#( just gonna tag him for organization purposes )

[wildflowercryptid]

replaying scarlet is fun bc it's helping me w/ solidifying what florian's like during the main game. ya know, before the horrors™.

he likes to help where he can...

[motherforthefamicom]

hi. okay. I don't know where to ask this but about my version of dog Tony and you apparently having one. may I see him??? please??? it would heal me

YES ABSOLUTELY OMG

uh this is like the closest to a Ref Thing (ignore jeff and the other character this aint abt them)

^ this is the awful compilation image i made for when i had him up on artfight (some doodles are by my sister lololol) this isnt anywhere near all the art ive made though idk if thats smthn anyone would even want to see . idk

[glossysoap]

Imagine cockwarmimg with ghost and he has to hold you still so you stop squirming 🤤

late night work ; ghost

warnings/tags: fem reader, cockwarming obvi, praise, minor degradation, purposeful lowercase.

notes: (….) = scene change. WARENAI my love!! im so so sorry for taking so long!!! thank you for your patience and for being so supportive throughout all of this. i’m working on all of your other amazing, scrumptious thoughts, i assure you. <333

word count: 1.5k

sitting in bed, waiting for him to finish his reports, being desperate for his attention :( coming up behind him as he sat in his office chair, leaning down and putting your hands on his shoulders, nuzzling into the crook of his neck.

the bright light of the computer illuminated both of your faces as he continued to tap away at his keyboard.

“mmm, hello darlin’.” he hummed, turning his head away from his computer to press a kiss to your cheek.

“si,” you would whine against his neck. “how much longer ‘til you’re done?” you would press tender kisses along his jaw and under his ear.

you could feel the low vibration of a chuckle erupt from his throat.

“why, bird? you needy?” he would tease, smirk evident in his smug voice.

you only whined once more as an answer, your hands moving from their resting place on his shoulders down to graze at his clothed chest. one hand resting over his heart, feeling the comforting thump-thump of his heart pumping blood to the rest of his body. you could also feel the organ race under your touch, proving how you affected him wholly and fully.

“can’t even fuckin’ talk, you’re so desperate.” he laughs.

“ugh, don’t be mean.” your words would be muffled against his neck as you pout.

he only chuckles at your whine.

“you’re not gonna go to bed anytime soon, are ya’?” he asks, swiveling his chair to look at you fully. you were already ready for bed, wearing a pair of short shorts and his oversized sweater. ‘lieutenant, simon riley’ was sewn onto the breast pocket in thick black lettering. the sweater smelled like him, a mix of leather and earthy woods. with a faint hint of gunpowder.

so familiar. so comforting.

you also wore a pout on your lips as you stood next to him, your hands resting on his shoulders.

“i would.. if you stopped working.” you mumbled under your breath.

“well, we both know i can’t do that. so why don’t we compromise, hm?”

(….)

only mere minutes later you were sat on his lap, your panties were yanked down your legs as whimpers fell from your lips. your arms were wrapped around him, clinging desperately to his bulk and muscle in an attempt to ground yourself in reality. he had turned back to his work, facing his computer again — but with you sitting on his cock this time. your juices making such a mess all over his lap, drenching your thighs and dripping onto his. coating his coat and dripping down his balls.

you were just itching to grind down on his cock, bounce on it until you had your fill and came around him. but he wouldn’t let you.

“no, no, no. you interrupted me. you couldn’t wait for me to finish working.” he murmured into the crook of your neck, his breath hot against your skin. “so you aren’t gonna move. you’re not gonna set the pace.”

while he was typing with his dominant hand, his other hand was busy holding your hips in place with an almost bruising force. he could feel you squirm and twitch around him as you tried to chase your own pleasure, but he wouldn’t have that.

every time he sensed you trying to bounce or grind your hips down, he would give your bare ass a slight smack. not enough to hurt per say, but enough to stop any disobedience from you in its tracks.

you would yelp every time his palm struck across your skin, immediately stilling in his lap.

your gasps and hitched breaths was the only sound that accompanied the sound of his fingers hitting the keyboard. the only sounds leaving his lips, besides him chastising you of course, were his deep breathing.

“please, si.” you would whine into his neck, trying your best to stay still all while feeling so fucking full.

“quiet down, pup. can’t focus with you whinin’ in my ear.” he mutters, bringing his palm down to swat at your ass once more. then keeping his large hand there, splaying across your skin and digging his fingers in. surely with enough force to leave crescent marks in your skin as he held you still on his cock.

you bit your lip and squeezed your eyes shut, your teeth digging in so deep that it almost drew blood. you buried your face in the crook of his neck, feeling his warmth against your cheeks as you tried desperately to obey. to stay still and keep your mouth shut. you willed yourself to focus on his heartbeat thrumming against your cheek and the warmth of his skin against yours.

and that was all going fine, until he thrusted his hips up into you. all under the guise of ‘readjusting his position’.

“mmm,” you whimper brokenly, unable to stop yourself from clenching around his cock. “quit being mean.”

“oh, sorry, what was that doll?” he murmured into your ear with an air of faux innocence. you could almost hear the smirk in his voice as he spoke.

“quit— ngh, moving! please.” you begged into his neck, your pouting lips brushing against his stubbled skin.

“oh, i’m sure you can hold out a bit longer.” was all he crooned before ‘readjusting’ once more.

you felt his cock reach deeper as he bucked his hips again, making you gasp into his neck. you felt that knot in your stomach grow tighter, as you tried so hard to keep the impending orgasm at bay.

you even found yourself holding your breath, as if that would stop the pleasure building up in your stomach.

“squeezin’ me so tight, pup. bet you’re getting real close, hm?”

you would only whine in response, burying yourself in his chest as if you could escape from his cruel treatment. your hands fisted the fabric of his shirt, just trying to hold on as he brought an onslaught of pleasure to you with each thrust.

“simon! stop,” you cried, your voice cracking as your hips finally grind down onto his cock again. “you know i’m close!”

your voice sounded so broken, so pathetic when it hit his ears that he just had to take pity on you.

“go on, then. fuck yourself on my dick. grind that needy cunt down. but i’m not gonna help you. you’re gonna do all the work, darling.”

the moment those words passed his lips, you didn’t waste a single second in bouncing on his cock. all of the wetness from your cunt and the precum from his cock that had accumulated were now making lewd wet sounds with each bounce.

you shifted your position to where your hands were placed on his broad shoulders, perfect to use as a handle while you moved your hips up and down. as soon as you started building a momentum, you exhaled the breath you were holding and instead let out the wanton moan that was building in your chest.

“simon, fuck!” your eyes rolled back as you bounced on his cock, your hands pressing on his strong shoulders with each bounce.

your mind was so fuzzy that you didn’t see simon had completely abandoned his work, in favor of staring up at you. his hands slipped underneath your shirt and grazed up your stomach, before groping at your tits. his thumbs tweaked your nipples, pressing down and rubbing to make the buds pucker.

just that little extra bit of stimulation was enough to make your breath hitch, clenching even more around his cock.

“squeezin’ me so tight, doll. love this fuckin’ cunt.” he ground out, giving your breasts a rough squeeze.

all of the time spent sitting as still as a statue on his cock had made you unbelievably wet and stretched you out perfectly, already bringing you halfway to orgasm. so when you were finally allowed to fuck yourself on his cock, that knot in your stomach only grew quicker and quicker.

“oh my god, fuck,” you cried out as you felt yourself inching dangerously close to the edge.

“so fuckin’ perfect. look so pretty splitting yourself open on my cock.” his lips quirked up into a smirk as he watched you take his cock so good, because you were so fucking good.

“always so fucking good.”

when he heard your moans shift into broken cries, he knew you were so close. you only needed one final push before you were creaming on his cock, squeezing him for all he was worth.

wearing a wolfish grin, his teeth glinting and all, he brought two fingers up to his mouth and sucked them for a moment. once they were nice and wet, he wasted no time in bringing those fingers down to your cunt and started rubbing your swollen clit.

he only laughed when he heard you choke out a moan, seeing your mouth hang open as your orgasm washed over you. his fingers never stopped teasing your swollen, sore nub as you drenched on his cock.

“there you go, good fuckin’ girl.”

©️ glossysoap 2024. please do not steal, copy, plagiarize, translate, or repost any of my works without my permission. do not steal any elements of my theme without permission. you can use this work as a scriptfill for gonewildaudios as long as you credit me and link me.

🏷️: @warenai @viylikescats @cassiecasluciluce @divine--serenity @ghastlybirdie @lilpothoscuttings @jumbojazzcats93 @krakenbabe @lordlydragon @violet-phantoms @bunnyreaper @blackrose4242 @ansaturn @luvecarson @kenqki @luvmeijii

[domreaderheadcannonscenarios]

(I don't know if this is considered to be a noncon but if it is, you can either delete this or informed me so I can rearrange something. I'm gonna tag this a one anyway)

CW: NON CON I think

since we now know that the Chasity belt's purpose, other than to show their devotion to god, but to keep them 'pure' in someway, aka from lust, I've been thinking....

After we manage to remove the belt, this make them prone towards the lust, and since they are a supernatural beings, they will started to gain HEAT CYCLE (let's make every non-human character go through heat, tht thought has been rotting in my mind🫣)

And since, in some way, they're 'innocent', They probably don't know what's truly going on into their body. Might even think that this is another challenge god gave them to pass. So who will they got through?

You, of course!

Imagine waking up in a middle night to see a figure on top of you, humping on your leg or kneeling on the floor with their head resting on your feet. Legs shaking and hips becoming jittery as they whimper 'help'. You can't see much as the room is still and so the person, but you can feel something wet patching on your covers.

Alright bye 🏃

WAIT CONE BACK- (YES ALL NON HUMANS NEED HEAT CYCLES—)

This is so good!! I love it so much!! Just so perfect! (also I slow dubcon, noncon esk stuff!)

It would make sense as to why they’d ‘need’ to stay locked in a cage to surpress desires, as once introduced there’s no undoing it. Once their heat cycle starts, there’s no undoing it, they are left suffering as no angel would know/be able to help their blight.

Then they realize you stirred maybe more than they were ready for, you have done what only their god could, and they are left trembling as they hunt you down and by the time they actually find you, you’re asleep in bed. They cant wait for you to wake up, who knows how long that’ll take?!! They need your help now!

They manage to get in without alerting anyone (even you) and they are in agony and don’t even know HOW to approach you for this. Is this a challenge like before? Should they plead or threaten for help? Should they even wake you..

Cw (all): Dubcon, heat cycles,

-

Gabriel

There’s something about seeing you sleeping peacefully that has his heart fluttering and he quickly approaches your figure, he’s trying to think how to wake you, but with the consistent ache from his cock he can’t think clearly. All he can think about is touching himself, grinding against whatever until the ache between his legs stops.

Before he makes it to your bed his knees gave out and he’s left kneeling near the edge of your bed. He’s groping himself as he lifts himself up enough to lean over your bed. He groans upon feeling his arousal brush against your bed, but the little friction he gets has him unable to think straight and he bucks against your bed’s edge.

Even as he hears the bed squeaking, watching you sleep, he cant help himself. It feels so good, you look so good…his heart aches as he once again deluded himself with your image matching his God…he goes faster, loudly moaning out praise for you.

You had started waking up to your bed shaking, you opened your eyes to see it’s still pitch black and as you turn you can see a man’s silhouette at the edge of your bed….humping it. This is Hell but…you haven’t had this issue yet.

“Satan?” You ask curiously, the individual instantly freezes, you lean down to grab him but as you get closer you freeze, actually seeing his face. “Gabriel!” You jumped back and hit the headboard. You knew he was probably pissed over the getting jerked off in public…but to hump your bed? Angels were weird.

“My Lord, I-I need you s-so badly, please!” He whined out as soon he realized you were awake and aware of him. He tugged on your blankets and climbed on the bed before you could react. “What you did before-again? P-please?” He grabbed your hand and shoved it between his legs so you could feel the swollen organ.

He mewled in bliss at just the thought that you’d ‘service’ him again. But you try to move away. “You came to Hell…for a handjob? Isn’t that dangerous?” He groans in response and rubs himself while waiting for you to help.

“H-hurts…won’t go down no matter how much it leaks, touching it isn’t enough…” You stared at him before reaching for the appendage, it jumps as soon as you make contact with it, it’s definitely engourged enough to cause some kind of pain to him. On impulse you squeeze it and to your amusement, pre bubbles were the swollen head of his cock rest.

Gabriel whimpered and bucked into your hand with a gasp. “You are really needy…” You are beginning to understand what’s wrong. “Oh you poor thing…you’re in heat…” You laugh a bit thinking how he’s a ‘pure’ being that now is blighted with a heat cycle. Angels weren’t supposed to have sex, so you supposed this is god’s punishment for his first orgasm.

Him wrapped an arm around you and pulled you close to him as he tries to grind against you. “D-do what you did before, d-damit! Touch it pllease!” He sobbed out, humping your hand desperately. Your own body was getting excited watching an angel humiliate himself for scraps of pleasure without hesitation. “You’re blessed, I need you! You’re all I can think of…”

You could see the same look in his eyes as you saw in the bar, when he was deluding himself into believing…that you’re his Lord…you don’t think now is a good time to correct him when he’s so hard he’s trembling in front of you.

You lazily grab his swollen cock and gave it a hard yank to force him into your lap. That should have hurt, but he mewls and a copious amount of pre spills onto your stomach. You think about punishing him but the sob he lets out upon you pinching his cock is a few pitches too high for your liking. “Oh, you’re more sensitive than I remembered.”

You didn’t mean it to insult him, but it seemed to have a effect as he bucks towards and drags his cock on your stomach as he lets out pathetic cries. You reach to stop him, but he freezes on his own and raises his hips off you. “I’m sorry!” He whines. “I, do as you wish to me just please, please help with…” He whimpered as you were left barely able to see as he’s kneeling above you with his cock hanging noticeably slick with its on pre.

The wet heat between your legs spikes at the realization he had stripped in the excitement and was now presenting his manhood as a form of submission. You force him to sit in your lap as you flip the position so he’s now on his back. You grab his cock and tug on it, not even trying to ease him into a pace as you stroke his sensitive dick as fast and roughly as you could.

He nearly screams in what you can imagine is confusion as he trembles under you, maybe on your tenth stroke, he yelps and he’s cumming in your hands, hard.

Out of mercy your hand doesn’t stop. Even as he trembles and whimpers for mercy. His cock doesn’t soften, but you catch on that he’s getting sensitive. You stop stroking him and rub just the head as he sobs under you and writhes against the bed as his cock is worked into overstimulation while still needing more.

Michael

He was able to sneak into your room with ease, he’s taken aback as he sees you sprawled out in bed. His arousal stiffens more at the sight, and as he gets closer, your scent makes his pants feel tighter. He gets into your bed to admire you, he didn’t mean to wake you, he just couldn’t wait!

Not when his poor balls might burst if he cant empty them soon…He hadn’t felt like they had weight until now, but now he felt like he’d burst if he didn’t get to finish soon! But…he cant touch himself, he needs you!

He ment to wait until you awoke to help him but instead…he was left panting and he ground himself against your thigh, tears running down his face of humiliation and frustration as his cock barely gets any friction. He mewled while watching you stir in your sleep, he is taken aback when you press against him with your thigh and his aching bits randomly getting added friction has him jump.

The mewl that escapes him gets your attention, you nearly thud your thigh between his legs before he quickly moves back realizing you’re waking up. He tries to hide the clear boner between his legs by bringing his thighs up protectively.

He felt humiliated that he just woke you…to him dragging his privates over your leg like a dog….

You start to get up and look around, locking eyes with him. In the darkness you don’t recognize him. “Hey…were you…grinding against me?” You’re honestly more tired than mad.

“I’m sorry Master.” He breathes out fast. He sees your face tense up upon hearing his voice. “I’m…in need of you, please take mercy upon me.” He crawled over to you and laid next to you, just close enough to be able to see his face in the dark. “Im sorry to ask this, but…what you did at the auction house…can we do it again?”

You blink in confusion. “You want me to bring you back there for that?” You were half asleep and not quite sure if he was being serious but you could feel him cock hard and resting against your leg.

“No!” He quickly jumps. “I m-mean I want you to…caress me the way you did,…touch me where I’m…‘unfamiliar with’.” He nuzzles into your shoulder and dampening your clothes. You wrap an arm around him on impulse upon noticing he’s crying. You partially recognize it might be since he just…doesn’t stop crying.

Still you pull him down on the bed, a hand slipped down to pull his cock out, feeling the heat radiating off it as you start feeling it up, trying to remember the spots he liked. “Like this?” He nods. “Alright…” Still half asleep you gently rub and stroke him and to your surprise, the light touch has him trembling. “You look like you need more…” Your grip on his cock tightens.

He tensed and you adjusted, you stroked faster and he visibly tenses trying to stay still as his body trembled as the pleasure hit him harder than he was ready for. His pre leaked like a fountain as you twisted your wrist on the swollen head.

After you applied pressure to the slit, he jumps and bucks forwards, unable to stop himself as he whimpers. “My Lord…I’m going to…burst…” He thrust forwards with every stroke, you can feel the pulsing between his legs worsen until he pulses out cum into your hand, it was an impressive amount. It splattered over his on stomach as you kept stroking him.

You felt his cock remain harass even as you don’t slow down. Michael whimpers, the heat between his legs worsening with every stroke. “You are really excited, maybe…” You bite your lip and lean down, licking he’s base. You feel it pulse again and the angel moans loudly.

He climaxed again…you grin realizing he’s experiencing his first heat.

At your mercy…

Raphael

Cw: leg humping, scent kink

Raphael had barely managed to sneak into your room unnoticed and without breaking things. (Thought it was tempting.) His mind was still foggy as he laid eyes on you, he could feel the ache between his legs worsen…he needs you now!

He growls and jumps onto your bed, the weight and force startling you awake.

You look to the source of what woke you, Raphael’s face was inches from yours as he seats himself in your lap.

“Satan! I thought I locked the door, let me sleep!” You laugh out, unable to see the persons face, but Satan is the only person you knew who’d jump onto you or go out of his way to get into your room like this.

Raphael tries to not show his pause as he takes your hand and without hesitation forces it between his legs, he felt you lightly brush against his clothed arousal, earning a moan. He felt you tense up and whined, knowing he’s been caught, his voice isn’t close to Satan’s Afterall…

“W-wait who..?” You try pull away and he flops ontop of you to stop the inevitable attempt to run, he groans and begins grinding against you, and with your struggling to get away, to your confusion the ‘stranger’ is now jumping your leg.

Raphael on freezes when you manage to reach over and turn on the lamp. His heart sinks at the look you give him, he knows he’s in the wrong, but you did cause this, so it’s only fair you handle it!

…right?

Even with the blinding ache between his legs he slows down and swallows, trying to ‘clear’ his throat to talk to you. “You…did this, fix it! What you did before I need again! It wasn’t enough!”

He tries to act assertive even as his face flushed and he resumes jumping your leg as if that’s all he knows how to do to bring himself pleasure. He closes his eyes as he thrust against your leg for stimulation.

“I…you’ve been hard since Christmas?” You ask, but he shakes his head, you watch as he speeds up only to cum onto your leg, dragging his cock against your leg as he finishes, while you expect it to stop you realize he’s remaining hard. “Oh….oh! You poor thing!”

You laughed out as you quickly pull your leg away, he’s sloppy and can’t catch you, he flops onto your bed, where you were, he groans as he looks up to you and notices you walking around, but…your scent…is making him dizzy. He whines, sniffing your blankets…he’s begging you to understand why that greedy king likes to scent so much…your scent is so intoxicating like it’s on aphrodisiac…

You watch the angel roll around on your bed, still hard, his clothes barely covering anything it seems like he tried to toss aside his clothes earlier but couldn’t wait long enough to strip completely. You know what is happening…

“Your first heat…you have no experience so you came to me.” You say in a pitiful tone as you watch the angel rub against your bed to get your scent on him like a dog trying to scratch its back. You’d be laughing if you weren’t so tired and confused.

The angel moans as you acknowledge him, he doesn’t stop, but rolls onto his back to look at you. “Please just…help?” He huffed out.

-

[wasteofbandagesxx]

Too young

{Dazai x reader}

"Hey Y/n, what's your dream?"

You thought long and hard on that question. You've never considered what you wanted to be when you first joined the mafia, but recently you came up with a dream. A life that your heart truly desires.

"Isn't it obvious? I want to become an amazing artist and write poems."

You knew living in the port mafia life wasn't easy. Dreams hardly come true once you join the organization. It's no children's playground, but kids are now joining the fights these days, either by choice or force. You've wanted to leave, you had doubts that you would fit into the port mafia, that you would get close to Dazai's level. You try to protect him the best he can, you would gladly sacrifice yourself for him. You've been trying to convince Dazai to run away with you, but he was too stubborn on finding a purpose to live. This isn't the answer, it never was.

"Dazai, listen to me. I know you want to find a purpose to live, but this isn't it. No matter how hard I try convincing you to run away, you would refuse and try committing suicide." You huffed. Dazai just responds with a giggle as he swings upside down on a tree trunk. You look up from the ground, sitting against the tree comfortably on a nice spring day. You glared at the boy covered in bandages but Dazai couldn't care less. "I'm serious Dazai. I want you to have an actual purpose to live, why won't you let me help you?"

Dazai falls silent and shrugs. He's mood immediately changed and it was worrying. "I guess it's because I don't want you to worry so much about me or waste your time. Focus on your purpose, not mine." He said plainly, he took the book you were reading from your hand and pulls it close to his face, surprisingly his face hasn't gone red yet from being upside down for so long. "Hey!"

"This book seems boring, I don't understand how your such a bookworm." He blabberd out as his face slowly turns red, he quickly sits up straight on the tree branch and gasps for air, making you giggle at his suffering. "It's because it's something that a kid would do, they read. We're 14, we should do things that teens do. This book is also interesting, it's full of poems about life and death." You explained before snatching the book from him. Dazai rolled his eyes and hopped off the tree branch to sit by you. You've always questioned yourself if your going to survive or not. You mostly worry about Dazai, wondering if he's gonna survive past his teen years or not.

"Hey Dazai, don't you think we're too young for all this port mafia stuff?" You asked. There was no response, just complete silence. He sighed, shaking his head before turning to look at you seriously. "Y/n, age doesn't matter when it comes to something like this. It all begins with us minors. Even if I were to try and escape with you, they would just bring me back here while you get your brains blown out. I witnessed the old bosses death, I'm Mori's alibi and therefore, I can't just leave. Doesn't matter if we're young, I'm sure we'll make it past our teen years." He said plainly, his eyes showing nothing but regret. Regretting the fact that he had to crush your dreams of escaping, and living a normal life together.

"Bummer....hey, promise me we'll both try to survive until the very end. Let's do it together." You said with hope in your eyes. Dazai was hesitant, and promises meant nothing to him, they were cheap. He couldn't break your heart though, he couldn't refuse to make a promise with you. You held your pinky up for him to make a promise, he couldn't refuse. "Alright, promise." He locked his pinky with yours as the promise was officially made.

"Honestly, I wouldn't be surprised if you died first, you do suck at keeping promises." You laughed, Dazai scrunched his nose and flicked your cheek. "I, too, can keep my promises!" He huffed "yea right." You joked.

"Tag, your it!" He tags you and runs off with your book, you didn't even notice that he took it. You groaned in annoyance and began to chase him. "Give that back!!"

He just giggled and kept running, "Come and get me!"

"Dazai!!"

8 years later.

At the graveyard. It was beautiful, grave stones decorated and spoiled with gifts. The wind passes by every minute, softly and delicately. Leaf after leaf, they were everywhere as the trees slowly sway back and forth. There was a man, sitting behind a grave stone. The same as always, his humorous personality, his smartness and bravery, covered in bandages, but different clothing. The only things he's missing was a best friend, and closure. Where'd all the times go? The man wonders, staring aimlessly at the sky. He's laughed, and cried, and cried again. He felt lonely. Not only did his feelings change a bit, but his perspective of life as well, to save innocent people.

He joined the arm detective agency, because one of his old friends told him to find a new purpose, to do what's right. It's almost to what you've been telling him back when you were kids. He wishes you could see him now, he wishes you could've kept you alive to this day. "I'm sorry I didn't run away with you, Y/n." He mumbles out, his voice slightly cracking. He sighs deeply and runs his fingers through his hair, remembering the feeling of your hands playing with his hair. He watches the birds that passes by, two birds of a feather he thought as he imagined the two of you flying away to freedom.

"You were right Y/n, we were too young." He mumbles out again, the tone in his voice filled with sadness and sorrow.

"Dazai!" A young man calls out, atsushi nakajima, Dazai's apprentice. He ran up to Dazai with no air in his lungs, as if the little tiger boy was running for hours finding Dazai. "I've been looking for you. Kunikida is gonna be mad if he finds out your slacking off again." Atsushi said while trying to catch his breath. "Sorryy, got a little tired. Let's get going yea?" Dazai immediately put on his playful act and got up to leave, until atsushi struck a question at him.

"By the way, I heard you when I was by that tree over there. What did you mean by we were too young?" He asks. Dazai fell silent, he wasn't aware that he was listening, was too caught up in the moment to notice his apprentice. "It's nothing, let's get going yea? You did say kunikida would get mad if we don't get working, and I don't feel like getting yelled at." He says with a yawn, giving atsushi a playful smile and pats him on the head like a little kitty cat.

"Right!" Atsushi immediately walks away, not bothering for his superior to catch up with him. Dazai's smile quickly disappeared once atsushi left, he took one good look at the grave stone before putting his hands in his pockets and walks away.

Y/n, last name

July 6th 2001- December 23rd 2015

Dazai's mind was constantly on you. Always had these scenarios in his head of you guys living a happy life. The words you've told him were constantly playing in his mind. "Hey Dazai, don't you think we're too young for all this port mafia stuff?" Your voice was constantly nagging at him, he felt sick. As if you were next to him, it was unpleasant, because you aren't actually there. He kept walking with a broken heart, but still kept his head high, trying to stay strong just for you. Your face will forever remain in his memories, and your words. He wish he could've gave you the life you wanted, but that dream was long gone. Your words constantly playing in his mind.

"Too young."

[impactrueno]

Hi! I know you've stated that you're not into shipping drama, and I 100% respect that, so I just wanted to ask if you're comfortable with beetlebabes shippers reblogging your art? I know it isn't ship art so I'll respect it if you're not cool with us sharing your work to our blogs, and of course I'm not gonna tag it as ship, but I love it regardless of it's lack of ship-ness and don't wanna make you uncomfortable

🚨THIS IS NOT DRAMA, NOBODY CRY ABOUT THIS🚨

i appreciate that you asked! that's thoughtful of you, but don't worry, i make content for everyone. this whole time i've had both shippers and non-shippers in my comments on twitter without issue. 🤝 (people have been great about staying out of each other's way, i'm so proud of my followers 🫶)

i used to stress out about this stuff. earlier this year i nearly gave myself an ulcer from stress (lots of things happening in my life) and dipping my toes in the beetlejuice fandom scared the hell out of me because i knew people can get intense about these things.

eventually i came to terms with the fact that some stuff is just completely out of my control, and i can't keep stressing out about it.

i can't stop people from seeing my art a certain way. if you want it to tag it beetlebabes on your blog for your own organization purposes, i won't stop you.

similarly there's people who tag or comment on my stuff referring to them with familial terms ("oh he's the cool uncle/they're so siblings" etc) which i don't do either, but once again, if that's how you see them i won't stop you.

i just don't want people to expect anything from me but platonic best friends bj and lyds. not romantic or familial. platonic relationships in general are super underrated in fandom....there's lots of love in there that i think both sides can easily enjoy. this dynamic is what i personally enjoy the most and it's been a source of great comfort for me. feels like a warm hug. or something. idk i don't like hugs but you get the analogy

but enough sap, my point is you can do whatever you want as long as you're not a dick about it. all i ask of people is respect for my and other people's boundaries about this stuff. don't try to push me to sway one way or the other because i won't budge lol i'm pretty comfortable where i stand on this topic

oh and you can still expect me to work with movie bj having feelings for lydia since that's canon and frankly i find him super amusing in a fucked up way lol

anyway. that was the last one and only because you asked nicely, i couldn't leave you hanging and i think others might have been wondering the same thing

[andypantsx3]

BAKUGOU KATSUKI : MASTERLIST

please be respectful! do not repost, plagiarize, translate, or otherwise share on other platforms. all my reader characters are fem + afab unless otherwise specified. please see individual fic posts for nsfw ratings and other warnings!

bakugou writing tag | universal masterlist

MULTI-CHAPTER

incendiary (30K) : complete

When you accidentally go viral in defense of quirkless people, an extremist group puts a target on your back. Pro hero Dynamight is the last person you want watching it.

you’re the one that i haunt (15K) : complete

Ghosts aren’t real. At least, that’s what you tell yourself when the spirit of pro hero Dynamight suddenly starts haunting your apartment.

statistically significant (24K) : complete

You’re the scientist who developed a neural net to model the value of assists. Now that your work is feeding into the hero rankings, pro hero Ground Zero has a bone to pick with your results.

cover shot (through the heart) (16.5K) : complete

For years, you’ve been the only assistant in the business equipped to handle foul-tempered supermodel Katsuki Bakugou. That is, until he catches on to your weak point.

war paint (28K) : complete

Desperate times force you to disguise yourself and join the kingsguard. When a suspicious string of crimes strike the palace, however, Captain Katsuki Bakugou starts paying extra close attention. (A Mulan AU)

savvy (17.5K) : complete

You’re a business course third year who’s good at being bossy, organized, and data-driven. You just want to use your business savvy to help all heroes. Well, all heroes except one. [smutty one shot follow on: defiant]

barbarian-verse au (various) : in progress

You find yourself traveling with barbarian Bakugou. Things get complicated quickly.

ONE SHOTS

fruit first (ask questions later) (3.6K) - gn!reader

When the grocery store you’re in becomes collateral in a villain attack, pro hero Dynamight comes to your rescue. When you become armed with a handful of oranges, however, someone may need to come to his rescue…

abs-olutely worth it (3.5K) - gn!reader

You’re an amateur hero photographer whose shots of Bakugou’s abs keep going viral. Everything is going great…until Bakugou catches wind of it.

defiant (4.5K)

There are a lot of benefits to managing your pro hero boyfriend, but dealing with the PR nightmares he generates is not one of them. After Katsuki gets way too mouthy with a hapless reporter, you take it upon yourself to put him in his place. Katsuki, however, has other ideas. [a smutty oneshot companion to savvy; you do not need to have read savvy first!]

DRABBLES + PROMPT FICLETS

general bakugou x princess reader (1.1K) -> part two (3.2K)

Your father is ailing and with no sons in his lineage, your country risks dissolution and open war if you do not marry. There is only one man you can stomach the thought of assuming the throne.

always (1.5K)

Best friend Bakugou helps you through a breakup.

todobakureader domestic fluff (1K)

The sound of muffled arguing in the kitchen wakes you up on Saturday morning.

destruction (1.6K)

"Are you this stupid on purpose?"

wine & dine (0.3K)

“Oh my god, I am gonna fuck whoever made this apple pie so hard they see stars for weeks.”

always first (0.7K)

“It’s not a double date, we’re just third and fourth wheeling."

just can’t weight (0.8K)

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?" + gym bro Bakugou

personal chef (0.4K)

Living with Bakugou is like living with your own personal chef.

fan art (0.2K)

Bakugou has an embarrassing secret (ft super cute art from Merms!!)

[blainesebastian]

celebrating you

words: 1,654 ship: austin x female reader summary: @whoreforbrownies requested: fluffy reader celebrating austin's fragrance campaign. more details in posted q and a :) warnings: none notes: masterlist is here! tag list: @killerqueenfan, @austinbutlermischief, @stylespresleyhearted

You’ve always been someone who likes to celebrate—not just putting up Halloween or Christmas decoration months in advance or throwing surprise birthday parties, but by having this incredibly warm aura that makes sure to praise family, friends and your partner. Admittedly, that’s come with a few downfalls in the past—more often than not, you’re always looking after other people while no one looks after you. It’s not something done on purpose, you know that, yet you sometimes find yourself in this rut of being there for others that you forget to take care of yourself.

That changes with Austin.

He reminds you how good it feels to have someone take care of you, how it should be something necessary, a balance within your relationship. He celebrates you just as often as you celebrate him—there are moments that he’s completely taken you by surprise. Not because there’s some obligation of a holiday or a birthday, but because it’s a Thursday in the middle of the month and he wants to buy you flowers and your favorite latte.

So, in turn, it makes celebrating your boyfriend a lot more organic feeling. It’s not out of responsibility or requirement, but because both of you know the value of the other.

Lately there’s been so much to be excited about when it comes to Austin’s career—first Elvis and everything that it brought with it, Bikeriders wrapping up, Masters of the Air, and now a slightly different turn with this fragrance campaign. You couldn’t be happier for him, not only does it come with a photoshoot to highlight how beautiful Austin is, but an interview to also showcase that same beauty on the inside. It’s really what you love most about him, something that drew you in in the first place. Austin’s kind, thoughtful, considerate, and a hundred other things that make you feel warm from the inside out.

Pretty much why it’s a no-brainer to put together something special for him.

You decide one morning, right before Austin leaves for the day for a handful of different meetings, that you’re going to decorate the entire apartment. It’s gonna involve baking and dinner too but one step at a time. Your friend, Carly, comes over and helps, buying extra tape that she sets on the kitchen counter.

“All this for a fragrance campaign?” She asks, but she’s amused as her eyes rest on the multiple sets of streamers and balloons that still need to be put together and hung.

“Yes,” You grin excitedly, picking up a cup of coffee to take a sip. “It’s not just about the cologne, I’m just proud of him—it’s a new step in a different direction, you know?”

“I know,” Carly smirks, moving to grab the coffee pot to pour herself some more too, “You’re in love,” Her voice is warm and teasing, “I get it. I’d celebrate him too if he was my boyfriend.”

You smile, your stomach doing that flip-flopping thing that is often associated with Austin. You know exactly how lucky you are.

“So you’ll help me with streamers?” You smile prettily at her, purposely fluttering your eyelashes in a teasing plead.

“Yeah,” She laughs, tossing a package of tape at you. It lightly hits your chest and falls back onto the counter, “Wouldn’t want him to come home with you sprawled off a ladder. Not much to celebrate in the ER.”

You gather up all the supplies to take to the living room, “C’mon then, I don’t have a ton of time before he comes home.”

Regardless that it’s the morning and you do have until early nighttime, you want to make sure you give yourself enough hours to play with to bake red velvet cupcakes with cream cheese icing and chocolate chip cookies. Dinner will be simple enough—it’s the baking that needs timed dedication.

Standing on a small stool in your living room, you take the tape from Carly’s waiting fingers and reach up to put some of the streamers into place. You’re definitely not overdoing it, just enough to make the apartment look festive.

“So…just curious,” Carly starts and you get down off the stool and move it a bit to continue the streamer line…you already know that if she’s gonna start off a conversation like that, it’s going to be something. “If Austin asked you to marry him, would you?”

A laugh startles out of your chest because, “Carly, we’ve been dating for eight months.”

“So?” She crinkles her nose, handing you another piece of tape, “My aunt and uncle were together for six before he popped the question.”

The whole concept has your stomach erupting in butterflies. You’re not saying you haven’t thought about it, because how could you not? But still…feels like something that’s a long while away. You glance back down at your friend, trying to picture what it’d look like for Austin to come home and just—

“I’d say yes,” You reply, fixing another streamer. You can’t picture something different coming out of your mouth, but before Carly gets too wound up, “But we’re far from that being a thing.”

She grins anyways and you can’t help but smile, a fond eyeroll to follow as you set up streamer on the other side of the room so it matches. Then comes the balloons and the handmade sign that goes up a little crooked but…thought that counts, right?

“Do you think I overdid it?” You ask, looking around at the living room.

Carly shakes her head, “Nah, we went through one roll of tape…two rolls would have been overdoing it.” You smirk, bumping shoulders with her for a real answer, “No,” She replies again, “I think it’s just the right amount—he’s going to love it.”

That makes something warm and golden explode in your chest and…good, you really hope so. You thank her a few more times for coming over and promise to save her some cupcakes if there are any leftover, closing the front door after she’s left. You’re hoping it doesn’t take too long to finish things up for tonight.

--

Nothing is exactly going according to plan—and you already know it’s your fault because you’ve got this concept of what ‘perfect’ is supposed to look like tonight. You should really know this by now, it’s better to land on something ‘special’ rather than ‘perfect’. It’s fine—everything is going to work out, you’re determined. So what if the cheese you bought for the chicken parm has mold on it? You can just go with pasta instead. So what if your cupcake pan has mysteriously gone missing? You can make banana bread with chocolate chips in them (a personal favorite of Austin’s).

There’s no reason to freak out over this…your boyfriend is going to love whatever you’ve put together (it only took you three times to talk yourself down off that metaphorical ledge).

Luckily, nothing else throws you off balance. Though you do wish you’d been paying closer attention to Austin’s location because you hear the front door open as you’re taking the banana bread out of the oven. Quickly setting it down on a hot pad, you tug off your oven mitts, putting your arms up and out.

“Surprise!”

Austin’s eyes are bright with surprise, a soft laugh tumbling out of his mouth as he sees the put together dinner, the banana bread, the streamers and balloons just past the kitchen in the living room. He sets down a bouquet of flowers he’s picked up for you (just because).

“It’s uh, it’s not my birthday.” He says teasingly.

Rolling your eyes, you grin as you move to wrap your arms around his shoulders. Austin leans down to hug you back, squeezing, pressing his face into your hair to breathe you in,

“I know that,” You huff playfully, shaking your head, “Just wanted to do something nice for you.”

You pull back out of the hug a little bit, Austin’s arms still around your waist. He presses a kiss to your lips, your hand lingering on his cheek. Your stomach does that familiar fluttering that you’ve easily associated with being around him, running your thumb along his lower lip.

“For the fragrance campaign?” You offer, as if it’s obvious.

Then his face kinda does that handsome thing where he flushes, his cheeks kissing pink. Apparently it wasn’t so obvious and he’s genuinely surprised. “You didn’t have to do all this.”

You crinkle your nose, taking a look at the decorations, the dinner, the dessert—feels fairly apparent to you because what better way to celebrate him? This is actually pretty low caliber compared to what you could have done but…the key was really not to overdo it.

“Are you saying you don’t want the banana bread?” You ask, taking a playful step back from him, “Because I’ve been known to eat an entire loaf in bed before, so—”

You act like you’re about to reach for the pan but Austin doesn’t let you get very far, lifting you up and gracefully setting you down on the kitchen counter. A soft laugh leaves your lips, your arms resting on his shoulders as he takes a step forward and settles between your legs. One of your favorite positions with him because you’re nearly eye level now.

“I mean, there’s chocolate chips,” You grin, “I really don’t need to share any part of it with you—”

He cuts you off with a kiss, his hand moving to cup your cheek. You lean into it, can’t help it, would gladly fumble off the kitchen counter if it meant keeping your lips locked. Eventually though, oxygen wins out. He presses another kiss to the corner of your mouth, pulling back a little,

“Thank you,” He whispers.

You hum a soft reply, wrapping your fingers in his shirt and tugging him forward—definitely worth celebrating with another kiss.

[ink-flavored]

OC Poll Tag Game

tagged by @noblebs , thank you!

Rules: Make a poll for your OCs to see who ends up being the favorite

it doesn't say how many characters are allowed in the poll so i'm gonna go crazy and/or stupid

Some propaganda for you, with character tags provided:

Pride (he/him), a transgender demon who immediately goes to jail for breaking into Heaven. He escapes to Earth so he doesn't get killed, and while he's down here, learns to love humanity, learns to forgive himself, and falls in love with the angel that saved his life.

Justice (he/him), the angel that helped Pride not get killed, and escaped to Earth with him. While he's down there, he discovers an identity outside of Heaven and God's will, embraces the humanity he's helped protect for centuries, and falls in love with Pride while he's at it.

Xinya (she/her), the queen of a struggling nation who offers her gods anything they desire in exchange for her people's safety. The thing that the answering God-Dragon wishes is her hand in marriage. Now she has to navigate being married to a dragon and being a politician at the same time.

Yu-Qi (she/her), the God-Dragon of Passion and the First Moon, and the dragon that asked for Xinya's hand in marriage. Secretly, she escaped from a higher dimension because the world has stopped responding to her power, and the rest of the God-Dragons have gone silent. She flees to the humans below to try a buy herself time to figure out what's wrong. Plus she's like totally obsessed with Xinya, it's probably unhealthy.

Priscilla (she/her, also known as Percy, he/him), a 1930s mob boss and loving wife to the second half of their criminal organization. Originally she posed as Percy to gain power in the criminal underground, but it turns out he has a fun gender and likes to be a man sometimes too. Her specialty is protection rackets, smuggling, territory disputes, and coordinating her goons in general. Lusts for power and recognition above all else, and is often short with her husband for not going to the fullest extremes.

Henry (he/him), a 1930s mob boss and loving husband to the second half of their criminal organization. He's the slower, more deliberating side, and focuses heavily on maintaining relationships with politicians, supplies, and bribing the cops to leave them alone. His ambition starts and stops at becoming unfathomably wealthy, and isn't willing to take his wife's risks most of the time.

Hayden (he/him), just a Chicago guy with multiple sclerosis who gets roped into taking care of five (5) baby dragons when a magic portal opens up in his closet apartment. Completely by accident, he catches the ire of a crazed business man who's obsessed with clamping down on all signs of magic in the world. He has to protect his baby dragons without losing his mind in the process.

Lenora (she/her), a fairy from the other side of the portal, who offers to help Hayden with his dragons while they figure out how to get her and everything else that comes through the portals home. Thanks to her magic, she can make Hayden's life and the lives of the baby dragons slightly less insane.

Asim (he/they), a mage from the rural swamps of a fantasy nation whose entire life is changed when magic artifacts start falling from the sky, not only in his village, but across the world. Determined to discover their purpose, they will do almost anything in the name of research. Including...unwise things.

Cahaya (he/him), the crown prince of the nation that felt the first impact of the falling magic artifacts. He doesn't really grasp how serious this whole thing is, and tbh has a hard time taking most things seriously. A fun loving guy who will always lighten the mood, whether you want him to or not.

Tagging: @foxys-fantasy-tales @noblebs @ceph-the-ghost-writer @auntdarth @damageinkorporated @srjacksin @vacantgodling @sigridhawke @duelistkingdom @coarsely @ink-enchanted

[delusionally-loveless-by-choice]

Lost in a cornfield..? Pt2

Scarecrow!Phillip Graves x Lost!Reader

summary: You learn a bit more about Mr. Scarecrow! There's something he wants to show you? What can that be?

warnings: horror aspects coming in later in the chapter >:), mention of blood, likely incorrect depictions/references to wrong periods because I forgot that light bulbs weren't invented until like 1879 (googled it), he kinda turns dark so big contrast to the first part loll

w/c - 2k

Part 1, Part 3

Author's note: its ass and its got a part 2 :)) also on ao3 under Phillip graves tag. also I know this is not a Phillip graves gif, I just wanted something to fill in so I might change it later

Oh, God, what hell is this place? You can’t help the horrified look that sits on your face, it’s paralyzing and a moment of vulnerability. 

One that the scarecrow catches.

He stares at you, watching the realization finally sink into you, and he can’t help the grin that stretches on his face as he watches your expression.

He sighs, clearly amused. “I don’t just protect this ‘cornfield’. In all honesty, this land is strange compared to the one you know.” His tone was matter of factly, “I’m a guardian of sorts, one that is bound to serve it. It’s more work than it sounds, but this job isn’t really my choice, more of a burden and purpose, y'know.” 

“This land.. It’s dangerous.” He makes sure to face you directly as he says this, you can feel the intensity of his tone. “There are things in the field that would do anything in its power to take advantage of your vulnerability. It also doesn't help that you’re their favorite meal: human.” He says the last part with an air of amusement; and though he’s looking at you, the way his straw hat is tilted, it hides a clear view of his eyes. 

His response doesn’t help your wariness. 

The scarecrow seems to take note of this. 

He then says, “But I’m not gonna let that happen.”

You nod and exhale a breath you didn’t know you were holding. “Well that’s reassuring.” You nervously chuckle. But it’s only slightly reassuring to your instincts that tell you that this field, this place, is more than dangerous.

"Just remember: this place has its creatures, but it has me too." He pauses, then adds: "I've lived here ever since I was a kid, so I know every nook and cranny of the field. Ain't no pest that's gonna sneak past me."

You see something move further within the corn. Graves snaps his fingers, and the plants rustle to block a pathway. "If we head left, we'll bypass these critters."

“Did.. did you just control the field..?” You ask bewildered. 

"Yes... The corn is a living, breathing organism. I can influence its growth and motion to an extent. The plants listen to my will." The scarecrow replies simply.

He pauses, and grabs your wrist to make you look at him. "Don't worry. The field is friendly to me--I grew up here, after all."

You look up at him, you finally get a look at eyes. They were blue but there was a yellow haze that slightly glowed further reminding you he was far from human. Whatever he was, he was terrifyingly beautiful, in the sense that you didn’t know what he was. Perhaps he was just a true eldritch horror. 

He pulls you along to walk after him.

No, he can’t be that.. Those are monsters after all.. and he’s a guardian, not a monster! You reassure yourself.

As you think and walk, you are reminded of his presence by the yellow haze of his eyes glancing toward you. He lazily turns his head away from you.

You can’t help but ask him, “How.. old are you, Scarecrow..?” this curious whisper of yours makes his ears perk.

He takes a minute to respond, as if he was thinking.

“I’ve been around for about… two-hundred and thirty years, or so.” He finally replies. “Thankfully my age and good looks don’t seem to go hand in hand,” he chuckles. 

The scarecrow smiles, then adds: "I'm proud that I've kept this place safe for so long--doing my duty, serving my purpose."

You don’t do much to mask your surprise. 

“Oh, that’s.. a long time..” You muttered.

Both of you walk for a bit, before you decide to speak again. 

“Uh.. so is there ever an end to this field? Or where are we going?” You asked, it wasn’t in an irritated tone but it sounded so.

He let out a short dry chuckle. “Sort of.. the best you're getting for an exit or end here is the house.” 

Finally with a smooth swift gesture with his hand, the corn in front of the both of you opens up.

There then lies a large acre of land, one that wasn’t infested with the corn. Though it was surrounded by the endless crop, in the middle sat a farmhouse.

It looked abandoned. A home that hadn’t taken up well with time.

The white paint was peeling, the wood of the home looked rotten. One storm, and the house is reduced to nothing.

Yet, there the home stood.

As he walked towards it without a second thought, you were gagged. 

Oh fuck, you distastefully think, but if he said it’s “a way out”.. Guess I shouldn’t judge..

“Follow me, this big ol’ thing has too many hidden entrances and exits.. I’ll take you through the safest.” he gestured for you to follow him as he made his way to the back of the farmhouse. 

You politely nod and follow him, trying to mask the faces you make at the house. 

He turns around to face you, walking backwards as he proudly says, “This beauty is the safest place to escape to in the fields.”

You smile at his pride, it's admirable and slightly adorable with that grin he has on. 

Though, as you look at him, your eyes trail down to his left side. On his waist, his flannel shirt adorns a large red stain.

You grab him by the arm and make him stop walking. A worried face plastered on, you ask, “A-Are you bleeding? Oh God..!”

"Huh? Oh, this?" The scarecrow asks, looking down at the stain, he seems unconcerned by your discovery of blood on him. "It's nothing, just old blood. I've been hurt in these fields many times before, and I've made it out alive."

“But this blood, it ain’t mine, darlin’,” he says with a sheepish grin. Almost like he’s trying to reassure you. But it seems to do the opposite, until you remember the encounter you two had earlier with that critter, as he calls them.

“Oh..” you mumbled. 

He gently pried your hand off of his arm, and started walking again. This time he directly leads you to the entrance he was talking about.

There are weeds, and junk, and rotten pieces of wood lying around. Then finally, there is a shitty little “door” that looks more like someone tried to board a window up instead of a door.

He unhooks the latch and pries open the door.

A wave of dust and spiderwebs go flying, and inside there lies only darkness. 

“C’mon, let’s head in.. there’s something I wanna show ya..” he says excitedly. 

You watch him duck and make his way in, and it doesn’t take longer than three seconds for you to follow after him in fear of being left behind.

It seems it was a basement of sorts that you entered through. It was dark so it was hard to see, but his blue eyes held that yellow glow that seemed to be all he needed to see.

He walked up some stairs and unlocked a door, one that presumably led to the main level of the farmhouse. 

“This way!” he called over to you.

You followed him deeper into the farmhouse.

He was slightly more ahead of you, solely because you were simultaneously looking around at the inside of the farmhouse.

In the main level of the home, there was some light shining from the orange hued sun outside that came in from the boarded up windows. 

The house smelled of wet wood and dust. Not surprising. 

What was slightly surprising was the furniture and general state of the home. The furniture looked so old.. very 1790. If the home was well taken care of maybe the entire place would seem homely.

Instead it felt haunted.

Not innately sinister, but just abandoned. By the owners and time.

You finished looking and turned a corner to find him. 

He stood at another staircase, holding his straw hat.  

This one clearly led to the second story. 

“All done?” he asked with a grin as he set the hat on the railing of the staircase.

“Guess so..” You mumbled and grumbled. “I thought you were taking me out of this place, not deeper into it. This farmhouse is probably dead in the center of this place with all the endless cornfield surrounding it!” 

“In time,” he quickly says, “right now it’s best that you’re here. The farmhouse,” he pouts his lips in a manner that makes it seem like he’s picking his words wisely, “has its own set of.. securities.”

His eyes make it back to yours, and before you can answer he speaks again. “Now you ready for what I wanna show you?” he asked with a grin. 

It was charming and alluring; his pearly fangs poking out and dimples on display.

It was enough to make any thoughts, defenses, and protests you had melt away.

You find yourself rolling your eyes and smiling back at him. 

“Alright.. what do you want to show me?” you finally ask with a raised brow.

“Jus’.. follow me.. It ain’t something I show to just anyone..” he says as he turns and starts to make his way up the stairs.

As you follow him up the stairs, he walks down a hallway, it’s not very well lit. 

You see the shitty discolored floral wallpaper that was definitely put up later in the owners residency from 1790. Behind the wallpaper you see the cracked walls and rotten wood that somehow surpassed the weird time.

Even in the shitty lighting you make out pictures that are hung up on the wall.

They show a family, a big one. 

One that probably lived in the house at some point and were the last known occupants before it turned into whatever it was now.

“Was this your family?” You ask him. 

He only hums, and you take that as all the confirmation you were gonna get.

You tear your eyes away from the wall and see him standing at the last door of the hallway.

It was especially dark, and for some reason you felt your body start to feel like it wanted to run. 

“C’mere, in here.” he says with that same charming grin, it makes you want to trust him even when your body is starting to vibrate with the urge to run.

He goes to open the door, and of course it creaks when it opens, it’s an old ass house.

And of course the inside is dark as shit, there’s no electricity, the house is from the near 1800s.

“After you,” his charming southern accent rings like sweet honey, and you walk right into the room.

He of course follows right after you and shuts the door behind him. 

The bit of light that shone from the hallway disappeared.

The sound of the door closing, the consumption of the room in darkness, and the click of the door being locked, cause you to turn around in the now dark to face the direction for which you think he is in.

The darkness doesn’t last, with a snap of his finger candles are set and the room is illuminated in a dim light.

Finally you get a good look at the room.

It’s small, and it smelled putrid.

You saw that the boarded up windows had curtains, but the material wasn’t cloth.

“What is..” you trailed off as the slow realization creeped in.

It was skin. 

Human skin. 

Your head reeled, you turned and saw that the rest of the room was adorned in furniture that was also made up of patches and pieces of skin stitched together. 

Your eyes wide, they searched desperately around the room but were only met with skin.

It covered every surface. 

The floor, the walls, the furniture. 

It was all human skin.

There were even a few faces stitched into the wall and ceiling, portraits that blended into the wall. 

Confused teary eyes wildly looked around the room.

You whipped around to find the scarecrow. He stood right where he had been, leaning on the locked door, the same grin plastered on his face.

This time it did nothing to ease you. Instead it felt sinister, taunting.

Your trembling lips try to say something but your voice dies in your throat.

Finally that southern voice you had some to familiarize yourself with spoke, his tone sickeningly sweet and that yellow hue in his eyes burned like the candles that lit the room, “What ya think? Beautiful, right darlin’?.”

[wrencatte]

Mind the tags! ❤���

“No!”

Bode catches him, just barely. Muscles burning. Shoulder wrenched. He hits the edge of the stone bridge at the wrong angle, knocking the air out of his lungs in one fell swoop. Pain splinters in his chest that he shoves off into the corner of his mind. He bites back a sudden sob, grits his teeth, and looks down. Cal’s unconscious, blood coating half his face from a massive gash on his temple. His expression is slack, disturbingly slow, turned away from Bode as he dangles limply over the abyss that they’d been commenting on only a few minutes ago.

He tries to heave him up, but he can’t. The Force is a distant thing, blocked by the strange mineral embedded in the windows of these ruins. No matter how intently he tries to call to it, it stays just out of reach. He has no jetpack. He has no Force. Cal’s too heavy. His shoulder is just barely hanging on as it is.

“Cal. Scrapper. Gonna need you to wake up now.” Something rumbles in the distance, aftershocks of the quake that put them in this position to begin with. Dust rains down from the ceiling. “Please.”

Bode’s connection to the Force has always been a tremulous thing since Operation Knightfall, and it cracked even more after his wife’s death. He’s repaired it slightly over the years, if only to save his own ass and to keep Kata safe, but, honestly, he’s out of practice beyond hiding his presence and mind tricking his opponents. That’s always been something he envied of Cal. While Bode could never stomach using the Force like he used to, Cal embraced it like a long-lost lover, trusting it to watch his back despite how many times he’s been burned. You’d think Cal would be thrice-shy considering his psychometry, but he never is, constantly throwing himself into memories no matter how traumatic. It’s something to admire – when it’s not completely terrifying.

And here, now, in a Jedi Temple meant for a special kind of meditation and training to connect deeper with the Force, Bode wants nothing more than to fall and trust the Force to catch him – and he knows he can’t. The mistrust is rooted too deep.

If only their roles were reversed. Cal would have surely gotten them out of here already. He’d connect with the purpose of the Temple, feel the Force through the crack in the walls, and heave Bode up over the edge, showcasing that hidden strength Bode loves so much.

But they aren’t reversed.

[sparklepocalypse]

Hey hi, happy Sunday my fellow weirdoes! (Weirdos? Grammarly seems to think either is fine but that seems wrong.) Thanks for the tags this fine "Make Mags Remember How To Count To Six" Sunday, @tailsbeth-writes, @inexplicablymine, @firenati0n, @futureseaempress, @littlemisskittentoes, @hgejfmw-hgejhsf, @energievie, and @kiwiana-writes! If I missed anyone, I blame Tumblr for being weird about tags, because I went right down through the Mentions list... anyway!

My tag is open as always, but I haven't seen anything from @duchessdepolignaca03 yet, so I'm tagging you, in particular. 🤣❤️

Who wants more Big Giant AU? I guess the first thing I should say is that the Big Giant AU now officially has an Actual Title and 45k words, so I threw together a banner for it -- the banner, the title reveal, and this Sunday's six sentences are behind the jump! (Still have no idea when this WIP will be done though, so... uhhh... sorry?)

First, for the big reveal: the Big Giant AU (AKA KHIX, AKA King Henry IX)'s title is... Facing Tempests! And yes, I lifted the title directly from the lyrics of the song I'd previously designated as the theme for said AU. Here's my lil' banner, which you'll see again in approximately (indistinguishable mumble) when I finally start posting this sucker. I'm gonna keep using #wip: khix as a tag on Tumblr for fic meme purposes, just to keep things organized. 🤣

On to the snippet!

When Alex was in seventh grade, he joined an intramural soccer team coached by the dads of two of his classmates. He played right midfielder for the first half of the season, and then the kid that the coaches had routinely put in as striker got the flu and had to sit out for two weeks, so they pulled Alex in as a substitute striker in the interim. Alex scored so many goals during that two-week period that the coaches made him the striker permanently. The next Saturday after the game, while all the players’ parents were still catching up, McKinleigh Slater, who played left wing, took Alex by the hand, then led him behind the equipment shed and kissed him. Alex has kissed his fair share of people between seventh grade and now. He’s had all manner of kisses: good and bad, soft and hungry, lingering, awkward, and sloppy, kisses that led to relationships and kisses that led to one-night stands, kisses in bathrooms and bedrooms and cars, kisses that have meant absolutely nothing... and kisses that have absolutely flipped his world on its axis.

[twodragons-blooper-reel]

Let's roll the bloopers!

POST LIMIT: I LIVE

Hi there! It's @twodragonsinatrenchcoat I have several Pokemon IRL blogs in the rotumblr sphere and I wanted to make a sort of hub for them! Not just for organization and a spot to hold onto ask games I enjoy- but for meme and AU purposes as well!

I'll post ooc updates as well as jokes I have while writing here from time to time as well :3

I am also happy to do blog promos, I'm bad at looking for new blogs but send me an ask with the blog name or whatever and I'll reblog your pinned

Feel free to ask any and all questions pertaining to the blogs that are listed below!

Pokemon Irl blogs are listed under the cut, all are currently inactive

Active blogs are one I'm posting on actively, Light Activity Blogs are ones I'll reblog to occasionally and Inactive Blogs are blogs I have no intention of returning to in the near future.

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Active Blogs:

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Light activity Blogs:

@celadon-arcade-champ <- new blog. Character works at the Celadon game Corner, completely unaware that it's a front for Team Rocket :]

@disparate-traveller <- A faller blog about my character Diamond who yeeted themselves into Rotomblr to hang out with their bestie

@dersite-agent-jack <- I love Jack(Bec) Noir. So have a homestuck faller blog :]

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Inactive Blogs:

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If I'm answering a question about a specific blog I'll put it in the tags as "blog talk: [Blog name]"

I'm open to questions directed at characters, directed at myself, au talking- Just about anything honestly! This is just a fun sort-of hub for my pokemon blogs.

uhhh love y'all bye for now! <3

@rotumbeast <- The spirit of Rotomblr. Might be responsible for chaos

@piplup-at-naranja <- An in character liveblog of my playthrough of Pokemon Scarlet :]

@magical-girl-evoli <- An eevee magical girl! Because I'm not immune to brain rot

@hello-am-zacian <- A real life dog got Fallered and transformed into legendary pokemon Zacian. She's having a great time

@synthetic-radiance <- Cursed Chosen named Orion, Type:Null hybrid.

@psychic-type-appreciator <- Seraphina's sister Agni. She's less of a wet cat

@ghost-type-appreciator <- A Ceruledge hybrid blog :] her name is Seraphina! She's a wet cat

@clockwork-soul-heart <- Princess Steele! She's been trapped in a clockwork kingdom by a haunted doll for the last seven years of her life.

@drifting-rocket <- Kidnapped Aegis a couple times. His name is Drifter, he's a Team Rocket Executive. He's got so many issues.

@oreburghminingmuseum <- A blog about Aegis's caretakers and the museum they work for! Mostly an excuse for a place where I can post non-shieldon fossil pokemon art-

@fields-of-gracidea <- Vio! Branded chosen of Shaymin, Sawsbuck Hybrid, tasked with taking care of the younger brandeds

@sturdy-and-soundproof <- What you probably know me from! Aegis! Shieldon boy! I'm not sure how best to explain him besides he's cute. Has a whole slew of blogs related to him which are up next :)

@mareeplings <- My first pkmn Irl blog :D I dream of returning to it someday but I can't find the inspiration.

@snarling-maschiff <- a blog with a normal person running it as opposed to all my other blogs (whoops) They like dog pokemon!

@wayward-silver <- One of 13* Silver blogs, he's a mew taking the form of his past life. Was stuck underground as a ditto for like 20 years though.

@devilisinthedeinos <- A "Sleeby" named Eris who turned into a deino after getting top surgery. There's something else behind the scenes there...

@distortion-escapee <- A blog for my personal take on giratina, related to Dakota's blog.

@dakota-and-paris <- About a girl who has had way too much on her plate for thirteen years and will continue to have too much on her plate until I say so.

*there's so many silver blogs on this website i'm not gonna keep this number updated but that's how many there was when I made the blog

[thevagabondexpress]

something something gangs of ketterdam something something geography

Take a look at the available maps from the Grishaverse and you'll notice something. While maps of Ravka and Shu Han and Novyi Zem are nice and interesting and pretty to look at, and the Ice Court has reasonably good description, that one map of Ketterdam? Yeah. It's rendered in so much incredibly beautiful detail that you can literally see the city's devils (see what i did there? eh?). Six of Crows, and Crooked Kingdom particularly, have a very intense love for and understanding of geography that seems to be unique in the series. Alina Starkov is ostensibly a cartographer and yet Ketterdam is the city I could confidently find my way around and probably direct tourists around as well. And when you think about it, this actually makes a lot of sense. For the Crows that live there, knowing your geography could be a matter of life and death.

I was never in a gang (thank God and my faerie godmother) but I grew up in the poorer neighborhoods of a big city so I know enough about them to know that the experience Leigh describes is pretty accurate. Among the various simplicities and complexities of group crime (major organized as well as four dudes in hoodies alike), territory is a big one. It's brought up in the books, the Crows have Fifth Harbor, it's theirs, and the Black Tips pay a hefty price for encroaching on it. Gang territories are like political borders and if members cross over from their place of residence to somebody else's, it's tantamount to an invasion. The Crows would need to know the city like the back of their hand for more than just profitable purposes and it shows in the books.

Not only that, but many of them have other personal reasons to be good at geography. Kaz is not just a gangster, he's ostensibly a king among them. He's deeply involved, he's got enemies, he's got pies. He's going to want to know who everyone is and where they are so he can stay as many steps ahead as he does. Inej grew up living a nomadic lifestyle, traveling in caravans along routes laid down by probably centuries' worth of tradition. Plus there's the Fold to worry about. Or at least there was. She would have learned navigating from her family from a young age, would've learned which towns are safe and which are not, which roads to use and to avoid. She would have then applied that knowledge to the city easily, probably near-subconsciously, once she could walk in it freely. Plus, I mean, she's getting around by rooftops, she's going to need to know more than just street signs. Meanwhile, Nina is a spy and soldier, quickly learning the lay of the land was no doubt a part of her training, and Wylan was born and raised in the city. Even living in the wealthy districts for most of his life (he wasn't in the Barrel that long before the start of the book, remember), he'd still have a native's grasp of the world around him. Jesper and Matthias are the only characters who don't have a geography connection beyond trying not to start a gang war and Matthias is the only one who genuinely wouldn't probably care. Well, I guess Kuwei probably wouldn't give much of a damn about geography either if we're counting him, but he spends most of his time in the story being shunted from one place to another by other people.

So yeah. When you think about it, geography's gonna be hella important to the Crows and it makes sense that it shows up like this in the books. Now, do I necessarily like that I could probably give Barrel breakfast restaurant recommendations to a friend? Not really, unless I'm writing fanfiction. But it's fun knowing why. Now, the mystery of why Alina isn't this geography-knowledgeable when she's literally a cartographer . . .

(tagging @tleeaves @4uru and @immortalarizona for your thoughts if you have any)

update: map:

[godtier]

so i wasn't gonna make a separate post about this but @sapphire-weapon had a post (that i reblogged a few days ago) in which someone mentioned that they think it was a missed opportunity in RE6 for jake to not have spoken to wesker. i had a p long conversation with sirea about it and my thoughts about that sentiment, but it was also nearly 3 AM my time when that happened so i dunno if i was even articulating my thoughts properly lmao

and yes... this is technically a meta post and i know i said i was gonna do the mmx meta post first... but this one isn't gonna be nearly as long (i hope) and i gotta get the brainworms out before i die

(quick edit note: i reworded the list item below from saying he was "likely a drug addict" to "likely a recreational drug user" because i feel like that better encompasses what i'm trying to get across

(another edit note: i made another post regarding jake's usage of drugs that stemmed from this post! it's marked as mature bc of drug usage, so it won't show up in tag search. if you're interested in that, look here!)

so the idea that wesker being alive in OG RE6 would have brought an opportunity for jake's character is kinda, imo, antithetical to the purpose of jake's character in the first place.

when we meet jake, we know a few things about him, right off the bat:

he's a mercenary

he's likely a recreational drug user or at least heavy/risk-taking user

he doesn't give a fuck about anything but making money

his whole character journey is going from this selfish, money-focused dickhead to someone who actually cares about doing something good, just because it's the right thing to do. at the start, jake refuses to simply give his blood away when sherry mentions needing it for a vaccine. no, he wants a cash payout. 50 million dollery-doos for a pint of his blood. by the end, he lowers the price to a mere 50 dollars. one could argue that was symbolic and he actually didn't care if he was paid or not, but that's neither here nor there.

but why was he like this? because his childhood was shite; his mother was sickly, he had no father figure, and by 15-ish, jake had to learn how to hustle to keep food on the table. and by "hustle" i mean "do a bunch of mercenary work and killing people." and when shit went south with his little group of mercenaries (their entire group was sold out by a heel-turner), jake basically went "fuck alla y'all" and lost all sense of conviction or morals.

during the game, he expresses his bitterness for his father, wesker, pretty clearly. even though his mother still loved wesker, tried to raise jake to respect him despite never knowing him, it didn't matter to jake. he hated that guy. well, really, who doesn't?

we're not gonna talk about excella rn ok

jake's entire character arc is built up around this hatred as well as a subconscious fear of becoming his father. the fear part doesn't show up until later in the story, after he and sherry were captured by the Big Bad's organization. they were both experimented on for several months, during which jake overheard the researchers talking about his father, wesker. this gives jake a sort of "explanation" as to why he is the way he is; he takes the "nature" side of the nature vs nurture argument.

ofc sherry scolds his ass and basically tells him "grow up and take responsibility for your actions."

and here's the thing... this fear, narratively, works just fine without wesker being there.

(since this got obscenely long, pls continue below for the actual explanation lmao)

jake eventually comes to the conclusion that yeah no it's definitely up to him to not become wesker, not his genetics. he does this without wesker being there. that's the entire point of his character journey. in order for an interaction with wesker to even matter or have any sort of impact on jake's character arc, his character arc as a whole would need to change.

see, imo, wesker being there diminishes a lot of the power of that journey. in the game, he isn't there for jake to scream at, to question. all those thoughts in his head that might be circulating around, like why he left his mother, why he did what he did, etc, cannot be answered. this is not a bad thing in a character arc as this is shit that happens to people all the time. people don't always get the answers they may want from family members because those family members are dead. they have to learn to move on without those answers or they have to rely on people who knew that person to fill in the blanks. this is what jake already does in game. he has to rely on sherry, and by a smaller extent, chris, to fill in those blanks for him.

but we as players, observers of the narrative, already know the answers to some of those questions. why wesker did what he did, primarily. anything else is only pertinent to jake and him knowing those answers doesn't change anything for his character arc as it is.

if wesker was there in the game, what would that even add to jake's narrative? a scene where jake yells at his dad? asks him "why did you leave?" when wesker wasn't even aware that he had a kid in the first place? remember: wesker had no fucking idea that he had a child. there would be no reason for wesker to even believe jake in the first place. sure, there could be a scene where he goes "well i'll be damned, ig he really is my misfired chromosome," but... then what? what does that add?

you could argue that wesker could use jake, maybe try to manipulate him into doing shit for his plans, but... that wouldn't work with the way jake's characterization is mapped out. his entire characterization would have to change for this to work in a satisfying way.

jake already hates wesker without ever meeting him. he would not willingly participate in anything wesker offered to him. he already knows that wesker nearly destroyed the world multiple times and had a hand in destroying an entire city. even if jake has no moral compass at the start of the game, by the time he learns about what wesker really did, who he really was, he's already showing that he does have one, it was just dormant up until that point. he's clearly disgusted by what wesker did. what foothold would wesker have that wouldn't immediately result in it just falling flat?

given how wesker is, i could see him perhaps belittling jake, maybe saying "wow you suck for being my spawn," or something during a fight with the intent to rile him up. would that work? no, not narratively nor not in the way jake is characterized. again, jake doesn't want to be like wesker. why would insulting him and saying he's not "as good" as wesker expected him to be motivate jake or even anger him? it shouldn't, because jake doesn't want to be anything like wesker. if anything, it may annoy him, but that's kind of a lame reaction, right?

if anything, the most i could see culminating out of this would be jake standing over wesker after he's defeated again (because it's resident evil and obviously wesker can't win) and having a "wow idk what i was worried about" moment. that's it.

but he doesn't need that. having a scene like that cheapens the weight of him figuring that out himself, without wesker there as "proof."

because the point of his story, of his character arc, is that he figures that out on his own (and with the help of sherry and the events he witnesses) because he has to. he doesn't need wesker there to spoon-feed that to him. he figures that out by working with sherry, by seeing the effects of the C-Virus on everything that it infects. wesker being an abstract entity in his life is enough, because the frustration of not seeing him, not being able to put a bullet in his skull himself, fuels the rest of his journey.

this is where i think that people who make these observations or criticisms (primarily those who think that jake's character would have been improved if wesker was there) need to understand the difference between what's good for a character as a person and what's good for their arc.

interacting with wesker would be good for jake as a person, in that he would no longer need to wonder about it. the answers would be spelled out for him, and he wouldn't have to do any wondering about the what-if. he wouldn't have any doubts left that he'd need to untangle.

but in doing that, it cheapens his arc; it would do more of a disservice to it, imo, than anything else. it would make his journey more formulaic and boring.

it would also clutter up the already cluttered narrative of that game. you have him not only struggling with his heritage, struggling with the fear of becoming his father, struggling with needing to be the "savior" by giving his blood, struggling with his moral compass, but now also struggling with seeing his father for the first time in person?

it makes his arc top-heavy. in that scenario, you could easily replace him with another, completely new character who has zero ties to wesker and the story wouldn't change in any meaningful way. the reason why it works the way to does now is because wesker is already dead. it creates that internal conflict, that internal frustration, that jake has to learn how to deal with since he cannot take that frustration out on his father in-person. he has to make peace with that struggle in other ways.

now, that's not to say there aren't ways that adding wesker into the story of RE6 that don't disrupt that balance. primarily, when it comes to a potential RE6 remake, the writing team can (and hopefully will) rework aspects of the entire game to make the plot more streamlined. this could include adding wesker in and redoing jake's characterization and character arc entirely.

this would be the only way i could see it working out. if jake's entire motivation was changed, his entire backstory was tweaked, then wesker being around could probably work! an interaction between them could be made to make sense and not bog down the rest of the plot as a result.

sirea also mentioned to me in our conversation that adding wesker in to RE6 remake could actually help streamline the plot and i do agree with that. she mentioned that all of the main characters have a tie to wesker in some way, which is absolutely true. having him there would neatly tie their campaigns together in the plotline and make the game as a whole feel less disjointed and messy.

this is especially true when we consider there are 4 fuckin campaigns that all run alongside one another and intersect at random points. it gets so fucking difficult to page through and figure out when certain things happen in the plot. you'll see them happen in order in chris's campaign, for example, then you go start leon's campaign and have to start over again and try to remember what happened at the same time during chris's campaign and so on.

now imagine that not with just two campaigns but four. it gets gross quick. sure, there are parts where the characters run into each other and that helps ground a general timeline in your head, but as far as time elapsed... it's so fuckin hard u guise

there's a reason why it's so hard to summarize the plot of RE6. it's because there is just so much going on in that fucking game.

anyway, that's my rant/sort of meta analysis about why i think wesker didn't need to be in OG RE6 and probably would have made jake's entire arc stupider than it already was

[kraviolis]

debris becoming whole again (The Owl House)

Rating: Teen Relationships: Amity & Hunter, Belos & Hunter Words: 4.4k Additional Tags: Birthday Trauma, Pre-Canon Flashback, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Reference Child Abuse, Angst & Fluff, Banter, Grief/Mourning, Complicated Feelings, Post-Canon (W&D Timeskip) Summary:

Hunter blinks at her in pure disbelief. “There’s no way you forgot my last birthday.”

“I’m sorry.” Amity does look genuinely sorry about it, which is nice but not what he was getting at.

“No, I mean, it’s actually impossible that you could forget it. You were there.”

“I’m gonna be honest… I don’t think I even know when your birthday is.” She admits, looking sheepish as if that’s her fault, somehow.

AO3 LINK

__________________

Hunter is smiling as he makes his way down the castle halls. 

No one sees it, of course. All the coven scouts see as they’re passing by is the Golden Guard power walking with purpose down the hall. They step out of the way and avert their gaze, avoiding any kind of eye contact, which is just fine to Hunter. He doesn’t want to be delayed for a second longer than necessary.

It’s not every day that Emperor Belos wakes him thirty minutes early with a coven courier giving him a letter requesting his presence in his Uncle’s workshop. Hunter had barely been able to contain his excitement long enough to close the door before he was smiling ear-to-ear and rushing through his morning routine. His hair was still slightly damp, but he couldn’t be late– not today.

When he reaches the door, he straightens himself out and clears his throat before knocking.

“Come in,” Belos calls through the wood, and Hunter obeys.

The workshop is one of Hunter’s favorite places in the whole imperial palace. It’s always a cluttered tangle, with half-cooked blueprints and random tubes and bolts and pieces of scrap metal scattered across any flat surface. He’s always careful to step over the various items littering the floor, knowing that it may look like a huge mess but isn’t actually. His Uncle prefers an organized chaos just like Hunter does, and he’ll do his best to respect the space as a guest in it.

“Good morning,” Belos greets him from his seat at one of the benches, his own mask and cloak nowhere to be seen and his long hair pulled back out of his face. He’s bent over, charcoal pencil in his hand scratching away with quick strokes, but pauses his ministrations to turn to Hunter as he approaches. “I see you received my invitation.”

Hunter moves to kneel, bowing his head. “Good morning, Emperor B–”

His Uncle cuts him off with a wave of his hand. “No, none of that, if you please. I do prefer my mornings outside of court and with as little bureaucracy as possible.” He turns back to the bench, pencil in hand as he continues his sketching.

Blushing under his mask, Hunter stands and nods. “Uh. Right. Sorry.”

Belos swipes a hand over the paper he’s working on, brushing away any particles. Then with the same hand, he beckons Hunter closer without looking up. “Come, nephew. Tell me what you think of this– and take that mask off while you’re at it.”

With a practiced hand, he removes his mask and hood in a single swift motion, leaving the golden vizard on the first clear surface he sees. Belos leans back so that Hunter may look over his shoulder at the sketchbook laid on the table.

“It’s… a new artificial staff?” Hunter leans closer, putting a hand on the table to get a better look. His eyes widen as he takes it in. “No, wait, is that my staff? Are you planning another alteration to the mechanisms?”

“It is, and I am.” His Uncle confirms, pointing with the pencil at the fresh blueprint. “There’s actually quite a bit I’d like to implement, but for now– do you see this modification here? With the internal wiring? What do you make of it?”

He absorbs the page, soaking in the looping cockatrice-scratch of his Uncle’s handwriting. “Mixing metals in the wires– tonguesten, copper, and Titan’ium?” He murmurs to himself, trying to connect the dots in his head. “Using copper as the conductor instead of gold would increase power, even if the charge becomes unstable… but putting those two metals together like this wouldn’t work, right?”

Hunter looks to his Uncle, who tilts his head to one side wordlessly with a neutral expression. Seeing that he won’t be getting any hints, he hums and goes back to squinting at the page in front of him.

“This configuration would brick the staff at best, or at worst, cause it explode in your hand the second you try to use it.” He crooks a finger against his chin, running through all his knowledge of magical engineering. “Copper is leaky and Titan’ium reflects magic, which is why normally you should make an effort to avoid using them together, but… not unless… the tonguesten! ”

He straightens his back, holding back a smile as he finally makes the connection. “Using tonguesten as the barrier because of its density will prevent the leaking and keep the refractions of magic within the wire itself, which lets it flow faster and at higher concentration!”

“Very good, Hunter.” Belos nods his approval, making Hunter swell with pride. “These new wire compositions should prevent both that pesky half-second delay and make this mechanism here unnecessary. Once we can remove that eyesore, the head will become lighter and render the staff more balanced than ever. In fact, all these changes I’ve noted down should make it all feel a bit more… natural, so to speak.”

Hunter can’t stop the grin this time. “That’s so– Uncle, you’re a genius! This is incredible!” He says, turning to the elder in excitement.

Belos smiles back, but it’s tense in a way that gives Hunter pause. When he raises a single brow, Hunter suddenly realizes he’s grabbed the Emperor of the Boiling Isles by the shoulders. He pulls his hands back quickly, cheeks and ears burning like he’s just slathered firebee honey on them as he takes a step back.

“I– uh. Um.” Keeping his eyes to the ground, he clears his throat and tries to regain his sense of professionalism. He bends at the waist, arms planted to his sides. “I apologize for my overenthusiasm, sir.”

“That’s quite alright, Hunter. I’m glad to know you’re appreciative of my work.” Belos puts a hand on his head, patting gently. “Just don’t make such reactions into a habit, hm?” Hunter’s breath catches, something warm blossoming in his chest at the gesture even when his Uncle quickly pulls his hand away.

It’s not every day that he receives so much casual affection, as his Uncle has never been very open with his touch– which Hunter understands, of course! The curse is dangerous to those around him, and Belos doesn’t like Hunter getting too close just in case he accidentally injures him. But today must be a good day, one where his curse isn’t bothering him too badly.

“Are you ready to get started?” His Uncle asks, drawing him from his mind. 

Hunter blinks and tilts his head. “Started on what?” 

“On your staff modifications, of course.”

“Today?” Hunter breathes, lighting up at the nod he gets. “Really? And I get to help?”

Belos chuckles, regal and dignified. “It is your staff, Hunter. You know it nearly as well as I do.” He glances to the door of the workshop, his brow raising again. “Though, I don’t imagine we can begin right this second.”

“Oh.” Something deflates in Hunter but he does his best not to frown or whine like a petulant child not getting his way. “Do you need me to gather the materials first?”

“No, I should have everything we need already.” His Uncle gestures towards his storage containers in the corner, half the lids off of the containers and several labels misplaced or illegible from age. Hunter glances from the materials back to Belos, still not understanding. “It’s just that… well, it would be rather difficult to begin when your staff isn’t here.”

Hunter gasps. “I forgot it in my room! Agh, stupid!” He hits his forehead with his fist a couple times, then turns to run out the door. “Sorry, Uncle! I’ll go and–”

“Hold a tick,” Belos grabs his own staff from where it leans against the wall to his right, using it to levitate Hunter’s mask over to him. “You don’t want to forget this as well, do you?”

“Right– Thank you!” He slips it over his face and pulls his hood up swiftly. “I’ll be right back!”

Before he can rush out of the door, his Uncle calls him back again. “Oh, and one more thing.”

He freezes and wrenches his head back into the room, buzzing with enough energy to power his staff a hundred times over. He forces his tone to stay polite and respectful, no matter how badly he wants to just take off running down the hall towards his bedroom. “Yes, Uncle?”

Belos smiles kindly at him. “Happy sixteenth birthday, Hunter.”

Hunter is so, so glad his Uncle can’t see his face anymore. The second he processes the words, he smiles so wide it makes his cheeks hurt and has to blink the sudden blur in his vision away. It feels like his chest is about to burst from nothing but pure joy.

He has an urge to run back across the room and throw his arms around his Uncle, or even just tell him for once how much he means to him, but he fights it back. No matter how much he cares for him, he can’t cross those boundaries. 

His Uncle is a complicated man and has been through a lot of pain in his life– he wouldn’t be appreciative of gestures like that. It’s not in his nature, and Hunter refuses to make his Uncle uncomfortable or, Titan forbid, start putting up his walls when it’s just the two of them again like he did when Hunter was small.

(Back when his Uncle was so distant he often would go weeks without seeing him at all. When he couldn’t find a single chance to show his Uncle how helpful he could actually be to him. No, he won’t go back to that.) 

(He’ll show the Emperor every single day just how much he can rely on Hunter, how useful he can be. He’s not going to become more dead weight, and he’s not going to let anyone else take his place.)

(Plus, it’s best for Hunter to remain as professional as possible in the castle. After all, he can only take so much muttering behind his back about nepotism and daycares.)

Instead, Hunter just nods quickly to show his appreciation. “Thank you, Uncle!” 

He waits a second for his Uncle to wave his hand, officially dismissing him, before he closes the door to the workshop politely and takes off in a dead sprint down the hall.

Hunter grins under his mask the entire way there and back. 

_________________

Hunter sniffles, drawing his knees to his chest tighter. 

It’s getting colder out here by the second as the sky darkens, the sun already gone below the horizon. His back is pressed against the wall of the Owl House as he hides away in the backyard. The sounds of the birthday party still going on inside does nothing but make his heart sink even lower.

There’s a sudden raucous of muffled laughter and Hunter squeezes his eyes closed. Everyone is having such a good time. Why can’t he? Why does everything have to be ruined by his dumb brain? Why does he have to be ruined?

It’s not fair of him. It’s supposed to be Gus’s special day. Hunter is supposed to be inside playing games with him and teasing him for turning fourteen and still being a pipsqueak, not sitting outside in the cold and having his own little pity party. 

Gus is gonna notice he’s gone soon, and then he’s gonna have to deal with Hunter’s stupid problems instead of getting sick from eating so much of the human cake Luz and Camila brought. But even though Hunter wants more than anything to just suck it up and let himself have a good time with his friends, he just… can’t . 

“Stupid,” He mutters to himself, sniffling again.

“Hey.”

Hunter whips his head around, startled. Amity is standing to his right, hands folded in front of her awkwardly. He hadn’t even heard the backdoor open.

She frowns at him and Hunter quickly turns away again to wipe at his face. “Hu–” He cuts himself off and clears his throat before trying again. “Hey.”

Amity approaches carefully and sits down right next to him, not touching but still close enough that he can feel the warmth radiating off of her. Ghost is conspicuously absent from the palisman’s constant post of circling her ankles, and Hunter knows it was on purpose.

His friends can’t even just hang out with their palismen near him without needing to walk on eggshells because of how stupidly sensitive he is. Like, it happened months ago, and Hunter still can’t even think about Flapjack without–

Hunter sniffles harder and scrubs at his eyes. Stupid. He’s so stupid . What’s wrong with him?

“There’s nothing wrong with you.” Amity tells him, and he realizes he was talking out loud. “You’re just having a hard time.”

“I’ve been having a hard time for seventeen years,” He says bitterly and continues to fight his own tear ducts. “I should be used to it by now. I never had these kinds of problems before– before I…”

“Before you left the Emperor’s Coven ?” She gives him a look, flat and unimpressed. “The same coven where showing an ounce of real emotion like this was– how did Luz word it? Like bleeding in shark infested waters?”

Hunter looks away without answering, frustrated over hearing such a logical comment in the face of his very illogical emotions. It makes too much sense for him right now, which makes everything about what he’s doing feel even more stupid. 

Amity sighs. “Do you… wanna talk about it?”

Hunter stares ahead, eyes fixed on the edge of the forest around the Owl House. The crowd inside laughs together at something again, muffled and barely-heard through the stone walls and thick glass window next to them.

“I’m just being stupid.” He repeats, turning his head to look at her.

“I mean, when are you not?” She elbows him, smiling. He glares at her in mock-offense and elbows her back, causing a mini elbow war that ends in seconds after a mutual surrender. “Seriously, though. Spill it already.”

Hunter moves a hand down from his knees, picking at the red grass underneath him. “Swear you won’t make fun of me for it?” He asks. 

“Swear. Look,” Amity makes a gesture across her chest. “Cross my heart.”

Hunter raises a brow at her. “...What does that even mean?”

“Luz did it once. It’s a human way of pledging a serious promise.”

Hunter sighs. “If Luz used it then good enough, I guess. Fine.”

There’s a long stretch of silence between them. Amity twiddles her thumbs together and Hunter tries to fit the words together in his head in a way where it possibly, just maybe, won’t actually be the stupidest thing he’s said and ever will say to another living soul.

“So…” Amity says. “Are you gonna–”

“My birthdays have always been my favorite memories.” Hunter blurts out, digging one hand into the grass and the other into his hair. Amity goes silent instantly, fixing her attention on him. “Except for– well. You know what happened during the last one.”

“...Do I?” She asks, squinting.

Hunter blinks at her in pure disbelief. “There’s no way you forgot my last birthday.”

“I’m sorry.” She does look genuinely sorry about it, which is nice but not what he was getting at.

“No, I mean, it’s actually impossible that you could forget it. You were there.”

“I’m gonna be honest… I don’t think I even know when your birthday is.” She admits, looking sheepish as if that’s her fault, somehow. “I didn’t realize you already turned seventeen until you said so just now.”

“I�� Oh, Titan.” He laughs, but it’s not actually funny. He stops quickly. “I– I just remembered I never actually told anyone. I was so focused on everything else, I never…”

"When is your birthday?"

“My birthday is– Amity, it’s on Samhain." He swallows, his mouth suddenly dry. "Or, well, technically last year it was on Halloween.”

Amity blanches. She’s frozen in shock for a second, staring at him with wide eyes, before she nearly scrambles to take his hand in hers. The pressure is grounding, and he squeezes back just as tight. “Hunter,” She breathes in that same old tone– the one that everyone uses whenever Hunter shares anything about his life that’s less than perfectly happy. Horror, concern, and pity mixed into one single specific tone of voice.

“Don’t.” Hunter shakes his head. His free hand twists itself in the front of his shirt. “I already know. It’s– That isn’t what I wanted to talk about.”

Amity purses her lips and nods, but that doesn’t stop her from looking like she won’t be forgetting it. He just hopes she doesn’t let it slip to Luz before he can get the chance to tell her on his own– that will only end in a grievous amount of tears and yelling. Again.

“Anyways,” He clears his throat. Amity gives his hand another squeeze, encouraging him. “Um. Where was I again?”

“You said your birthdays were always your happiest memories.” She tells him, and he nods.

“Yeah. They were. Are? It’s– complicated.” His shoulders fall, and he leans his head against his knees again. “I didn’t get my birthdays off, in the Coven. No one did, really, but even when I was a kid I never had any birthday parties. Not like this one.”

“Are you upset because you… want one?” She guesses.

He shakes his head. “I– I don’t think that’s it. I think…” He hesitates, rolling the next words on his tongue before deciding to just spit them out. “I think I miss him.”

Amity doesn’t ask who ‘him’ is. She doesn’t have to. Hunter avoids looking at her face, not wanting to take the risk of seeing disgust or hate in reaction to his admission. She doesn’t stop holding his hand, which he takes as a good sign.

“He always made time in his day to spend my birthdays with me.” He keeps going, not sure if he can stop now that he’s started. “Even if it was only for fifteen minutes, even if we spent it going over budget reports, he always made an effort. For me .

“It’s stupid, right? How idiotic does someone have to be to miss him ?” Hunter growls, clenching his hands. “He was nothing but a liar and a murderer. He wasn’t even my uncle! I was only a tool to him, one that he had no problem with throwing away the second I–”

Amity quietly lets out a pained squeak, and Hunter rips his hand away from hers quick as lightning. “Sorry!” 

“It’s fine,” She can’t hide the wince in her face as she rubs her palm with her thumb. She shakes her head, her purple bangs falling out of place. “Don’t worry about it, keep going.”

Hunter hesitates but with a threatening brow raise from Amity, he deflates and curls back in on himself. It takes him a second to regather his thoughts from where he’d left them.

“You know what the worst part is?” He says. “When he wasn’t actively making my life into a living nightmare, he was actually really nice to me. For example, he used to sneak me hard candies during meetings that went long. Oh, and he’d let me sit in his workshop with him and rant about my day, or ramble about magical theory while he tinkered. That’s the version of him I miss more than any other. The version who felt like… like an actual, real person.

“And I know it wasn’t ever real to him, I know that everything nice he did was just another way for him to manipulate me, but… but it was real to me.” A lump begins to form in his throat, and it doesn’t fade when Hunter tries to swallow it down. 

“Belos,” He spits the name like it’s poison. “Never cared about me, but I cared about him. I– Damn it.” He scrubs at his traitorous eyes again, his breath hitching. “I- I loved him.”

His voice breaks, and so does Hunter. Unable to hold it back anymore, he wraps his arms around himself as his body begins to tremble and jolt with every sob that rips from his throat. Amity pulls him in, leaning him on her shoulder as he cries. 

It’s stupid. It’s so, so stupid . He should know better. Yet here Hunter is, grieving a genocidal tyrant who wouldn’t have given his own death a second thought. Grieving the man Hunter had thought he was. Grieving a family he never even had when his new family was right inside. They’re going to smile at Hunter when he goes back in later and look at him like he’s made their lives better just by being there, but right now he’s sobbing over someone who made Hunter feel like he had to earn the right to be his nephew.

“Stupid,” Hunter chokes out through his tears. “‘m so stupid.”

“It’s okay. I- I get it.” Amity tells him quietly, one of her hands rubbing up and down his back. “I miss my mom, sometimes.”

Hunter leans against her with more of his weight. “Your mom s-sucks .”

“I know,” Amity laughs wetly, ducking her head down. “How awful is that? I still love the woman who tried to kill Luz like, twice. I’m a horrible girlfriend.”

“Shut up.” He sobs, serious despite his sniffling.

“It’s true.” She argues back, something weird in her voice. “I have dreams about my mom waltzing into my life again, completely changed and telling me how sorry she is. I always end up crying when I wake up and remember it’s not real. I’m such an idiot .”

“Shut up.” Hunter repeats, shifting his neck to look her in the face. He barely blinks at seeing Amity with tears streaking down her face, too. “Don’t– don’t say that. You aren’t an idiot for missing the person who– who raised you.”

“I know I’m not,” Amity agrees breezily, tears all but forgotten in the blink of an eye. “And neither are you.” She pokes him in the forehead, and Hunter stops crying out of pure shock. 

“You…” He trails off, pulling back from her even more.

“Now, if you say you’re stupid for missing your Uncle, you’re calling me stupid, too.” Amity flutters her still-wet lashes, as if she’s one of those innocent little angel baby statues that sit on the shelves in the Noceda living room, and not what Camila calls el diablo .

Hunter stares at her, mouth gaping like a fish. She giggles and the sound makes him scowl. He crosses his arms, glaring at her. “I’m– I’m changing my mind; you also suck.”

“Gotcha.” She grins wickedly, taking a second to wipe her face. Her eyeliner had run when she was crying, painting black streaks down her pale cheeks before her hands smeared it all into an even bigger mess. 

He groans and pushes her away, rubbing at his own eyes and nose. “I can’t believe you. You can’t just– trick someone into not calling themselves stupid over something that is objectively stupid!”

“I just did, though.” Amity leans her chin on her hand.

“That’s not how it works!” Hunter argues, throwing his hands up. “I’m not gonna stop doing it just because you– you think you trapped me!”

“What if I blackmail you?” She says it so sweetly, like she’s asking to give him a hug and not attempting to threaten him into being nice to himself. Honestly, Hunter is ninety percent sure she doesn’t actually have anything to blackmail him with, but that ten percent is making him nervous.

“I know for a fact that you don’t have anything on me.” He calls her bluff.

“Do Camila and Mr. Deamonne know when your birthday is?” Amity asks, checking her nails casually.

Hunter reels back, eyes widening. “You wouldn’t. I told you in confidence!”

“Hmmm,” She rolls her eyes up to look at the stars in the fully darkened sky, tapping a single finger to her cheek. “I really wonder what they'd say if they found out.” 

“This is low, Blight.” He shakes his head. “Even for you.”

“All you have to do to guarantee my silence is agree to my terms.” She smiles at him, waiting for what she knows is inevitable.

Hunter plants his face into his hands and groans into them. “FINE!” He bursts, throwing his hands up. “ Fine! I won’t call myself stupid. You happy now?”

“Very.” She nods primly, a smug little smirk on her face. “Though, I would be happier if you went back inside, hugged Camila, and had some cake.”

“You’re so bossy.” He rolls his eyes, using the wall as leverage to lift himself up. His legs take a second to solidify under him, but he manages.

“Hunter, you’re the only one who lets me boss them around like this.” She tells him bluntly as she holds out her arm in a wordless command. He sighs and pulls her to her feet in a single smooth motion. “I have to capitalize on that. Where else am I gonna get the same rush of power and superiority now that I’m not a total bitch?”

“You’re just taking advantage of my brainwashing from being a child soldier.” Hunter sniffs. 

“You can’t keep pulling the child soldier card.” Amity argues. “It’s so unfair!”

He doesn’t actually care that he was a child soldier or whatever– it was quite honestly the least of his worries. He’s just echoing the words that Darius or Raine or Eda have said to him after witnessing one of his more unnerving habits. Like the compulsive kneeling.

“Whatever. I know when I’m not wanted.” Hunter raises his nose at her as he says it, brushing past towards the door leading into the kitchen. “And, for the record, you still are a total–”

He yelps in a very dignified manner as something trips him and he falls face first towards the ground. Before he can hit the ground in a way that definitely could have broken his nose, he’s caught in a levitation spell.

“You wanna finish that sentence?” Amity asks from behind him.

“...no.” Hunter grunts, struggling in the grip of the magic.

“I thought so.” She says happily, helping him to his feet.

“That’s cheating.” He huffs, brushing himself off. “I can’t do magic like that.”

Amity breezes right past him and to the door. “And I can’t use my childhood trauma as a trump card to win every argument. We all have our strengths.”

He grumbles under his breath but follows her. Before she opens the door to rejoin the party, she pauses, as if realizing something.

“Did my makeup get smeared?” Amity asks, looking up at him.

Hunter blinks. “No. Not at all.”