#🎶 why you always lying

[thejesterer]

executive orders should be Required to have citations. like dude i'm not going to take everything you say at face value just because you're mr. president

[chrolloluvr]

Adam, Mammon, Alastor and Lucifer with a insecure S/o

💋ྀིྀིAdam, Mammon, Alastor, Stolas and Lucifer w/ Insecure S/O 💋ྀིྀི

Note: Yesss i love this request!! As somebody who is insecure about quite a few things I think this is so cute <3 🥰 Also I hope you don't mind me adding Stolas <3

Female!reader, GenderNeutral!Reader for Stolas <3

Warnings: Cussing, mentions of sex

Mammon 💸:

He does not grasp the concept of insecure. Why be insecure when your with him? He chose you, right? He is extremely picky, so what is there to worry about? Why are you insecure? To him you are adorable, so who cares?

He may notice you are feeling down lately, or that you have been avoiding him, which agitates him to no end.

So at first, he will have you bottle up your insecurity, just so that he can be your big savior, and make you feel loved by him.

When you tell him exactly what you are insecure about, he audibly laughs. Well, he doesn't mean to make you upset or anything, but like, are you being serious?

He will say things like:

"Babe, what the fack? you look hot, theres no need to beat around the goddamn bush."

"What, is it your (insert insecurity)? cmon, don't be such a sour puss. You look just fine to me."

"Cmon sweets, whats on ya mind? How about we go out to the restaurant you love, yeah?"

He will go to that restaurant, even though he hates it. He just does not like seeing his little trophy upset or visibly irked. Even if there is Paparazzi around, he will hide them from you, or bribe them to leave.

His favorite insecurity on you would have to be your thighs. He loves squeezing them, jiggling them, putting his head between them, seeing them move when you walk, etc. If you have bigger ones, he thinks that one of, if not the best physical quality about you. He will spend his time ranting to you while snug in your legs about how annoying his newest stars are, or how Ozzie did this, or Fizzarolli did that-

Overall, he will make sure you dont go on with that contentious bullshit ever again. He cant have his favorite little lady upset, can he?

Adam 𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪:

He is Adam, the first man, he does not ever feel insecure. he never makes mistakes.

But in reality, he has felt insecure. Especially after his two wives left him for the. same. man.

He does not notice until a while later that you are upset. He thinks you are happy all the time because of him. But he's basically your husband, so he will notice things about you, that you don't even know about yourself (same as mammon)

When you tell him you are insecure, he coddles you, and threats you like you're an infant

He will say things like:

"Your insecure? About what? You have to be lying babe, you look perfect to me."

"Relax babe, im kidding, so its your (insert insecurity)? Oh, are you joking?"

"How about... you and me do a little something something, hm?"

(He is a sex deviant, so he will always bring that up.)

He tries to make it up to you by putting on your favorite movie, and bringing you your favorite snacks. But he ends up eating most of them himself...

But anyways, his favorite insecurity is your ass. He likes squeezing it, spanking it, etc. Even if it small, he likes it and thinks its cute. He will randomly pick you up and throw you over his shoulder and just, spank it, and put you down??

So overall, he is okay at comforting you, but dont come running to him unless you dont want things to turn somehow sexual.

Alastor 🎶:

He has never felt insecure in his twisted mind.

He will notice immediately that you are upset about something. He takes action fairly quickly, by rubbing your shoulders, etc.

When you tell him you are insecure, he is very understanding. You are his dearest, so he wants to take care of you, and make you feel like an angel.

While he may not understand insecurity himself, he understands you are disarmed, and that bothers him greatly.

He will say things like:

"My love, don't fret about these regal thoughts. What are you feeling down about now?"

"Is this about your (insert insecurity)? If so, that is silly nonsense, my dear. You know I do not mind."

"How about, we take a stroll. Maybe we could stop by Rosie, she sure knows how to cheer you up, hm?"

He tries his best to make you feel better, because your feelings reflect on him. While it may not seem so on the outside, his heart tears when he sees you like this.

His favorite insecurity has to be your hip dips. He thinks they make you look very feminine and womanlike, which he likes. He likes to run his hands over them, enjoying the way his fingers sink into them.

So overall, Alastor makes you feel very loved and cared for. You will never feel discontent as long as he is in your vicinity.

Lucifer 𓆩𓆪:

He has felt insecure a lot. From being casted down into Hell, to his wife somewhat recently leaving him, (to his height), he knows what it feels like

But since meeting you, he is very attentive over you.

So he notices very quickly that you are upset.

When the time comes to tell him that you are insecure, (because he kept asking you frantically whats wrong), He is very understanding.

He will say things like:

"Seriously? You? Insecure? Well we cant have that here, now can we?"

"Its your (insert insecurity)? Its ok honey, I love you just how you are."

"Honey, how about the two of us stay home for the day, hm?"

He will stay by your side a lot more often now that you told him that. He is a very doting and worried lover like Stolas, so he wants you to feel comfortable with yourself.

His favorite insecurity of your is also your thighs. Big or small, he loves them. His favorite is when his head and cheeks are squished against them. Or when he's eating you out, and he feels the warmth smothering his face. He loves the way they move when you walk as well like Mammon.

So overall, he knows what it is like to be insecure. He wants you to feel loved, and like you are cherished by him.

Stolas 𓅪:

Feels insecure a lot like Lucifer. WIth his (ex)wife, concerning his daughter, etc.

He also will notice your changes instantly. SO he will constantly ask if something is wrong. When it comes to you being upset, he will be very combative in telling him.

So when you tell him you are insecure, he feels for you. He will hold you close, and let you lay on top of his fluffy, feathered body.

He will say things like:

"Sweetheart, what is troubling you so much? I am always by your side, you know. So if you want to talk, we can."

"Your (insert insecurity)? But they are beautiful! You don't have to worry my owlette."

"How about we watch a movie? That always seems to cheer you up."

He is very concerned about you, and just wants to make you happy. That is his duty in his mind. If he cant make the rest of his family happy, he can surely make you happy, right?

His favorite insecurity of yours is stretch marks. He likes them, and he thinks they look like cute little tiger cub stripes. He will run his slender fingers over them, making you shiver in the process. He believes they are like pieces of art, just all over your body.

So in his mind, you are perfect. He is always going to love you, insecurity through and through. You are his lover.

[hazelfoureyes]

A Doe in Fall (Part 9)

⟢HumanAlastor x FemaleBurlesquerReader - A Doe in Fall

A burlesquer with a penchant for conning men, you find your latest game interrupted when your next mark saves you from an aggressive fan— by killing him. The chance encounter left you curious, still half convinced you could complete your normal chase. Unbeknownst to you, you were the one being tracked.

Part 1 - Pretty in Red smut💦 Part 2 - Liar smut💦 Part 3 - A Tragedy smut💦 Part 4 - Enough Part 5 - Too Much Part 6 - Learning smut💦 Part 7 - Recognition smut💦 Part 8 - Trust sexual 🥵 Part 9 - Shiny Things 📍 Part 10 - Good Deeds Part 11 - Caught Part 12 - Eddie Part 13 - The Release Part 14 - Someone like her smutty💦

Part 9 - Shiny Things

Ephi moves in, and Ruth reads you like an open book.

「Warnings/Promises: HumanAlastor x Fem! BurlesqueReader, Reference to domestic abuse of non-reader character, fucks, crows, swans, emotions be emotioning, so many birds, I don’t think reader is Aromantic I think she’s just stubborn, Cliff diving is just a joke do not follow people off cliffs, everyone is kicking reader’s ass in some way, my apologies to parts of Texas but not Texas as a whole」

Long time no see ! My head wasn’t in the right space for this story, and my head was also literally not doing well. But! Reading glasses helped since I’m writing on my phone like 7 inches from my face. the goal is Wednesday updates~ there’s about four parts already written so we’ve got a month of runway 👌🏼 Wednesday mornings are ‘God, That’s Good’ by @macabr3-barbi3 and nights are ADIF!

🎶 last time on A Doe In Fall 🎶 : you came home from your first week staying officially at Alastor’s to find your estranged sister waiting on your stoop.

this isn’t sexy but just like minors come on, MDNI? This blog is a sex shop

It’s not that you hated your sister, it’s that you resented her. You could love someone and not like them an ounce… but unfortunately when she left so did your familial love. Which meant all that held you together now was distrust and an obligation to a dead woman. 

“So things didn’t pan out up north?” You waved her into your apartment, agitation apparent in even the gesture of your arm. 

“It’s peachy! Just need to lay low a bit.” She said it with a chipper voice while looking around your apartment like she paid for it. “Wow you weren’t lying about the no money, huh? Talk about a shoebox.”

Charming. 

“Well, Ephi, you’re welcome to leave.” While you didn’t understand the name it wasn’t your business to question what someone asked to be called. Especially considering your own dual identity. You may have disliked the woman but human decency still hung to the bones of the relationship you called your sisterhood.

An obnoxious chuckle, “Nah it’ll do! Just the one single bed?”

“Why would I have more than one bed?”

A deep sigh from her, “Still last to be picked by the fellas, sis?” Her hand passed over your dresses hanging in the open closet, “The ugly duckling was always your favorite story.”

The fine hairs rose on the back of your neck, a cat’s hackles moving as the anger bristled through your body. You opened your mouth to shout all the ways you were not the ugly one in the room, hand already in the air to direct her attention to the dried, hanging flowers covering the far wall. How many people threw flowers at her feet? How many proposals were shouted to her? Wedding rings slipped off fingers and into pockets for her? 

The air in your lungs went flat as a small fire of embarrassment rose in your gut.

How could she so quickly reduce you to a little girl again? Taking the bait for a fight you couldn’t win, because she wasn’t listening to anything but her own voice. Biting the inside of your cheek, your hand fell back to your side.

“You can take it. I’ll just be by for clothes now and then. Been staying with a friend closer to work.” Flipping through your mind you tried to catalog your valuables. What did you absolutely need to not turn up missing?

Ephi sat on the bed and crossed her legs in her best imitation of a lady. “Staying with Mister Fancy Pants?” A smile that reminded you of your childhood. A smile that said, “I won’t tell mom!” Right before turning and running to your mother’s ear.

“No.” 

A giggle two octaves above her usual tone, “Sure, okay! No skin off my back.”

You took your time to gather the items you had forgotten first, then the items you didn’t want her to have. Unsure how exactly to tell Alastor why a week into sharing his home officially you were already redecorating, you left that for your future self to figure out. The first item was obvious.

An angel statue your mother kept on her nightstand. You wrapped it in some newspaper, trying not to look in her direction. 

Your sister chased dick like most people chased liberty. Something she shared with your mother. Which was her right, but it rubbed you the wrong way how she would always forget everyone else in her life when she had a man to call her own. A fair weather friend, at that. 

“How’s Howard?” The dick that took her away so many years ago.

She abandoned the lady act and rummaged through your cabinets, “Who’s that?”

Right.

A gold coin on a necklace. You slipped it inside a sock. 

“So, then, who is the man of the hour?”

Ephi began opening the dresser drawers, poking here and there. “Whaddya mean! I am an independent woman.”

You weren’t sure that had ever been true. While your mother had drilled it into your skull to never place yourself in the need of a man, she always seemed to throw her heart (and house keys and purse strings…) at the feet of any man willing to love her. 

“Love” her. 

There was no love in any of that. A common problem of confusing love with any and all intense emotions affected your mother and many others.

Slashed furniture is not adoration. Breaking windows is not a love language. Bruises are not affection.

Your hands ran down the bag’s shapeless sides. Without thinking, you smiled. Adoration. Love languages. Affection. You had them and the knowledge of their secrets all to yourself. 

Secrets you didn’t need slipping out. Secrets your sister couldn’t hold to save her life, or yours for that matter. You hurried around the room grabbing knick-knacks and photos and jewelry. Alastor would be at work soon, you wondered if you should call to warn him. This time not about a hot headed flatfoot but a nosey sibling.

You’d tell him later. No reason to talk to Brenda again. Quickly your leather bag got full and heavy. What was supposed to be a casual foray into sharing a home already turning into a full on move. 

Everything you needed and a few things no one ever would, because damn would Ephi pawn them the very second she needed something, were safely zipped away. Any plans to relax at home before work were abandoned and you just marched to the door. 

A random memory flashed behind your eyes,  washing Alastor’s hair in the tub until the water ran clear. Why now? The only memory shared in your apartment. And it was an awful one. But, it had Alastor. That gave it value. 

“Hey, if any men come by looking for me you just don’t answer, okay?” You forced your face to relax, to show the sincerity you worked so hard to keep to yourself, “Please, Ephi.”

Her smile widened past unnaturally white teeth, no money for a room but clearly cash for peroxide tooth gel, “Ooh, why? Little sister make some enemies?”

Why couldn’t she just fucking agree?

“My job sometimes attracts crazies. I don’t tell them where I live but occasionally they figure it out. They’ve gotten violent before so…just don’t answer the buzzer. They’ll say they’re damn near anyone to get you to let them up.” You stopped the nervous twisting of your bag’s handle, “Boyfriend, boss, detective. They've tried it all.”

“Aww, sis. Look at you.” She leaned her full figure against the open door frame, arm raised up like a pin up. Ephi was always effortlessly enchanting when her mouth was closed. “Stalkers? Mama would be so proud. Finally learning how to catch a man’s attention.”

The tears that stung your eyes were inspired partly by anger and partly by pain. They came so suddenly you could only laugh in response. 

“Lovely to see your new name hasn’t changed you, Ephi. I’ll be back occasionally. Don’t steal anything, no strangers over. Spare key is in the bowl by the door.” 

“Oh hey!” 

You turned back.

“I do need some cash. Until I find work.”

The numbness blanketed you with a chill. 

“I’ve got like, three bucks. Is that fine?”

Why did you ask that? You knew she could very well say it wasn’t fine and you’d be obligated to offer to get more. Atleast, that’s what you’d have done when you were younger. How easily you both slipped into old roles. Or perhaps she never grew out of hers. 

She mulled it over, “Yeah that’ll be fine.” Her hand came out and waited for the bills.

An open palm waiting for your money.

You pulled the folded bills from your wallet and set them in her hand without touching her skin. 

“Thanks sis!” She turned and closed the door before you could reply.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

The other dancers shot you a look when your bag jingled and clanked as it hit the floor, you wincing as you remembered the ceramic figurine.

“You…. going somewhere, hun? The detective got you on something?”

A quick shake of your head. You hadn’t considered the optics. Luckily it was early enough the room wasn’t very busy. A few select missing women would have pried for more information. Your hands fidgeted, unsure what to do. On the way in you saw some newer talent getting their feet on stage, maybe watch them? Too early for make up. 

A loving voice from Ruth, always a savior, “Cigarette?”

You melted at the offer. Alastor wasn’t a fan of the smell so you were slyly cutting back. 

She popped a sun bleached folding chair open and set it in between you both as a footrest. So many broken and ruined chairs littered the sides of the dingy roof, you were shocked she found a good one on her first try.

“Alright, tell me what happened with that detective. Do I need to go rough up a city employee?” Ruth leaned back and settled into her chair with a creak and a whine of the wood.

You needed a second, eyes flitting around as she handed her cigarette for you to take a drag. What could you say? What did she already know? You’d not spoken about it since she helped shoo him away but the appearance of half your belongings haphazardly stuffed into a bag clearly had her alarms going off. 

“So remember the guy who came by for me? Tall handsome one.”

She nodded enthusiastically, “Yes! Of course. Don’t forget a name like his. Or face.” She whistled like a crude man trying to get a woman’s attention in the most annoying way.

“The detective thinks he did something to Tommy. That he was jealous. Which is ridiculous-,” you felt a nervous energy slip down your arms. 

An abrupt laugh, “That string bean couldn’t open a heavy window. He didn’t do shit to Tommy. What a stupid thing to say.”

Did she notice how much you’d been holding your breath? A deep sigh as you let it go. “Exactly! He doesn’t even know about what happened that night with that guy and Tommy’s arrangement; it’s too mortifying. Anyway, the detective has been hounding me about it. I don’t wanna cause trouble.” You ashed the cigarette and held it out for her, “Stuff is still new with him and me, so I didn’t tell the detective his details or work anything. Why would I? So he can harass him too?” The words all tumbled out so quickly. A faucet turned too far to the left.

“Fair.” A few passes back and forth in what you hoped was a comfortable silence and not an indication she was piecing together things you needed to remain unlinked. Finally, “Didn’t realize you two were still seeing each other. Longest one you’ve kept for awhile now.”

Looking up, you marveled at the view of the open sky. Not a cloud in sight. A smile crept across your face, the heat of the sun warming you from the inside out. The slightest chill to the air warning you of Fall. “Yeah.”

She asked what made him so special and you didn’t know where to start. “The obvious,” you began. “He’s so-,”

“Clever.” “Handsome.”

You’d spoken at the same time, her attempt at soothsaying failing miserably.

“Clever, Ruth. He’s very clever. Handsome men are a dime a dozen. But he’s sharp as a tack.” She rolled her eyes and waved her hand around for you to go on. You let your mind toss out the shiniest examples. “He’s so skilled. He knows how to hunt and take apart animals. He can fish. Cooks like a dream. He knows how to clean clothes well and how to use a washing board.” 

“Useful.” She mused. That isn’t what you meant. You weren’t trying to list off his features like a new appliance. It was just— impressive. He was well rounded.

“And he’s terribly kind. He’s always,” how to say it delicately, “going out of his way to help others solve their problems.” That seemed accurate and vague enough. You chuckled to yourself, remembering him at the kitchen table, “His face lights up so bright when he’s talking about his hobbies. Like, I can see his soul glittering behind his eyes and suddenly I’m just as interested in whatever he’s talking about as he is.” You let your eyes close around the mental image of his surprised face every time you complimented him. But they shot open when she began giggling, “What?”

“You’re in looooove,” her foot kicked yours, “I know that look. Head over heels already. Talking about him like he made the fucking stars.”

Wide eyed and stunned, was it written on your face so plainly? “Oh don’t say that. It makes me so uncomfortable. We’re just enjoying each other's company.” When she moved to give you the cigarette again you didn’t take it. “All I was saying was—,” fuck, what were you saying? That he was special? “He’s a very nice person to spend my limited time with. It’s a finite resource and all.”

With a shrug she took another puff, “What’s to be uncomfortable about? Falling in love is a wonderful thing, hun.”

Was it? Honestly, had she ever considered how much damage came with loving someone? It was putting your heart outside your body. Letting someone else carry it around and just praying they didn’t hurt you, or get hurt, or go off and die and take your heart with them. Why would anyone willingly do such a silly thing?

“Cheesy. And kind of creepy. Falling? How do I get back up if things go south?”

You’d successfully avoided emotional attachment to nearly every lover you’d taken. The way women seemed to get struck down dumb by any old John or Jane just wasn’t appealing. Love was for fools. The weak. The dependent.

Or, so you had whispered to yourself as you pretended to not be home when suitors came knocking, as you avoided ringing phones, as you apologized and slid out of restaurant seats after awkward dinners. 

“If you fall hard enough, you don’t get back up.” She said it like it was a good thing. “You’ll love them forever, even if you hate em.”

That was the problem, too. How could she not hear that as she said it? All loss of control of your own heart and emotions was simply bad. People do irrational things for love.

You shivered, “That sounds absolutely horrid, Ruth.”

“Aah,” she dismissed you with a raspberry blown between her lips, “For the right man, you’ll find yourself enjoying the trip down!” 

“Nah, I’m not fan of heights. No dick is worth that.”

“Is that all men are to you? Sex?” She guffawed, taken aback by your comment. Which was odd, given it was Ruth. 

But, Yes.

Well. No . But — he wasn't a man. He was something different. The exception to the rule. Alastor was different.

Or, fine. 

Yes, he was a man. 

No, you didn’t see them as just sex. It was easier to say people were just pleasure and not stop to think about life any other way. Things got complicated when you added another person. Life became sloppy and uncontainable. If you stopped and considered the lives behind the people you used to lead on and let go before things got too difficult, you’d just wound yourself. It was easier to stop at sex.

When you could. Which you could, before. When sex was a token you traded back and forth with someone. But Alastor didn’t accept that currency. You couldn’t hand him your body and get brief but lovely companionship back. Your value had to lie elsewhere, the things you set before him and the wonders he had to offer were much richer in their worth than what you’d ever had before. 

Sometimes it felt like you slid him a penny and he handed you a quarter. You found yourself scrounging up the petty coins of your worth and trying to save them up for him. Practicing your makeup, learning how he liked his coffee, remembering all of the things he said he hated and loved. Attempting to stop smoking. Every act was another shiny offering for him. 

A crow scrounging the park grounds for glittering trash. Not very swan-like, you thought.

“You really don’t think you’re falling for him?” Ruth put out the cigarette in the coffee can beside her. As you turned to argue with her you saw her face full of amusement and incredulousness. It was rhetorical.

The argument withered and you could only pout, everyone that day seeming to catch your tongue, “I don’t wanna think about it. I’ll get scared and run away. He’ll figure out how little I have to give eventually. If anything more is gonna happen, it’ll happen. I’ll just… let it. Why ruin it with… saying childish things.”

“You’re naive but that’s okay. Enjoy the honeymoon stage while you can.”

Your eyes rolled, “What if he doesn’t feel the same? Why embarrass myself.” When you sighed the weight of just how heavy and true that sentiment was resonated in your stomach. Telling him you were falling in love? Alastor was a killer. His passion was singular. What good was a dame to him? No, worse than worthless. A liability. A witness. A weak point in the walls he so carefully crafted. If he knew you were in love with him he’d just end things sooner than they would have naturally.

“Dontcha wanna know if he’s a waste of that precious time, then?”

You cackled, choking on your spit. Alastor? He was the most worthwhile thing you’d ever encountered. Time with him suddenly had …. Value. That fucking word again. But time with him, it was slow enough to be deep and rich, but so fleeting you already felt a mourning mood for how much closer you were to the end.

You could only shake your head, “Wait, Ruth, didn’t you get divorced?”

“Shhh that doesn’t count!” She rose and stretched her long arms up to the sun and then out to the horizon, “Plus that’s how I know what I’m talking about! After the honeymoon phase? You’ll be arguing about laundry and wishing you were strangers again. Fighting about children and lawncare.”

As your finger nervously came to your mouth, teeth cutting into the nail, you considered how if Alastor complained about laundry and you could argue back with the comfort of knowing neither would simply leave, that’d be….nice. The safety of being honest without the fear of the other person giving up on you. Was that love? 

And did that matter at all? 

You’d thought earlier you knew the answers but now, when someone else said it, you got scared of those words. 

Ruth must have put a spell on you. As you and a bevy of others danced in line on stage, arms over shoulders and legs kicking high enough to show cheek and jiggle the soft skin of your thighs and stomach, you felt butterflies in your gut. Alastor would be picking you up in a matter of hours. 

A few men sent you drinks, which you repaid with a wink and a kiss blown across the bar before downing the liquor. It was the usual routine. You hadn’t felt nerves to see Alastor quite like that since sheepishly picking out “comfortable” shoes.

Alastor’s eyes widened when he took the bag from you, not noticing your attempts to avoid making eye contact. He let out a chuckle, his best attempt at stifling the joking question, “Already moving in?”

He realized quickly enough that wasn’t a good joke. Not when he finally looked up and saw your stare was distant. 

“Everything okay, dear?” He walked to open your door for you, and you nodded a thank you and an affirmative.

Should you rip off the band aid? Should you just say it and see what happens? 

When you turned to look at him and blurt out a confession, you were stopped by the profile of his face. What a gentle face. A lovely jaw. Even his bones were better than other people’s. What were you doing in this man’s car? What little pieces of glittering trash were you about to toss at him on a random Friday night?

No, in the books you read, confessions were always grande affairs. Fireworks and dinner parties and passionate kisses in rain storms.

You’d have to put a little effort into this. His brows rose as he clocked your staring. Eyes on the road, smirk pulled to the right, his hand came to rest on your thigh.

He deserved something much better than whatever you had to offer. Something unlike yourself entirely. 

The drive home, and yes you let yourself linger on the word instead of shoo it away, you watched a deer jump across the dirt road just past the bridge. 

“The bucks chase the does. It’s part of their mating ritual. I guess it’s not unlike the ‘playing hard to get’ some women like. The longer the chase, the prouder the buck to snag his prize.”

You laughed, “Women don’t like it, I don’t think. Well, some do I am sure but… If we don’t do that then people think we’re easy. We need plausible deniability. If people learn we put out we can claim we didn’t really want to and save some face.”

Alastor grimaced, “Gross.”

Unseen, you nodded and turned to watch the buck leap after its doe. 

“Kind of funny, you chased me down, didn’t you?” Alastor’s comment pulled you back to him.

“Oh yes. That makes you my doe.” Your arm came to rest against the car door, the trees slowly rolling by in the darkness. “Reminds me of the small freckles across your shoulders.”

“My mighty buck!” He fawned, in jest, pretending to collapse into your lap. You shoved him back up and behind the wheel proper. “Well given the chance, I’d chase you for miles.” His hand flexed on your leg.

“To Texas?” You asked. Your usual end point.

“Further.”

“How far?”

“There is no limit. I’d … run right off a cliff, head first, if you were waiting at the bottom.” He took his hand back, needing both to hold the wheel. What he said hit him harder than he had intended. Was it too much? A tad too dramatic? A nervous clearing of his throat, followed by an awkward laugh to put more space between him and the confession. 

The idea of you making Alastor chase you was ridiculous. You enjoyed the games you played with others, but you were never meant to be caught. If you wanted that, you’d just…give yourself. As you had done with him. Only him. The first and last person you ever wanted to give yourself over to in any sense. “And if I just… lied down and let you catch me? Would that make me a poorly earned prize?”

“Nope! That’d make me a lucky duck. And make you quite smart, if I do say so myself.” A wink. “Why run from such a catch like me?”

You landed a smack on his arm, light and playful. 

A truly comfortable silence settled in, just the sound of the car trembling over the rough road. The newest model Ford was still as loud as the last, but luckily you were far from others. 

The words had lingered like smoke, and you felt the need to address them.  

“Don’t actually do that though. If I run off a cliff or something stupid, don’t you dare follow me.”

Alastor just laughed, wasn’t that what you were doing for him already? Diving into hell for some inexplicable reason after Alastor. He wasn’t expressing some lack of self preservation, he was merely letting you know he’d reciprocate the fall. You hadn’t made him run after you, but instead seemed to just….rest your neck between his canines. And trust. 

If you were to go to heaven, he wasn’t sure what he’d do. It was too late to redeem his soul now. How far was heaven from hell, anyways? If the devil survived the plummet perhaps he could scale the walls of his enclosure and breach the gates.

Though, as he thought about the idea of heaven, he considered how happy his mother would be to meet you. To take you from her would be as cruel as heaven taking you from him. 

Maybe he could make a plea. To just be able to see you from below. 

But if the knowledge you were happy and safe was all he had, he’d be a richer man in hell than he’d ever been on earth. It’d be enough. 

He’d just need to broadcast his radio waves a little further for your listening pleasure.

⋅˚₊‧ ଳ⋆Masterlist.ೃ࿔*:･

˖ ݁𖥔.Summoning the Horny Little Deer Cult.𖥔 ݁ ˖

@eris-norwega @reath-solia @catticora , @angelicribbons , @xalygatorx

@cxrsedwxrlds , @nonetheartist , @tsunaki , @janchei , @moonmark98

, @readergirlstuff , @berry-demon , @chirimeimei , @fairyv-ice , @olive-frog ,

@thonethatflies620 , @tiredkiwiii , @ilikemyteawithmilk , @whateverlololo , @psipies

@howabouticallyou , @roxxie-wolf , @fizzled-phoenix , @star-kujo-platinum

, @a-case-of-attachment , @multifandomfanatic02 @watereddownmilk , @bontensbabygirl @smoky000

@hoebihoeshi , @pansexual-opera-house , @polytheatrix , @lorddiabigmommymilkers , @backinthefkingbuildingagain

@harley2223-blog , @poinappel , @midnightnoiserose , @spookieroz , @missmidorima ,

@ivebeenthearchersstuff , @downbadforfictionalppl , @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx , @sleepylittledemon , @aether-th3-enby

@dontfuckbutimfab @breathlessaura , @aperfectidiot , @certainlygay , @jth12

[adams-angels]

Talk to me

Adam X f!reader

🎸I hope I do you all justice. Don't be mad if this isn't very good. I generally am not very good!🎶

💖 Please send me requests! Send me your own headcanons! I will draw! I'm obsessed rn!💖

Smut below. Minors dni thx

This isn't the first time you and Adam argued. It sure as hell won't be the last but today was a little different.

It's started off fine. You were at Adams apartment for the weekend. You made him breakfast, he showered you in kissed, shared a bit of banter... And that's where it went wrong. You said something which made Adam say something unexpected and worse. So an argument ensured. It ended when Adam had been called into work.

The last thing you said was "fine, I won't say anything ever again." It was petty! You were being petty. It's not like you hadn't said it before but you always did speak again, of course you did! But no. Today was different. You were keeping to your word.

Adam got ready to leave. "Okay. I'm going now." You looked up and nodded. Not even a kiss goodbye was had. He left the apartment scowling while you stayed up and sulked.

As the day went on her texted you. "Ugh, work is so dumb. Idk y they even wanted me in 🙄" you picked up your phone and read it. You made sure to read it. So he would see that you saw it. Petty.

Now you know Adam. You know Adam needs attention 24/7. Even if you're not together you need to text him back. You need to make sure he knows you're still there. You're still his.

So of course he saw the read receipt. He knows you have your phone in your hand. "What are you ignoring me?" Read. "Don't be so pathetic." Read. "Why are you doing this?" Read. "whatever! You think I care?! I'm FUCKING ADAM! I'M THE FUCKING DICK MASTER! I DON'T NEED YOU!" Read. "ANSWER ME?!" Read. "Haha, check out this meme." Read. "Please say something." Read.

You had him reeling. His trust issues taking over his mind. What if you've left him? What if fucking Lucifer's got his tiny ass claws into you?! "NO!" His wings flare, he charges towards the nearest window and takes flight. He can't stand you ignoring him. He can't stand the thought of you leaving him.

He lands on his apartments balcony, you're not in the livingroom. His heart pounds in his chest. Opening the sliding door he enters his apartment. A very broken "hello?" Escapes his lips. No response. The silence is too much.

He explores his apartment, a bead of sweat forming on his temple. "Y/N?" He heads towards his bedroom and there you are. Lying in bed. You're not asleep, you're on your phone, still ignoring him. You could of swore you heard a sigh of relief. It doesn't take long before he's back to his arrogant self. "What up sugartits? Still not talking?" That cocky smirk fills his mask.

He hops into bed next to you. You glance up at him, that stupid smile. "What? I didn't do anything, babe. C'mon, why don't you just say something?" You respond with a glare. He sits up, his smile waivered slightly at your resistance. He brings himself close to your ear, placing a hand on your shoulder. "I know how to get you to talk."

His hand slides down your arm, to your waist then your thighs. You know where this is going. With no resistance from you he moves one of your legs, spreading them. His fingers trace along your pantie line, just to tease you. You can feel your face flushing. "You're too cute, babes." He muttered, causing you to look up at him. As soon as your eyes locked with his, he moved your underwear to the side. Sliding a finger between your folds. He can see you holding back a whimper. "Wow, you're already soaked? Thinking about my cock all day, huh? Of course you were."

He continued sliding a finger between you, gently hitting your clit cause you to twitch. But still no sounds from you. He frowns slightly. "Why don't you tell me how much you want it, Gorgeous." It was so hard not to break. How much your wanted to tell him you wanted him. But no. Then he would of won. He always wins! You hold strong. "Fine." He grunts as he gets up. He crawls between your legs whipping off her robe revealing his, always surprising, massive cock. Throbbing with anticipation.

"I'm gonna make you beg." He grumbled. He wasn't happy you were still not saying anything. At this point he missed your voice. He missed your laugh. Your tuts. Your groans. Anything. Any noise! He wanted you do make a single sound. You watched as he positioned himself and got ready for him to thrust into you. He grabbed his member and lined up with your entrance and stopped. You looked up at him confused. That smirk was back.

He began jerking him against your aching cunt. His tip brushing against your clit you can't help but whimper. You quickly cover your mouth. "What was that babe? You want me to fuck you?" He asked with that shit eating grin. You nod, looking at him with desperate eyes. "Use your words, baby." You furrowed your brow, positioning your feet you buck your hips to try and get him inside of you but he's too smart for that, pulling himself away. "Nuh-uh. Words, y/n. Use them." He purred, teasing you. He moved back, continuing rubbing himself off on you.

You whined in frustration and desperation. "Fuck 'm getting close, babe." Your eyes widen. No way was he close, but his brow twitched which told you he wasn't lying. He was going to cum soon. "Fuck me Adam! Please fuck me! I need you!" You begged. "ah, you want me now?" "Yes, please. Please Adam?" It didn't take him long before he was inside you. Feeling your walls clenched around his thick member. You moan in ecstasy. Adam, gripping your waist, pulling you as close as he can so he can get deep inside you. "Fuckin' feel so good~ such a good girl." He grunted, pounding into you.

It's hard to read his true expression with that damn mask on, uou managed to get your fingers under the chin of his mask and pull it off. You can see his flustered face, how desperate and needy his eyes are. "Sso p-pretty anh~!" "Shut up.." he burrows his head in the crook of your neck, embarrassed, small whimpers escape his lips as moans roar out from yourself.

"Fuck, y/n-!" His arms wrap themselves around your waist as he holds you down and close. Filling you with his seed. His head still pressed against the nook of your neck. "'m sorry..." He whispered into your skin. Your arms slid round to his back, gently running your fingers up and down his back. "Please don't ignore me again." He mumbled. "I won't. I'm sorry." You reply, holding each other close.

～⁠♡✧⁠｡ I really hope you enjoyed this one shot. It was fun to write! I'm not a writer by any means but I appreciate any support I receive so thank you for reading! ｡✧⁠♡～⁠

[sxtvrns]

jongseobbbbbb as ur rich cutie bf .. that’s all i got

loaded and devoted

🎶 now playing: that’s what i like - bruno mars

P: Kim Jongseob x Fem!Reader

S: Jongseob just can’t help pampering his girl with his riches.

G: fluff (requested!)

N: my first request! this is so short i’m so sorry :( my asks are open btw so go wild with it but not too wild i don’t write nsfw and certain stuff lol

please interact if you enjoy!

“Oh, wow…” You mutter, staring through one of the windows of the shops you were passing by.

“What is it, babe?” Jongseob stops with you.

“That dress...” You marvel aloud, still in awe. “It’s beautiful.”

“Yeah? Do you wanna try it on?” He suggests, making you look at him surprised. “Oh, no, I was just looking…” You shake your head. “Looks expensive.” You tug on your boyfriend’s hand, walking away from the store.

Jongseob had a habit of spending money. He wouldn’t spend it irresponsibly, of course, but he finds himself doing it more often. He finally got something out of all those producing credits on top of his work as an idol.

Yes, he splurged on himself, but he found that he splurged on you more often.

Short on cash? He’s got plenty.

Buying something? The reader already says accepted before you can even tap your card.

Bad day? Tub of ice cream and your favourite flowers suddenly show up at your doorstep.

You get worried he doesn’t treat himself as much as he should, but he always says seeing the look on your face is worth more than anything he could get for himself.

He puts so much time into gifts for you that you almost feel bad your gifts for him don’t amount as much as they do for you. But he loves everything you give him, no matter how small it may be. The ramen jellycat you got him (which cost more than it should’ve) is the one stuffed toy he brings with him when he travels, and the only one he proudly posts with.

That was worth more to you and to him than any other form of materialism.

Gift giving has always been his love language.

“Are you sure you don’t want anything, Y/N?” Jongseob asks.

“I’m sure, Jongseob. Everything here is so expensive…”

“But—“

“I can’t have you always pay for me, I feel bad!”

“But I wanna pay for you, babe…”

The endearment almost makes you give in. “I know you do. But I feel spoiled.”

“Because I like spoiling you.” He pulls out a bag from behind his back.

“What’s this?” You ask as you pull out the product from the bag. “Saw you eyeing it when we passed by that cosmetics store.” He speaks up.

“Jongseob!”

“What? It’s the right shade.”

You grumble, unsure of whether to be grateful or mad at him.

“Come on, you know you like it.” He teases.

“I do…”

“Are you mad?”

“Yes, I’m mad!”

“I know you’re lying.”

You pout and look away. “Thank you…” You mutter, feeling his hand gently guide you to face him. Your eyes are still focused down. “No problem, baby.” He kisses your cheek softly before taking your hand in his. “Wanna go home now?” He asks, and you timidly nod as he guides both of you back to the parking lot.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“I don’t know, babe, I’m gonna feel out of place…” You say, the doubt evident in your tone.

Jongseob got invited to some formal event you can’t remember the name of, and he wanted to bring you as his plus one. Surely there were other plus ones there, but the difference between you and them is that you are not famous. Unlike the famous couples, it was going to be famous young producer-idol Jongseob with you, a ‘what’s her name again’ and ‘I’ve never heard of her’ person.

“You’ll be okay, baby, you’ve got me.” He reassures.

“I don’t wanna burden you and linger around you all the time.”

“Why would you ever think of yourself as a burden?” You feel his presence behind you. His arms wrap around your waist, bending his head down for it to rest on your shoulder. “You’re my sweet, sweet, beautiful girlfriend with a heart of gold that deserves nothing but love—“ He cuts himself off by attacking your neck with kisses.

“Jongseob!” You giggle.

He presses one last kiss to your cheek. “And besides, I got a gift for you for tonight.”

“You really need to stop spending so much money on me…”

“Why? Don’t you like it?”

“I mean, yes, but I feel spoiled!”

“You deserve to be spoiled, Y/N.” He goes to the closet and pulls out a bag. “Here.” He places it on your vanity.

You carefully pull out a dress and realize what it is. “Is this the dress we saw in that designer store a few days ago?” You look at him, wide eyed, gaze switching between the dress and him. He merely responds with a smile. “Jongseob! This was so expensive!”

“I bargained a little. Learned from the best.”

“Does it even fit?” You check the tag, noticing it’s your exact size. He speaks up. “You know I know how you fit, baby.”

You can’t help but stare at the dress in shock, unable to get any words out. Jongseob rests his head on your shoulder. “Where’s my thank you?” You snap out of your trance, slowly smiling. “Thank you, baby.” Your head turns to kiss his cheek, but instead your lips meet his.

He kisses you softly before pulling away, pressing one more quick peck to your lips right after. “Go try it on, Y/N.”

You begin to change into the dress, slipping into it carefully so you don’t damage it. Jongseob helps zip up the back of your dress, watching you turn around so you’re facing him. “Wow…” He mutters under his breath.

“What?”

“You look incredible, baby. This dress was made for you.”

“Thank you, Jongseob.” You turn around to look at yourself in the mirror. “I feel expensive.”

Suddenly, a cold sensation rests on your collarbone and slowly comes up. “Lift your hair up for me?” He asks. You notice a beautiful necklace dangling around your neck, yet it looks unfamiliar.

“Did you buy me a new set of jewelry for tonight too?”

“…Please don’t be mad at me.”

you deserve it baby, you deserve it all. and i’m gonna give it to you! 🎧

[skylarsblue]

✦Incorrect C.o.D Quotes Nine✦

(Sexual Implication) Ghost, trying to be sexy by whispering: Gaggin’ for it, aren’t ya, love? Soap: Nope. Ghost: No? Soap: I don’t gag on anything. Ghost: *404 Error* Soap: …Ghost? Si? Simon, are you alright?

-- Y/N: Let’s play a word association game! Ghost: Why? Y/N: Because I saved your ass last mission and I’m bored, so you owe me. Ghost: *sigh* Fine. Y/N: P e r f e c t . Gaz: ?? Y/N: Cold. Ghost: Winter. Y/N: Spring. Ghost: Mattress. Y/N: Soft. Ghost: Comfortable. Y/N: Pleasant. Ghost: Sunset. Y/N, With a shit eating grin: Beautiful. Ghost, unconsciously: Johnny- Y/N: YES Gaz: OHHHHHH Ghost: Soap: *gasp* Simon!~ Ghost: I’m going to go crash in a heli. Y/N: I KNEW IT I KNEW IT-

-- Alex: Bitch do you want me to jump across this table? Because I don’t have all day for this. Norris: You feeling froggy? Leap. Alex: Okay, well here I come- Farah: Alex no, no- hOLD OFF

-- (NSFW Joke) Y/N: Oh sorry. I almost drank out of your cup. Soap: Wh-Just go ahead, it won’t matter! Y/N: Well I- Yeah no, you’re right. I’ve drank out of your cups dozens of times. Soap: We’ve sucked the same dick- Y/N: That’s a good point! Ghost: ….*sigh*

-- Gaz: What kind of girl do you like? Soap: My wife. Gaz: And you? Ghost: Johnny’s wife. Gaz: OH- Price, knowing they recently started a poly situation: Pfft-

-- (Use of the word pussy because haha) Gaz, filming: Pffft- Soap: Shhshh- Y/N in the hallway: FORTY THREE FUCKING CENTS! AHHHHH Soap: *wheeze* Y/N: I NEED A SUGAR DADDY!! Gaz: PFFFT- Soap: I can’t breathe- Y/N: At this rate I’m ready to plaster my fuckin’ pussy on the sidewalk for some sPARE CHANGE! Gaz & Soap: *doing that silent cackle thing and smack each other in the arm* Ghost, leaning into the room: What the f- Y/N: SPAARE CHANGE, SPARE CHANGE! ANYONE GOT ANY SPARE CHAAANGE?! Gaz: *coughing* Soap: Steamin’ Jesus I’m fucking crying- Y/N, passing by the room: 🎵Walkin’ in a winter wonderlaaaand🎶

-- Y/N: Would you love me? Gaz: Y/N: Gaz: Y/N: Gaz: Would I love you if…? Y/N: nO ThAt wAs tHE QuesTiOn-

-- Y/N: Pretty boy! With me I said! Rudy: Rudy: Rudy: Oh I’m pretty boy! Y/N: Yes! Oo that came out a bit quick- (Also works with Soap & Gaz, honestly)

-- (THIS IS A CONCEPT IM TOO WHIMPY TO WRITE, SO HAVE IT HERE! THIS COULD WORK WITH SO MANY CHARACTERS Also, NSFW warning) Ghost: I don’t miss. Y/N, on his ear piece: Never? Even with distractions? Ghost: *turns his scope* Not ever. *just about to take a shot* Y/N: Hmm…what if I went… Mm Simon~ Ghost: *misses* Y/N: Ya missed. Ghost: Cheeky bitch…

-- Gaz: Alright, so, since we’re now in America and we have some time to kill, I went and I got you something. Y/N: Aww Gaz, you really didn’t have to- Gaz: *puts down their Whataburger order* Y/N: OH MY GOD Price: Really? Gaz: *shrug* Soap: *snickering as Y/N Fucking demolishes some fries* Y/N, having the time of their life: Garrick you ever need your dick sucked, a dead body buried, a beer or whatever, you call me. I got’chu Gaz: BAHA- Soap: *wheeze* Ghost: Are you fucking crying? Y/N with their mouth full: I missed it so much.

-- (Team bonding exercises) Soap: You’re a football player, it’s in ya blood! Gaz: That’s racist. Soap: Your soul? Gaz: That’s racist! Soap: …your eyes? Gaz: That’s gay- Soap: That’s homophobic. Gaz: That’s black. Soap: That’s racist!! Gaz: Damn- (this one is extra funny since Gaz is now confirmed LGBT)

-- Gaz: You overrated little twink! Soap: Hey I am a TWUNK, alright?! That is a combination, twink, and HUNK, get it?? Hunk-

-- Soap: Hey~ Fem!Y/N: You’re Gay. Soap: …oh yeah. Soap: *looks at Ghost* Soap: Hey.~ Ghost: *sigh*

-- Soap: I’m gonna have to meet men lying down. Y/N: …I thought’cha did?? Soap: OI!

-- Soap: Everyone says what a giving person I am! Y/N: He’s talking about when you’re in an upright position.

-- Graves: What if there’s a connection? Y/N: I think there’s a connection between your brain and wallpaper paste.

-- Shepard: Now you’re always ornery, rude, unpleasant, and sometimes downright mean. That’s part of your charm. Y/N: Thank you, you colluding-county-hopping-idiotic-relic. Price: *pride*

-- Alex: Oh my god, how are you such a good driver? Soap: Because there’s illegal shit in here. Alex: Soap: Because if I don’t use my turn signal, we’re both gonna do fifteen. Because I am going to lie and say yours. Alex: ….. Soap: Put your seatbelt on, sweetheart. Alex: *clicks it in places* Soap: You are not safe!

-- (Sucking dick joke) Kidnapper: You’re gonna do as I say or I will make you regret ever being born. Y/N: Oh please, I’ve sucked dicks more intimidating than you. Soap: Oh this is why Simon was the way he was after we rescued you both last time.

-- Soap, shoving marshmallows in his mouth: This isn’t very ha-*chokes* MILF!Y/N, across the fucking base: ….*mom instinct* Price: ??? Ghost: Uh- Y/N: Something just happened. Kyle: PFFT-

-- MILF!Y/N: *letting Soap & Gaz lean on her while Price and Ghost stand close behind* Untrue. I’m a mother now. It’s really changed my perspective. Graves: And do you find it hard juggling life and a career? Y/N: You can juggle these nuts.

-- Soap: *rambling* Soap: Agh, sorry, I’m just goin’ on and on- Ghost: Oi, keep talking before I kick your ass. Soap: ….. Gaz: See? This is exactly what I m-where the fuck are these flower petals coming from?? ARE THOSE SPARKLES??

[pretty-little-mind33]

I want to send an angst request, but I saw the prompts and I literally screamed. I don't think I'd survive if u wrote something angsty with those prompts. But I'm still going to send a request, if that's fine with you. I'd like to request pop music with Dave lizewski and prompt 39. "All I can think of is you" and it's like the scene in kickass where he's in Katie's room but instead of Katie's room it's the readers room. Please and thank yeww. I don't know, but I hope it's not too much to ask. Anyways, take care and have a lovely day/night 🫶🏼🩷

SKY'S 3K CELEBRATION

it's not too much to ask, sweetie 💞 enjoy!

~ 🎶 ~

You hum, brushing your hair in your mirror. You're daydreaming again, barely registering your surroundings until a familiar flash of yellow and green is seen in your mirror.

Your hairbrush falls to the ground with a thud and you snatch a perfume bottle from your vanity, spinning around as you spray the liquid in the man's eyes.

"Get out you perv!!!"

You're frightened. Why would Kick-Ass be crawling through your window at 11pm.

"Hey, ouch, wait," he falls to the ground, clutching his eyes as you stumble back into your vanity, still shrieking in terror. "It's me! It's Dave!" Kick-Ass exclaims, pulling the mask off of him and messing up his curls in the process.

"Dave!?" You shriek, dropping the perfume as you blink. You can hardly believe it, seeing your best friend standing in front of you dressed as a superhero is mind blowing. "What the fuck, Dave!?" you scream again.

Dave holds up his hands, shaking them violently as he drops to his knees in front of you. He looks desperate. "Wait, wait, please. It's only me. I'm sorry!"

You clutch the bottom of your pj shirt and glare at him. "Get out of my room!!" You point to the window, hands shaking. Dave is still on his knees, his lip quivering as he pleads with you.

"Can you just hear me out?" he begs, his pretty blue eyes look shinny with tears.

"No!" you say, pacing around the room now as Dave stands and follows you. He reaches you and grabs your wrist. "No!" you shriek and push away from him, eyes wide.

"You're Kick-Ass? Are you serious?" you shout, cheeks warm, "I'm your best friend and you never thought to tell me!? W-what are you even doing here?!"

"I couldn't keep this from you anymore. I- I need to be honest with you. Please listen to me. I'll explain everything," Dave practically whimpers, reaching for your hands as you fall back onto your bed and he kneels in front of you, his hands in yours on your knees. You're still breathing heavily but you seem to have calmed down.

Dave clears his throat, talking as if on auto-pilot. "I'm sorry I've been hiding things from you. I'm really sorry," he begins and you can tell he's being truthful from the look in his eyes, "But I didn't want to put you at risk for telling you about this but n-now, I- I've realized things. A-and I can't keep pretending. I can't keep hiding behind this mask and keep pretending like I'm not utterly in love with you—"

Your breath hitches.

"It's not fair to me. It's not fair to you. We've been friends since fucking forever and I can't keep lying to you every day and pretending I don't want to kiss you every single time I look at you. Pretending that I don't think of you. All I think of is you."

You stare at him, trying to process his words. He looks so pretty like this, eyes shiny and hair a mess.

He's always been pretty.

"I like you," he whispers.

Your eyes widen and then you gasp when his hand reaches up and touches your cheek. Instinctively, you cup his hand. You don't push him away. You don't want to.

His hand caresses your cheek, his touch gentle. "I really like you."

You blink, unable to answer but you lean into his touch. Dave smiles a little, rubbing his thumb against your skin a little lighter now. "You don't have to answer right now, just t-think about it, okay?"

You nod, staring into his eyes as if you're mesmerized by him, which I suppose you are. He moves to leave when you grasp his wrist, pulling him back towards you and clumsily pressing his lips to yours.

You don't need to think long. You already know your answer.

[cillianmesoftlyyy]

Moth to the Flame Pt. 2 | Dr. Crane x Reader

summary: Dr. Jonathan Crane isn't the only 'crazy' in Gotham City and he's about to meet his match. When confronted with an unpleasant secret from his past, he's skeptical to trust the strange young woman who calls herself Victoria Vale, the rightful heiress to Arkham Asylum (and maybe his downfall).

warnings: mentions of attempted suic*de and an insanity plea (follows the plot from the movie Batman Begins).

A/N: I really enjoy using the original DC comic lore so if you've been following me for a while, you'll recognize the backstories in this but I've tried to make a completely different plot line.

Choke- I DONT KNOW HOW BUT THEY FOUND ME 🎶

A few days pass but they feel like weeks. You’re expecting Dr. Jonathan Crane at the precinct to conduct Falcone’s psychological examination, and shift impatiently in your seat. You check your watch routinely, having assumed Crane would be a very punctual person and arrive right at 4:00. And you’re right. 

Crane saunters down the hallway like a black cat, his dark hair combed back against his head and his glasses perched perfectly on his button-like nose. You stand as you see him, pushing your chair back from your desk. You step out to meet him, keeping one hand securely on your hip to ensure your gun stays there and doesn’t get picked up by this handsome criminal mind. Dr. Crane smirks softly when he sees you and gives you a curt nod. 

“Detective Vale,” he greets you and sticks out his hand. You give a professional nod back and shake his offered hand, surprised to find it so warm. 

“Dr. Crane, thank you for coming on such short notice. One of the men we have detained in the precinct attempted last night, I’m sure you understand that we have to follow protocol- get him checked out before his trial in case there’s a more serious issue here.” You explain, knowing Crane can see right through you and your speech (just a matter of routine). 

“I’m always… happy,” he takes a breath, “to help law enforcement when I can.” The smile he gives is false, a lie, but one that you share. You nod and open your mouth to speak again when you hear Rachel Dawes’ voice splinter the conversation. 

“What’s he doing here?” Dawes stands beside you, crossing her arms over her chest in her crisp suit. You watch Crane suppress a scowl as he sees Dawes appear in front of him in her annoyingly professional suit. Though he’d be lying if he didn’t admit to having a thing for powerful women.

“Ah, Miss Dawes. To what do I owe this… pleasure?” 

“I could ask you the same thing,” Dawes retorts, her nose scrunched in distaste. 

“Dr. Crane is conducting a psychological examination on Falcone for the department,” you turn to Dawes, putting your hands casually into the pockets of your pants. 

“Is he? Then perhaps he can also explain why so many of Falcone’s men end up in Arkham because of his diagnosis.” 

Crane holds back a sigh and gives his best charming smile. “Miss Dawes, I’m simply giving professional diagnoses and my most honest clinical opinions about each of Falcone’s men. They end up in Arkham because that is where they belong. That’s hardly my fault, if criminals have a certain association with the insane.” Dawes begins to level a threat at Crane when you cut in. 

“Rachel, we’re going to get him on this one, I promise you. I’m going to oversee the examination with Dr. Crane.” You speak softly to Rachel, meeting her dark brown eyes. 

“Well I’m glad you're overseeing it, some people need it,” she glances over at Crane who looks back without speaking. You look between them before clearing your throat softly. 

“Let me know what the results are, Victoria. The judge wants to meet with Falcone on Monday,” Dawes directs her words to you and then turns to Crane again. “Falcone has no history of psychiatric problems. He got a hold of a blade and claims he wanted to hurt himself. I think he’s faking it.”  

Crane nods once, still cool and clinical despite the unspoken accusations launched at him. “We’ll see.” 

Dawes and Crane scowl at each other before you nod once again and gesture down the hallway. 

“I’ll be there to watch, Rachel, and I’ll let you know what the decision is. We all want a conviction as much as you do.” Your words sound truthful and sincere. Rachel’s pager buzzes and she looks down at it, frowning. She turns and nods at you in thanks before walking away, her black stiletto heels clicking angrily. You look again at Crane whose eyes are already on you, examining you silently.

“Very interesting…” he says coolly. You raise an eyebrow and cross your arms over your chest. 

“How’s that?”

“It’s interesting how you interact with her. You deal with her so casually.” 

“I have many talents,” you answer distractedly and turn down the hallway, beckoning him to follow, “shall we?” 

“Lead the way, Miss Vale.” His voice feels close to your neck, prickly and hot like a hand. You close your eyes for a moment and sigh, allowing yourself to dissolve in the riptide of his voice. Then you’re back, you glance around to make sure that no one has seen your “friendly” interaction and continue walking, your steps wide apart and fast. Crane follows easily behind, his gaze unfazed and silent. You stop in front of one of the soundproof interrogation rooms in the precinct where Falcone has already been placed. You step inside, Crane just behind you, and close the door, locking it and pulling the blinds.

Falcone is sitting at the table with his wrists cuffed, though there are thick bandages between the steel and his skin. He has a cigarette placed between his purplish mouth that reeks of sour milk. He raises a bushy eyebrow when he sees Crane and looks between you, unimpressed. 

“Geez doc, I gotta get help. The voices… blah blah blah,” Falcone looks around for a lighter and then turns his eyes up to Crane’s. “Got a light?” 

Crane’s jaw clenches and he sighs deeply through his nose before he pulls the lighter from his breast pocket. He flips open the cap with his thumb in one swift movement and leans over the table to light Falcone’s cigarette. You watch as this moment passes between the men, your eyes following the silver lighter as it returns to Crane’s pocket. When Falcone leans back in his chair, his cigarette lit, that’s when Crane finally speaks. 

“Now Mr. Falcone, I’m going to ask you a few questions. Answer… honestly,” Crane clears his throat and sits at the table, opening a file folder of Falcone’s medical records. 

“Sure, great,” Falcone mutters and looks at you, narrowing his eyes. “Are you staying? Is she gonna stay?” He turns back to Crane who looks up at him, frowning. 

You regard Falcone coolly and nod once. “I’m here to observe.” 

“If it’s alright with you, I’d like to get started, Mr. Falcone,” Crane cuts in, his patience thinning quickly. Falcone grumbles and nods, waving his chained hands to prompt Crane to continue. Crane takes another file from his briefcase and opens it on the table. You can sense Falcone starting to get irritated, Crane’s lips pull into a small smile. 

“I was just looking into your medical record. You’ve got a bit of a history with drug use, don’t you, Mister Falcone?” 

Falcone looks over at you for help, confused by Crane’s line of questioning. You shrug and remain silent, your arms crossed over your chest. Falcone thinks for a moment before answering. 

“Oh… yeah. Meds and stuff.”

“And stuff? In your file it says that you’re taking a prescription for a severe anxiety disorder. Is that true?” Crane raises an eyebrow, a plan brewing behind his blue eyes. One that neither you nor Falcone can predict. 

“Say, doc, what kind of question is that? You’re supposed to declare me insane and get me out of here. We had a deal.” Falcone’s tone is low and sounds slightly scared but he tries not to let it show.

Crane pauses for a moment, the statement hangs in the air like a cloud of smoke. You look between Crane and Falcone, your curiosity piqued. Crane maintains a clinical tone as he continues slowly as if he were talking to a child, “I know we had a deal, Mr. Falcone. Our deal was that I’d keep you out of jail, not out of my line of questioning…” Crane smiles, his heart beats faster with adrenaline, “I’m curious. Are you taking any anxiety medication?” 

“Sure, of course…” Falcone stutters and furrows his eyebrows. “I take all that stuff. I’m crazy…” 

You can feel the tension in the room build, and it sets your teeth on edge. You try to keep your focus on Falcone but the dull throbbing between your legs reverberates whenever Crane speaks. He reaches into his briefcase and removes a vial containing one singular pill. 

“This is an anti-anxiety pill. Quite powerful, actually. Do you know the name of this medication, Mr. Falcone?” 

Falcone’s face is a bright red now and he strains against his handcuffs. You regard Crane curiously, asking yourself why he’s asking all these strange questions. Why not just declare him insane and let that be the end of it? Crane feels a deep sense of satisfaction as he watches Falcone struggle, and you notice it evidently on his face and the way he holds his body, taut like a coiled wire. 

“Well? I asked you a question, I do expect an answer. I’m not going to declare you insane until I know for certain that you’re not faking. So, what is the name of this anti-anxiety medication?” 

"I... I don't know! Why are you asking me all of these questions? Just declare me insane already!” Falcone lowers his voice, “You know damn well I don't take any of that..." 

Crane sighs deeply and puts the vial back into his briefcase. He clasps his hands together, pleased. He smiles menacingly and lowers his voice too. 

“Here’s the thing, Mr. Falcone- that pill I was holding? It’s not anti-anxiety medication…” 

When he says that you turn, your brow furrows. Where is he going with this? Falcone rolls his eyes and stubs out his cigarette angrily. 

“You see, this medication isn’t used to treat anxiety. This medication is a powerful hallucinogenic, an extremely potent, mind-altering drug. It’s my most recent concoction, a fear toxin.” 

Falcone freezes and narrows his eyes at Crane. You feel yourself match Crane’s smile, a knowing excitement creeps into your body, your fingers flex. When he sees Falcone start to struggle even more, Crane’s smile widens. Falcone goes white and begins to panic, resorting to a feeble attempt at blackmail. 

"I'll tell everyone that I was working for you. I'll testify. I don't know what kind of drug you had us moving but I know it was something dangerous!” 

Crane lets out a small, humorless laugh and leans back in the thin plastic chair, his eyes never leaving Falcone. 

“How? You don’t know anything. And even if you did, who would believe you? You’re a delusional psychotic criminal with hallucinations. No one’s going to believe you if you tell them you’ve been moving drugs for me.”

“Get me away from this madman! I’m not fucking crazy!” Falcone shouts at you, pulling at his cuffs. You stare back, a small smirk pulling at your lips. 

“Not yet, but you will be. You see, if you want people to believe that you’re crazy, wouldn’t it just be easier to be crazy?” 

“What-what are you implying?” Falcone tries to push away from the table but the chains binding his feet prevent him from making it very far. Crane smiles and looks at you, his gaze giving you permission to contribute. 

“Mr. Falcone, I’d suggest that you shut your mouth before you say anything else you’ll regret. You’re in no position to make threats here.” You lean forward, your palms fisted on the table. Falcone looks between you and nods slowly, a slimy smile appearing slowly on his lips. 

“Oh, I see. You’re working together, aren’t you?” Falcone laughs. 

Crane’s smile drops and he turns back to Falcone, his steel gaze sharp enough to slice right through the mobster. 

“It seems we’ve reached an impasse, Detective Vale.” Crane’s voice is rougher now, more sadistic. Your whole body shivers, your cunt throbs with morbid excitement. 

 “Might I make a suggestion, Dr. Crane?” You cross your arms over your chest and rock back and forth on your heels. Crane looks you up and down briefly, discreetly. You can tell by the way he’s looking at you that he likes how your body looks in your dark slacks and a green blouse. 

Don’t get too distracted, Crane. 

Crane’s struggling to control his breathing as he watches you, his eyes lingering on the way your body moves. He tears his gaze away from you as he answers. 

“A suggestion? And what might that be, Detective Vale?”

“Well if he isn't going to be able to convince anyone that he's as 'crazy' as he says he is, maybe we should help him out. Make it more believable…” You shrug, your voice light and misleading. Falcone looks between you, his eyes wide as he tries to understand what you mean. Perspiration dots his forehead but he doesn’t wipe it away.  

Crane raises an eyebrow at your proposal but his eyes remain on Falcone, shaking in the seat across the table from him. There’s a dangerous tone in his voice as he murmurs. 

“And how exactly do you propose we do that?”

“Don't you have anything else in that briefcase of yours? Maybe something that could make him a little more... convincing?” You tilt your head towards the open briefcase, your eyes saying more than your words. Crane looks over at you, he swallows and nods, another soft smile on his face. He glances down at his briefcase and a slight shiver of excitement passes through him. Crane glances over at Falcone and feels a cruel grin spread across his face as he realizes what you’re implying. 

It’s like you’ve given him permission. You don’t need to tell him twice. Crane removes his glasses with a sigh and folds them neatly on the table beside him. Falcone watches him warily, his eyes dropping to the glasses then back up to Crane.

“As a matter of fact, I do have something else that would… help.” He slowly reaches into the briefcase and pulls out the burlap mask, his hands holding it with an almost reverent excitement. “Would you like to see my mask?” 

Falcone doesn't even respond. He's gone silent and dumb with fear. In his lack of words, You smile kindly at the man, giving him a false sense of safety.

“He uses it for his experiments, you know. It's probably not very scary to someone like you but to the crazies in Arkham… they can't stand it,” you trail off, backing away in preparation for whatever the hell Crane is about to do. 

Crane’s voice remains low as he leans forward, the mask still gripped in his fist. 

“But for you, Falcone? This isn’t just something to fear. For you… it’s going to be a nightmare.”Falcone struggles in his plastic seat, the chains shaking and clattering against each other as he tries to escape. You release a euphoric sigh as Crane pulls on the mask and gestures to the front of its burlap facade. 

His voice is no longer gentle, no longer friendly, no longer even remotely human as he continues to speak, “You’re going to spend the rest of your life in Arkham, Falcone. That’s a promise.”

As soon as the words leave his mouth his finger presses a button inside his briefcase, releasing a narrow cloud of fear toxin. It hits Falcone squarely in the face, his eyes bulge and lose their focus as some horrible nightmare overcomes him. Crane’s mask morphs into a real scarecrow, something uncanny and deranged. Falcone screams and Crane laughs, rising up from his seat and letting his palms rest on the table.

“I did warn you, didn’t I, Falcone?” 

His voice is barely audible over Falcone’s frantic screams. Crane rips off his mask, smiling contently. His hair is tousled and crazy about his head, your thighs throb. He looks over at you and you nod back, only allowing him a smirk.

“He certainly isn't going to testify now. Dawes won't be able to argue with you either.” He looks more psychotic without the silver glasses that you’re so familiar with seeing. There’s almost a ring of red in his eyes. “Impressive, Dr. Crane.” 

Crane tosses the mask aside and runs a hand through his hair as he tries to catch his breath. His face is flushed with excitement and adrenaline, and he can’t help but smile wider at you, the adrenaline making him bold.

“Thank you, Miss Vale,” he chuckles and shakes his head, looking back at Falcone, “That went well, didn’t it?”

You both look back at the screaming Falcone, smiles on your faces. A match made in hell, you and him.

“I'd stay and savor this moment with you but people will get suspicious. I'll go and arrange for his transfer to Arkham but first I need you to tell me that he's not faking it and that we need to move him to a secure wing in Arkham for treatment. I just need to hear you say it, legality,” you wave your hand about your face briefly. Crane raises a surprised brow. 

“You pick and choose the laws you follow now? How interesting,” Crane says in a soft sarcastic manner, his eyes still wide with pleasure. 

“Technically you are the expert and we brought you in here to diagnose Falcone…” you roll your eyes playfully. 

“Fine,” he takes a deep breath which is more attractive than you’d like to admit, “No, he’s definitely not faking. I believe he’s actively having a psychotic episode and will be in no position to testify. I recommend moving him to a secure wing at Arkham Asylum immediately. He’s a danger to himself and others.”

“Thank you, Dr. Crane,” you smile and turn towards the door. 

“So what? I do this favor for you, Miss Vale and then you leave me alone with the deranged?” Crane chuckles and puts on his glasses, looking you up and down. Your hand is on the doorknob but you turn and regard him, a sly smile on your face. 

“I thought you liked being around the deranged…” 

Crane raises an eyebrow back and turns his back on Falcone who continues to scream in the background. Crane’s nice dark gray suit shifts as he shifts. 

“And what does that mean for you?” 

“You’re the psychologist, not me,” you whisper back and open the door. The door closes sharply behind you but not before Falcone’s screams can be heard echoing down the hallway. You pull an officer aside. 

“Tell Prosecutor Rachel Dawes that Falcone needs to be moved to Arckham. It’s true, he’s insane too. He’ll need to be moved immediately, he’s already becoming violent. Dr. Crane is completing the paperwork and I’ll see to the transfer myself.”

… 

It is late at night when you finally finish Falcone’s transfer. You had shed your quilted jacket days before because Gotham City was in the middle of a miniature heat-spike after weeks of cold, damp weather. You check your watch and look off into the city skyline, thinking. You had followed Crane for weeks before you decided to speak to him, so you know his schedule just as well as your own. He would be in his lab at the university, working on his own projects in the secrecy of the night. His students would never know what their strange professor was up to. You make a rash decision and change directions, your feet taking you a few blocks to the left, to Gotham University. 

  Gotham University was not the type of institution that most students strive for but it still offered a good education for those who could pay. The buildings on campus were all dark and gothic, like orphanages set against a city scene. Students walking home from the library walk past you, speaking softly to one another. Some mention Professor Crane, some don’t. 

The science building is silent and empty when you break in, using the door with the broken sensor (your doing). You find Crane’s lab on the third floor, the only source of light in the dark hallway. You go to the door and open it slowly, silently. Crane has his back to you as he makes notes in a notebook with a red pen. He’s wearing a white lab coat that nearly makes his shoulders look broader, stronger. You stand by the door, watching, and waiting to see how long it takes until he notices you’re there. You pull the string that closes the blinds with a soft snap. 

“Don’t you know it’s rude to stare?” Crane's voice rises from the opposite side of the room. Your eyes widen only slightly in surprise, but then you smile and approach his lab table slowly, eyeing him up and down. His gray-blue eyes remain fixed on his work. 

“Did I frighten you?” 

“Oh no, I’m not scared of anything, remember?” Crane retorts with a distracted smirk as he finishes writing a line in his notes. When he finishes he finally turns and leans against the lab table, looking you up and down. “So, what are you doing here, Miss Vale? Why’d you close the blinds?” His smirk widens, the fact that you’re both completely alone excites him. He nearly shivers. 

“No one can know that I was here. I'm sure Dawes is already suspicious of me because I 'oversaw' your evaluation and approved the transfer when the three of us all know he was fine when we walked into the examination room the first time.” You smile and mirror his posture. 

“Mmm yes, I’m sure Dawes has already had a few choice words with you,” Crane nods and looks up, remembering the exchange the three of you had earlier at the precinct: two smart, powerful women in one room, amazing. 

“I can handle her, don’t worry.” 

Crane looks back at you and shakes his head, “Oh I don’t doubt it. You’re a highly intelligent woman, I’m sure Dawes doesn’t pose much of a problem for you.” 

You smile, flattered though you don’t need Crane to tell you what you already know. You ignore the way Crane’s eyes continue to trace the length of your body, imagining what he’d find beneath your blouse…

“No, but I'm concerned that she'll prove to be a bigger problem the more she finds out. Which is why I'm in charge of the case... or at least until she kicks me off. I'll make sure she doesn't learn too much about the 'operation' you're running here. But I need something from you first.”

“And what do you need from me, Miss Vale?” Crane’s voice is low, husky, and short, like the response was second nature.

You look him up and down, a smile growing on your lips. You can tell that he wants you and it's exhilarating to be wanted by such an attractive man... but first, you need information from him. It must be so frustrating for him but hey, that's life. You walk around the lab table and put your hands over his, gripping the edge of the table. You lean forward only slightly, leaving some distance between your bodies.

“Tell me about your plans for Gotham, Crane.”

His jaw clenches but he keeps his voice calm, composed, and his eyes evade yours. “What do you want to know?”

“If I'm going to be an equal partner in this, I need to know what you've been doing with Falcone and his men.” You look down at his lips as you speak. 

Crane’s breathing gets heavier, more ragged. His eyes are still avoiding yours, but he knows exactly where your gaze is fixated. 

“I know that Falcone has been moving shipments of your fear toxin into Arkham and I noticed that the military’s microwave emitter happened to go missing recently. Did you have anything to do with that, Crane?”

Crane can smell your pheromones like perfume and he stifles a frustrated sigh. He rolls his eyes and shrugs slowly. 

“Perhaps.”

“You could have made Falcone take the fear toxin pills you had in the box but you didn’t. You used a different form, gas. The microwave emitter vaporizes water… Your fear toxin doesn’t work in water, does it? It’s water soluble. It needs to be in a gas or powder form, correct?” 

“You’re clever, pet.” Crane smirks and moves his hands away from yours to cross against his chest. “But the pill I showed to Falcone was just a sugar pill, a placebo. Here’s a little lesson in Psychology: the body’s sense of smell is the fastest to recalibrate. By putting the toxin into gas form, the subject inhales it and reacts much faster. It’s all about speed. Water washes the toxin out.” 

“So the microwave emitter?” You prompt him to continue. 

“Yes, you’re right. If it works, it will dry up the main water line on the island, then I can release the toxin into the air… Every man, woman, and child in Gotham city would be paralyzed with fear.”

You let your lips inch closer, exhaling against his lips. Crane almost believes that you’ll kiss him until you pull away at the last moment and smirk. 

“I’ve read everything you’ve ever written about the chemical components of fear. I’ve tried recreating your ‘recipes’,” you look back at the experiments on the table, “but I can’t get the same results. There’s something important missing from your original research isn’t there? What’s the final ingredient? It has to be exotic, something you could only recently get access to. Maybe you met someone with connections. Someone who also read your research and offered to fund your project….” 

Crane is still recovering from your little trick and sighs tightly, impatiently. He looks up at the ceiling, the fluorescent lighting reflecting off of his glasses. “Is that right?” 

You hum once in confirmation and reach your hand out beside his left arm, brushing his sleeve. He keeps his gaze averted, still pissed that you teased him. While he pouts, you pick up a small petri dish from the lab table. A bright blue flower is preserved inside.

“Blue poppies?” 

Crane raises an eyebrow, finally looking down at you. He wets his lips and sighs, rearranging his arms to rest over his chest. 

“You can recognize obscure botanicals now?” He nearly snaps. You flick your eyes up to his, meeting his icy gaze. 

“That was a lucky guess.” You shrug and smile, “I’ve only read about these. So how did you get these? Who are you working for?”

Crane’s body reacts strangely to your smile, his navel warms. Your smile is so wrong… he loves it. He’s still slightly wary of your skills of deduction. He looks down at the petri dish for a moment, his mind trying to get back on track before he answers your question.

“I came into contact with someone who has strong connections. He’s agreed to fund my research and supply me with all the necessary equipment and ingredients.”

“Who?” You  ask with a little less patience. Crane enjoys witnessing one of your rare moments of impatience and smiles, getting the upper-hand. Crane’s smile only widens as he leans back against the edge of the lab table again, his hands gripping the edge in a white-knuckled grip to keep his body in check.” 

“Oh, I’m sure you know him… He’s quite the controversial figure….”

You lick your lips and you try to think. Surely it wasn’t Bruce Wayne- Crane would never work with him. Not Falcone. Not Gordon. What criminal would have both the money and power to operate something like this. Someone in the League of Shadows?

Crane’s eyes focus on the way your tongue moves across your lips. His mouth waters and he feels himself start to get hard. Instead of shying away, he steps closer, one of his hands fixing the bridge of his glasses. 

“I’m honestly impressed you haven’t figured it out yet…” he tuts patronizingly. 

“Are you going to tell me or are you going to make me figure it out myself?” 

Crane laughs and shakes his head. 

“Oh, this is just too good. You’re clearly bothered by the fact that you don’t have a name yet, Miss Vale.” He leans closer to you, his head tilting to the side as he continues in a low voice, “I wonder what you’ll do to get me to answer your question…”

You scowl, Crane getting on your nerves now. You push him back gently with a few clicks of your tongue against the roof of your mouth. “It hasn’t come to that yet, Crane.” You think for a few more moments and then something you read randomly comes to you, “the blue poppies grow in South Asia… Bhutan.” 

“Ding ding ding, good girl. The blue poppies are indigenous to South Asia.” 

“There’s only one man that I know of from Bhutan, he has a warrant out for his arrest in multiple different countries… Ra’s Al Ghul.” 

Crane’s smile widens into a crazy grin. He claps softly and then takes the petri desk back from you. “Correct.”

“Does Al Ghul know you plan to lead Gotham when it’s all said and done?” 

Crane nods slowly, looking away for a moment, his lips pursed. “He believes that my methods are necessary in order to bring about the change that the city needs. We already agreed that I will have control of Gotham when my plan is successful.” 

“Then what’s in it for him, Crane?” You ask with a raised eyebrow. 

He steps even closer to you, until there are only a few inches of space left between you. His voice is lower now as he continues to speak to you.

“He gets to auction off the city back to the government, he gets the money, I get the power. Oh, I’ve also promised him a certain number of…let’s say…highly skilled individuals for his cause.” 

“People you’ve locked up in Arkham?” You clarify, thinking it all through.

Crane nods and turns back to his research, his hand moving once again to the pen to write something down, putting his arousal to the side for a moment. Work will always come first to a man like Dr. Jonathan Crane. 

“Do you trust him?” 

Crane looks at you, surprised by your obvious question. He scoffs finally and turns back to face you. “No, I don’t trust him. But I see our partnership as a mutually beneficial arrangement. And honestly, I wouldn’t be able to continue my research at the same rate without his financial support and his access to the poppies.”

“Something about him gives me a bad feeling…” you mutter, crossing your arms beneath your breasts and tucking your head slightly to think. 

Crane tilts his head to the side in curiosity, as if he’s studying you. “Why do you say that?”

You shake your head and furrow your brow. “I don’t have a reason exactly except that it’s just an instinct. Something tells me not to trust him.”

Crane clenches his jaw slightly and his eyes harden as he starts to take you seriously. He raps his fingers against his elbow and lowers his voice slightly, almost like he’s trying to be kind.

“When have your instincts ever been wrong, Miss Vale?” 

You look up at him and shake your head finally, confident. “Never.”

Crane takes a final step closer to you, his chest nearly touching yours now. He can’t help himself from being drawn even closer to you, like a magnet. His voice is even lower than before as he looks down at your face.

“So, what do your instincts tell you now, Miss Vale?”

You look up into his eyes, heavy with desire. You feel the same desire, the same unquenchable and animalistic urges. Your noses are nearly touching as you exhale softly against his lips. You swallow and then speak. 

“This...”

________________________________________________

@m0thh3ad @sl-newsie @strangeobsessed @cillamity

[jadeoru]

coffee beans.

synopsis: valentine's day was spent the same way every year: coffee, and studying, all while trying her best to avoid the happy couples in love. unfortunately, her tradition was interrupted by a clumsy pretty barista. or: kiyoko felt like she wasn't capable of feeling love, turns out she's just gay

warnings/tags: reader is a barista! fluff, meet-ugly, afab!reader, reader is referred to as a girl, kiyoko's pov, kiyoko is an anxious shy mess (me too), flirting (pathetic), kiyoko's gay awakening lmfao, kiyoko's a la dispute fan because i said so, poop jokes, i actually hate how this turned out but oh well, wrote this for the 3 kiyoko lovers of the world

wc: 3.5k words

now playing: very cliché but definitely girls - girl in red lmao 🎶

Kiyoko saw love as a waste of time. She lived her whole life in a society held together by the prospect of love. It chased her in many forms: her parents, her friends, music, art, - she knew it well. In her childhood, love was just another friend of hers; a familiar taste on her tongue, similar to her mother’s cooking. It was a feeling of home. But as she grew up, the flavour grew progressively more acrid; bitter. She watched as her friends changed, each of them infatuated by the weird feeling. Everyone around her had a crush on someone. Conversations with her friends quickly became dull. No one was the same as they got older. Everyone around her was falling in love; a victim of cupid's spell. She felt left out; ostracised. In her eyes, love seemed like a trap; a chain, connecting you to someone for the rest of your life. She never understood the appeal, and how everyone saw the cruel, suffocating feeling as a warm embrace - whirling inside of you. She was frustrated. It was stressful not knowing what was wrong with her - why she was so different from her peers. She tried relationships, they always felt wrong. She was asked out by 2 different guys, each time she said yes. She agreed not because the feeling was mutual, but because she hoped she could force herself to feel the same. In the end, she discovered that butterflies are just colourful moths that find home inside of your gut, and mess everything up as they inevitably rot away. Cupid shot Kiyoko with their arrow on multiple occasions; each time left her on the cusp of bleeding out. All everyone cared about was love. As everyone around her found their person, she found herself slowly left behind. Love was in the air, and she was allergic.

In a way, her friends felt bad for her. They didn’t understand, and honestly, neither did she. They frequently tried setting her up on dates. She met all kinds of guys, each one somewhat worse than the last. Every date felt so strange; something wasn’t right. Was that how all dates went? - That’s it? She honestly felt guilty. Her friends put so much effort into those dates, trying to find her soulmate. They genuinely cared about her. They wanted her to experience true love. She felt bad for being so difficult. It got to the point where she’d resort to pretending. She’d choose a random guy in her class, one that was objectively attractive, and led her friend’s to believe her poorly acted out infatuation was true love. A part of her hoped that by lying to her friends, she could lie to herself, and believe it. With fingers crossed, she prayed for her to finally succeed, She hoped that maybe, she’d finally experience the warmth of her heart pounding in her chest. 

Graduation passed her by; it never worked.

To her, it was pointless. She tried it so many times, and in the end, she was always left unsatisfied. She lost faith in her search for love ages ago, and honestly stopped believing in it. Instead of flowers and holding hands with someone, love found her in other strange ways. To her, love was the cat that always met with her on her way to college, or when she found a song that she related to deeply. Love was the face of her mother when she was accepted into college. Love was spending time by herself; writing mediocre poetry, back pressed almost comfortably against a tree. With the exception of her father, love was never the face of a man. That was something she never came to terms with until her early adult years. That was something she thought she'd never understand;

She was wrong.

February was the worst. As if the people around her couldn’t get even more annoying, someone had the bright idea to make a whole day about love. She hated it. The commute to town was even more unbearable than it usually was. Instead of being surrounded by groaning strangers that had too much to drink last night; definitely did not get any sleep, mother’s carrying their screaming babies, the annoying screeching noise that erupted from the train every time it came to a halt, she was surrounded by cheesy lovers that flirted way too loudly. Noise-cancelling headphones were the greatest purchase she ever made.

The train to town was almost worse than the bustling, busy streets. Almost. As if her day couldn’t get any worse, all of her favourite places to spend her lunch were overrun, infected by insufferable couples. She turned her nose up with negativity. She wasn’t mad at them, if anything, she was envious. Why did she have to spend this magical holiday alone? It was unfair. She wanted not just to be loved, but to love. Her head spiralled every time she questioned herself;  she never thought about it too much to prevent her from the gnawing pit that grew within her. It took a few miserable Valentine’s Day’s for her to cultivate a steady ‘celebration’ routine; A survival plan: she would take the train at 8:20, which would be significantly less busy than the one she usually got, put on her headphones, blasted La Dispute for the entire duration of the train ride while staring out the window, and then scurried her way through the hectic crowds to her favorite, quaint, quiet, family-owned coffee shop. There, she would grab the biggest, strongest coffee they had (with a generous amount of caramel syrup, to satiate her sweet tooth), and ploughed through her assignments with peaceful relief etched into every line her pen wrote. 

That was how she spent every Valentine’s Day without fail - Without interruption. She finally had a stable routine that wouldn’t make her feel like a dysfunctional human. A routine that wouldn’t make her feel like there was something wrong with her. A distraction from the onslaught of love that crept up behind her; always facing her back, never once meeting her face to face. Up until now, it almost always went smoothly. It almost worked. She got off the train with high hopes, a subtle smile on her features as she silently appreciated the lyricism of the song she had on shuffle. She had only one notification on her phone: a warning to turn her volume down. All of her friends were busy spending time with their person. Of course they were too busy to text her. With a sigh, she increased the volume to the loudest it could go, and drowned out every thought and jealousy that plagued her mind. She didn’t care about damaging her hearing. At least she wouldn’t have to listen to grown adults talking and cooing to each other like babies. She hated that.

The walk to the coffee shop was fine. She kept to her side of the footpath, and held stern eye contact with the pavement. The cracks in the concrete were way more interesting than the romance that clouded the public anyways. Turning the door-handle, she silently rehearsed her order in her mind, before making her way to the counter. It was relatively quiet; empty. That’s how it normally was. This place was her escape from reality. It was small, quiet, the music they played was nice, and the baristas were always so polite to her. However, as she walked up to the counter, she was unable to recognise the barista behind the register. Was she new? She must’ve been, Kiyoko went there at least three times a week, and never once had she seen her. She wasn’t upset though, not in the slightest. She just hoped she would be as nice as the others. She watched attentively as the girl took the order of the person in front of her. She was smiling widely after each sentence that fled her lips. Not a fake customer-service smile, but a real genuine one. Kiyoko admired that. She continued to watch as she took the money from the customer and quickly placed it into the cash register. In one quick moment, Kiyoko found herself standing speechless directly in front of her. “Hey, what can I get for you?” She asked, giving Kiyoko absolutely zero time to mentally prepare herself to talk to her. She stuttered out her order with a strange feeling in her chest. She cringed at how stupid she sounded. “Of course! Would you like that in a takeaway cup?” She asked, flashing her a smile. It was so strange. Her smile seemed so familiar, so warm. The smile on her face almost made her feel at home; safe. She typed her order into the machine. Kiyoko was relieved - the eye contact was becoming too much for her. “Yes please.” She almost whispered, her voice unusually soft. She only nodded in response, letting out an “mhm!” in acknowledgement. She looked up at Kiyoko again, and she finally understood what it meant to have your heart skip a beat. “That’ll be 5,60! Are you paying with cash or card?”

The moment lasted only 30 seconds at most, and yet Kiyoko felt like she was suffering with a life-long crisis. As she handed her cash to her, she found herself questioning every choice she had ever made that led up to that moment. She couldn’t find the right words to describe how she felt. Conflicted? Confused? She couldn’t think of the right one. She couldn’t think of anything, besides the feeling of her hand touching hers for a split second, as she handed the money to her. She placed the money inside the register just like she did with the last customer. But, unlike she did with them, she leaned over the counter - propping her head up with her hands.

“It’ll be ready in about 5 minutes, pretty.”

With bright red cheeks and wobbly knees, she nodded her head, and almost sprinted to the pick-up counter.

There are a lot of things you could do in 5 minutes. You could listen to a song, count the tiles on the floor, or even count each second down to the last minute. Kiyoko chose neither of those. Instead, she stared at the floor, replaying the interaction in her head over a hundred times. She wasn’t entirely sure what was wrong with her, but one thing she knew for certain was she never felt that way about someone before. Ever. Those five minutes were spent questioning her entire existence. She struggled to come to an obvious conclusion. As it reached the tip of her tongue, her name was called out.

She spoke her name in a way that drove her crazy. The way each syllable rolled off her tongue had her worried she was going to suffer a heart attack. She quickly whipped her head around to face the barista again. She was suddenly very aware of how uncomfortably warm her face was. “You know… your name is almost as pretty as your face.” She almost whispered, a grin widely displayed on her cheeks as her eyes consumed Kiyoko whole. She leaned over the counter again, holding the cup out to Kiyoko. She really liked when she did that - for some strange reason. Her compliment caught Kiyoko completely off guard, hitting her almost like an arrow to the heart. A stupid smile spread out on her face. She wasn’t sure how else to react; It wasn’t socially acceptable to kick your feet and squeal in the middle of a coffee shop. Muttering a shy, “thank you so much!”, she held her hand out to grab the coffee from her. But, before she could get a stable grip on the cup, the barista let go of it too soon, almost out of embarrassment. In doing so, it caused the large, hot coffee to fall directly onto Kiyoko’s hand-made, wool sweater; crashing onto it like a boiling wave, spilling all over her and soaking her in the warm liquid.

There was a moment of mutual shock between them, a brief few seconds spent silently staring at each other. She did a terrible job at hiding the disgusted, uncomfortable look on her face as the coffee seeped through her sweater, ruining the shirt she was wearing under it, and sticking to her bare skin. She looked down to assess the damage done to her clothes. They were ruined. A big, attention-grabbing stain was spread unevenly on her sweater. This was the worst. She looked up at the barista, who looked even more terrified than she was. Her hands flew to cover her mouth, but Kiyoko could see the guilty, fearful look in her eyes. They stayed like that for a few seconds. Uncomfortable silence engulfed the room; like time stopped. Kiyoko didn’t look away from the barista, but she could tell that other people were definitely staring at the two of them. She wanted the ground to swallow her up. The barista was the first one to speak up.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” She could tell by the tone of her voice just how serious she was. Kiyoko opened her mouth to speak, to quickly forgive her. She just wanted to go home. Embarrassment enveloped her entirely, and the strong scent of coffee attacked her nostrils in an almost painful way, but the barista spoke up again. “Wait here, I’ll go get you some tissues!” She pleaded, raising her hands cautiously. She nodded in response, watching in silence as the barista urgently dashed through the door behind her. She silently cursed herself for not staying silent. She wiped her hand on her sweater, before holding it to her face to look at it. Her fingers were stained brown. At least her sweater didn’t absorb it all. She waited at the counter for the barista to return like a deer in headlights. She didn’t close the door to her break-room, so Kiyoko could just barely see her.

She was really pretty. Like, really really pretty. Even in her coffee-stained apron (She’s probably done this before to someone else - Kiyoko almost laughed at the thought), and her hair all messy from a probably stressful day, she was beautiful. Even as she frantically tore apart her break-room, Kiyoko couldn’t help but feel her heart whirling around at her irresistible pulchritude. A dumb smile plastered across Kiyoko's face. Technically, she should feel annoyed. She loved that sweater to death. But, in a weird way, she was glad. She knew that from then on, every time she looked at that stain, she would see a trace of her. Although she wasn’t entirely sure what any of her feelings meant, she didn’t have the time to care. For now, she would just let herself feel whatever feelings she felt, without the need to understand. She would have a crisis later. For now, she needed to befriend the clumsy, pretty barista. 

She speed-walked back to the counter, holding tissues out to her. Realistically, tissues would not reverse any of the damage, but it was the thought that counted. “Here. I’m so sorry about that.” She said, lips curving into an apologetic smile so nice Kiyoko couldn’t help but mirror it. “It’s fine, don’t worry about it.” She answered, staring at her lips for an embarrassingly long moment, before finally returning to her eyes. She reached out to take the tissues from her hand. Have her fingers always been this shaky? The lack of sleep she got the night before must’ve been affecting her mind, because she could’ve sworn you grazed your hand over hers purposefully. She must’ve imagined it. She awkwardly wiped her sweater with it, staining the tissue in the process. The stain didn’t budge.

The barista cleared her throat. “Would it help if I told you I still think you’re really pretty?” She fidgeted with her hands, an empathetic look in her eyes as she silently hoped to uplift Kiyoko’s spirits. Totally not because she was also insanely into her. Totally. Kiyoko almost dropped the tissue. Hell, she almost dropped her jaw at the sudden flirtatious remark. Her face went hot as the line between a friendly compliment and flirting was incredibly unclear to her. Was she just being nice? “Maybe it would.” She began, raising her hands, leaving the stain on full display. and tilting her head with a smile. “Would it help if I told you I think you’re really cute?” Kiyoko made a mental note to learn how to flirt later. The barista smiled, letting out an airy chuckle. “Well, it wouldn’t help the sweater I ruined, but it would help my ruined confidence.” She joked, looking at the ground. “You shouldn’t be embarrassed, it was my fault.” Kiyoko stated matter-of-factly, the girl looked at her like she had two heads. “Nope. It was my fault, cutie. I won't accept any other opinions.” She said with a wink - a wink that almost made Kiyoko fall over. Her knees were immensely weak, and she couldn’t tell if it was from the nickname, the wink, or both.

She sighed with defeat knowing not to debate with her any further. “Does it look like I just shit myself?” She asked with a laugh. The barista laughed with her, which only sorta, kind of, slightly, made her heart flutter. “Nah, more like someone shit on you.” She responded, scratching her chin in playful thought. “I’m seriously so sorry about that by the way. Let me make you another coffee, free of charge. Is there anything else I can do to help?” She asked, her words laced with genuine interest. She grabbed an empty cup, writing something on it before turning around and beginning to make her drink. Kiyoko waved her hands dismissively. “Don’t be sorry, accidents happen! - At least now I have an excuse to talk to you longer.” If she didn’t stutter her way through that sentence, it probably would’ve sounded way less pathetic. Unfortunately, Kiyoko felt she wasn’t anything but pathetic. She wasn’t aware of how it took everything in the barista not to get on one knee and propose to her at that very second. “You have a point. Maybe it’s a good thing I spilled it on you.” She chuckled, turning back around to face her again, handing her the new drink - carefully this time. 

“Um, this might be incredibly out of line, but could I maybe get your number?” She smiled nervously at Kiyoko. Normally, whenever a guy asked her for her number, it made her scoff and roll her eyes. But she was different, Kiyoko never nodded her head so enthusiastically in her life. “Yeah, of course!” She did little to hide the excitement laced in her words. The barista smiled the widest she’d seen that morning. Whispering a quiet “thank you,” she handed Kiyoko her phone, and she shakily typed in her number.

“Oh uh, I never got your name?” Through a smile, she responded, “it’s Y/n.”

“Y/n..” she repeated, handing her her phone back, “that’s a really pretty name. It suits you.” With every sentence it was as if their smiles grew tenfold; heightened by mutual happiness. “Thanks Kiyoko, your name is lovely too.” “Shimizu.” She corrected abruptly, y/n furrowed her brow in response. “Please, call me Shimizu.” she almost begged, craving to taste her name on her tongue. “Well then, Shimizu. It was lovely meeting you. I’ll stop bothering you and let you enjoy your coffee, for now.” She winked again, doing very little absolutely nothing to help convince Kiyoko she’s still straight. “For now?” She asked, confused. “Well I’ll definitely be texting you after my shift, so, for now, I will grant you peace and quiet.” She laughed her words out, to which Kiyoko reciprocated.

“I definitely won’t enjoy it when I could be talking to you instead.” Kiyoko took a sip from her drink. If she wasn’t sure then, the deliciousness of her coffee definitely confirmed just how in love Kiyoko was with her barista. She laughed, “Call me whenever you want someone to spill coffee on you. I’ve proven myself to be very good at that”

“Oh believe me, I will.”

[pagonmoon]

Bakugo/BakuDeku stans: "We care about Deku"

Izuku: *Politely declines Bakugou's offer*

Bakugo/BakuDeku stans: 😡🤬 "You're so ungrateful!! You owe him!!! You're whole character has been destroyed cause you're suppose to revolve around him!!"

Conclusion: "Stop lying~🎵🎶 Just be honest that you don't care about him~🎶🎵🎶"

[voidvannie]

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆꒰𝐈 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐀 𝐃𝐈𝐕𝐎𝐑𝐂𝐄꒱ ᯓ★

✦. ── 🎶they say to get out with the old, you get in with the new and i haven't been on a date since i was 22 my friend has a friend, and they say they're my type. 🎶how do i do this, kelsea ballerini

✦. ── pairing: auston matthews x kinsley baker

✦. ── in which: mitch comes home from an away game, only to have his fiancé tell him that her best friend has shown up out of the blue, and that leads kinsley to telling them she's getting a divorce.

✦. ── feel free to send in any request for things you want to see in this series, or in any of the other series on my page. Or if you just want to share some thoughts about what you read, or if you want to talk about oc's!

❪ 𝙹𝚄𝙻𝚈 𝟷𝟼, 𝟸𝟶𝟸𝟸 .ᐟ ── .✦ ❫

𝐌𝐈𝐓𝐂𝐇 𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐒 out a sigh of relief as he sits his hockey bag by the front door of his shared home with his fiancé, Steph. But he's both confused and concerned when Zeus doesn't run up and greet him like he usually does.

And he's equally as confused and concerned when Steph comes around the corner, hugging herself with a sad expression painted on her face.

"What's wrong?" Are the first words that leave his lips as he wraps his arms around the blonde's waist.

"Kinsley."

"Is she okay? Why didn't you call me?" Mitch asks almost a million questions, worried for his best friend's little sister, who had become like his little sister, "Where's Zeus?"

"He's on the couch with Kins. She showed up out of the blue with her suitcase and in tears." Steph mumbles against his chest, "It's bad this time."

"C'mon." He wraps his arm around her waist, moving them both towards the living room where he could see his dog lying next to the blonde country singer, who was wrapped up in a blanket that usually was thrown over the back of the couch.

Mitch frowns at the tear stains on her tanned cheeks. He knew that her marriage had been on the rocks, but he never thought that it would get as bad as it was to where she just showed up out of the blue without calling.

"She hasn't moved from that spot since she got here, and she hasn't eaten either." Steph tells him softly, running her hand through Kinsley's hair, "I'm gonna go make her something quick."

"Okay." Mitch nods, crouching in front of the couch as Steph heads towards the kitchen. He runs a hand through her hair, softly calling her name, "Kins. Kinny."

Kinsley's eyes flutter open, locking with Mitch's and her bottom lips instantly begins to tremble as she sits up and hugs him.

"It's okay." Mitch mumbles, hugging her tightly as she cries into his shoulder, kissing the side of her head. "It's okay. I got you."

The two stay hugging for a brief moment, Zeus between them before Kinsley pulls away from him, wiping away her tears.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to just show up out of the blue." She tells him as she changes her position so that she was hugging her knees to her chest.

"No, hey, it's okay." Mitch shakes his head with a gentle smile. "I'm happy you came here instead of staying like last time."

He moved so that he was sitting next to her. Zeus laid his head on his owner's lap while Kinsley laid her head on Mitch's shoulder.

"You wanna talk about it?"

A sigh leaves her lips, "Same as usual. We fought about the same stuff. He said some pretty harsh shit. I told him that I was the only one trying to make this marriage work. Got called a bitch, then told that I was giving up easy just like my parents."

Mitch listens to her, feeling himself grow angry at the Australian that she was married to, but her next words shock him.

"So, I told him that I wanted a divorce, and I flew here."

He turns his head, kissing the top of her head and wrapping an arm around her shoulders, "I'm proud of you, Kins."

"At least someone is. My dad was pretty angry at me when I told him." She mumbled bitterly, "Seems he loves him more than his own kid."

"Your dad always seemed like a dick to me."

"Mitch!" She throws her head back laughing.

"It got you to laugh!"

"Thank God for Mitch." Steph smiled, coming back with a plate and a wine glass in hand, "I made you a grilled cheese, and poured you some adult juice!"

"Ugh, I love both of you so much." Kinsley smiled, taking both dishes from her best friends hands.

Zeus barks, causing the three adults to laugh.

"But I love you the most, buddy!" She pets the top of his head.

"Would now be a bad time to ask if I could talk you up to some of the single guys on the team?"

"Mitch!"

"What?! Her and Auston would be perfect for each other!"

[cocogum]

Let’s TALK about episodes 9 and 10 people… (part 2)

PART 1 : HERE

(‼️SPOILERS FOR SEASON 4‼️)

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And of course, we got Qilby who’s finally got the eliatrope dofus back and left the chat. I liked how he was talking to Shinonome tho even if she was still in their shared dofus. This taught me that even if one sibling is alive, they can still communicate with their twin in their dofus.

And here we go again with Qilby wanting to make A NEW ELIACUBE. Only this time, he’ll name that one the “Eliasphere”.

Because of this, it was finally confirmed that Lokus was a mechasm. And it all makes perfect sense now.

When Qilby finally reached Lokus’ heart, we get flashes and quick imageries of those very same mechasms. When we pause on every single one of them, we get to see these:

(I love how these mechasms kinda look like biblical angels tho lol)

Yeah, we’re screwed.

And then we’re back with Yugo and my god he keeps convulsing so much I’m so confused as to how he can keep talking so normally after all this.

I didn’t even try to screenshot this at a good angle, this is exactly what happened when I just took it. It’s perfect.

ALSO CAN WE TALK ABOUT THIS SHOT?!? I know how some of us have seen this scene as a preview for the episode but I just LOVE how good this looks. The colors and the vibe are sending me!! I still also remember how people used to theorize on who this could have been lying down in front of Toross back when we didn’t know it was Yugo. I heard things like Amalia, Nora, Yugo obviously, and even Efrim. Those were some fun times…

Bro. I can’t stop staring.

I know he’s going through hell right now but like….damn he’s built. He’s such a slut.

*clears throat*

😩❤️‍🔥💖🎶DADDY’S HOME🎶💖❤️‍🔥😩‼️‼️‼️

I believe his growth and powers should get elevated to fight stronger opponents which is why I am happy that he grew 🧢🧢🧢🧢🧢🧢🧢🧢🧢🧢🧢🧢 I only want the best for him after all 🧢🧢🧢🧢🧢🧢🧢🧢🧢🧢

Yugo just accepted death when you think about it. When Oropo explained to him what the necromes would do and what would become of him, Yugo was lost yes but he accepted it. He welcomed it even. Right after that, we see him fighting with Bouillon and smiling. He’s smiling when he shouldn’t be. But because Oropo told him he’d make him stop thinking about the outside world, he’s smiling. The slow process of his death was currently happening and Yugo couldn’t do a thing.

That’s what frustrates me but makes me admire Yugo. It’s the fact that he always gets so close to death but when he learns that there’s finally nothing he can do about it, he just accepts it.

I think that’s pretty respectable but….

WHY DO U THINK LIKE THAT?!?!?

Honestly he can be even dumber than Dally sometimes.

He’s such a dummy THAT HE’S SMILING LIKE A DUMBASS CHILD WHILE FIGHTING BOUILLON

I just-

I can’t handle his smugness stop.

STOP!!!

But in all seriousness tho I gotta address Nora.

Because omg Nora.

I genuinely feel so horrible for her.

She spent thousands of years searching for her mother with Efrim. She spent so many years of her life looking for her mother and never gave up. She almost lost the connection and then got it back and when she finally found her, she lost Efrim, then went with her mother and has done nothing else but listen to her mother, give out orders for her, and try to be the center of the family circle so she could keep its balance.

She has realized that she will no longer be able to be reborn like her other siblings and will eventually stay stuck in her dofus for all eternity. She is aware that when she dies, she won’t be remembered by her other siblings and her place in the council of six will fade away as if all those thousands of years spent with them happened for nothing. The only one who will remember her will be Qilby who will think of her as the long-lost sister none of the others remember and will ever get to meet her. She will disappear in the face of the krosmoz and will never come back.

As if things couldn’t get any worse, she gets tricked by Efrim and gets statufied so that her powers can be used by Toross whenever he wants to. Her situation became ironic, even laughable too. Because now, instead of dying and not being able to go back to her dofus, she is physically incapable of moving and will forever be used by Toross. No matter the outcome, Nora can’t come back to her dofus. Compared to Yugo, Toross doesn’t let out a tear at his action inflicted on Nora and instead thanks her. Nora’s last memory of all of this is Toross telling her how the world will have nothing but hunger.

“You can't do this! Have mercy! Don’t make me responsible for the end of the world!”

In the end, her last word was her brother’s name.

Nora deserved more.

All she had done as of now was help others and try to fix what she could. She never stopped to think about what she could’ve done for herself.

That Qilby vs Lokus fight is just *chef’s kiss*

“My brother, my king.”

Qilby is a real legend.

Now some people might wonder why his death was considered a sad one when he can just die, get reborn, and not lose any of his memories. While that is technically true, he’s not losing anything. And that’s exactly why it’s sad. Qilby can’t lose anything no matter what he does. Which is why he had no trouble dying. If dying meant helping Yugo find some way to obtain Lokus’ heart, then he’d do it. Unlike his siblings, he’s the only one able to confidently have that mindset and say it’s nothing to worry about. He did it for his king so that like he told Yugo:

“I hope that when we wake up, the planets will still be here.”

And this is why Yugo cried for him.

Despite being rejected over and over again, despite being called a traitor, despite being called a monster and a killer, Qilby stayed true to himself even until the end. Qilby’s sense of wonder and curiosity, the very same things that had made him look like a freak to Yugo, is what saved his king.

[dearfuturehusbandblog]

Let's Get Medical, Medical 🎶

Dear Future Husband,

I normally don't talk about these things with anyone, but I think I'm at a point where I need to just lay it all out there.

My body is a mess.

And nobody knows why.

Just a heads up, I will be talking about female reproductive health here. Abandon all hope, ye who enter here.

I started writing this a month ago, but life and times got in the way, so here's where I started, and I'll update where needed:

Let's shuffle back in time a bit....

My siblings and I were all born with a lot of hair, but apparently mine was impressive for some reason. My mom had a friend who would say something like "the girl is 2 but her hair is 16!"

Which is to say that it was super noticeable when I started to lose my hair as a teenager. Mostly because by the time I was 16, my hair was as thin as a 2yo's.

Did that lady make an ayin hara? Or is it just life being life? Who even knows.

Between food allergies, migraines, obesity, emotional neglect, meal skipping, chronic stress, anxiety, and depression... it's kind of shocking I even made it to teenagehood.

Yet, there I was - 16 years old, having never had a period, obese, and losing my hair. Also I had noticeable strands of gray hair.

I was tested for anemia and that came back negative. So MotherLivelyHeart dragged me around to a few specialists who did exams and blood work, and one even tested a birth control pill on me to see if they could diagnose or rule out PCOS.

Everything came back inconclusive.

And because I was surrounded by a lot of shrugging adults and nobody pushed for real answers, everything was just kind of dropped.

When I was in seminary, away from my family for a year+, eating 3 meals a day with my peers, and walking everywhere, I actually ended up starting and maintaining a fairly regular cycle. And I lost some major weight, which I'm sure helped.

But I was manipulated into coming back and starting college immediately. Manipulated into thousands of dollars worth of student loan debt. And I was living at home again with my dysfunctional family. Fun.

My cycle stopped again in under 2 years. And over those first like 6-7 years I gained all that weight back, despite eating a balanced diet high in vegetables, whole grains, and protein. The meal-skipping probably didn't help.

It's been about 10 years since then and if I actually kept track, I could probably count the number of periods I've had on two hands.

But because I'm a mess of a human, I haven't actually tracked that properly. And at this point, if some kind of spotting I had over the summer wasn't an actual period, it's probably been 2+ years since I've had one.

Because of the lack of proper menses, the hair loss, the obesity that's hard to lose, and some significant facial hair (particularly on the chin that end up as in-grown hairs that lead to acne), the presumed diagnosis has always been somewhere in the range of PCOS, despite all the results coming back inconclusive.

Now, I'll be honest - not having a period doesn't really bother me. It probably should, but it means I don't have to deal with monthly mood swings (I deal with enough mental anguish as it is), and I don't have to spend money on pads or tampons or anything, which makes whatever this condition is pretty budget friendly for someone who's barely making it by paycheck-to-paycheck.

The biggest thing that bothers me is the hair-loss. I hate it. I hate how I look. I hate how I feel. I hate how people stare. I hate how everyone questions it. And I hate that I live in a community where only married women cover their hair, so if I cover mine I get comments on the covering.

I literally had a conversation with a woman at work a couple of years ago (stop me if I've told you this before) who asked me what my maiden name was and when I told her lightheartedly "oh, I'm not married, I'm just wearing a hat" she berated me for "being deceptive" and "lying to people."

As though I was doing it davka to offend her and not for my own self-esteem.

Yeah. She can take a long walk off a short peer.

Since I've gotten with this new doctor this year, we discussed ruling out or getting a formal diagnosis for PCOS. So I've had multiple blood tests.

And wouldn't you know...

All inconclusive.

Again.

In fact, as the doctor put it to me when I saw her in person, "it's almost abnormal how normal your bloodwork is."

Well, isn't that a relief.

It's concerning how unconcerning my results are.

Fascinating.

Aside from elevated liver enzymes (fatty liver - a family trait), low vitamin d (I'm now on a supplement), and high cholesterol (I think that's a relatively new thing because of some other things I was doing this year)... every other result came back almost smack dab in the normal range.

One of the other things she had me do for the PCOS diagnosis was get a trans-vaginal ultrasound.

I wanted to die.

I don't even like to see my own naked body, let alone let anyone else see it. Let alone insert anything into it.

The last time I'd seen anyone for anything below the belt like that was around 2007, I think. And that doctor did a gynecological exam in a brightly lit room, with my legs spread wide open.

As a minor.

I wanted to die.

So I thought this was going to be the same type of situation. But shock of all shocks, it was almost like going to a spa. The room was dimly lit with warm lighting and beautiful paintings on the walls.

The sonogram tech walked me through how the whole procedure works, she had me use the bathroom to fully empty my bladder, and then back in the room she handed me a sheet to cover myself and situate myself on the table, and then...

She instructed me to insert the f***** thing into myself.

I wanted to die.

"You need to do it because you can tell what's most comfortable for you," she says to the mid-30s woman who has never had sex a day in her life.... "I'm going to put some lubricant on it and hand it to you under the sheet, insert it into yourself and when you're comfortable, I'll take over."

She was very nice, very respectful, and the whole thing was over relatively quickly without her seeing any of my nether regions.

But I still wanted to drive into a brick wall when I left.

Especially because, although the appointment didn't take that long, the hospital had recently moved the department to another "zone" of their campus and google led me to the old entrance, so I parked in the wrong parking garage and had to trek 10-15 minutes through the hospital each way to/from my car and ended up overshooting the free 1 hour parking by like 6 minutes, and I forgot to ask for validation, so I had to pay for parking.

But I digress...

The results of that ultrasound came back and there was no evidence of PCOS on my ovaries. In fact, quite the opposite. Not only were there no cysts, but the ovaries for people with PCOS are apparently usually larger and mine are on the smaller side. Also there were no visible follicles.

Lack of visible follicles can usually be attributed to a hormone imbalance, but... my hormones are all in the normal ranges.

So yet again, everything is inconclusive.

And none of it makes any sense.

The last thing of note from that exam was that my endometrium is a bit on the thicker side and has an irregular texture.

This means that I now have a gyno appointment in a month for further exam and a pap smear.

I want to die.

I don't think I can fully express to you how visceral my body reacts to even thinking about these appointments. I literally want to throw myself out a window.

But whatever. It was one moment in my life and I can forget it ever happened, right? These people are professionals. They do this all the time for countless individuals. I'm one of a billion and they'll never remember me.

"But what if they do......?"

Yeah, I can't shut my brain off.

In addition to all of that, I attempted to get a celiac diagnosis because I've been off of gluten for almost a decade now because even a 1/4tsp of pasta water sent my stomach into convulsions.

And yet.... in order to do the celiac testing I've had to eat gluten every single day for about two months and not only did the antibody results come back negative, but I've been able to eat gluten every day for two months without pain.

I also did the genetic blood test and that came back with only one of two markers for celiac, so yet again negative/inconclusive results.

Nobody knows why for almost a decade I had to avoid gluten.

Nobody knows why all of a sudden I can eat it again with no problems.

NOTHING MAKES SENSE.

It's like when you take the car to the mechanic and describe the insane noise it's been making for the last week and the mechanic turns it on and it won't make the noise.

I can describe in great detail all the issues I have but from a scientific standpoint, all my blood markers say I'm relatively normal and healthy.

Other things have been upsetting my digestive system, so the doctor also wants me to see a gastrointestinal doctor.

Which means more probes. And probably a colonoscopy. Fantastic.

And I have to get glasses.

And I have to get the fillings that were just refilled for the first time since like 2009 rechecked because I'm having sensitivity in one of those teeth.

And figure out what the hell is wrong with my feet.

And maybe see an audiologist or neurologist to figure out why I have tinnitus in my 30s.

And then probably see a dermatologist to determine what the hell is causing the hair loss because after all of this, if it's not a hormone imbalance and isn't associated with PCOS, "it's probably alopecia" which doesn't explain why it came along with delayed puberty, underdevelopment, and is more like male pattern baldness....

Because FML, right?

Because everything is wrong and nobody knows why.

On paper, I'm a healthy individual.

In reality, I haven't had a proper menstrual cycle in like 15 years, I'm wildly overweight, and have almost no hair on my head.

The wild thing about this state of "infertility" is that it would be nice to have a diagnosis. It would be nice to have an explanation. It would be nice to know why this is happening and have a clear path as to how to fix it.

But I don't have that.

I have vagueties. (Is that a word?)

And the vagueties are what allow room for miracles. Because Hashem works in the gray areas.

Ok, here's the life and times update:

So, since I started writing this a month ago, the appointment with the gyno was actually yesterday.

And I'm an idiot.

I scheduled my whole life to be there at 3pm, assuming that the 2:45pm I had put on my calendar was me factoring in an additional 15 minutes for traffic and paperwork or whatever, but it turns out that's when the appointment started. And after dealing with stupid traffic and everything, I walked in at 2:57pm.

Because I'm an idiot.

The gynecologist is super nice and super pretty, which sucks. Why does a pretty person have to look at my ugly body?

We did the initial "tell me about your life" stuff (kind of rushing through which I didn't realize was my own damn fault) during which she mentioned that she would probably diagnose me with PCOS but she wants new tests just to double check everything.

Apparently there's something called the Rotterdam Criteria for PCOS, which she recommended I look up. Turns out it's essentially the same criteria I had discussed with my primary doctor, but without the fancy terminology, yet my primary came to the conclusion it wasn't PCOS.

So... huh?

The criteria are:

Irregular menses Menstrual cycles that are shorter than 21 days, longer than 35 days, or fewer than eight cycles in a year 

Hyperandrogenism Elevated levels of testosterone, DHEA-S, or clinical signs like acne, hirsutism, or alopecia 

Polycystic ovaries At least 12 ovarian follicles measuring 2–9 mm in diameter in one ovary, or an ovarian volume of more than 10 mL in one ovary 

And for diagnosis, 2 of the three are required.

My primary doctor's conclusion was based on no polycysts on the ovaries and my hormones coming back normal.

My gynecologist, however, said that since I have things like the hair issues, that's a clear indication of hormone imbalance, even if when tested the hormones are coming back normal.

I literally don't understand the science of medicine.

Either way, that's what we're looking at diagnosing now.

Again.

Then she sent me off to an exam room, instructing me to "get fully undressed, put on the gown and tie it in front, and sit up on the table with the sheet across your lap."

Fun.

And I guess it makes sense that the exam room has to be sterile and brightly lit.

But I still wanted to die.

Like, you talk about vulnerable positions to be in, but damn. Being an ugly human, mostly naked in a brightly lit room, legs open wide with a beautiful lady poking around your nether regions... this is immediately something I want to erase from my brain as something I've done in my life.

"I know this is uncomfortable, but just remember I do this every day, so it's not as uncomfortable for me."

*super awkward laugh of "ok, that literally doesn't make me feel better but thanks"*

She did the pap smear and a breast exam (which I didn't even know gynecologists do, but I guess you learn something new every day, eh?) and I should note that she asked me if I wanted each of those things, so I did consent to them, despite neither being strictly necessary.

For those who don't know, a pap smear is a test they do to check for cervical cancer. Which is primarily associated with the HPV virus, which is generally spread by sexual contact in that region.

Reminder: I have never had sexual contact in that region.

Here's the fun explanation I found online of what they do: A speculum is inserted into the vagina to widen it. Then, a brush is inserted into the vagina to collect cells from the cervix. The cells are checked under a microscope for signs of disease.

She said she didn't see me as being a high candidate for the virus or for that type of cancer, and that as I'm an adult woman I have the right to say no, but she would recommend it just to be able to check the overall health of the region and rule things out.

According to the internet, a pap smear may be uncomfortable, but it should not hurt. For some reason, for me, it stung. I have literally no idea why. As I'm writing this, it's been over 12 hours and I'm still having mild discomfort in that region. So, that's fun.

Maybe it's cuz I've never had sex before and don't make a habit of sticking things down there that stretch the space open? I have no clue. She didn't seem all that concerned, despite me clearly stating it was stinging. So maybe it's just nothing.

She didn't spend a lot of time down there, so I'm not sure how much of an exam she actually did aside from the pap smear part, but after informing me that my breast tissue feels normal, which is a good sign, she sent me off down the hall for some blood work, then I scheduled a follow up for two weeks from now to discuss results, and that was really the end of the visit.

At this point, I have no idea what the future holds.

When we were doing the patient history portion of our conversation she clarified with me that I wasn't and hadn't been pregnant and then she asked if I would like to be.

And I honestly didn't know how to answer that.

Because I honestly don't know.

I joked that I don't mind so much not having to deal with periods like my friends and family members, especially because my family members get crazy when hormones factor in, which obviously happens around that time of the month.

But that's not a real answer.

On the one hand, I would love to know what it feels like to carry a child inside me. To have a child literally built out of love. To hold that baby in my arms and know that I worked so hard to bring that being into life. To see which of my features this tiny human has.

On the other hand, I don't want to repopulate my genetics. I don't know how my body will respond to the stress of a developing human. I don't know if I have the emotional or physical strength to be a mother. And I don't know if I want to raise children is this screwed up world that seems to be getting worse every single day.

And I don't know if you, my dear future husband, actually exist or if this is all just a hypothetical anyway.

Every day of my life right now is one step closer to 40 years old.

And in the great scheme of things, especially in this age where people are living older and we still bless "to 120," 40 years is literally just the first third of life. That's not even middle aged. Yet at the same time, being a first-time parent at 40 is tough. Especially when you consider that the body starts breaking down at that point and my body is already a mess. I've felt like I'm 80 years old since I was like 8 years old. I guess if that age were accurate I'd be closer to 120 already....

And I'm still dealing with financial problems.

And family problems.

And emotional problems.

And the world just flat out suuuuuucks right now.

And I still don't see an escape from any of this.

So... do I want to get pregnant?

I guess in an ideal world, yeah.

In a realistic world, I would say "that's up to Hashem" except that it seems that "up to Hashem" is my body not functioning in a way conducive to having children, so I guess that's my answer.

They say that every single problem you could possibly have in life can be found in the Torah. And barrenness is something that afflicted 3/4 of our imahos as well as Chana, all of whom eventually bore their own children.

But I'm not a Sarah, I'm not a Rivka, I'm not a Rachel, and I'm not a Chana. And I don't see how knowing that they were able to have natural children when I still know some amazing women who haven't is supposed to make me feel better about my circumstances.

Women are supposedly on a higher spiritual plane than men. We're supposed to be more in tune with our neshamos, with our connection to Hashem, which is what allows us to be the bearers of new life.

What does that say about me? My connection to Hashem sucks and this doesn't really make it better.

I know everyone has a different role in life, and some aren't meant to marry or have children because they wouldn't be able to accomplish what they're sent here to accomplish with those commitments in their lives.

But some people seem to be able to accomplish great things while juggling staying healthy and having a family and working high powered jobs, etc.

And I suck at literally the bare minimum. Literally just existing sucks for me.

And knowing that "my role" isn't "their role" and "that's ok" doesn't make me feel better about any of it.

But it's almost 6am and I'm awake for no reason and heading off on tangents of mental health sadness while the whole point of this was just the physical stuff.

Oh! And speaking of physical stuff, I literally forgot to mention that when I went to get the blood work done, I got a medical text telling me to schedule an appointment. It said "advanced radiology" and stupid me just closed the text, thinking it was for the blood work which was what I was already doing.

But no.

Apparently the gyno put me down for ANOTHER transvaginal ultrasound.

And by the time I realized that, the doctor's office was already closed so I couldn't ask her about that, because we went over the fact I'd had that done recently and didn't recall her mentioning I'd need another one.

So FML.

#1 thing on today's to-do list.

Fun.

So anyways, that's where we're at now. I either might have PCOS or definitely not have PCOS. Regardless, I will probably have to be poked and prodded yet again in regions of my body I'd rather forget exist. All to get a diagnosis for something that may or may not be meaningful, depending on whether I can figure out if having children is something I ever even want to do in this life.

And I don't know. I just don't know.

I'd say I'd leave that up to Hashem, but He's the reason I'm fat, ugly, balding, unmarried, and childless now, so.... that's helpful.

-LivelyHeart

Edited to add: I contacted the gyno and it turns out the second sonogram was ordered by mistake. Good thing I contacted her and didn't just schedule the exam!

[vikkirosko]

Hey, I hope you are doing good. I was wondering if your requests are open. If so can I ask for, how would Helluva Boss characters Stolas, Blitzo, Moxxie, Loona, and Millie react to their fem s/o being catcalled/harassed. Before they even could step in to help their s/o. Their s/o knocks the person out with one punch and says, "I hate that some people treat a woman like they are a toy. It just pisses me off." I hope I didn't over do it, and again I hope you are doing good lovely.

Headcanons Protection from harassment

😈 Blitzø x fem!Reader 🐴

You and Blitzø have been together for a long time and he knew that you didn't like it when people, regardless of whether they were familiar to you or not, behaved abominably. That's why when he saw an imp unknown to you on the street started whistling after you and calling you like a cat, he almost physically felt your irritation

He intended to intervene, but did not have time to do so. You beat him to it and with all your might hit imp with your fist in the jaw so hard that the stranger fell to the ground. There was a frighteningly calm expression on your face, which caused Blitzø to exclaim with delight

You said with absolute calmness on your face that you hated those who treated women as things or toys and that it infuriated you, after which you walked away, proudly raising your chin. Blitzø hastened to follow you, not hiding a wide grin

He liked the fact that you didn't let yourself be offended. He knew that you were strong and could stand up for yourself, but he was always ready to help you if you didn't have time to defend yourself. You were an important person to him and he wasn't going to let anyone hurt you

😈 Millie x fem!Reader ⚔️

Millie always lost her temper easily, but when it came to those she cherished, whether it was insulting family members or putting a loved one at risk, she flared up like a match. That's why when she saw a stranger trying to molest you, waiting for her, she got angry. It could well have ended in murder, if not for you, who sharply punched a stranger right in the jaw, which made Millie freeze

Your punch was strong enough to make the stranger standing in front of you fall to the ground. Your gaze expressed only cold contempt, but when Millie approached, the gaze became warm, directed at her. You assured her that everything was fine with you, after which you looked coldly at the lying stranger again, after which you said that you hated the fact that some people treated women as toys. It literally pissed you off

After what you said, you took Millie by the arm and led her away, not wanting to waste even more of your time on it. Millie confidently followed you, unable to restrain a smile. She would have been happy to say a lot more to that stranger, but since you thought the situation was over, then she was fine with it

Millie wasn't going to let anyone insult you. She could have solved this situation radically, but since you decided to deal with it more calmly, she wasn't going to argue. Millie loved you too much to waste the time you were going to spend together on people you dealt with yourself

😈 Moxxie x fem!Reader 🎶

You and Moxxie often went on dates somewhere and usually it was the most romantic dates you could imagine. However, this time your date was ruined. You were walking through the evening streets when an imp you didn't know came up to you and started trying to molest you. Moxxie tried to chase him away, but he was ignored, continuing to annoy you

Moxxie was outraged by this behavior of a stranger and intended to stop such brazen actions, but you beat him to it, hitting your fist in the jaw with all your might. Your punch was strong enough to make imp fall to the ground. You looked at the stranger with a frighteningly calm look, after which you said that you could not stand those who treated women as toys, such people drove you out of yourself

You took Moxxie by the hand and led him out of there while he looked at you with a loving look. He was in love with you, but now he could swear that he fell in love with you even more. In his eyes, you were very beautiful when you showed your strength and he couldn't help but look at you with fascination

Moxxie knew perfectly well that he could not always protect you, but in his eyes you always remained beautiful, regardless of whether you smiled sweetly, beat those who deserved it or just did everyday things. He was in love with you and for him you remained the most beautiful of all

🐺 Loona x fem!Reader 📱

Loona enjoyed walking with you. Next to you, she always had a great time, but this time your walk together was spoiled by an unfamiliar imp who at first started making sounds like calling a cat when you were just walking by, and when Loona got angry because of this, imp said that he was not addressing her but you, which only made her angrier

You looked calm while imp continued to flirt with you rather rudely. Loona was only getting angrier by the second and was about to lose her temper when you punched imp in the jaw with all your might, hard enough to hear the bone crunch and hard enough for imp to fall to the ground. There was a frightening coldness in your gaze that Loona had never seen before

Looking directly at the imp lying on the ground, you said that you hated that some people treated women like toys. You despised such people, which you said directly, and then took Loona away from there. Your gaze warmed up again when you looked at her, and Loona barely held back a laugh after she saw how you showed your strong side

Loona knew that you were strong, even though she preferred to do without physical abuse. Even though your walk was a little spoiled, but that didn't mean that everything was completely ruined. Loona was glad that you managed to sort out the rude imp and continue your date

🦉 Stolas x fem!Reader 🎩

Stolas always chose good places for your dates and one of these places was a good restaurant where, as he was sure, you could have a wonderful time. However, even in an expensive restaurant, you have problems. This problem was a drunk stranger who decided that it would be a great idea to start pestering you and interfering with your dinner

Stolas was outraged by this and intended to intervene, but you beat him to it. You calmly got up from the table with a calm expression on your face and then punched the stranger in the face with all your might. Your punch was strong enough to make the drunken brute fall to the floor. You lightly shook your palm, then rubbed your knuckles and said that you hated that some people thought they could treat women like toys. People like that just pissed you off

Stolas, like many other restaurant visitors, looked at you in surprise, but when you smiled at him, he felt calm. He wasn't going to judge you, because he himself was on the verge of rage when the brute started harassing you. No one was going to judge you for that, so you were able to go back to your dinner as if nothing had happened

After your dinner you went for a walk and Stolas felt a pleasant peace. Although your dinner was briefly interrupted, but now it seemed something insignificant. However, this did not mean that he was going to get away with such behavior. You were sincerely dear to him and he did not want anyone to try to harm or discomfort you

[diodellet]

walking lie detector (platonic hcs ft. the angels)

Summary: "It's no use trying to lie to an angel, we see right through it." (Luke, Ruri Tunes 8-4). This is what lying to the angels looks like and how it makes them feel. content warnings: -the relationship depicted for all three angels in this set of hcs is platonic -implied threats of physical violence towards you, the reader. word count: 1.08k words

Luke

When you lie to him, his face scrunches up immediately. Like he tasted something sour or smelled something bad.

Insert 🎶Why the fuck you lyin’, Why you always lyin’🎶 Kidz Bop Ver. here

Which causes two reactions in you: 1) it makes your heart squeeze from how adorable it makes him look and 2) it makes your stomach sink in guilt

Because he was the first one who told you that lying to an angel is pointless.

To Luke, hearing you lie feels like a sunny day suddenly becoming overcast. It feels like unfurling a piece of fabric and immediately spotting a dark stain on it. Either the fact that he’s a young angel or the fact that he used to work directly under Michael could be the reason why his lie detector senses are so strong.

More than that, it feels sort of like tinnitus, a ringing in his ears that tells him what you were saying was wrong. 

Not that it physically hurts, but for an angel as transparent as Luke, his reaction to the sensation would immediately show on his face.

No matter who’s around, he’ll immediately call you out.

If you double down on your fib, he’ll get annoyed and tell you off (🎶Hmmm oh my god, Stop fuckin lyin’!🎶)

To the others (especially the demon brothers), it’s kind of funny seeing you being lectured by a young angel.

(But what really hurts is afterwards, when he sulks and ignores you for lying to him. Or worse, when he talks to a third person in the room to pass messages to you even if you’re right there.)

“Solomon, could you ask them to pass me the TV remote?” “Simeon, will you tell them that we’ll be dismissed late tomorrow?”

—and so on, all while sending huffy glances in your direction. (No! He doesn’t feel guilty about getting angry, he’s waiting for you to apologize and own up to your mistake.)

If you backtrack and admit the truth (the correct decision), he’ll still admonish you for still lying in the first place but he’ll bounce back to his usual excitable self.

Raphael

His face doesn’t show it, but he knows.

(If he had his wings out, it’s a whole different story. They’re the best mood/reaction guide.)

(Correction: If you are a soul brave enough to stare at Raphael’s resting bitch face while lying to him, you can see his brows furrow juuust a teensy bit more than usual.)

Lying is futile. Give it up, you amateur fibber.

He’s just like Luke lmao, #2 in Immediately Calling You Out™️

But the interesting part for Raphael is that the sensation depends on the degree of the lie you told.

If it’s a little white lie or if you’re gently skirting around the subject, then it feels like a faint shiver down his back. Similar to the slight chill from a nighttime breeze, the brief moment before you get static shock. It is a slightly bothersome sensation, but one that isn’t a complete hindrance.

“Why did you say that? You’re completely free for the entire weekend.” “Hm? Then just say that you want to rest at home, it’s not that difficult.”

(Being honest and dealing with the consequences is fucking hard, Raphael!)

However, if it’s an outright denial of the truth, then it feels like a hollow pang in his chest. It’s similar to the scent of ozone right before lightning strikes.

Except there’s no lightning, just his nerves standing on edge, that moment of complete vigilance stretching on and on until Raphael knows for sure that he’s facing the complete truth.

And Raphael will get the truth out of you.

Either by pestering you repeatedly or threatening you, you don’t get to choose. The correct answer was that you shouldn’t have lied to Michael’s errand boy in the first place.

Not that he’ll run you through with a spear, he’s working to fix his use of violence as a crutch.

It’s just that divine beings as a whole have either remained pitifully gullible or developed unhealthy coping methods in response to being taken advantage of.

And Raphael refuses to have the wool pulled over his eyes again.

Simeon

Maybe it’s because he’s been around Lucifer and the other demons for longer, but he’s pretty unbothered at being lied to.

Don’t worry, he won’t call you out for it. A part of him is aware that you don’t have to bare all your intentions, and additionally, different factors can affect how much you’d want to share with him. It’s as simple as that.

(But he will take note and remember this for later. And it’s only fair that he uses his own methods in revealing the truth, is it not?)

Just like Raphael, he’s a pro at hiding the fact that he knows.

He could just go, “Oh, okay!” and pair it with an innocent smile. And if you’re easily affected by your guilty conscience like me, that simple acceptance is enough to push you into admitting the truth.

(And oh how he loves catching you red-handed.)

“So, would you mind telling me why you were at Madam Devian’s with Beelzebub? I seem to recall that you had remedial lessons.” “Oh, I won’t tell Lucifer, I can imagine how that would turn out. Just… try not to hide that from me next time, alright?”

Also, depending on how big of a lie you’re telling him, the sensations also differ for Simeon.

White lies feel ticklish, that’s why they’re so amusing to Simeon. That’s why his first reaction is to fucking smile in the face of a lie. Like, he knows Luke told you that angels can see through dishonesty but you’re still trying and it’s so endearing.

Sidenote: for some reason, Simeon tends to feel them along his upper arms and shoulder area. 

More serious falsehoods feel worse. Sort of like a hot itch under his skin. Something vile and gross bubbling under the surface. Something threatening to claw itself out.

But he could count the number of times that has happened to him on one hand and he plans on keeping it that way.

All in all, the occasional white lie to Simeon isn’t a big deal so long as the truth eventually comes out. He trusts you, after all.

If anyone would have told him how horrible it was to lie to a loved one, it still wouldn’t be enough to prepare him for the burden of hiding his sins.

A/N: I'd first like to thank @jessamine-rose for betaing this short spontaneous draft😭thanks girl ur dabest betareader😭as someone who's too weak to progress through the main story of obey me and as someone who knows 0% of raphael's charac litrally everyth i know is from ms. maam jessamine, i wasn't able to do my usual amount of research. but as long as the writing's bearable enough to read then thats good enough for me ig huhuhuu in other news, im thinking of writing a 2nd part to this but in a romantic💕💕 context with simeon and raphael (because OF COURSE my brain would have taken this revelation in That™️ direction) but it won't be posted any time soon, i only have scraps of a scene in mind so far, soo ig this won't be the end-end of me milking this wonderful angel lorebit

[starheirxero]

Sooo, I thought about Lunar going He only hit me once about Eclipse, and stumbled across this really cool tumblr Blog talking about it

https://www.tumblr.com/annakenziesworld/750845019184922624/eclipse-only-ever-really-hit-me-once?source=share

I wanted to show you the angst, like a puppy shows it's owner a cool stick it found

Me to Lunar: Why the fuck you lying, WHY YOU ALWAYS LYING🎶

YEYSYESYYES I SAW THAT !!!! I've been thinking abt it sm since I saw it actually bc, while it was likely just a case of "it happened so long ago we forgor what happened", it can 100% be interpreted as Lunar repressing most of the memories from that time and only remembering the most "major" event and it's so fascinating to me! Bc like, I've thought it was weird they said he only hit them once too, bc I've always distinctly remembered Lunar telling Moon that Eclipse hit him twice!!

But as the clips show, honestly, it's a good bit over twice!! It's just probably likely that Lunar didn't clock it as anything notable or important because Eclipse just... kinda always treated them like that. They remembered the two hardest hits because those were particularly upsetting, but everything else just blended into the mix of "shitty ways Eclipse treats me." yk??? And then over time, more shit got repressed or forgotten, and they can only remember the day in the cafe.

Like again I know it's very likely entirely accidental, but it ended up being a pretty solid way to show memory issues via trauma! And that's not even accounting for the fact that depression (and their retconned ADHD 😔) can also cause memory problems!! So this little blunder can be attributed to their fucked up mental health in-universe which is both cool rep!! but also breaks my heart over Lunar so much BSJABSJS