing, Bestfriends to lovers trope, Binnie being perfect. Not proofread

WC: 1.6k

There was a distinct melancholy in the air surrounding your apartment.  The curtains have not been drawn in days, making it seem mustier than Changbin had ever seen it. He had been calling you and texting you for days but you hadn’t answered once. Even though he had been your best friend for a few years, never once had you ignored him. He knew something must have happened and in his state of intense worry he sped to your home the second his recording session was over. Good thing he had the spare key you had given him in case of emergencies.

The first thing he did when he entered was scouring the room for you. The living room looked untouched from the last time he was here a few days ago. Right before your latest date with your dickhead fling. When he didn’t find you in the living room or kitchen he shuffled to your bedroom. 

The door was cracked open, a gap big enough for your cat to fit through. Changbin peered inside the dark room, finding a cocooned lump in the middle of your bed. Your fluffy cat was curled next to you but upon his entry into your space got up from her lying position, letting out a little ‘mew’ in greeting to her second favorite human. 

Changbin gave the cat a little scritch on the chin, before he sat on the edge of your bed. “Y/n? Sweetheart, what’s wrong?” You didn’t answer, he only heard a quiet sniffle come from the mass of blankets. “I’ve been worried about you, ya know. You haven’t been answering your phone. Not since you went out with Mike.” He said the man's name with a tone of disgust. Changbin had been in love with you since you first became friends all those years ago, and knew your fling didn’t deserve you. “Have you been laying here since then? It’s been 3 days.”

 At the mention of the name, you let out a sob, your body shaking as you did. “Stop, Bin.” You croaked out, voice sounding like you hadn’t spoken words in days. 

His mind immediately went to the worst, panic striking his body, ”Did.. Did he do something to  you, Y/n? Did he hurt you?” 

You peeked your face out of your cocoon just enough to meet his eyes. Your own eyes were puffy and red, as if you had been crying for hours on end. “No Changbin. He didn’t hurt me. Not physically at least.” 

“What do ya mean, sweetheart?” He was confused, he thought things were going well with the dickhead. 

“He..he broke up with me.” You sobbed, reburying your face in your covers. 

“Oh honey, come er’,” he laid on your bed with you and cradled you into him. “He was a fucking dipshit who didn’t deserve you anyway.” 

“I am so tired, Bin.” 

“What are you tired of, y/n?” He tried to keep his voice even and soothing.

“I am so tired of men treating me like trash. Like I’m some toy they can throw away when they’re done playing with me.” Your shaking got worse, hiccuping between words. “ I try so hard to be good for them, be who they want me to be, but it doesn’t matter. None of it fucking matters.”

“Don’t say that. None of it is your fault. You don’t have to change yourself for anyone, let alone some low life.” He had fury in his tone, though he was doing his best not to let it show. 

“But it is my fault!” you flung the blankets off you as you sat up. Your voice was hysterical. “He told me it was! That I- I wasn’t enough for him. That I wasn’t the kind of girl he could see himself with in the long run. Why am I so unlovable?” 

“That’s not true!” Changbin exploded. You were shocked at his outburst. “You are loveable! In fact I know someone who would kill to be with you, and treat you like you deserve!” 

“Who, Binnie? What kind of man would want to be with a mess like me?!” you cried. 

“Me, goddamnit!” Fuck, this is not how he imagined he would confess to you. It's too late now. “I am in love with you!” 

Your tears came harder, “ Don’t say things you don’t mean, Changbin. It’s not fair.” 

He cupped your cheeks, “What’s not fair, is how long I’ve spent pining after you. How long I’ve spent trying to show you how a man is supposed to treat a woman.” He was staring right into your eyes, being the most serious you had ever seen him. “It’s not fair that I have had to watch you go out with dirtbag after dirtbag, while I waited and hoped and prayed that you would finally see who was right here…me.” 

You paused, glassy eyes wide. “Why did you never say anything?” 

“What was I supposed to say? That I was in love with you while you were dating someone else? That I didn’t want you to be with anyone else? I couldn’t be selfish, not with you.” 

“Oh Binnie” You flew at him, burying your face in his muscular chest. Your fingers grasped onto his shirt, trying to bring him as close as possible. “I have seen you there. I’ve always known your worth.” 

“Don’t lie to make me feel better.” He whispered, his anguish showing in his voice. 

“I’m not lying!” you wailed, “I have been in love with you for years, since we first met at Hyunjins birthday party!” 

He remembers it so clearly, he often replays it in his mind. Being enamored with your soft smile and bright personality when Hyunjin introduced you a few years back. The pink dress you wore had hugged your figure just right, and your fluttering lashes had him in a trance. At the time, he was too chicken shit to ask you out for a real date, so instead he settled on being your friend. 

“You were always so good to me, Bin. It’s impossible not to fall for you.” You sniffled, trying to make him see. “You always treat everybody so well, I didn’t think you felt the same way about me. I didn’t want to confess and be turned down by you. I couldn’t bear to be on the receiving end of your polite grimace you always have when rejecting a girl. Or even worse, have you feel bad for me and agree to date me in some self sacrificing way, making yourself miserable.I guess that's me, unable to be selfish with you.” 

You waited with baited breath for his response. What you got instead was him wrapping his thick arms around you, and his face in your hair as he…laughed? 

“You’re telling me, I waited so long for you to see me there. For you to love me like I do you. And you’ve been over here, feeling the exact same way? For years?” His laughing mingled with his now teary cries as he took in the situation. “Maybe it’s us who’s the actual dipshits.” 

You couldn't help the watery giggles that escaped you. “ I think you’re right, Bin. We’re possibly the biggest idiots on earth.” 

You both just held each other for a while, cry-laughing together on your bed. Eventually he was the first to pull away. Changbin wiped his watery eyes as he gazed down at you. Even with a puffy tear stained face you were still the most beautiful woman in the world. 

His rough hands cupped your cheeks again, and he held your eye contact as he slowly leaned in closer. “If this isn’t what you want, I need you to stop me now,” he whispered. 

“It’s all I want, Bin. You’re all I want.”  You were the one to close the gap, your lips smashing into his with a delicate intensity. He reciprocated just as fiercely, almost as if this was a dream he would soon wake from. 

Changbin knew if you’d let him, he could swallow you whole. Make you his in every way possible. Your little whimpers that escaped you when you bit on his lip didn’t go unnoticed. But, as much as he would love to take it further, he understood it wasn’t the right time. Sex wasn’t what you needed right now. 

“Sweetheart,” he started, his words muffled when you wouldn’t let him pull away completely. you hummed, reaching for the hem of his shirt. “Baby, we can’t right now. As much as I’m dying to finally get you naked, there are more pressing matters.” he managed to gently push you off. 

“But Binniiiieeeee.” you whined with a pout. 

“I know, my love, I know” he cooed, patting your hair, before standing from your bed. “ first things first, you gotta eat something and shower.” He scooped you into his arms as you squealed a laugh. “And let’s get this place aired out, huh? It reeks of despair in here.” 

“Ugh fine” you relented, stomach growling at the promise of food. Plus if it meant you could stay in his arms longer, you would do anything he asked. “on one condition.” 

“And what’s that, sweetheart?” he asked amused when you plopped you on your bathroom counter. He then turned on the bathtub tap letting it fill up for you. 

“You have to take a bath with me.” There was a twinkling in your eye as you purred it. 

“Fuck, you can’t say things like that. It’s not fair.” He ran his hand through his hair, looking flustered. 

You pulled your shirt off, flinging it at him.

“Who ever said I was fair?” 

Comments and reblogs are very much appreciated!

©doitforbangchan

#stray kids #stray kids x reader #skz #changbin x reader #changbin #changbin stray kids #straykids #changbin fluff

[safination]

Partners in Death... and Life

Part 3: Not Everything You Hear From the Radio Should be Trusted

| Part 2: Radio Will be Dead if He Doesn't Explain Himself| Part 4: The Radio Star’s Co-host Just Wants To Do The Dishes| |Masterlist| ao3| Tag-list| Parings: Alastor x wife!reader Tags: fem!reader, established relationship, hopefully not but just in case ooc!alastor (I'm still trying my best to keep him as canon as possible) Reader is in hell for a reason. Please take note of the following warnings: Body horror. Graphic descriptions of injuries, glass piercing skin, cutting of skin, cutting of chest. Dissection of Human muscles. Misogyny Just…be careful out there Hello. I usually aim to post on Wednesdays, and I knoooow it's not a Wednesday. But, in my defense, this chapter is longer than chapters 1 and 2 combined. Also, I tried to keep the body horror to a medium level. I tried to find a perfect balance of horrifying but also still readable. Would you guys want more body horror, or less, or is this a good amount?

The heart monitor beeps with a steady rhythm. The model’s ECG reading dip, but that’s normal for her species. You study the model asleep on your table, and take your place.

Turning to your interns, you adjust the fit of your gloves as say, “Are you ready?

From the other side of the table, Lys nods her head with such vigor that you’re afraid it would fall off. “I’m as ready as I’ll ever be!”

Heme takes their place next to you, wheeling the cart within your reach. “Aren’t there supposed to be more people here?” they ask, adjusting the fit of their mask with their shoulder. “We don’t even have an anesthesiologist present, and the technician dumped the tools and left without a word!”

Sighing, you take another look at the screen, and monitor the patient’s ECG readings. Just a couple of decades ago, you wouldn’t even be allowed to take five steps into a surgical suite, but in your death, you stare at the state-of-the-art Vox technology heart monitor.

“This was dumped at the last minute. And the Vees paid a hefty amount for the best,” you say, smiling to yourself. “I guess it doesn’t help that most of the staff have clocked-off for the night already.”

“It really doesn’t,” Heme says. You think they frown, you’re not actually sure. It’s hard to tell with masks on, but Heme sounds like they’re frowning.

“On the bright side, this is a special case, and special cases require special means,” you say. “Stick around, and I’ll make sure to show you something amazing.”

Lys squeals, jumping a bit, “I can’t wait to see your work.”

You turn to Heme. “Tell how you were guided into stopping the bleeding by Doctor Neisseria.”

Heme straightens, round their shoulders. “Hemostatic dressing for the capillaries,” they recite. “Then Lys clipped the bigger vessels, and Doctor Neisseria used an electrocautery for any that we missed.”

“Good,” you say. “Lys, is this your first time using a clip?”

“…Yes,” Lys tells you. Even with a mask on, you could tell she was sulking.

You eye the cart between you and Heme, double checking that the technician brought everything you requested for. “It shows,” you say. “Practice every chance you get. Make a deal with some poor and down on their luck Sinner who wouldn’t mind making a deal for permission to poke around whenever you want. They’ll heal on their own if it’s not too severe…or don’t—I mean, that’s how I did mine.”

Lys blinks at you. “I’ll…keep that in mind.”

Your shoulder slumps. “…Shall we just begin?”

Heme hands you a needle driver, the needle already clipped to it. A bunch of suture forms around your palm. It’s study, and made of pure Sinner Magical Energy, or just magic or whatever. It comes out of your and you have full control, that’s all you need to know.

Heme and Lys lean closer to observe the threads you make.

I don’t get to do this often.” You turn your head, motioning to the detached arm placed on the side. The skin has been stretched and the jagged and stringy muscle fibers sticking out tell you it’s been ripped off rather than slice. The radius protrudes out into the air, jagged and sharp. It would have hurt this model quite a lot. “Steady her arm please.”

Lys snatches the arm, holding it with confidence as she steadies it. “This is so cool.”

Heme hums. “Cool in a gross way.”

“Whether your patient is awake or not, a steady hand is key,” you say. “When you pierce your needle, be sure to do it right at the epidermis when dealing with the skin. Too deep and you’ll puncture the arteries or nerves.”

Lys brings the arm closer, and you do the first suture that will connect the limb of Velvette’s model. Valen-something apparently tore her up, but it wasn’t enough to kill her. So, they rushed her into the Emergency Room three days before this poor girl’s debut, and dropped her into your care with her arm and leg in an ice box.

You sew the model’s arm. The threads around your fingers are light, but sturdy. You entwine some around your fingers like some puppet master for better grip. Blood vessels, bones, nerves, and muscles. Not a single cell escapes your control.  

You quiz your interns from time to time or tell them to take a closer look at where the vessels stick out the muscles, making sure they’re able to observe how a proper reattachment is conducted.

You study the threads connecting the arm to its body There are thousands of loose sutures. One single pull, and it will be completely reattached.

You shift your shoulders and crack your neck, giving it a slight stretch. “How long has it been?”

Lys glances at the clock behind you. “Five hours. I think it’s almost sunrise.”

“Be ready to be here for a while,” you say, rolling your shoulders. “The leg will be more complicated.”

Heme groans and their shoulder slump. “I guess I should just be thankful the model is mostly humanistic.”

You pull on the singular thread, and the stitches shorten until the arm is fully connected to its base. A thing line is the only indication that any limbs have been detached.

The door swings open and you snap your head at the sound.

“Hey doc!” The little Egg Boi saunters into the room, an envelope in his tiny hands. “I got something for you.”

Your feathers crack and sharpen. “If you wish to keep your shell,” you hiss at him, “you will leave this room before you contaminate it further.”

Egg Boi #04 wobbles a bit. “I was told to give you a message.”

A headache forms on your temples. You want to massage it, but that would contaminate your gloves. “Lys, show the egg to the observation room. Show him the microphone.”

Lys pouts a bit but exits the surgical suite.

Heme grabs the leg, and you begin again. You pause to take a deep breath. The threads don’t just appear out of thin air—they’re created because you will them to take shape. It gives as much as it needs to take from you.

Egg Boi# 04’s voice echoes on the speaker. “I have a note for you.”

“Read it then leave.” You pierce the tibia bone with your needle (special hell needle, you guess. Normal needles definitely cannot pierce bones) and connect it to the model’s leg.

Your concentration does not waver, even as Lys enters back into the room.

“My dearest good doctor,” Egg Boi #04 reads. “What a helltastic day for –"

“Stop!” you exclaim, and the threads you’re producing fizzle a bit, “Is that from Alastor?”

“Uhhh…yes?”

“Give me 10 minutes.” You sew the model’s leg just like before, starting from bones, then vessels, the muscles, and finally skin, but this time at a much faster pace.  

Thousands of strings connect the detached leg to its place.

Heme gawks at you. “I thought the leg was more complicated?”

“It is.”

“It took you five minutes to sew everything,” they say. “Why did it take the arm until sunrise?”

“You wouldn’t have been able to learn anything if I went too fast.” You hand the needle driver to Heme, who takes it with eager hands “I trust you will be able to close for me?”

“Yes!”

“Go around the skin—remember not too deep,” you say. “Once it’s all connected, just one strong pull and the threads should work their magic. Lys, once she closes, you can practice your knots.”

The door closes with a swing. You discard your gloves then peel off your protective layers, but you keep the scrub cap on your head.

The Egg Boi waddles into the room, threatening to tip any moment. He holds up Alastor’s note and you’re forced to bend when you reach for it.

You open the envelope and sigh. “This is a letter, and definitely not a note,” you say counting all the pages jammed into the envelope. “Notes are small pieces of paper, and not fifteen pages of paper scribbled back-to-back.”

You take one deep breath, flaring your nostrils as you contemplate your marriage choices, and begin reading.

Heme enters the holding room as you’re reading through the last page.

They take a look at the pages you’ve read. “Ohhhhh a letter?” they say, discarding their mask into the trash. Their gloves are next. “Who is it from?”

“My husband.”

“Why a letter?” Heme asks you “Why not just shoot you a text or a phone call?”

“He mumbles to himself when he writes, and he just loves hearing his own voice.” You turn to the Egg Boi once you’ve read the last word. “Tell Alastor I’m busy—I can’t leave work to go to the hotel on such short notice!”

“Right….” Heme leans against the sink. “Management will be dropping by this afternoon.”

Your eyes squint. “This afternoon? I was told there'd be visiting tomorrow!”

“Yes, they informed you last night,” Heme says. “It’s tomorrow now—morning, actually.”

Your eyes twitch as your turn to Egg Boi #4. “Tell him I will be early. Now go, run along now, least you get scrambled.”

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

Bustling sounds from the other side of the circus themed doors. You knock then take a step backwards, least Vaggie greets you with a fist to the face.

A crash sounds from the inside. The door slams open, and Charlie pops out, hair disheveled and sticking out in odd places. You see the relief oozing into her. Charlie’s smile relaxes and her eyes stop bulging at the sight of you.

She says your name with enthusiasm. “It’s just you! I am so glad to see you.”

You wave at her. “Hello, Charlie. It’s good to see you as well.”

“Would you like to come inside?” she says at the same time another crash sounds. Charlie’s smile turns sheepish. “I hope you don’t mind the mess.”

“It’s quite alright,” you say with a polite smile. “Who am I to judge another person’s mess? It can be quite entertaining sometimes.”

 Charlies smoothens the stray hairs sticking out. It does little to actually fix it. “Sooooo what brings you by? Not that you’re not welcome here! Everyone is welcome here! We don’t discriminate at –”

The door swings wider and Alastor pops out with that permanent smile of his. “I called her here.”

Alastor helps you out of your coat as you enter through the doors, and drapes it over his arm. “I came early. I hope you don’t mind,” you say, glancing at the crudely attached banners. Strobe lights are being taped to the railings. Its brightness makes you blink. “Are you throwing a party? Is that why you called me here?”

Alastor hangs your coat on the rack. “We’re preparing for a sudden guest,” he says. “It seems we’ll have to delay our plans, only if you’re happy with waiting for me.”

Charlie shrinks and her eyes water a bit. “Alastor…,” she says with a frown. “If you have plans, that’s alright—go. We can manage without you here!”

“Not at all, this is where he needs to be right now,” you tell Charlie, placing a hand on her shoulder. Her smile brightens immediately. “Who will be the special guest today?”

Charlie fiddles with her fingers. “We…invite my…dad.”

Alastor twirls his microphone. “The King of Hell himself.”

“Oh,” you start, “the demon is coming here?”

“That’s actually Satan,” Charlie says with a smile. “Dad often gents confused with Satan but they’re not the same

“Oh…So, Lucifer is coming here.”

“Pretty much.”

You laugh a bit—you’re not even sure why. Maybe you shouldn’t have laughed. It sounded so awkward, even to you. “Well, how can I help? If it’s alright with you, of course.”

Charlie’s eyes brighten, and she shakes your shoulders. “Are you sure?”

Alastor grabs Charlie’s fingers with the tip of his own and pry them off you. “I’ve already come all this way,” you say, and turn to your husband. “I’m sure we can make the most out of this situation.”

Charlie leaves to change her clothes, and hopefully brush her hair while she’s at it.

Alastor offers his arm, and you loop your own around his, even when you know it’s unnecessary to escort you to a living area that’s five-feet away.

He leaves you, walking to the kitchen with a wave of his microphone.

The hotel looks the same, just more diverse colors hanging around. Niffty stalks past you without a word, engrossed in her task of sweeping the floor. Angel Dust or Vaggie don’t seem to be around, nor is Husk at his usual post. Only a one-eyed cat keeps you company.

On the table,  deflated balloons are left forgotten with two pumps resting next to it. You take your seat, and complete the unfinished task.

You’re on the third balloon when Alastor presents a mug to you.

He leans over the chair, reaching his arms to place that ‘Oh Deer’ mug on the table. It’s difficult to meet his eyes when he leans so far in front that his whole face is upside down.

His hair hangs in the air, and your husband looks goofy in such an awkward position that you can’t help but laugh. “You look awful this hellish morning!” he says, and his grin widens until his teeth show. “I thought you could use a bit of brightening up. You’re practically dozing off in the chair.”

 “Thank you,” you say, a small smile on your face. “The coffee smells good.”

Alastor swings back, and lands next to you. “I know we agreed to leave such tasks to you,” he says and he waves his arms as he talks. “But you look ready to drop dead any second. Poor Niffty had swept about a hundred feathers on your short walk from the door to this chair—Long day?”

“Longer day, actually. Yesterday’s long day turned into a late night that bleeds into today’s early morning.” You take a sip, and revel in its taste. Even after all these years…his coffee still tastes like acidic bean water. (If you smile, then that’s your business.) “The coffee tastes good.”

Alastor crosses his leg, cracking a laugh hard enough for his eyes to bulge. “You didn’t even try to check if it’s been tampered,” he says with that same wild smile. “Are you that tired, my love?”

You smile at him, lips curving bright and wide. “My deerest, did you place something into my coffee?”

“Not at all.”

“That’s disappointing,” you say, taking another sip. “That suit of yours could use some brightening up! A splash of this bean water would add such an interesting texture to it.”

“We’ll it good to see you’re not tired enough to lose your way with words,” Alastor says, smiling at you. “But if you’ve had a ‘longer’ day, you could have sent the Egg Boy—"

“It’s Egg Boi, my deerest.”

Alastor squints, his brow furrowing as he does. “That’s what I said.”

“You said Egg Boy, deerest,” you tell him, taking a longer sip than usual to drown your laughter. “Those eggs are called Egg Bois. They have different numbers—except Frank.”

On the corner of his cheek—just where it’s always been—Alastor’s smile strains. “You said the same thing as I did.”

“Egg Bois.”

“Egg Boys.”

“Egg Bois.”

“Egg Boys.”

You chuckle a bit, and take another long slip. “If you say so.”

Alastor rolls his eyes and he makes it a point to show you he’s doing so. “You could have mentioned to that egg creature that you’d had a long day.”

“Management was dropping by my floor today.” You grab another balloon to pump it.

Alastor’s head tilts, and you hear the small crack of his neck. Static fills the air. “Well, I’m always glad to be used in such a way.”

You roll your eyes, making it a point to show Alastor that you’re doing so. The sharpened feathers and the glow of your eyes were just for the fun of it. “There is another reason why I dropped by the hotel.”

“Do tell!”

You knot the end of the balloon and throw it to the side. “Who am I to refuse the summon of the Radio Demon?”

“His wife.”

You snort, and toss a balloon at him. One balloon becomes two and now you’re just tossing whatever balloon you could get your hands on.

Alastor pops a balloon and static emits from his microphone.

You cross your arms, staring down at him. “I was going to use that.”

Alastor grabs the second pump. 

An hour passes too soon. They always seem to do around your husband. The balloons are stringed and weighted. Razzle and Dazzle—the two lambs Charlie made a point to introduce you too—put up a…er… interesting banner on the railings.

Sir Pentious slithers out the kitchen, a tray of cookies in his hold. The Hazbin Hotel looks lively. The space looks decent—live in — as if Sinners actually gathered and used the space. (Those are your favorite kind.)

Sir Pentious offers a cookie to you, and you munch on it. You give him a compliment for its taste.

By the entrance, with Vaggie to her side and Alastor at the other, Charlie takes a deep breath, her nostrils flaring as she does.

Vaggie gives her a smile, and Charlie opens the door.

The bringer of sin rushes to his daughter, drowning her in a hug.“Chaaaaarlie!”

Charlie squirms in his hold. “Heeeyy, Dad!”

Egg Boi #13 and Egg Boi #08 twist their poppers and confetti pops into the air. Niffty grabs her broom, sweeping the floor.

You watch Lucifer, and try to hide your smile. The King of Hell looks different from any paintings or drawings humans make. They can’t seem to capture how shy he looks. How awkward. No painting has been able to capture his search for a place to belong.

This Fallen Angel has blond hair. He’s not the brunette you thought he’d be, which was a shame for you rather liked brunets. It makes sense he’d be blond. Afterall, Charlie has blonde hair as well, and she is the spitting image of her father.

If someone told you it was Lucifer who birthed her, you wouldn’t be able to deny it.

“It’s finally nice to put a name to the face.” Alastor shakes Lucifer’s hand with his microphone, wiping his own right after. “You are much shorter in real life.”

You turn aways, coughing to hide your laughter as Alastor banters with Lucifer.

Husk rolls his eyes at you and grumbles. “Of course, you’d find that hilarious,” he says. “Everyone knows it's smart to insult Lucifer.”

You place a hand on your cheek. “Guilty as charged.”

Charlie brings Lucifer to meet your group. He calls Vaggie, Maggie. Smiles awkwardly when Angel Dust calls him a ‘short king’. Lucifer waves back when Husk waves at him, and shrinks when Niffty jumps and pulls him by the collar. One by one, you’re introduced.

You extend your arm for a handshake.

Lucifer smiles awkwardly, shrinking a bit, but reaches out to shake your ha—

The chandelier crashes to the floor.

And oh God…

Lucifer begins to sing.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

Your hair sticks to your face.

Water droplets splash on your clothes. You accept your fate, and trudge through the rain, even as your fingers freeze. The breeze blows your hair, making you nuzzle into your damp coat. You should have brought an umbrella, or taken a cab. Just your luck, a sunny day turns into a drizzle that turns your shoes into a lake. You hate damp socks.

An umbrella blocks the rain from your soaked clothes.

You spring out of its coverage, spinning to look behind. Your arms jerk out, causing you to wobble because of the wet pavement. (That’s totally not embarrassing.)

 “The point of an umbrella is to stay underneath it when it’s raining.” Alastor smiles, giving you a small wave.

You wave back.

“Oh…hello,” you say, adjusting the straps of your bag. Alastor takes a step forward, and you jump backwards. “I’m alright—I can manage by myself.”

“Why don’t you tell me all about your very capable self from underneath the umbrella,” he says, twirling the umbrella. “Come on, now.”

You dip your head inside. Alastor inches closer, but there’s still a respectable gap between your shoulders. “I’m really alright,” you say. “I quite love the rain.”

“Yes, the rain is a beautiful thing to frolic underneath when you’re in a meadow,” Alastor says. You can’t help but feel that Alastor is scolding you, “not when it splashes off buildings and drips off power lines and other items that have not been cleaned. We are in the city, my dear.”

“You really don’t have to.”

“My mother would roll in her grave and haunt me when she finds out I left a lady in the rain.”

“But—”

“Constant refusal is quite rude, you know,” he tells you. “And I still owe you one favor.”

“You really wouldn’t mind?”

“Not at all,” Alastor says with a smile that makes you smile back. “If it makes you feel more comfortable, I’m happy to leave my umbrella in your umbrella-less but capable hands, and be on my way.”

You shake your head, inching closer. “We can share if you don’t mind walking.”

“I love walks. It keeps me stimulated.”

Alastor follows your every step, covering you with an umbrella that was meant for one. You glance at his shoulder, and turn away to hide your frown. Half of his shoulder sticks out into the rain, gathering droplets, while not a single speck of water slides on you.

Alastor is giving you the bigger half of the umbrella.

“Would you mind holding this?” he asks.

“Not at all,” you say, and take a hold of his umbrella. Alastor is taller, and you have to quirk your arms higher to avoid hitting his head.

Alastor slips out of his coat. You watch him slide it off his shoulders and pull his arm out the slits. He’s wearing a vest—a fine vest as well. Alastor flicks out stray waterdrops. He leans close enough for you to smell his cologne. He drapes his coat over your shoulders, grabbing the lapels to adjust its fit. His body heat lingers. It’s warm…he’s warm.

Alastor pries the umbrella from your grip with a wide smile. “Before you say anything, the only response that I will be accepting is, ‘thank you’.”

“Thank you, Alastor.”

“You’re welcome.” He adjusts the angle of the umbrella, careful to keep every drop of rain from touching you, even at the cost of his own clothes. “Whatever made you decide to walk?  There are cabs and busses for a reason.”

“It wasn’t that bad when I started,” you say. “Plus, I was eager to get home.”

He keeps his eyes ahead. “It’s still quite dangerous.”

You step over a puddle, narrowly missing it. “Dangerous?”

“Yes!”

“The sun is—well, was still up when I began walking.”

Alastor hums, shaking his head. “Murders and thieves do not magically dissolve in the sun.”

You smile to yourself. “I’m sure you’re quite knowledgeable on that subject.”

Alastor turns to you, and his hair shifts as he tilts his head. “Pardon?”

“I heard your voice on the radio this morning,” you tell him, adjusting his coat around your shoulders. “I caught the news segment.”

“Well,” he starts, his smile widening. He pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose, “you must have been busy when I mentioned the forecast then.”

You inch closer as much as he’ll allow you, trying to keep a respectable distance, but still close enough that Alastor doesn’t need to sacrifice his clothes to keep yours dry. “Speaking of radio, what brings you to this area?” you say. “Isn’t the radio station all the way across town?”

Alastor laughs in a way that makes you wish you’ve kept your mouth shut. “Have you been tracking my movements?”

“Not at all,” you say and try to mimic his laugh. It comes out strained instead. “I just know how to read a map.”

Alastor steps over a puddle. He places a hand on your back, guiding you away from it. “I just had some business in the area,” he says and drops his hand. “I turned the corner and I found you walking all alone in the rain!”

You smile, careful to keep your eyes forward. “I’m thankful to whatever beings that fated our paths to cross.”

Alastor leans closer, eyeing your hands. “Been gardening recently?”

You glance at your nails, at where stubborn soil sticks underneath the cuticle. “No…not at all,” you say slowly. “I guess you could say…light treasure hunting…?”

“The more I get to know you, the more I find myself dumbfounded at your wide range of hobbies.”

“I hate seeing things go to waste.” You try to ignore the squish of your socks. You are definitely never forgetting your umbrella again. “For example, your garbage is my treasure.”

“What a wonderful philosophy to live by.” Alastor meets your eyes and smiles.

You smile back. “Indeed, isn’t it?”

Alastor’s hold on the umbrella stays firm, even as he follows you around the corner and across the street. Not a single drop of water lands on you. “What treasure were you able to find?”

“You have a lot of questions for me today,” you say and ignore the thumping of your heart. “I feel as if you know me more than I know you—I think that’s rather unfair.”

“Well, what would you like to know?”

You move your foot to avoid puddles of trash. The city could really use a good cleaning. “You know so much about my hobbies. So, I’d like to know some of yours.”

“There isn’t really much to tell,” he says. “The radio is my life.”

A strong breeze has you sinking deeper into Alastor’s coat. “You have your hunts.”

You glance at Alastor, and oh…his hair is as brown as his eyes. Wisps of hair stick to his face because of the rain.

Alastor’s brows furrow a bit, but you swear his smile turns sweet. “Those are more of… a necessity than a hobby.”

“In what way?”

“The woods around my area have a lot of… let’s say… mammals that don’t necessarily belong there, it is as if someone just leaves them from time to time. I hunt a few here and there to thin the population a bit.”

You smile to yourself. “Well, tell me about the radio—What is that like?”

He places his free hand on his chest. “Why, it is the proper medium of expressing oneself, of course.”

“It must be nice having such a creative outlet,” you say. “Sometimes, I wonder how you’re able to come up with the most exciting segments.”

“Sadly, you would think after all these years of bringing success and money into the company, I would be allowed to have more control over my content.”

You step over another puddle. A small tug on Alastor’s arm, and he steps over it as well. “That is quite sad to hear.”

“For example,” he starts, adjusting his hold on the umbrella. “I wanted to have this whole portion just on crimes that have been committed.”

“Like… the news?”

“No, not at all,” he says. “I was thinking more on the lines of old cases like robberies and murders—some solved, some not. Unfortunately, the director said it would be too gruesome.”

“It really depends on how you choose to present it,” you say. “I think audiences would love a good mystery with a satisfying conclusion.”

“That is exactly what I thought so as well!” Alastor’s smile widens. “I came across this story…Oh, well I wouldn’t want to bother you with the details.”

“I’d love to hear this,” you say, chuckling. “Show me how you would present it.”

“One winter night,” he starts off with that never ending smile on his lips, “a child—no ordinary child—disappears in the middle of the night. There were no signs of a break in and nothing other than the child was taken from the home. Not a single dust was out of place.”

“Wait, what was so special about the child?”

“I will tell you,” he says. “That child was the two-year old son of aviator Charles Lindenberg! Some newspapers called the child the ‘Eaglet’ because his father had become the first man to fly across the Atlantic Oce—Oh, why are we stopping?”

He angles the umbrella, careful to keep you dry. You smile at him and point at the small apartment complex behind you. “This is where I live.”

Alastor doesn’t frown, but his smile droops a bit. “Oh…” he says. “I was getting to the most interesting portion of the story—what a shame.”

“A shame, indeed,” you echo. “You have such a captivating way of conveying your words.”

“Thank you.”

The rain splatters on the umbrella. It’s not going to stop anytime soon. Your socks are damp and it’s starting to get colder. “Would you like to finish what you were saying?”

Alastor’s smile widens, just a bit, but it was enough for you to notice. “On the month of May, after continuous searching, a tiny little corpse was found abandoned on the side of the road. Forensics determined that the baby was bludgeoned to death.”

“It’s quite funny,” you tell him. “You talk of such gruesome murders but I find myself captivated.”

“Indeed.”

“Thank you for going out of your way for me, Alastor.” You slip out of his coat, returning it to him. It’s cold—has it always been this cold. “Will I see you around?”

“Of course,” he says. “We always meet in such unconventional places.”

You duck out of the umbrella, giving him one last smile and head up the steps.  A twist of a doorknob, a few flights of stairs, and you would be home. You were tired, your socks are soaking, and the back of your clothes stick to your skin. So, why…why do you find yourself running back into the rain?

“Wait!” you find yourself exclaiming.

Alastor covers you with his umbrella. “What’s wrong?”

‘I… I may have a problem.” The words are slipping out of your lips. “Are you busy by any chance?”

“Not at all.”

“What about your business in the area?”

Alastor raises his eyebrows. “I can always come back.”

 “Would you help me?” You bite the inside of your cheek.

“Of course.” Alastor brings the umbrella closer to you. “What can I do for you?”

“I think…” you begin to say. Stop. Stop! You should turn back; head inside where warm clothes and a bath awaits you. “I think I’m in the wrong area.”

Alastor laughs, and it’s that same breathy and light laugh as before. He drapes his coat over your shoulder once more, and adjusts its fit to secure it around you. It’s the warmest thing you’ve ever experienced in your life. “I wouldn’t be much of a gentleman if I left a lady stranded in the rain.”

“Not at all,” you say with a smile that you do not remember smiling. “Lots of scary thieves and murders out there—apparently they don’t disappear during the day.”

Alastor nudges you along, down the path, to a destination either of you have the faintest idea where it will end.

Your feet stay locked in its place, and you hold Alastor in your gaze. (His bowtie is crooked, and even with his coat around you, he looks presentable. His vest matches his shoes. You note how his smile is asymmetrical, and how his eyes are still as brown as his hair. Alastor’s glasses are frosted, but he doesn’t seem to mind.)

“Are you alright?” Alastor asks you.

“I’m fine. It’s just….” You shake your head and smile. “It would be a waste to forget this.”

“Come on,” Alastor says in a voice that is oh so soft. He offers his arm, and you hook your own around his.

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“Motherfucker!” Husk curses into the air, his ears quirking as he does. “Would it fucking kill you to be gentle with that shit?”

“I am being gentle.” You stare him down, keeping the towel pressed firm against his foot. “Would you want to know what it’s like when I’m not? I’d be very happy to comply.”

“………No.”

“Then settle down, Husker,” you say and use your free hand to grab the forceps from the hotel’s medical kit. “This will be much easier if you stay still…or don’t and give yourself a harder time. I’m not the one with glass sticking out of my foot.”

Husk sinks into the clinic bed, sulking as he crosses his arms. He picks on the pillow, fidgeting with its seams. “Bitch.”

You raise your eyebrows and huff. “Virgin.”

Husk’s fangs show when he growls. “I am not…grandma.”

Your feathers bristle. It’s smart to keep Husk talking, even if hurling insults is the way to do so. If it keeps him distracted, you won’t complain. “I died in my late twenties…or was it my early thirties — I honestly forget.”

The blood on his foot begins to clot, and you toss the towel to the waste basket. You walk to the sink, rinsing stray droplets of Husk’s blood with soap.

“Settle down then, grandma,” he says with a triumphant smile, and you roll your eyes. “Today, it’s your memories. Tomorrow, it could be anything.”

You plop on the clinic chair, waiting for your hands to dry. “Yes, it would make sense you’re familiar with the signs,” you shoot back, “considering you lived long enough to be called Pawpaw — Is that why you’re a cat?”

Husk barks a laugh, his wings flaring. He grabs the pillow and tosses it to you. It hits the side of the chair and langs on your lap. You pick it up and toss it back at him. “At least my husband didn’t walk out on me for several years without so much as a word.”

You chuckle, and settle his foot on your leg for better access. Taking your forceps, you brush away slivers of glass from Husk’s foot …or would this be his paw?

You clip a shard of glass, and glance at him. When Husk doesn’t whine like a little bitch, you pull a shard and drop it to the metal pan across you. “At least my marriage lasted even through death, Arachnid Simp.”

Husk rolls his eyes. You smile when his whiskers twitch. “Where did you even learn that word?”

“I see you’re not going to deny it.”

Husk sinks deeper into the bed.

“This wouldn’t be happening if you—I don’t know—wore these things called shoes?” You pluck another shard of glass. Husk tries to jerk his foot away, but your hold stays firm. “They were invented a long, long, time ago, and were created to keep your feet protected.”

“Stop talking as if I’m a child.” Husk frowns and his teeth stick out. “Wearing them feels weird.”

“I guess they kind of are weird.” You grab a fresh towel when blood squirts out of Husk’s foot. “You die and then suddenly waking up to see you don’t have toes

A beat passes between you. “Do you…do you not have toes?”

You toss the towel, and pick out the last shard. “Wouldn’t you like to know, weather boy.”

“What does that even mean?” Husk growls, running his palms over his face.

“I…have absolutely no idea.”

You reach into the medical kit, grabbing some dressing. You peel the plastic and toss it to the trash, and press it against his foot.

Egg Boi #03 waddles up to you, a gauze roll in his tiny hands — you weren’t aware the little egg creature was in the room. You thank him with a smile, and wrap the gauze roll around Husk’s paw then his ankle. Satisfied, you clip it in its place.

“You’re all done,” you say. “It might be weird to step on it for a few hours, but it’s not impossible. The glass didn’t puncture you too deep.”

“Good to know.”

“Oh…and just in case, the amount of blood you saw isn’t anything to be scared of. There’s just a lot of tiny vessels on the foot. That’s why it took a while for it to stop,” you say and toss him a new set of gauze rolls and pads.

Husk stares at the items. “I don’t know how to use this.”

You stare at him, leaning into the chair. “Just slap the square on the skin and roll the gauze around your foot.”

Husk hops out of the clinic, keeping pressure off his injury.

It takes a while to clean up after yourself, but Egg Boi #03 keeps you company. The little egg speaks a lot of nonsense, but it’s entertaining nonetheless. You flick the lights, and Egg Boi #03 follows behind you.

The chandeliers had been dragged away, and the glass and debris cleared off the carpet.

Mimzy’s hug makes you take a step back.

You squirm in her hold, placing a placating hand on her shoulders.

“I am sooooo glad you are here!” Mimzy exclaims, shaking your shoulders. “This is like one big reunion, ay. Just between you and me, that Lucifer is a real looker—shame on Alastor for not warning a gal. I would have dressed better, and who knows? Maybe I could be the Queen of Hell. Ha!”

Mimzy grabs your arm and drags you to the bar. Husk pours you a drink with a nod, and stalks away. Seeing him hop up the stairs makes you laugh.

You swirl your drink. “It’s always good to see you, old friend.”

“Not that old!” Mimzy swats your arm, a huge grin on her lips. “And there’s no need to lie to me, darling. I doubt you actually feel that way.”

“Well, I still have those burn marks on my wall from the time you decided to play bartender with matches.”

Mimzy barks a laugh, and her legs kick. “C’mon you can’t still be blaming  me! If I remember correctly, it was Alastor who brought out the matches.”

Angel Dust walks up to you with Sir Pentious trailing behind him. You wave.Sir Pentious waves back, his hood flapping open.

“Mind if we join ya?” Angel Dust asks.

“Not at all,” Mimzy says. “I’m always weak to such lookers.”

Angel Dust takes the seat next to you and pushes back his hair. Sir Pentious takes the one behind him. “Sooooo, you two and Alastor run in the same circles.” He takes a drink. “And you guys are friends with him?”

You take a sip of your own drink. “You could describe it that way.”

“Well, those are your words, not mind, but I think it fits.” Mimzy glances at you, a knowing smile on her lips. “But our good doctor here is more than just—Hey! Why do you look so surprised?”

“Well, I just didn't know he had any of those. He's been here a while and is still a big, creepy mystery,” Angel Dust says. Sir Pentious nods, his head squeaking as he does “What's his deal?”

Mimzy is happy to explain tall, dark, and creepy’s ‘deal’.

“But before that, he was the prime bachelor of my day,” Mimzy says. “Not a single lady wouldn’t want a taste of that twink. But eh… I wouldn’t wish marriage with Alastor on even my worst enemies. It would be a real shock when you die and find out your hubby’s got a real screw loose.”

“Well, it wasn’t a shock to me,” you say, rolling your eyes. You swirl your drink—hmmm, it’s good to know Husk still knows what you like.

“Not that there’s anything wrong with that!” Mimzy chuckles nervously. She scoots closer, elbowing you lightly.  “You happy he’s back? I still remember the few months you’d visit my place to look for your deerest, most darling Alastor, Mimzy at the bottom of a bottle.”

Your eyes twitch. “Quite pleased actually,” you say and force a smile. “It’s great to finally see my husband again.”

“Husband?” Angel Dust chokes on his drink.

Sir Pentious tilts his head and his hat slides off a bit. “Oh you’re married?”

You show them your ring, wiggling your finger. “Indeed.”

Sir Pentious puffs out his chest. “I would love to meet thisss husband of yours,” he says. “If you cannot be my rival, he can fight in your stead.”

“That wouldn’t be a smart idea

Mimzy stares at him. “He’s not the brightest is he?”

Angel Dust drops his drink with a clink. “Pause,” he splutters. “Shut u—” He coughs, still reeling from his drink going down the wrong pipe. “Shut up. Plause. Pause!”

Sir Pentious frowns, and his tongue sticks out. “No one elssseee is talking.”

“There is no way,” Angel Dust says. He turns to you, eyes bulging. “I refuse to believe that Freaky got hitched.”

Sir Pentious gapes, and his hoop opens. “Alastor is married as well?”

Mimzy slaps her forehead and points to you. “He’s married to her!”

“You are mess’in with me,” Angel Dust says. “Well, you can’t trick me. I refuse to believe it, toots.”

Mimzy takes a swig of her drink. “No one’s mes’in with ya,” she says with bright eyes. “They had a big white wedding and everything. I even got to bless them with my singing.”

“I don’t believe you.”

Mimzy glares at Angel Dust, a hand on her hips and her noise in the air. “You calling me a liar?”

You place a hand on Mimzy’s shoulder. “It was a good day, wasn’t it?” you say.

“Could’ve been better without the rain,” she says shrugging.

The lights flicker. Static fills the air, making your skin buzz. The bar glows a faint green. “The rain made it sentimental actually,” you say and glance up the stairs. “We quite like the rain.”

Angel Dust crosses both sets of arms. “I thought you said you were friends.”

“I said partners,” you tell him. “Alastor said friends.”

Angel Dust blinks at you and sighs. “So, you married him? Like you’re his wife.”

“I am, indeed!”

“Are you sure?”

“I sure hope so,” you say, crossing your legs. “It would be weird not to be sure considering I was there in a white dress, walking down the aisle.” Mimzy barks a laugh, and the feathers on her head sway. A part of you hopes she topples off the chair.

“Uh…Is this something we should know?” Angel Dust asks. “He’s not going to try to kill me because I learned about this right?”

“We’re not trying to hide it, but we don’t broadcast it either,” you say. “And well…no wife likes to be introduced as a ‘friend’.”

Sir Pentious’ tongue sticks out. “Does Alasssstor own your soul or something?”

You empty your drink and revel in the taste. “We got married back when we were alive.”

Angel Dust reaches across the bar, grabbing a whole bottle off the shelf with his long arms. He pops open the cork and takes a swig straight from the bottom. “I still have trouble belive you,” he says, squinting his eyes. “I just…I can’t!”

“Your belief, or lack of, won’t change the fact that I have a ring,” you say. “And it’s not really for you to believe, now is it?”

“Why…?” Angel Dust’s mouth quirks into the cutest frown. “Why…ya’know?”

You sigh and place a hand on your cheek with a smile. “He makes me laugh.”

Angel Dust makes a face, and coils back like he’s been shot.

“Oh he’s a total kitten,” Mimzy says with a bright smile. She inches her glass closer to Angel Dust, and he fills it up for her. “Catch him in a good mood or pour him a drink and play some jazz and he’s totally harmless.”

“You still shouldn’t toss caution into the air, Mimzy” you say. “If I were you, I’d be wary about trusting Alastor just because he likes cleaning up your mess.”

Angel Dust crosses his arm, and his eyebrows quirk. “Ain’t he your hubby?” he says. “Isn’t there this whole spiel about trust and love and faith and all that other boring vanilla shit.”

“He wouldn’t be the Radio Demon if he could be trusted by just anyone, now would he?” you say. “It still crosses me when I remember how he lied to me.”

Angel Dust’s eyes shine. “You said no wife likes being introduced as a ‘friend’.”

“Yes?”

“It must have crossed you quite a lot, huh?”

You shrug, a bit confused. “I mean… I wasn’t really a big deal at the end of the day.”

Angel Dust’s smile widens and that golden tooth of his shimmer. “I want to know everything.”

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Despite the rain, clear skies show the moon, not a cloud in sight.

The flashlight clipped on your collar shines on your path. Your boots sink deep into the mud, but that’s alright. A few inches of goo won’t stop you from your destination. You adjust your leather medical bag—double checked that there are gloves inside.

Between those two trees, your treasure lies buried.

You lay your kit on some nearby stones and reach in for your gloves. You dig until bits of the cadaver’s skin stick out. You brush the soil of his chest and peel open the flaps of his skin. The underside of his skin has blood vessels attached to it. It was worth cutting out the fat to have a glimpse.

Superficial fascia connects his muscles to his dermis. You take your probe and disconnect the thin filament. It reminds you of spider-webs.

You discard your probe and exchange it for the bottle of formaldehyde. You can’t study the whole body, not when it’s exposed to the elements. His fingers are starting to rot, but that’s alright. The chest is all you need, for now. So, the chest is all you’ll preserve.

The cheesecloth you placed on him last night is still damp. Good, that means it’s been sanitized this whole time. You take the cheesecloth and wife it against his open cavity, sanitizing every surface you can reach.

The formalin stings your nose and burns your eyes. It makes you cough, but you push through the pungent chemical.

You peel off the cheesecloth and use it to spread formalin into the deeper crevices between his skin and muscle.

Good. There are no maggots yet. It means you still have time.

You discard your gloves for a fresh pair and prepare your tools. You take your forceps and clip the scalpel blade onto the handle. You lay all your tools on a clean cloth for easy reach.

A human’s adipose tissue buildup is thicker than animals. This man’s fat is soft, easily squishable. Sadly, you’re not here to study his fat.

The scalpel blade is balanced perfectly. Throughout this Earth, no… not just Earth, but Heaven and Hell as well, nothing will ever be as perfect.

You slice through his adipose tissue, discarding it behind you, carving the cadaver until a nice rectangle opening forms. Muscles are grey, not like the red color printed on textbooks. You run your fingers along the smooth fibers of his pectorals. It’s slimy. That’s probably moisture mixing with the formaldehyde.

You quirk your shoulder to adjust the angle of your flashlight, still running your hand on his pectoral.

There, on the side of the chest where a muscle resembles a fan, do you find what you’re looking for.

Taking your probe, you define the muscle. You don’t use your scapple—never a scapple, because it could slice the fibers. You’ll scrape off the muscles later when it’s time to move on to the systems.

You take a pen and write your notes.

Muscle name: Serratus Ventralis. Description: The Serratus Ventralis appears to be a fan-shaped muscle, just like Hyman writes it to be. Although he’s not describing humans, I think it looks the same. Will double check to see if such similarities are indeed correct. Just like the book says, I can see the muscle extending anteriorly and posteriorly from the scapula and to the walls of the thorax. The Serratus Ventralis appears to be divisible into anterior and posterior portions, with the anterior originating deeper into the body. (Will cut open if there is still time.) The posterior border seems to be where it originates from, and while it is buried by other muscles, I think it originates from somewhere between the ribs. Origin, Insertion, Action: Origin: Textbook says it originates from the outer surfaces of the upper eight or nine ribs.  (Will double check once I’ve moved on.) Insertion: The muscle fibers appear to move upward to the side. Inserts along the anterior surface of the medial border of the scapula Action: If it indeed is inserted from the scapula, this could mean that it could draw the scapula, forward, backward or against the body.

You flip to the previous page, and cross out Serratus ventralis. You move on to the muscle on your list: Xiphihumeralis. Based on the name, the muscle should pass through the xiphoid process to the sternu—

“Is this what you meant about my trash being your treasure?”

You startle, jumping back until a tree hits you and there’s nowhere else to escape. Run. Run. Run! Your heart screams at you, hammering in your chest. No one is supposed to be here. You’re supposed to be alone. You were careful—not careful enough, apparently.

Alastor emerges from the trees.

He waves at you when your gazes meet, but you don’t wave back. He’s smiling. “Hello,” he greets you with a gentle voice that strikes your core. It would be foolish to mistake his gentleness for kindness. “And yet again, I’m forced to comment on how you have such interesting hobbies.”

You press deeper into the tree, even if a knot digs into your back. “This….” You pause, trying to find your voice. Do you run? “This isn’t a hobby. I’m merely studying.”

Alastor drops a bag on the ground. It looks heavy. “A man?”

“A cadaver,” you say, careful to keep your voice steady. You cannot let this man see any cracks. “They’re already dead, aren’t they? Wouldn’t it be a waste to let them rot like this? At least now, their sorry lives will be making a meaningful contribution.”

The admission of your crime was easy to say. You don’t want to know what that means about you.

Alastor laughs. It’s not that breathy and light laugh he had earlier. This one is lighter, more elated. “Please, tell me more.”

You harden your heart, searching for any speck of bravery. “Why would I?”

Alastor smiles until his teeth show. The moon makes his brown eyes glow—you did not think it would be such an attractive color. “I’m the one holding the large knife.”

You glance at his hand, and oh…that indeed is quite a large knife. It’s not even a kitchen knife, but a proper hunting blade meant to kill. “I see you’re resorting to threats,” you say and you don’t know why you do. It’s not really a smart idea. “I did not think you, a man, would feel the need to say such things to a woman.”

“That was barely a threat,” he says. “I’m just curious to know your motivation to dig up trash.”

“I’m studying—that’s my reason.”

Alastor waves the knife as he talks. “Are there no other dead bodies for you to prey on?” he says. “Don’t hospitals have an area specifically to keep the dead?”

“Only morticians or medical students are allowed access,” you say. “I am neither.”

“Why not become one then?”

“Women as doctors are still a relatively new phenomena,” you say. “There is not a single medical school in this area that will allow me to study, nor are there any that won’t bring me into debt.” Your blood boils and it replaces your thumping heart. It still beats in your chest, but it’s not because of fear. “I needed to find a way to learn, to study, and textbooks could only describe it in words. I want to see for myself.”

Alastor plays with the tip of the knife. “Sounds like a classic case of lusting for knowledge.”

“If lust is to be my sin,” you start and a wonky smile appears on your face, “pride would be yours. A classic case of judge, jury and executioner.”

“I do not need to explain myself to you.”

“Well, you are holding the larger knife,” you tell him, rolling your eyes. “Anything more you’d like to know?”

Alastor hums at you. “How did you figure it out?”

“A little bit of a suggestion?” you say, and you can’t help but smile to yourself. “You should buy suspicious items at different times and places. Your turn—How did you know I was here?”

“A little bit of a suggestion?” he echoes laughing like he’s told the funniest joke. “You shouldn’t have told me where you lived so easily. I thought I would have to hang around your clinic for a few days before I got your address.”

“I made sure to be careful.”

“You weren’t in the slightest,” he tells you. “Even an animal is harder to track. It was quite a surprise to see you heading in this direction.”

“Wait…,” you say slowly. “Hang around the clinic? You…you were stalking me?”

“I wouldn’t say stalking,” he says, putting his arms up. “And if we’re pointing fingers, you would have had to follow me around for a few days to learn where I buried my trash.”

Your eyes drift to his bag, and then to his knife. Realization hits you like a cruel bus. You face heat. “You!”

“Me?”

“You lied to me!” you say, venom lacing your words as you puff. “You had no business in the area, nor did you randomly spot me! You followed to kill me, didn't you?”

Alastor smiles at you.

“Oh my God!” you scream at him, throwing your arms into the air. You point at him, glaring “You’re still going to kill me?”

“I can’t exactly let you leave, my dear,” he says, rolling his eyes. “What did you think?”

You stare down at him from your nose. “Don’t be so brainless,” you spit, crossing your arms. “If you would use this thing on your head called a, ‘brain’, and use it to think, you would be able to deduce that you’re currently not in cuffs.”

Alastor glares back at you, tightening his grip on the knife. You don’t give a single flying fuck.

“Since you are adamant on not using your brain, I shall do so for you,” you say, voice dripping with sarcasm. “If I wanted to rat you out to the coppers, wouldn’t I have done so already? Hmmmm?”

“Don’t speak to me as if I am a child.”

“I wouldn’t have to, if you aren’t thinking like one,” you say. “Why would I tattle on someone for giving me what I want.”

 Alastor gives you a dry smile. “So much sarcasm to the person who does so.”

You cross your arms and lean against the tree. “I suppose I should be thanking you.”

“Will you?”

“No,” you say. “I don’t thank liars.”

You smile to yourself when Alastor rolls his eyes and furrows his brow. That strained smile of his is an extra bonus.

“If you’re going to kill me, be quick with it,” you say. “I’d like to die with my dignity as a lady.”

“How curious,” he says. “You’re not going to try and run? Fight me off in some clever way? Those are always the best kinds of hunts.”

You roll your eyes, making a point to show him that you are doing so. “That would be a waste of our time, wouldn’t it? And I think you’ll forgive me if I am not exactly keen on giving my murderer the satisfaction of experiencing ‘the best kinds of hunt’.”

Alastor laughs, breathy and light this time. He tosses the knife into the trees and puts his arms up as if surrendering. “It seems you have made me change my mind,” he says. “Not many are able to do so—especially not when I’ve settled on a hunt.”

“What an honor then,” you say, smiling dryly.

“Indeed, it is.” He takes a step forward, and when you don’t run, he walks to you and brushes stray dirt off your shoulders.

“Why change your mind?”

He smiles, inching closer to you.  That is for me to know,” he says. “But, what I will say is I know potential when I see it.”

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“Someone, please, kill me again!” Angel Dust massages his forehead with one arm, using the other to empty the bottle. His third arm reaches into the bar shelves for a new one. You stare at his arms and wonder just how it got to be so long. “You’ve got to be shiting me right now. That’s your example? That’s your final answer?”

You pick at the wooden table, suddenly finding it hard to meet his eyes “Yes…?”

Angel Dust chugs his bottle at your answer. Mimzy avoids direct eye contact, choosing to study her empty glass. Even Sir Pentious keeps his gaze locked to the floor.. You bite on your cheek, letting out a soft huff.

If they didn’t want to know, they should not have asked.

“Out of all the misery he’s caused and will be causing,” Angel Dust says, “you think that Freaky ly’in to you about his reason for walking you home was the best possible example.”

“Yes?”

Angel Dust takes a deep breath. “Let’s be clear, okay? I’ll rephrase what I said, so listen closely,” he says. “Alastor lied about – and let me get this right—he lied to you about why he was in the area, and that’s why – hold on, bear with me – and that is why you were angry.”

You cross your arms, huffing a bit. “You make it sound stupid.”

Mimzy sighs, shaking her head with amusement. “That’s because it is, darling.”

“It is not!” you say, pouting. “It’s a very valid reason to be cross.”

Angel Dust takes another swig of his bottle. “It’s the fact that you weren’t angry that he was going to murder you in cold blood for me.”

You throw your arms into the air. “Okay, so it might not have been the best example,” you say, tapping your legs. “But that isn’t exactly my fault. Alastor is strangely honest.”

Angel Dust gapes at you. “No, he is not!”

“I don’t know, hun,” Mimzy says, leaning against the bar table. “Alastor kina is.”

“You won’t get the truth if you don’t ask,” you say, nodding your head. “And when you do ask, Alastor will either say the full horrifying truth, say it in a way that’s vague but still considered to be true, or dodge and not answer your question.”

Sir Pentious tilts his head, and he keeps a hand on his hat to keep it from falling. “And that is why we should not trust him?”

“There is no we, my dear,” you say. “That’s why you shouldn’t trust him.”

The hotel trembles.

You startle in your seat, gripping the table for stability. Mimzy clutches your arm, and you grab hers. It’s a small reassuring gesture that would make you smile at any other moment. Someone pounds on the door. You snap your head towards the entrance, nearly giving yourself whiplash. The hinges creak with every bang, and you watch with horror as the wooden frame begins to crack. Whatever wants to go in is determined to do so.

“MIMZY! We know you’re in there, you lousy bitch!”

You lock eyes with Mimzy, glaring at her with bristled feathers. “Really?”

“Whooops…?” she says with the most innocent smile. You grab your glass and throw it at her head. Mimzy snarls at you, searching for a stray bottle. She never finds it.

Glass rains down to the floor. Dust fills the space, and you cough when it irritates your throat. The whole hotel is in disarray. With a yelp, you jump away from the bar when one of the bone heads detaches and crushes your seat.

Mimzy scurries behind the bar.

A portal rips open in the middle of the room…Huh, that’s pretty cool. Vaggie steps out, Lucifer and Charlie behind her. “What is going on?”

Mimzy explains what she did. You roll your eyes when she does.

Fireballs shoot out the broken windows.

Motherfucker! You are going to kill Mimzy. You press against the wall to avoid Sir Pentious’ long tail from smacking into you as he slithers about. Angel Dust scurried away at the first sign of trouble. Of-fucking-course this happens today. Niffty scurries about, cleaning every debris in sight, You grab her by the collar, pulling her away from a stray fire. Niffty squirms out of your hold, and hops away. Another fireball keeps you from pursuing her.

“We’re under siege!” Sir Pentious exclaims, slithering about. “Take cover!”

 Alastor pops out of your shadow, jerking your arm to pull you away.

You flap your arms, trying to regain your balance.

Alastor keeps a steady hand on your shoulders, his hold on your firm. His touch keeps you grounded. You glance back to the wall, frowning when the wood burns and char. Your finger digs into the fabric of his coat as the hotel burns around you.

You hold his gaze, trying to give him your best smile. “Much better?”

“No,” he says, his eyes squint into a glare. Alastor doesn’t frown, but his teeth bare into a snarl. “Are you hurt?”

Alastor smoothens the feathers on your hair. You shake your head. “Not a single feather out of place. Thank you, my deerest.”

“All of you get a safe distance,” Vaggie says, spear raised.” I’ll take care of this.”

 Satisfied, Alastor drops his hand from your head and turns to the door. “No, my dear. Leave it to me.” Radio static warps the air around you. His eyes morph into radio dials. “It’s time I remind everyone why I am here.” He has the smile on his face—that same smile that tell you he’s on the hunt. It makes you buzz.

Mimzy pops her head out.  “Ugh, finally!” she says, rolling her eyes. “Took you long enough.”

Tendrils shoot out of Alastor’s back and it waves around the air as if owning a mind of its own. His bones break with audible cracks to adjust to his expanding size. “A reminder to all, not to mess with the radio demon!” His teeth stick out when he smiles, and the little ‘x’ on his forehead appears.

Alastor laughs and begins his kill.

You rush out when your husband crawls out the broken doors, bolting from the bar and out the entrance. You watch Alastor. He grabs a shark with the tips of his fingers and uses the others to pull him apart, slowly, painfully, with a grin.

“Mimzy…” you say, slowly.

Mimzy shrinks next to you. “…Yeah?”

Alastor’s nails elongate and he pierces the shark, letting his blood trail down, reveling in his screams. “I really appreciate everything you do for me.”

A leg sails across the air, it’s bone sticking out. You smile to yourself as Alastor hunts down his prey. Blood paints the flowers red when his tendrils wag like a happy tail.

You’re faintly aware of Lucifer and Charlie arguing behind you.

The show is over too soon.

Alastor shrinks, twirls his microphone and stretches.

Mimzy runs, the first to approach Alastor. You don’t hear a word they’re saying, but Mimzy jabs her fingers into his coat. She leaves with a frown and a middle finger pointed at him.

You walk closer to your husband, a smile on your face. Alastor inches to you, bending close enough for you to reach his bowtie. The fabric is smooth against your fingers as your straighten it for him. “Much better?” you ask.

“Indeed.”

“You put up quite the show,” you tell him. “You looked absolutely riveting, my deer.”

Alastor’s smile widens, and he offers his arm, guiding you back into the hotel. “Did I?”

“You always do, my love.”

And oh…

Another song.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

Lucifer leaves, taking his singing with him.

As quietly as possible, you grab your belongings and check that nothing is missing: wallet, flip-phone, bus card, pieces of mint, various essential items, and lastly, your umbrella. You step out of what is left of the Hazbin Hotel’s front doors and stifle a yawn. Today’s excitement has gone on for too long. It was time to go home.

Drops of acid fall from the sky, a light drizzle forming. It was a good idea to stash that umbrella in your bag.

Alastor slithers out of your shadow, and covers your heads with an umbrella. “Did you happen to forget your umbrella?”

You force a sheepish smile on your lips. “I did, actually,” you lie to him. “But a walk seems rather lovely today.”

Alastor twirls the umbrella, his smile widening. “May I join you for your walk?”

“Are you not still working?” You glance behind you, observing the hotel.

Angel Dust sweeps glass off the carpet. He steals glances from time to time, trying his hardest to avoid looking in your direction—he doesn’t try hard enough. Your eyes meet, and you brush your stray feathers from your hair. A not so subtle way of showing off your ring. You stick out your tongue.

Angel Dust laughs, shaking his head with amusement.

Alastor adjusts the umbrella, angling it to block the prying eyes from inside the hotel. He raises his eyebrows, looking at you with a questionable glance.

You offer your most innocent smile. “I think they’re going to need a new door.”

“I think it’s time I clocked out,” he sys, inching the umbrella closer. “I shouldn’t have them getting too dependent on me.”

“Are those not grounds for prime picking?”

“I wouldn’t exactly be a doting husband if I left my wife to walk alone in the rain,” Alastor tells you.

“Doting husband?”

He nods, leaning closer to you. “Yes. Was that not your condition for our marriage?”

Your eyebrows furrow. “Did I say that?”

“You did.”

“Are you sure?” you ask, humming a bit. “I do not remember saying that at all.”

“Well, it wasn’t for you to remember,” he says. “And in any case, I did not call you to the hotel to prepare for some party.”

“Then why did you call me here?”

Alastor meets your eyes and his smile widens. “Allow me to join you, and you shall find out.”

“You’ve piqued my interest, deerest,” you say. “The best walks are usually the ones that are shared. It doesn’t hurt that you have an umbrella.”

“What would you do without me?”

You roll your eyes, and take a step closer. “You always seem to remember for me.”

Alastor fiddles with the umbrella. “What did you do for several years—get pelted by acid?”

“You would know the answer to that had you been present for those years,” you say and you don’t fight the coy smile that forms on your lips.

Alastor hums in displeasure. “Well, in any case, I only have this one umbrella.”

“I guess we’ll have to share.”

“Yes, it seems we will.”

Alastor offers his arm, and you loop your own around his. He doesn’t need to take precautions to ensure your clothes stay dry nor do you have to for his own attire, not when you press closely against each other. The umbrella covers the both of you just right.

You rest your head on his arm. It’s nice. Warm. Even if it was as thick as a stick. His bones press into your cheek. Your eyes flutter into a close… just… one… second…

Your knees buckle causing you to trip.

A frim grab of your waist keeps you from the ground. Your nose crinkles when you collide with Alastor’s chest. Finding strength in your legs, you dig your foot into the ground and stand.

Alastor keeps his hold on your waist steady, and you don’t move from his hold.

“Before you say anything—you are not fine,” he says. “I don’t want to hear anything else but an agreement.”

You peel your face from his chest, meeting his eyes to give him the brightest smile you can muster. It doesn’t come out as you hope. “It seems…It seems it will be my turn to postpone our outing today,” you say. “The excitement of the day seems to be catching up to me.”

You fell asleep while walking,” he says. “If it was not for me, you would be on the pavement.”

“Then it is a good thing I am no longer alone.”

A single tendril emerges from his back. It wraps around the umbrella’s handle, keeping it secured over your heads.

Alastor’s hand shifts from your waist to your back. You feel his other arm snaking down your legs, trailing your skin until he reaches the back of your knees.

Alastor lifts you like a bride.

Well, you actually are a bride…his bride, specifically.

Alastor continues the walk, holding you in his arms. You lean into him, and he places a chin on your head. “Your pointy chin is poking me, my deerest,” you say but you don’t move to push him off. “It’s digging into my scalp.

His chest rise and fall as he laughs, and you feel every bit of it against your cheek. “I could always drop you right over this puddle.”

“That wouldn’t really be part of the doting husband image, would it?” you say chuckling into his suit.

“No, I guess it would not.”

Smiling to yourself, you nuzzle deeper into the crook of his neck. “Hey, Al,” you mumble softly, “tell me a story.”

At the corner of your eyes, you see Alastor glance at you. His gaze lasts a second before he turns back ahead.  “It was 1929,” he says. “The beginning of the glorious Great Depression.”

You roll your eyes even if he doesn’t see it. “You are the only one I know who calls the Great Depression ‘glorious’. People were starving, and we almost got fired from our jobs.”

“That’s because it was a great year.”

“Because you got to see the sufferings of the masses?” You laugh softly. “That’s definitely something you would do. I can practically hear you laughing at the way they try to claw their way out of misery, only to fail spectacularly.”

“Because we got married that year,” he says. Even if you’re wearing a coat, and Alastor wears his gloves. Even with layers of cloth between your skin, you still feel the way Alastor caress your with his thumb. “Can I continue my story now or would you like to bicker about your failing memory?”

“Continue.”

“So, the start of the glorious Great Depression,” he says. “That day, I saw an ad for the local zoo. I wasn’t doing anything important, so I decided to support my local animals.”

“How kind of you,” you say, stifling a yawn.

“Indeed it was,” he says. “I stalk through the animals. Looking at every malnourished species they kept locked up—”

“You get to the alligator enclosure and to this day, swear that you saw it do a backflip,” you mumble softly, eyes dropping. “That’s pretty good for someone you claim to possess failing memories.”

“Alright then. I shall find another.” Alastor hums as he thinks, and his chest vibrates as he does. “Summer of 1916–long before I met you.”

“You don’t need to tell me that,” you say, huffing. “I’m well aware of the year we met, my deer. So, Summer of 1916?”

“It was a dark and stormy night. Weird for the summer seasons. Usually, the house becomes a furnace, but it was terribly cold,” Alastor tells you. “During that second night of the hurricane, a knock sounds from the door.”

“Oh… I’ve heard this as well.” You pick on the lapels of Alastor’s coat, tracing the white lines.

“You have?” Alastor raises his eyebrows

“Yes, it was your neighbor. His tree fell into the window and you and your mother ended up sheltering him for the night,” you say. “Then, you’ll tell me that he gifted you three pounts of cheese the next week.”

“I guess there’s nothing left to tell.”

You lean back to meet his eyes. They’re no longer brown. Once, a long time ago, you thought it was your favorite color. Now, you don’t think you’ve ever had a favorite color. You just liked his color. “Nonsense,” you says. “We are definitely not that old. I’m sure there should be be at least a few.”

“Alright, this one began fifteen years ago,” he says, tightening his grip on you. “I was waiting outside St. An’s, and a Sinner came out. It was my first time seeing a cow. It was quite a conundrum because — Oh, I think you’ve heard this already. Have you?”

Your eyelids are heavy. “I have.”

“And you choose not to inform me?”

“Can you tell it to me again?” You sink deeper into his hold.

“Of course, my love.”

Alastor’s steps lag until he comes to a full stop. He holds you in his gaze as the acid rain splatters grow stronger. It’s just you and him in this tiny bubble of an umbrella.

His eyes flicker, touching every inch of this scene. You do not know what he is thinking.

“Are you alright, my love?” you find yourself asking.

“Yes,” he says. “I’m just…trying not to waste, that’s all.”

“Come on,” you say in a voice that is oh so soft.

Alastor continues his story. You don’t hear the end of it.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

I am excited to know what you guys think about this chapter. My replies and inbox are always open for any questions. I always get so happy to see my notifications. It's a bit addicting actually. Thank you to everyone who has interacted with this story. Every like, reblog, and reply means so much to me. Part 4 will be poasted as soon as possible

#alastor x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor the radio demon #alastor x wife!reader #alastor x you #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel x you #alastor x wife reader #hazbin hotel fanfiction #alastor x y/n #the radio demon #radio demon

[morganbritton132]

It be so funny if they took Joan to soccer game and put her either in the team colour or a cheerleading outfit.

Great minds think alike because I was just thinking that we having checked in with Joan in a while so this problem is perfect.

Every Saturday for over a month now, Joan has watched the humans and Ozzy leave the house in the morning and come back hours later loud, smelly, and energized. She does not have a problem with this per se but if she had eyebrows, she’d raise one of them. She would raise the other when they’re all too tired to play with her for too long after they come back.

So, Joan makes a decision.

When the next Saturday rolls around and Steve is digging around in the drier for his jersey, she makes her case known. She whines. She meows. She gets in the way of every step. She commits a drive-by biting. She even gets in the storage closet in the hallway and knocks over the dreaded cat stroller so it falls into the hallway.

She makes it very clear. She wants to go.

Eddie coos at her, “Awe, baby, she feels left out. Let’s take her.”

“Ed, it’s hot outside,” Steve replies, gesturing to Joan. She rubs her head against his leg. “She’s gray.”

“Steve, don’t be racist.”

“I’m not being – how is that –“ Steve sputters and then rambles on about tiny bodies, and fur, and overheating in the sun, but Joan already knows she got her way. Steve can’t say no to Eddie and he can’t say no to her either. Plus, she always gets her way.

Her way is the right way.

Steve sighs and gives in, “But if she gets too hot, you have to take her home.”

As a reward for Steve and Eddie’s good decision-making, Joan helps them get ready to leave. She wiggles her way into the cabinet with the first-aid kit and pulls out bandaids. She leaves them inside Steve’s cleats. He says thank you when he finds them.

Ozzy huffs from where he’s laying in his dog bed.

Joan purrs when Steve pets her head.

Since Eddie disappeared down into his studio the moment Steve agreed to let her come, Joan continues ‘helping Steve.’ Mainly, she cleans up (eats) all the scraps of lunchmeat he drops when making sandwiches for him, Eddie, Robin, and Nancy.

Eddie immerges from the studio ten minutes before they’re supposed to leave with a hastily sewed shirt made for a cat. It’s made out of the soft material of the cheer squad t-shirts he made for the other team members’ partners. He presents it first to Steve and then holds it out to Joan like, “Ta-dah.”

Joan sniffs the fabric – it smells like Eddie – and Steve is just like, “Why did you make that?”

“Because Joan’s got to represent, Stevie. We’re a jock family now and jocks wear their team colors,” Eddie insists, grin getting bigger when Steve rolls his eyes at him. “Everybody else is wearing team colors. Even Ozzy. See.”

He gestures to the pin attached to his yellow service dog vest that says ‘#1 Steve Harrington Defender.’ It’s right next to a patch that says ‘If You Pet Me, You Are A Part Of The Problem’ which is… “That’s new.”

“Yeah, I’m solving all the world’s problems today, baby,” He grins. “Isn’t that right, Joan?”

She hisses at the shirt.

#Its always fun to write from Joan’s perspective #also I just love the idea of Ozzy being annoyed by Steve thinking her for helping when she’s not actually helping. He helps. All the time. #Joan’s just like: it’s fine if you go out but you better have enough energy to play with me when you come back #eddie munson tiktok saga #steve harrington #eddie munson #Joan the disservice cat #Ozzy the service dog

[lazycats-stuff]

Hello author. I hope your having a splendid day

May I request a reader x batfamily ( a year younger than Damian)

They are a Demi god of lightning and electricity.

He has been having a hard time with cases and failing and stuff like that, too much pressure. And he’s kind of hitting his breaking point.

So during a fight with a villain, alone. The villain corrupts the reader and makes him evil.

For a few months he became a villain and barely anyone could stop him. The batfamily at first didn’t know it was him but during a mission that was orders by the villain that corrupted him, to kill Althea (your oc) but Althea got away with injures but saw his face and told her mom and her mom told bats.

So with this new information the batfamily were more devastated .

With the help of the justice league the batfamily are in a show down with the reader, somewhere near a cliff and they fight and while also talking about their memories together. Reader was too powerful though and restrains everyone with use his electricity. His eyes are red and with dead eyes he walks towards any batfamily member of your choice and was about to deliver the final blow before the bat member looks at them and says ‘ I love you, my son/little brother’ reader hesitates and his eyes widens and filled with tears, the red disappearing.

He’s of course confused and disoriented, he steps back and not notices the cliff. His mind coming back to me as he slowly lets his restaions of the others disappear. He steps back near the cliff and looks back into the abyss and back at his family and friends. With regret and a messed up mind right now thinking he won’t be forgiven, he purposely steps back and fall down the cliff. No one was fast enough to stop his fall and he dies.

They retrieve his body and they’re just depressed and stuff for a while hut Damian won’t allow his only little sibling to die and takes his body to talia and he gets revived back.  when he brings unconscious reader back, the batfamily are upset at him for doing a dangerous act but happy that it went well.

Sorry it’s too long.

Hi anon, I hope you have have a splendid day too. Also, don't worry about the length. Lets go.

Summary: (Y/N) gets taken and is broken. The family has to save him.

Warnings: angst, fluff, SUICIDE- read at your own risk everyone!, near death of another character, the fam is suffering...

(Y/N) Wayne, the youngest child in the family and the only child who isn't really human. He is a demigod you see, a demigod of lighting and electricity. I think you can guess that his biological dad is Zeus. Because of it, he got close to Wonder Woman her daughter, Althea. He liked them both and he didn't mind hanging out with them.

He was a good detective too. Bruce was happy and proud, but made sure he wasn't over working himself and neglecting himself like, ahem, Tim. He was different from the rest of the family too. He didn't really have a traumatic past. His mom left him, but the Justice League and Bruce took care of him.

He was really close with his brothers too. Jason and Dick made sure he didn't overwork himself, Tim was fascinated with his powers and how they worked and Damian liked to just hang out with him in general. (Y/N) is the only person he liked and tolerated.

But times have shifted a little bit. (Y/N) was overworked and he was just dead inside. The pressure to solve the cases was piling and piling on and while (Y/N) knew that Bruce wouldn't mind if he took a break, he knew it wouldn't fit his own image. He would be disappointed in him, although not outwardly, inwardly.

He was nearing his breaking his point. He hid it well from the others, not wanting to disappoint them or worry them. He worked himself to the bone, closing in and refusing to open up. He knew he needed to do this and solve this. These cases need to be solved one way or another.

One way or another. It was time to get this shit over with and to do this as best as he can. He needs to get as far away from this pressure and from this breaking point as soon as possible. ASAP. Bruce explained to him that whenever he is nearing that point, he should take a break, but there are people depending him to solve this shit.

(Y/N) hated this shit more than anything else in the world. He really wanted to get this over with. Frustration, anger, sadness... He really wants to feel happy...

Is that so wrong to feel and wish for.

(Y/N) knew that he had to tell someone. Maybe Wonder Woman and Althea would be a better option to talk to, but those two were raised as warriors and they probably don't put emotions on the first place. Mental health is a difficult area to navigate. (Y/N) didn't even sleep from time to time, for a few days, school also being a big overwhelming factor in this stuff. He had good grades, not a straight A student, but still a good student. That was more than enough for Bruce who simply says to do your best in school.

If (Y/N)'s grades dropped, then Bruce would've caught on. Really caught on and he would force (Y/N) to stop with the cases and patrol.

(Y/N) knew it was a bad idea to do this. But there was nobody to help him in this fight. It's said that every single batkid has his own villains. Well, (Y/N) could fricking confirm it. This bastard was a pain in his ass for him and for the rest of the family. (Y/N) was thrown into the wall and he grunted as he tried to get up.

It was difficult, but he managed to do it.

He glared at the villain, clenching his fist. He could feel electricity coursing through his veins, out right refusing to back down. He could feel his eyes turning electric blue. The villain used his powers to disappear into the shadows, making (Y/N) scowl.

" Did you really come here alone? " The villain said from the shadows, making (Y/N) look around, trying to pinpoint the source of the voice. He really didn't like this at all.

" That is brave. Coming here alone to face me. " (Y/N) scowled more as he heard mocking tone in his voice, knowing that facing alone this type of villain is not good and not advisable. (Y/N) threw some electricity at the villain.

He didn't know whether or not he has hit him, but he moved, not wanting to stay somewhere where he could be a sitting duck and more so an easy target for the villain. Shadow and darkness is a scary place and although his family could often be found in it, (Y/N) thought of them as some sort of beacons of light. Sure, they were dark figures, but they were bringing hope and justice.

That sounds like a paradox or oxymoron, but it was true. But being a person in the darkness and shadows and being evil... Yeah... Not good. Really not good.

(Y/N) turned his head when he heard something behind him, but that was a distraction. The real blow came from the front, leaving (Y/N) no time to react as he was thrown into the darkness and into the shadows. (Y/N) couldn't get his bearings together and he was panicking now. He had to get out of this cloud of darkness. He really had to.

He had to.

He started walking, hands reaching out to try and feel where a wall is. Everything was dark and he had no idea where he was going. One guess would be hell, one would be the exit for this stupid building. (Y/N) hoped that he was on his way to the exit, but hey, you can't have it all, can you?

(Y/N) pushed on, but screamed only a few moments later when the shadows pulled him in, invading his mind, breaking through his defenses easily. NO! Fighting was futile though, (Y/N) knew it. (Y/N) knew that very well.

" Just surrender. It will be easier. " The voice said and (Y/N) knew that he couldn't fight and with the last bit of resistance, (Y/N) allowed the darkness to take over his mind.

For now, it was over.

The entire family was loosing their collective minds and their shit. Each in their own way. Some were silent, but some were more emotional and taking it out on criminals. Ahem, Jason. Bruce was quiet and worked non stop to to find his youngest son, his child. Alfred was on the verge of killing someone.

It was difficult to even function normally without their family member. Also, there is another problem on the horizon. A new villain was on the prowl and he was good. Bruce saw he had a lot of training that was far too good for some amateur.

What the hell is going on here?

Bruce was overworked and asked Wonder Woman and Superman to try to locate this new villain because his son was a far more bigger priority than some stupid villain coming to their scene so to speak. Bruce had no time or patience for it.

If only Bruce knew.

Wonder Woman and Superman were doing a good job at tracking the new villain, making sure to communicate with Batman and offer comfort whenever they could. They would often see their nephews, trying to bring some comfort to the poor boys who lost their brother.

For a few months, there were no clues, nothing. Not about a new villain, not about (Y/N) either. Bruce was on the edge of an abyss and he can't do anything to stop himself from going over the edge. A little push was needed and then he would be long gone in that aspect.

The entire batfamily was at the Justice League HQ, looking through intel. Wonder Woman and Superman were in the middle of presenting the intel they managed to obtain when Althea burst through the doors, falling down on her knees, making Wonder Woman gasp before running towards her daughter.

" Althea! " She said, clearly worried and Bruce walked up to the duo, trying to see if Althea is okay.

" Mom, it's (Y/N)... " She said before coughing up more blood, making the inside of her mouth red.

" What about (Y/N)? " Bruce asked quickly, hoping she would stay awake and conscience long enough for him to know. Everyone was waiting patiently for Althea to start.

" (Y/N) is the villain. " She said, coughing even more and Wonder Woman picked her up and ran towards the medical wing of the HQ.

When Wonder Woman left, the room was shrouded in silence. Tense and palpable. Bruce had to sit down. No. No. (Y/N) couldn't have... Dick wiped his eyes as he started crying softly. Bruce broke out of his trance and quickly hugged his sons in a big group hug.

" I know... " Bruce said, pausing to compose himself. " But now we know that (Y/N) is alive. He is somewhat okay. " Bruce said as he swallowed with a bit of difficulty.

(Y/N) was alive. (Y/N) IS alive. They will bring their brother and son home. No matter what.

Well, (Y/N) got stronger during his kidnapping. His eyes were red and nobody could even get close to him. Tim and Dick were unable to move from being restrained by electricity and the other three members were trying everything they could fricking think of. Everything. They have tried to awake his memories. From when he was little, from when they did stupid pranks... Anything they could think of.

Nothing worked.

Soon enough, everyone was restrained with electricity and (Y/N) looked like he was going to kill them. Bruce watched his son as he walked over to him, ready to finish him. Bruce watched in silence as (Y/N) was ready to kill him. But there was one thing that they didn't try just yet.

Bruce watched as his son raised his fist up, ready to strike. Ready to kill.

" I love you son. " Bruce said as he smile and (Y/N) stopped.

The red was gone. The red was gone! Bruce smiled even more and the boys were waiting with a baited breath as to what would (Y/N) do. They didn't expect the tears. But by God, it was a sight they were hoping.

The shadow chains were getting broken.

(Y/N) was slowly moving backwards, going to the edge of the cliff, hands gripping his hair and head. Everything was coming back to him... What he did to Althea... His brothers... His dad, father.... What he did when he was under the villain's control...

(Y/N) looked back at the edge of a cliff, seeing the waves crash at the hard stone... Usually, (Y/N) would love to watch it, just to relax. But now, (Y/N) only sees the dark abyss. Everyone at one point is just standing at the edge of that abyss and then, sometimes, the abyss blinks back at you.

He glanced back at his family, who were out of the restraints, just waiting for (Y/N) to say something. (Y/N) couldn't really see their faces due to tears, but he did wonder one single thing.

Would they forgive him? Would Althea forgive him?

(Y/N) shook his head as he took another backwards, he could feel the edge, right at his heels. His mind was in shambles, ruins... He wouldn't be forgiven...

He knew that his family wouldn't forgive him. But Althea might kill him... (Y/N) looked back at his family once more, one last time. He swallowed and closed his eyes for a moment.

" I'm sorry. "

Bruce's eyes widened and he knew exactly what he was going to do and he got up and ran towards (Y/N), but it was too late. (Y/N) took a step over the edge, falling backwards into the waves and onto the hard rocks. Bruce leapt forward, hands grabbing the edge, but it was too late.

Bruce watched his son laying down there, waves washing over him. Bruce closed his eyes as he heard a scream behind him and then there was sobbing. Bruce looked up towards the sky, which opened up and Bruce for a moment thought that the sky was crying over their son.

The boys were destroyed and Bruce was destroyed with them... Oh God... Alfred will be destroyed too... Bruce allowed his tears to fall, and those tears were mixed with the rain.

Bruce swore that someone came in and took a part of soul. Just took it and ripped it out of his chest. A part of his heart was also taken and shattered. He look back at his sons, quickly grouping them into a hug, wanting to give them as much comfort as he can.

" Why? " Damian asked, shaken to his core.

" He said he was sorry... He thought we wouldn't forgive him... " Bruce said, burying his face into Damian's hair.

The boys all cried, crying out for their brother. Their souls and hearts were shattered too.

The world seemed to cry for (Y/N) Wayne.

Unfortunately, they couldn't bury (Y/N) just yet. They had to make sure that there were no restraints on his mind and body... And maybe they weren't ready to bury him just yet. They all hoped for a miracle to happen. Maybe (Y/N) would wake up and just be hey guys... But they all knew that wouldn't happen.

They were all grieving for (Y/N) in their own ways, but Damian was hurting the most. He was thinking about (Y/N) all the time and he cried alone in his room, thinking about his brother. The house was silent and there was no way it could ever be the same.

Damian thought about his grandfather and the Lazarus pit... Maybe... Just maybe...

The way back was easier than the way to Lazarus pit. Talia didn't expect him to come, especially not with his younger brother, well, half brother but still. Talia met (Y/N) and she did like him. She didn't know what happened, but she felt bad for the poor boy. She also didn't expect that Damian would want to use the pit, but she wasn't going to stop him.

She helped him put (Y/N) in the pit, waiting and watching. The color was coming back to his cheeks. There was that infamous white streak in his hair... Damian watched with a bated breath, hoping it would work.

After a few minutes, they checked for a pulse. Damian sighed in relief as he felt a pulse. His brother was alive... He is alive.... Talia watched as Damian took (Y/N) into his arms, lifting him out of the water, hugging him tightly.

She left the two brothers alone, allowing Damian to have a moment to get himself ready. He had to go back home...

As said before, the way back was easier and oddly enough, he made it just in time for dinner. He didn't question it and walked through, carrying his now alive brother.

Bruce spat out his water and the rest paled. There was (Y/N), but he looked like he was sleeping. He had more color than he had...

" Damian, " Bruce started as he stood up, not sure what more to say. The rest was quiet. " What did you do? "

" I used the Lazarus pit. "

That sentence... Bruce's eyes widened as he walked closer to his now alive son... He took (Y/N) into his arms, trying not to cry. (Y/N) was alive... He is alive.

" Lets put him to bed. " Bruce said with a strain in his voice. The other 3 boys jumped from their seats to really see if their brother is really alive.

(Y/N) was alive... They all cried softly as they realized that (Y/N) was alive... (Y/N) is alive!

They were happy, but mad at the same time since Damian didn't tell anyone of them what the hell he was planning. But they were happy and maybe their family could be whole again, once more.

#dc comics #dc x male reader #x male reader #batfamily #bruce wayne x male reader #batman x male reader #jason todd x male reader #red hood x male reader #dick grayson x male reader #nightwing x male reader #tim drake x male reader #red robin x male reader #damian wayne x male reader #robin x male reader

[arc-misadventures]

What are Those?! AU: jaune mybe the only dragon faunus in the arc family but just because they don't have the features of a dragon does not mean those humans in the arc family do not have the heart and soul [[ and temper and Sadistic streek ]]of one,

Jacques Schnee finds this out the hard way when he tries to get jaune thrown in jail under false charges so he can take over jaunes business, Jacques Schnee is made an example to the rest of remnant on WHY YA DON'T PISS OFF THE ARC FAMILY

To Shreds You Say?

The tired slowly awoke from its slumber as it heard the soft repetition of several chimes that was its alarm clock. Or, in this case, it was, Jaune Arc’s tone.

The soon to be crowned dragon king rose from his bed, and grabbed his scroll, and register two things: That it was 3:27 in the morning. And, that his father was the one calling him at such an ungodly hour.

Jaune: Yeah…?

The weariness was palpable upon, Jaune’s voice as he yawned. He could see the handsome visage of his father, Acheius Arc staring back at him.

Acheius: ‘Yeah?’ That’s all your pops gets after not seeing him for so long. Not even a ‘hello dad?’

Jaune: Hellos are reserved for those who do not disturb the dead such as you have…

His father gave a short laugh at his comment. He knew his father was just teasing him, but nobody liked being woken up in the middle of the night.

It often meant something unexpected, and unwelcome had happened.

Acheius: See you finally ditched the onesie. About time you grew out of wearing that.

Jaune looked down to see he was bare chested. While he had stopped wearing, the reasons he hadn’t were nothing to do with his father’s words. Mostly.

Jaune: I would still be wearing it dad, but I ‘literally’ grew out of it. That, and I think one of my girlfriends stole it…

He tapped the ever present, and ever growing horns on his head.

Acheius: Ahh yes, your mother mentioned how you were growing more noticeable faunas traits. I must say horns were not on my bingo…?! Wait, did you say ‘girlfriends?’ As in, more than one?

Jaune: Dad while I understand you want to know what’s going on with my life, we both know you didn’t call me this early in the morning to catch up. What is it?

Jaune rubbed his face trying to wipe away the tiredness from his eyes. He father gave him a look before explaining his reasons for waking him up.

Acheius: It’s about that one of your diamond mines.

Jaune: Which mine?

That woke up, Jaune rather quickly. He turned his eyes to fully address his father as he was about to take in every word he was about to say.

Acheuis: The one at north east tip of, Vacuo: Raiders…

Jaune: Raiders Coast. There’s a diamond, and Dust mine located there, as well as a small town whose population mostly works there. What happened; Cave in, Grimm attack, raiders?

While, Jaune was highly protective of his diamond mines, to the point of fanatical, he cared more about the people working in his mines, than the diamonds themselves. A collapsed mine could be mine once again, and reclaimed. Peoples lives however, could not be so easily reclaimed. At most they could give the bodies of the dead a proper burial.

Acheius: A raid happened. Of sorts that is.

Jaune: Of sorts?

Acheius: A group of bandits attacked the mine. Trying to steal the, Dust, not the diamonds. They never touched your diamond vaults.

Jaune: They only went after the, Dust? Odd… They usually go after my diamonds; they’re easier to steal, and fence. Why only the, Dust though.

Acheius: Because they weren’t your typical, ‘raiders.’

Jaune: Explain.

Acheius: They were too organized, and disciplined to be your usual raiders. Not to mention all of them basically carried the same type of equipment: From weapons, to uniforms, to gear. Practically all identical.

Jaune: Identical…? Hmmm…

Jaune racked his mind as he pondered this information. A well organized, armed, and disciplined militia. That was an interesting tidbit of information.

There were dozens of gangs of bandits; large, and small in number strewn all about the desserts of, Vaccuo. But, only a few matched such a description. There was the, Bloody Skulls, they tended to be rather uniform in their appearance. There was the Dune Raiders, they had a lot of standardized equipment under their belts. The Scorpions were another, who followed this same rule, but their members tended to be branded with scorpion tattoos, and if it was one of them his father would have mentioned it. The Crowns had a habit of attacking his, Dust mines. But, just like the rest, he, and his family had hunted them down to extinction.

But, who ever attacked him only attacked the, Dust mine, not the diamond mine. Which left him with only one culprit left. The one person who would do anything do steal one of his, Dust mines.

Jaune: Jacques…

Acheius: Jacques? As in, Jacques Schnee? You think he is behind this?

Jaune: The bastard has been trying to get a foothold into, Vaccuo’s Dust mines for years, not to mention I am his biggest rival. Him taking one of my, Dust mines by force, and gaining a foothold in, Vaccuo is a two birds one stone scenario for him.

Acheius: Hmm… That makes sense. Luna’s been tracking the money that’s been deposited into their coffers, and she said it came from some company called, ‘Hybrid Enterprises.’ They’re registered as a, Atlasian company. Ring any bells?

Jaune: No, I’ve never heard of that company before.

: That’s because its a dummy corporation.

Jaune: A dummy corporation?

Acheius: I-Is someone with you, Jaune?

Jaune: Uhh…?

Jaune felt an arm wrap around his body as a head rested upon his shoulder. He could feel her bare chest against his back as his face was flush red. Not so much because he had a beautiful woman resting against him, more so because he had beautiful woman resting her body against him, and she was naked, and he was in the middle of a video call with his freaking father!

But, other than that things were okay.

Acheius: And… who are you…?

: My name is, Willow, Willow Schnee. You must be, Jaune’s father. Mr…?

Acheius: Acheius Arc…

Jaune: H-How do you know they’re a dummy corporation, Willow?

Jaune decided to take control of the conversation before it went somewhere he did not want it to go.

Willow: Because my… husband founded it. He uses them for all his shady back room deals: Bribery, stealing, blackmail, threats… various deplorable things such as that.

Acheius: It doesn’t surprise me that, that bastard would have such associates under his payroll. So he must have used this dummy corporation to hire these mercenaries.

Willow: They may not be mercenaries per-say. Tell me, did they have any badges on their uniforms, any iconography?

Acheius: No, their uniforms were clean of such items. But, there was a tattoo of a white raven on one severed arms of one of them, does that ring any bells, Mrs. Schnee?

Willow: Hmmm… White ravens…? Ah! Winter’s Cawl. They’re a private military force that’s under the, quote control of, Hybrid Enterprises. Really its under, Jacques’s control as his personal hitman army.

Jaune: He has an army?!

Willow: No, more than a couple hundred strong militia. But, they are well equipped for a group their size.

Jaune: Damn… I need to speed up the timetable for making my own military force then… Wait, severed? Did you cut off that guys arm dad?

Acheius: Ah no, that wasn’t me.

Jaune: Then who did it?

Acheius: Thiriana did it. A gunshot went off, and accidentally clipped her hair, singeing a bit of it, and… you know how protective of their hair they are.

Jaune: Ahhh… That explains that.

A small shiver of fear ran through his body as, Jaune remembered the hell the female members of his family raised when something happened to their hair.

Twas a horrifying sight to see.

Willow: I assume you left some of these ‘bandits’ alive to be interrogated?

Acheius: I tried to do so… but…

Jaune: What did my sisters do?

Acheius: More so what the bandits attempted to do. Several of them were using some of the miners children as hostages, and well, Thiriana, and Janette went feral.

Jaune: Ahh…

Acheius: Yeah…

Jaune: Were they quick?

Acheius: They weren’t quiet…

Jaune: Bloody hell…

Willow: Are all, Arc woman so violent?

JA: Yes.

Willow: Oh my…

Acheius: Unfortunately, we know who did it, but we don’t have any proof to convict, Jacques of ordering this attack on one of your mines.

Jaune: Dammit…

A low growl escaped his lips as he mulled over this information. They had information to convict, Jacques Schnee to various crimes, but they were all speculative however, easily dismissible in a court of law. One more the bastard would get away with things.

Or, so he thought.

A ringing sound soon went off on his father’s scroll, he quirked an eyebrow at the caller before he answered it.

Acheius: It’s your sister.

Jaune: Which one?

Acheius: Luna. I’ll put her on a combined call.

As he said that, Jaune was met with the sight of his sister, Luna who was looking positively radiant as she gave a pearly smile to the camera.

So long as one ignored all the blood on her face.

Luna: Hi Dad! And, hi, Ja…?! Oh… is… is that Mrs. Schnee. Willow Schnee of SDC draped over your shoulder…

Luna: Naked…?

Willow: I seduced a handsome young man that really, really knows how to show a woman a good time~! There’s nothing else to it.

Luna: S-She seduced you…?!

Jaune: No comment.

Luna: But, how did…?!

Jaune: No. Comment.

Luna: I shoved, Jacques into a cell, and you shoved it into his wife… The fuck is going on…?

Acheius: Wait, what did you say, Luna?

Luna: I uhh… I threw, Jacques into a cell.

JA: …

Willow: And, why is he in a jail cell?

Luna: Tried to bribe me for control of one of, Jaune’s, Dust mines. It was a poor bribe so I told him to shove it up his ass. He didn’t take too kind to that, so he told his ‘associates’ to convince me to ‘accept’ his deal. And, well… Long story short; the main office at the, Kantor Mines needs to be remodelled. And, Jacques Schnee is… currently being pelted with tomatoes as he is suspended ten feet in the air in a cage.

Willow: I see… So, how much do I have to pay for his release?

Luna: Ohh direct hit to the groin…

Jaune: Luna.

Luna: Huw? Oh yeah! Let’s see… Damage to the main office at. Kantor Mine. Shouldn’t be much to pay off. About three thousand Lien.

Acheius: You’re forgetting about all the havoc he caused at, Raiders Coast.

Luna: What happened at, Raiders Coast?

Acheius: You didn’t hear? I thought one of your sisters would have told you. It was attacked by a mercenary gang run by the, SDC.

Luna: Ahh, send me a list of the damages, and I’ll make a list of damage fees to send to, Jacques for him to pay.

Acheius: Alright, I’ll go…?

Willow: A moment if you will.

Acheius: What is it, Mrs. Schnee.

Willow: Why don’t you have, Jacques pay off the damages he has committed with some good old… manual labour~?

Jaune: You want him to work off his debt?

Willow: Indeed. The crimes he committed shouldn’t be simply payed off with money, they should be payed off with hard, back breaking labour.

Luna: But, his bill will be in the thousands, possibly the tens of thousands?!

Willow: So he will be working at this debt for years to come? Oh, what a shame.

Acheius: …

Luna: …

Acheius: Okay.

Luna: Seems reasonable.

Acheius: We still have to let, Atlas know that we have him in our custody.

Willow: And, tell them the SDC is doing everything in its power to get his… eventual release. Somewhere between six months to a year.

Luna: Okay, I can do that. Anything else I should tell him?

Willow: No, now if you’ll excuse me, I just got a rather invigorating second wind~!

Jaune: Second wind? What are you… Ahh?!

And, with in his question, Jaune yelped in alarm as he felt a beautiful lady’s hand descend lower to grab something particularly long, and hard in her hand.

Jaune: I-Igottagonowguys.Bye!

And, with that the call was cut on, Jaune’s wnd leaving the father daughter duo to look at each other with bewildered expressions across their faces.

Luna: Uhh… what just happened?

Acheius: I don’t… oh… Oh that’s what happened…

Luna: What happened?

Acheius: Quite simple. Learning that her husband is now in jail, giving, Willow time to take back her company has left her in a euphoric state of mind.

Luna: Oh, good for her. Getting rid of that bastard will do wonders for the world!

Acheius: Luna. She got off to the fact her husband is in jail, and wants to sleep with your brother again…

Luna: Dad, I fucking know that, I just didn’t want to think about my brother sleeping with a woman!

Acheius: Oh…

Acheius: Yeah, I don’t want to think about, Jaune sleeping with a woman your mothers age either.

Luna: The fuck did you have to say THAT?!!

Acheius: Whoops…

#rwby #jaune arc #jacques schnee #acheius arc #willow schnee #jaune x willow #willow x jaune

[cheemscakecat]

If Emesis Blue really is a Dream, I love the fact that BLU Medic sees RED the way he does.

Think about it, BLU Medic is a Catholic who knows he’s mentally ill and is trying his best to keep it under control. RED Medic is a megalomaniac who likes the challenge of playing god and made a deal with the devil.

And beyond that, BLU has other personalities that he doesn’t understand [who freak him out] and hallucinates them from time to time.

That’s the actual reason he didn’t attack RED immediately, he thought it was one of them from afar. It has to be trippy and difficult to deal with that guy IRL in battle with the personality issue.

And even if BLU doesn’t know it, if he thinks his other personalities are demons or something, they still act like people. Angry, revengeful people, but not monsters. This picture is such a good representation of the difference between the two. RED is feral and messing with powers he shouldn’t…. For fun. Fixing respawn failures is not “for fun” it’s meant to save mercenary lives. So RED would be Monstrous.

He’s still red hued even in this blue room, skin and hair too, like a demon. And given he joined Classic team in hunting his own crew and BLU mercs, it makes sense that he’s literally two-faced.

Something else that’s interesting is that BLU Medic’s eyes are only ever black/brown as the funeral version, and he has hallucinations that make that personality look demonic.

But again, funeral Medic acts like a human person that’s 100% done with BLU Corp and their lies, not a cryptid. He’s not actually evil like Ludwig thinks.

But RED Medic is criminally insane in ways that transcend other Gravel War mercs, and that’s disturbing to someone like BLU.

O no he crumchy

He just put Scout’s body in a coffin as respectfully as he could given the circumstances. RED Medic brought their team’s sniper back to life and there’s no way BLU hasn’t heard about it post-comics. He didn’t want RED touching Scout, even if it could bring him back. He doesn’t trust that maniac, and that’s 100% valid. Why?

BLU team doesn’t know RED personally. What they’re like at their base, living with each other. They don’t know that RED Medic was infiltrating Classic, not truly joining them. They don’t know what he was doing in the early 40s or how close he is with RED Heavy. And here’s the proof:

BLU Medic doesn’t know that this is BLU Heavy; he knows that he’s at RED base, and wouldn’t have a reason to believe that this isn’t RED Heavy. Especially after what happened to Scout. So from his perspective, RED finally pushed nature too far and it blew up in his face. Resulting in RED Heavy loosing his mind and attacking.

That’s also why he hesitates to run away from the big Hoovy; he might be in hearty agreement with defeating RED Medic and leave BLU alone. But that’s not the case, and so the context changes from “this guy no longer serves RED” to “this guy has lost the plot altogether, he’s just attacking anybody’.

We, the tf2 fans know that this isn’t how RED Heavy acts; he actually didn’t question Medic’s loyalty in comic 6 and was ride or die, so if anything he’d still be docile to RED. But nobody on BLU team knows that.

And BLU’s doctor believes that something terrible will happen to RED if he doesn’t stop messing with the powers that be, even though he has no idea about the demonic deal.

#tf2 #emesis blue #character analysis #tf2 medic #tf2 heavy #Honestly BLU team would have no idea that RED team has their chill moments #I mean RED Medic stole their Spy’s living head and kept him from respawning for at least a few days. #Same reason RED Sniper is so creepy in this movie. He got brought back irl

[i-am-hungry-24-7]

So uh I saw the words “human sized doll’ and my brain completely shut off. That sounds fucking delicious and I kindly ask you to elaborate. Are you able to move at all in your new body or are you just a silent thing for them to play with now? Do you have ball joints or are you not articulated beyond the basics? Does the doll look like how you used to when you were alive, or is it completely different? Do they just keep you in a pretty display case as their favorite prize, or do they leave you out so they can use you whenever they want???? My brain is on horny overdrive, I beg of you to give us more of Demon!141 and their little prize!!!!!

hello!! so here's how I think reader's life is after she's dead and get put into a doll! hope this can answer your questions and fulfill you hunger(?) :D Word Count: 1040 CW: 18+, mdni, humping, mention of double penetration, oral (m received), mention of death (not TF141), a bit of dark fic maybe? Demon!TF141 thoughts Reader becomes a demon instead

Your new body, to your surprise, isn’t that much different than your human one. You can talk, you have ball joints that allow you to move your limbs, and even you’re a doll now and you don’t think you will have mortal needs anymore, you still got genitals like humans. (You know why but you refuse to admit yet)

Usually, you aren’t confined and can move around the mansion you live in. They aren’t afraid of you escaping, the entire house is under their control, and they’re able to know where you are at any time, needless to say they have Soap who always insist on sticking around you. There rarely are visitors, sometimes Laswell or Nikolai will come to stay by, and you will sit on Price’s lap, listening to them chatting with his fingers drawing circles on your thigh, sitting quietly like a pretty thing you are.

You’ve asked Price what kind of doll they would put you in, he told you not to worry, so it was left as a secret until your afterlife. Now you get carried in Soap’s arm, who is standing in front of a mirror.

“Ye look divine, bonnie.”

Your new body looks totally the same as they first met you, from every birthmark to every mole. beautiful, flawless. That’s what you first heard when you opened your eyes in this new body.

The only difference is that now you have four men’s patterns on your wrist. The symbol of who you belong to.

You could move around by your own will, but not now, because every time you try to wriggle out of Soap’s grasp when he makes you stay in front of the mirror and look at yourself, so he makes you unable to move now by the power of agreement.

You can feel Soap trailing kisses down your neck, your eyes forced to stick on the mirror, watching yourself dressed in a sumptuous dress, strips of ribands draping down from the headband on your head, silky clothes bring out how your perfect skin shines under the dim light.

Soap’s lips touch the crook of your neck, and his diamond-blue eyes meet yours in the mirror. 

“Let’s get ye to bed, aye?”

He picks you up, and the bound forbidding you from moving disappears when he looks at you staying obediently in his arms.

- - - - - -

When you're still alive, you are their master, but after you die, your soul belongs to them— especially Price. You knew this since the day you were forced to create a bond between you and them.

Which means you need to be submitted to all of their commands.

That’s why you are kneeling in front of Price now, his cock stuffing your mouth full without any gap.

“You’re doing so well, love.” His hands caressing your cheeks like he always did when you were still a human.

“We’re getting you a new body... fuck...!” He sucks in a gasp during his words when you take him in, until his tip hits the back of your throat “Miss how your beautiful face stain with tears when you’re sucking my cock, doll. They will finish it in a few days, can’t wait to see her face flush when you fuck her from behind, right Kyle?”

Your hands don’t stop when the man sitting behind you shuffles closer, and Gaz presses his chest against your back, if your mouth isn’t busy sucking Price’s shaft now, you sure you will moan loudly to Gaz’s voice, who’s groaning directly into your ear while he stroking his leaking cock.

“‘f course, capt.” Gaz replies, and now he starts humping his hips against your ass. The nightgown they put on you gets ripped to pieces by him, but it’s not a big issue, there’s tons of dresses in the closet, and they could make you wear whatever they want.

Both men laugh when they see you rub your thighs together. 

“Too needy under Kyle’s voice, eh?” Price chuckles, and you immediately back off when an “off” leaves his mouth, and without any request, you spontaneously sit on Price’s lap, his tip nuzzling at your folds.

“Don’t worry, we’ll take care of you, baby.” A pair of hands maneuver your hips higher. Gaz coos softly as his shaft prods at your other hole.

You know the night is going to be very long when they push into you simultaneously.

- - - - - -

You wake up when you feel someone’s playing with your hair. The light’s too bright for your hazy mind, so you narrow your eyes instantly.

The person holding you in their bosom shifts, and the room becomes darker.

Now you’re able to see who you’re lying on.

“Ghost.” you murmur.

The masked man lets out a hum in recognition. Ghost’s hand is still fiddling with your hair, fingers threading through them and massaging your head.

“Where's the others?”

“They went to take yer new body.” 

You look into his brown eyes, and he doesn’t avoid meeting your gaze.

You swear to God that you hear someone arguing distantly, but you don’t question Ghost, staying unmove on his body.

Ghost’s fingers now trace down to your face, caressing your chin like you’re a cat or some animal, his stares at your face, like he’s taking in any detail and engraving them in his heart.

His heart beats steadily, as if it’s a march song. Ghost’s expression is too serious, you can’t dare to interrupt him, so you count his heartbeat instead.

The quarrel outside becomes louder, and Ghost takes a glimpse at the door, then he speaks again.

“You must be tired, love, go back to sleep, yeah?”

You aren’t tired by any means, you just woke up from your slumber, but suddenly, all your energy flows out your limbs as Ghost croons with his low voice. 

You let out a big yawn, and before you fall asleep, you ask him again.

“When will they come back?”

“They’re almost done. They just need to make sure your new body’s alright.” Ghost holds you tighter, the noises outside muffled when he covers your ears with his hands. “Now sleep, good girl.”

Nodding and burying your face in Ghost's chest, you drift into a peaceful dream, unlike the tragic scream piercing through the air outside the window.

what I hc is: Doll!reader’s first body can’t cry/blush/form natural lubes(?)/bleed etc. (yeah they forgot to make her able to), so they make her a second one which is more similar to human, but the joints are still ball joints. (if there’s any bug it’s 100% because I didn’t think that far, pls tell me lol!)

#cod imagine #cod x reader #cod x you #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #ghost x reader #ghost x you #simon riley imagine #john price x you #john price x reader #price x you #price imagine #price x reader #john soap mactavish x you #soap x you #soap x reader #john soap mctavish x reader #kyle gaz garrick x you #gaz x reader #gaz x you #kyle gaz garrick x reader #tf141 x you #tf 141 x reader

[enavstars]

May you bliss us with your angst ninja headcanons?

mainly kai pls

Sorry for the delay. You asked mostly for Kai's so I delivered. If anyone wants more hcs about the others I can work on it some time in the future (I also have more of Kai).

Now the hcs:

• All the ninja have PTSD from everything they’ve been through

• And abandonment issues

• Cole has an eating disorder and eats when he’s stressed, this is one of the reasons he is very insecure of his weight. People online poke at him for it

• Jay's terrified of losing his loved ones again because of him. That is another reason why he went absolutely crazy post Seabound, as he thinks it was his fault Nya had to resort to sacrificing herself

• He used to be bullied for living in a junkyard before becoming a ninja and that's why he was ashamed of it

• Zane always shoves down everything wrong that happens to him (e.g being the Ice Emperor for way too long to be ok about it) because he puts the team and their needs first.

• Nya has nightmares from the time she died in skybound but doesn't tell anyone.

• She had to keep her work and love life secret from her brother for fear that he would shut her down to protect her. Her fear persisted well into s1 and that's why she felt she had to hide Samurai X even from Kai

• Lloyd still admires his uncle despite his obsession with the green ninja (and all the neglect that came with it) because he's the only relative that actually took him in

• All of the ninja have at some point hidden an injury at least once. But Kai and Nya are the ones that do it more often (Nya specially when she was samurai X), and know how to treat mild wounds because of it.

• Kai and Nya do physical activities when they’re stressed or have emotions they don’t want to process. They can do their thing like Kai working in the forge and Nya doing mechanics but they usually train, however they can go on for hours (Kai has passed out a few times)

• Kai and Zane have a very poor sense of self. Zane’s comes from him not valuing his life and thinking he’s expendable since he can be rebuilt, ignoring all the trauma that comes from getting severely hurt or “dying”. Kai has problems seeing his worth as a human being because he’s never lived for himself; everything he does is for someone else and so he thinks his value resides in what he can do for other people. 

• Kai is terrified of the idea of being alone, it’s his worst fear.

• He has THE WORST coping mechanisms and Zane is confused on how his body was able to go through all of them (Alcoholism, illegal fights, smoking…)

• Kai is an insomniac, he barely sleeps most nights and instead just waits until he passes out (He has very deep eyebags because of it but hides them with make up, covering his freckles too). He sometimes bumps into some other ninja at night since they all have fucked up sleep schedules. 

• Lloyd also has a lot of problems sleeping because of nightmares and goes to Kai or Nya’s room where he feels safer (mostly into Kai’s). Sometimes they stay up at night chilling or they try to sleep. In those cases the nights with Lloyd are the ones where Kai sleeps the most because he feels safer too.

• Kai has chronic depression because of his fucked up childhood

• Lloyd thought he had depression too for a while but it turned out to be autistic burnout because of the stress of being the green ninja. But he can’t properly rest or heal from the burnout so he’s exhausted most of the time.

• When he’s stressed Kai forgets to eat and can go days with very little food because he’s used to it from being poor in his childhood.

• Genuinely forgot what it feels like to be a kid and have no responsibilities so it’s his personal mission to not let that happen to Lloyd. Kai would be devastated if Lloyd ended up like him.

• Kai sometimes feels insecure about his face scars and contemplates hiding them with make up.

• Kai’s touch starved but terrified of letting people in.

• He hides his negative emotions as anger and when the others try to reach out to him he pushes them away by getting angry at them until it's mutual and they leave him alone.

• Never told the others about what he did after Zane’s “death”. He fixed himself up, alone.

#ninjago #ninjago headcanons #headcanons

[creepling]

NSFW ALPHABET - DIGGER HARKNESS/CAPTAIN BOOMERANG

requested by @sweetnsaltyclussy. template cred @the-coldest-goodbye. mdni banner cred @cafekitsune.

tags. smut - MINORS DNI. digger harkness x gn!reader. switchy digger at times but mostly dom. deals with a lot of things but inolves themes of scentplay, exhibitionism, and rough sex.

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Either gets sleepy or can go another round, there is no in-between. On the times he doesn’t pass out (and makes you cum multiple times), he takes a piss, runs you a bath and carries you around the house. When he passes out, he invites you to sleep in his arms. His head anchors your chest, snuggled into you like you’re a pillow, and you're trapped in that position until the morning. 

B = Body part (their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Tits or ass man? Why not both? This man fucks like his life depends on it. He worships your body and has perfect access to every inch of you when you’re sitting on his lap. His hands grabbing your ass, his mouth kissing, biting, licking your chest and neck. The most taboo body part he likes is the armpits. Inhaling your scent and kissing down your sides, tasting your sweat, the nasty fucker can’t get enough of it.

The most obvious answer for his favourite body part of himself may be obvious, but I don’t think it’s his dick. I say this because he didn’t act smug when Deadshot commented on it. He wasn’t aware it was above average until later in life when he began having sexual partners. He thinks people are overreacting. His favourite part of himself is his chest and arms, mostly due to his tattoos. He’s proud of them and the story they tell. The way to win his heart is by stroking his arms and palming his chest.

But may I suggest your favourite body part on Digger? His nose – riding on it. That’s all I’ll say.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

He can shoot a load. It’s thick and white and comes in large quantities. He likes tasting his cum too, especially when kissing you or eating you out after finishing in/on you. 

D = Dirty secret (pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Pantie sniffer!!! It’s an addiction at this point, and his ‘dirty secret’ was outed very early in your relationship. He is not so discreet about it, sometimes asking you directly for your underwear after sex or when you undress for a shower. Bonus points if he can make you cum in them and keep them afterwards.

Another one is that he fantasises about being a swinger. Fucking multiple people at the one time, not knowing who he’s fucking or who is pleasuring him. He was close to doing it during his bachelor days but chickened out at the last minute. He is too afraid to bring it up to you in case you think it’s him saying he’s not interested in you anymore. 

E = Experience (how experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

Digger has had his fair share of sexual encounters, most of the body count accumulating in his twenties. During his time in Arkham, his sex life fizzled out, but his drive was unrelenting. Being with you is his way of unleashing the desires pent up in him, and he can get a little carried away. He fucks you fast with long, hard strokes, hands taking fistfuls of your hair or imprinting your skin. His endurance is unwithering. Do you think he’s out of breath or needs to slow down? You thought wrong. You have to remind him not to get carried away at the moment, and just one look at you brings him back to humanity. Sorry, love, ‘couldn’t help myself.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Digger is into anything that involves you sprawled out on a surface. That being a kitchen counter, desk, etc. He also likes fucking you against a wall with one of your legs hooked around his arm. Mostly positions that have you facing towards him and beneath him, so your body can take him fully and cling onto him.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? Are they humorous? etc.)

He is not deliberately humorous, but sometimes his Aussie slang gives you the ick, especially when he refers to his balls as ‘goolies’ or calls his dick a ‘donger’ or ‘old fella’. He tries to avoid them while having sex, but he slips up now and then. 

If you think goolies is bad, we also call ‘em jazz crackers.

Please, just shut up.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? Does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He is in the in-between when it comes to hairiness. Like this chest hair, the rest of his body hair is light and sparse, giving the illusion he has none at all. His pubic and ass hair is where it’s the most coarse, fading up into a snail trail and light flicks on his ass cheeks. He doesn’t pay much attention to grooming. Since his hair is light, he prefers keeping what is there.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? The romantic aspect)

He’s no Mr Romantic, but with the right person, he can go slow and steady, take a break from the ‘fucking’ for ‘lovemaking’, and remind himself he is capable of love if he allows himself to. That is only if he can muster it. Growing up in an unloving family, he struggles with displaying affection. When you are intimate with him, it’s as if he forgets how to move or talk. The feeling of his heart growing heavy is alien, and he recoils at first until he feels the warmth of your body, the light kisses on his face. No longer is he driven by a primal sex drive, this time the feeling is everlasting. He slowly eased himself into your nurture, soothed by your words. All you do is repeat, I love you, I love you, but it’s enough to move him to tears. So simple, it’s the bare minimum, but it means the world to him.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

It is second nature to Digger, and it was his only form of pleasure in the Arkham years. One day his hand was not doing it for him, growing so used to it that it became useless. He looked around his cell, thinking about humping the pillow, until he spotted Pinky perched next to him. He lifts his beloved plushie and takes a while to debate his idea. Then eventually said, Fuck it. He only did it one time, and he couldn’t sleep with his beloved unicorn for a week after out of guilt. 

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

He probably has plenty of kinks, but here are the main contenders. Digger gets off at the thought of getting caught. Touching you in public areas where someone can spot you at any time is his dream scenario. If you do get caught, he performs to the peeping tom, teasing you with his words. Looks like someone else thinks you’re hot stuff. 

Digger is a bordering alcoholic and has been known to take drugs. Intoxicated sex isn’t somewhat of a voluntary kink but it comes with being with him. He knows what certain things to take to make sex feel good, and what to avoid that kills his libido.

Dare I say he is probably into roleplaying as well? He loves seeing you in costume, something skimpy and showing your best physical qualities. He doesn’t always commit to the scenario but will always relish how good you look in certain types of clothing. He particularly likes maid dresses, watching you bend over and clean as a form of foreplay.

L = Location (favourite places to do the do)

He loves car sex. The clumsiness, the restricted space, and having the car parked on a busy street. The steamy windows hide you from the public, but Digger will tease about wiping the condensation for everyone to see you (and do it if you consent). He also likes alleyways. If you go out for a drink and he’s dying to get in your pants, he will pull you into the dark, dingy lane because he can’t help himself. Bonus points if it’s raining, seeing you wet and bothered while he licks the raindrops dripping from your jawline. Getting you on your knees to suck his dick, your body concealed by a trashcan so you’re not seen by passers-by. The dirtier, the better.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Digger knows he is really into someone he likes their smell. He appreciates perfumes and colognes, but it is natural scents that turn him on. An artificial scent mixed with your musk, sweetening it for his pleasure. It urges him to taste you, bury his face into the crook of your neck and suffocate his senses.

He will also be turned on at the mere fact that someone is into him. If he can sense you getting flustered around him he will hound you like a dog. Face it, you want to see what old Digger’s all about. If you are submissive, he will be persistent, doing anything to push you over the edge and admit your feelings for him. He will take enjoyment out of how shy you get, showering you with compliments and become aroused as you unwind beneath him. He is also partial to being a power bottom, toying with your sexual confidence, and doing anything to get your attention. No matter his stance, if he’s turned on, he will always have that shit-eating grin on his face.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn-offs)

Digger outright refuses to hurt you, even if he has his loopholes. He likes spanking, biting, and roughhousing, but he will not slap, punch or tie you up. This is deep-rooted into his childhood, and some of the abuse has embedded into his kinks, but there are still actions that cause flashes of bad memories. He also doesn’t like to see you cry. If you don’t give him the safe word, he will continue but go slow and soothe you, kissing the tears and stroking your face. It’s alright, love, I’ve got ya. Cheer up for me, lemmie see that pretty smile.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He finds enjoyment on both sides. Giving is when he can have you at his mercy, liking the way you flush and squirm in his mouth and hands. He gets a kick out of making you orgasm and holds it against you, being all smug about it. Receiving is when all the attention is on him and he gives you all the praise, letting you know how well you take his cock, and how good you make him feel. He loves training your mouth for his massive size, encouraging you to take as much as you can, holding your face in place as he drools at the cock-hungry look in your fluttering eyes. That alone is enough to have him finish in your mouth, letting his hot cum stream down your throat and swallow every last drop.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Fast and rough, for sure. His roughness bleeds through depending on the day. If he’s had a rough time, or a robbery goes wrong, or he hasn’t seen you in months, he fucks you like it’s his last day on earth.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

He pretends it’s not his thing, but it is definitely his thing. He is sex-driven, especially when you are in range. It is very common for both of you to disappear from a mission or a social setting just to release tension. Stroking his bulge or flashing a part of your body is enough for him to pull you aside and fuck his cum into you.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? Do they take risks? etc.)

Consider Digger a ‘Yes Man’ when it comes to experimenting. This man will try anything that doesn’t exceed his limits. He is the one to suggest more than you are. Some of his suggestions you’re convinced he has invented himself, and some are so bizarre you don’t know if he is joking or not. Better to try everything at least once, is his motto.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? How long do they last?)

If you make it certain you are one hundred per cent into him, Digger can last a whole night. There have been times were he exceeds you in rounds and (depending on your mood) you let him fuck you on the brink of sleep. He has Superman levels of sexual stamina and it can be difficult to match his energy, but he is more than satisfied to have another orgasm at the mere sight of you.

T = Toys (do they own toys? Do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Digger is partial to a cock ring, more for convenience. It comes in handy for days when he wants to edge himself and make the orgasm more pleasurable. If you have toys, he is more than happy to use them. He would be very invested in which ones you own, and give you new ones to try out.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Digger is the teasing master when it comes to words, taunting you with anything dirty that comes to his mind. In action, he gets too excited and wants to make you cum when you’re ready to, and fuck another one out of you. When you are teasing him, he acts like it's torture, but he is so into it. If you pull your hand away from his dick just as he is about to finish, he is almost screaming but gets too turned on. He loves the feeling of the build-up and will treat you like a brat or plead with you to keep touching him. 

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Certified grunter. He sounds like an animal. His voice grows hoarse matched with heavy breathing. In downtime moments like oral, his sounds are more like groans with sly chuckles.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

On more than one occasion Digger has suggested a gangbang or cucking with the other members of the suicide squad. He has a plan in his head of the routine and how it would go down. If it was you and Harley, he wants to cuck and watch you fuck. If it’s with Deadshot or King Shark, he would want a threesome/gangbang. When Digger brings this up he passes it off as a joke, but you can tell it’s something he wants to do.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

The canon speaks for itself. In my opinion, however, Digger is just above average, around 6-7 inches. He makes up the rest in girth. Also, the canon suggests he is not a ‘grower, not show-er’ type. What you see is what you get.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Inhumanly high. The man needs to be sterilised.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Considering he has come multiple times like he usually does, he is falling asleep right away. He is not the post-nut clarity type because he manages to pass out before that stage. He saves the pillow talk for the morning.

#digger harkness x reader #captain boomerang x reader #ssktjl #kill the justice league #dc universe #nsft alphabet #smut #fanfic