#A sequel to come maybe?

[zephyrchama]

Belphegor followed you down the hall as you dragged your suitcase. It wasn’t very big, but it was still heavy and annoying to lug over the thick decorative carpets. Every time one came to an end, the luggage thudded loudly back onto the hardwood floor.

“You sure you have everything? You packed the pillow I gave you?” Belphegor sluggishly matched his pace to yours. Having long legs must be nice.

“Of course, I triple checked.” ”Good. That’s my fifth favorite pillow, so you have to come back and return it, ok?”

You nodded as the suitcase went over another bump. This was your third time going over this exact conversation.

It wasn’t just the youngest, all of the brothers were antsy about your little trip. It was written all over their faces as you arrived at the foyer where they were waiting. Satan and Asmodeus solemnly stood up from the steps they were sitting on. Mammon and Leviathan had a hard time looking at you, their eyes darted all over the walls and ceiling. Beelzebub offered to move your suitcase by the door.

Just one weekend away. That was it. Solomon volunteered to take you back to the human world for a bit. You couldn't let a rare trip home pass by, as who knew when the next opportunity would arise. You could eat some normal food for once and stock up on your favorite human things. Though, your housemates reacted like you were leaving for a year.

“Did you pack everything?” Lucifer asked.

“Of course, I triple checked.” Deja-vu.

“Even the lotion I gave you?” Asmodeus looked so worried. He loosely took hold of your forearm with a tear in his eye. “Don’t forget, the sun is awful this time of year. I’ll never forgive you if you come back looking like a lobster.”

“Asmo, I won’t.” You grinned at his silly concern and leaned in for a hug. Asmodeus did not disappoint.

Everyone else took a step forward, hoping for a hug of their own, as Asmodeus breathed into your ear, “I’ll be waiting.”

“You have my number. If anything goes wrong, call me.” Lucifer sounded so reliable as he placed a hand on your shoulder.

There were half a dozen chimes of “mine, too!” and “same here!”

You’d been away for longer trips. How in the world did these guys survive for so many millennia before you met them? You turned to look at Lucifer, wanting to counter that Devildom phones didn’t even work in the human world, but he probably knew that already.

"Don't talk to strangers," he reminded, "and don't go out alone at night. Some humans are worse than demons." He wrapped his arms around you and wished “safe travels.”

Mammon stepped up next. He forced himself to stare at you, haughtily playing off the sadness he was really feeling. His bottom lip jutted out a little more than usual. “Well! You’ll bring me back a good souvenir, right?”

“Oh? I don’t know, I might not have time…” It was playful banter, yet your words shocked him. Mammon’s eyes widened. He began stammering and gripped your fingers. You quickly performed damage control, “Joking! I’m joking, Mammon. Of course I’ll get you a souvenir.”

The younger siblings piped up, “us too!”

“I’m getting everyone souvenirs, don’t worry!” You already had a few gift ideas in mind.

Mammon put his forehead on your shoulder and a hand on your back that he rubbed. “But mine’ll be the best. I trust ya.”

“Don’t let Solomon give you any food he cooks,” Beelzebub warned. “Actually, don’t let Solomon give you any food. Ever.” He tried to give you a lumpy-looking cloth bag, no doubt filled with homemade treats to take with you. It smelled scrumptious. Only issue was, the bag was half your size.

“Beel, there’s food in the human world. I can’t take all this, why don’t you enjoy it with your brothers?”

Beelzebub frowned, setting aside his present. It tilted under the weight of its own contents. You felt a slight pang of guilt, but how could you carry it all? That much food could last you a week.

He picked you up for his hug, your toes dangling several inches off the floor until he gently set you back down. Belphegor caught you as you regained your footing.

His hug was simple and cozy. He tucked a strand of your hair behind an ear. “Don’t forget about my pillow.”

You suspected that if you ever actually tried to run away, these seven would go to the ends of the three realms to find you.

Satan nudged your luggage, observing the way it slided forward an inch. It was heavy to you, but clearly not them. “That’s really all you’re bringing? Do you have enough clothes?”

“Yes! You helped me pack!” The repetition was really starting to grate on you. Things were never this crazy when one of them had to leave the house for a few days. They wouldn't even care unless somebody went mysteriously unseen for over a week. “You all know I’ve got everything under control. I’ll be back in two days.”

“Hey, how come Satan got to help you pack?” Mammon complained.

“We did too,” Belphegor said, his twin in agreement.

“It was a group effort,” according to Asmodeus.

Mammon crossed his arms. "No way! You let these guys see your underwear?"

Satan ignored them. “Do you want another book for the road?”

“I’ll be fine.” You gave Satan his hug. After letting go, his fingers hovered by your side. “We’re teleporting there anyway. I don’t think there’ll be time to read anything.”

One suspiciously quiet demon in the back stared at the floor. “Two days,” he sighed. Leviathan did a poor job of hiding how upset he was.

“Levi, aren’t you going to say goodbye?”

“Yes!?” His head jerked up, met your gaze, and looked down again.

“I can’t leave until I get a full set of hugs from everyone,” you admitted. “I’m missing a very valuable part of the collection.”

Asmodeus and Mammon readily offered themselves for a second go. Leviathan’s cheeks flushed with envy and he grabbed you a little roughly, squishing his face into your shoulder. “You’ll take lots of pictures? A-and you won’t forget about us?”

You scoffed, “how could I forget about you? We’re bound together by a pact, aren’t we?” As for photos… you didn't know what would be interesting, but it couldn't hurt to take a bunch anyway.

Lucifer cleared his throat, signaling to Leviathan it was time to let go. "I miss you already," he muttered.

The seven of them followed you out of the house and down to the House of Lamentation’s front gate. It was like having a school of fish circling you. You could call it a miracle they weren't following you onto the main road, but if they went that far you knew they'd unreasonably demand Solomon take them along too.

“It’s just one weekend!” you reiterated. “Take care, you guys.”

They peered at you through the fence bars, waving when you glanced over. It was a sad sight, and possible attempt to make you come rushing back. If it was this bad already, you didn't want to think about how they'd act if you were going away for one week.

[2hoothoots]

I've always found it quite funny that Milla's level in PN1 tutorialises hazards like spikes and electricity, and then you proceed to encounter zero spikes or electricity the entire rest of the game

[bravecrab]

I think I might be getting a little too obsessed with Dimension 20. With the trailer for Never Stop Blowing Up, and the reveal of the players for this new season my mind was like, "with Rehka and Izzy taking part in this season, that increases their total number of seasons to 4 each. They remain in joint second place for player to appear most often in a non-Intrepid Heroes season, behind Erika who has been in 5 seasons."

[inkykeiji]

bnha manga spoilers!!!!!

EEEEEEEEE I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU!!!!!!!!!

his hair!!!!!!!!!!!!! his fucking HAIR!!!!!!!!! i just AAAAH i cannot get over it because !!!!! that is exactly how i picture touya-nii’s hair to look 🥹🥹🥹 just down/undone n fluffy n shaggy n soft <333

anyway i am sickly in love with him, i’m not surprised to see what he actually looks like after the war, but the fact that he’s still got his eyes makes me think that his blue irises must be so stark and vivid and just pop against the rest of his injured body—which makes me both swoon and sad, because goddamn you’d recognize those eyes anywhere, the very moment your gaze meets his…but enji still didn’t, not even when he first came face to face with them, not until they were thrust in his face and screaming at him ._.

[mattiebluebird]

Case fic AU of Duke's training year centered around his identity as Signal (big hero, works for/with Batman, above everyone else) vs. Lark (friendly neighborhood hero, fights for the little guy, does things his own way) told as he & the WAR crew investigate a strange new drug that gives people meta abilities, with several B-plots of the other Robins becoming heroes in their own right. Is that anything.

[jamietarttsnorthernattitude]

This is mesmerising. Thank you my lovely friend! It's not exactly the happy part yet of the loudest silence sequel but it's hopeful? maybe? (This is the post-series one. Not to be confused with the season 1 inspired version)

“How bad is it?” Jamie asked, his voice breaking. “Just fucking tell me, Roy. You’re the only one I can count on to just to tell me the fucking truth.”

Roy paused. Jamie’s words both hurt and touched him and he wanted to tell Jamie everything, but he’s barely been awake, Roy wasn’t sure if this was exactly the right time to do it, if he should wait until Jamie has some time to adjust to his injuries, some time to get used to the idea that his right leg was badly broken. Roy has had two weeks and he’s not sure he’s gotten used to it himself.

“Please,” Jamie begged, his voice hoarser currently than it was even earlier, the lack of use during the last two weeks becoming more evident with each word Jamie’s forced to speak.

“It’s bad,” Roy admitted. “It’ll take a lot of work, but you’ll be back out there on the pitch. I promise.”

“You can’t promise that.”

It wasn’t said in an angry or accusing manner like it could have been. It was just a fact, same as if Jamie was saying what day of the week it was.

“Yes, I fucking can.”

“No. You fucking can’t, Roy,” Jamie said, voice now the strongest it’s sounded since he woke up, but the hoarseness still cut through Roy. ‘What did the doctor say?”

Where was the fucking doctor he thought. He shouldn’t have to be the one to tell Jamie his career might be over that he might never dribble a ball that he might never run that yeah he’ll probably walk without a limp but they couldn’t even guarantee that and they couldn’t give a time table of when he would even be able to put weight on his fucking leg again.

Jamie was humpy dumpty and all the king’s horses and all the king’s men couldn’t guarantee he’d be put back together again.

Jamie looked at him expectantly, his grey eyes glassy but open for the first time in more than two weeks, and at that moment Roy was glad the doctor wasn’t there. He didn’t want Jamie to hear this from someone he didn’t know. He wanted Jamie to hear it from him if he had to hear anything at all.

It has to be me. It could be no one else.

“The doctor said he doesn’t know,” Roy said, and Jamie’s eyes searched him for answers. “They don’t know shit for all their fucking schooling. They couldn’t tell me anything. Your leg should heal, but they don’t know to what extent, if you’ll be able to play or at the same level you were at before. But he doesn’t know, but he doesn’t know because he doesn’t know you, not the same way I do. He doesn’t know what a stubborn prick you can be, what a hard worker you are, how far you’ve come, on and off the pitch. Your story doesn’t end here in this fucking hospital.”

Your story doesn’t end because of me.

He doesn’t say that part, but he means it. Maybe even means it the most. But Jamie doesn’t need his guilt on top of everything he’s already fighting through. Jamie’s saved Roy once, but he’s not going to make it so the lad has to save him again. No, this time, Roy is the one that will help Jamie, save him if he needs to. It’s the least he could do after all.

Jamie looked at him, and a small smile crept into his face, “You did make me better than Zava.”

“You made you better than Zava. I just got your arse out of bed for 4 am.”

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

me when i can’t decide between writing a fluffy achey teen satoru drabble or a kinda angsty hurt/comfort cult leader geto drabble or a sickeningly fluffy hurt/comfort stsg fic ……….. 😔😔😔

[faceless-crowd]

I’m close to writing a “I Have No Mouth and I Must Scream” fanfic you don’t even know.

(Yes I’m reusing my old drawing from awhile back I have no new drawings to use)

[noirandchocolate]

Everybody's excited for the Tears of the Kingdom Masterworks book to drop tomorrow and that's cool and all but meanwhile I'm just wanting to see that sweet sweet shipping notification for my Great Deku Tree lego sets on Sunday.

[black-and-yellow]

[aceghosts]

OR " you're definitely over-dressed for what i had in mind tonight... " + Rooney x Yorinobu 👀

Thanks for sending this one! I had a little fun with this one; I wanted to write something kind of silly and playful.

[Prompt List]

Summary: Rooney and Yorinobu have a free night for once. Things don't go as planned. Words: 1,150 words. Content Warnings: Goofy Flirting, (I love these two, but I cannot never write them as not goofily flirting with each other), Foreplay, Humping, Making out, Interruptions, and a reference to masturbation at the end. I think that should be everything.

Taglist (Opt In/Out): @bbrocklesnar, @voidika, @carlosoliveiraa, @strangefable, @chyrstis,

@g0dspeeed, @cassietrn, @alexxmason, @derelictheretic, @direwombat,

@clicheantagonist, @inafieldofdaisies, @cloudofbutterflies92, @roofgeese

You should come over, Rooney texts, I have the night off. How can Yorinobu refuse? Rooney’s work as a private investigator in Night City leaves them with little free time. (Too many times he has watched them drag themself into bed at all hours of day or night only to leave a few hours later.)

As the metal scissor elevator gate doors open to Rooney’s Glenn loft with a grating sound, Rooney looks over their shoulder from the brown leather couch, smiling as he steps in. They rise, placing their phone on the coffee table, approaching Yorinobu as he hangs his coat up. Rooney reaches him, cupping his face tenderly. Softly, they press their lips against his, a way of welcoming him as his hands come to rest on their hips. “Glad you were able to get out early for the afternoon.”

“I am the boss…”

“Must be one of those perks.”

“It is,” Yorinobu kisses them again, Rooney happily humming into the kiss, sending a tingle up his spine, “You are home early.”

“I’m waiting for a lead to follow up with me,” Rooney’s hands come down to his chest, “I thought we could spend some quality time together while I’m waiting. Maybe, have a date night…”

A date sounds wonderful. Yorinobu and Rooney have not gone on a date in a while, and he knows of a few places he would love to take Rooney. (He also wants to show them off, but Rooney’s enjoyment is a bigger factor.) “We should go out for dinner. Do you have anything in mind?”

“I was thinking we could have a quiet night in. Just you and I,” They purr, a sultry look in their ocean-blue eyes. He shivers in eager anticipation at their next move.

“Oh? What do you have in mind?” Yorinobu asks playfully.

“Well,” Rooney smirks, looking him up and down with agonizing slowness, “You’re definitely over-dressed for what I had in mind tonight.”

“Am I now?” Yorinobu takes the chance to look them over. “You seem overdressed as well…”

“I hoped we could both help each other,” They jest, “I know I’ll need your help.”

“Tease.” Yorinobu kisses them roughly, Rooney tasting like peppermint and honey. Their hands grip the silk fabric of his vest tightly, and excitement rises in his chest. It is going to be one of those nights. A night where neither can keep their hands off each other for very long. When he pulls away, Yorinobu asks, “Shall I help you?”

Rooney nods, eyes wide with desire as they pull away from him. They smile adoringly at him as they beckon him to follow them to the sectional couch with their finger. Yorinobu complies, reaching for Rooney as the pair reach the sectional. Deftly, they slip out of his grasp with a playful wink. They gently push him down onto the couch. Yorinobu moves back until he hits the corner, making himself comfortable. Rooney straddles him, leaning down to kiss Yorinobu as his fingers slide under the edges of their black turtleneck, ghosting over their skin. When they pull away, Yorinobu helps Rooney out of their turtleneck, leaving them in nothing but a basic black bra as he tosses the turtleneck aside. Their bra is quick to join their turtleneck. What a view, Yorinobu thinks, as his eyes roam over their skin decorated with freckles and scars. Yorinobu has planted so many kisses on Rooney’s freckles and scars, and he looks forward to it every time.

Hearing the pop of one of the buttons on his vest, Yorinobu tears his gaze away to find Rooney’s fingers deftly undoing his vest. As they finish, he starts on his shirt, too impatient for Rooney. They raise a red eyebrow. “I thought I was supposed to be helping you.” 

“Too excited,” He replies, allowing Rooney to help him out of his shirt and vest. Rooney slowly drags their hands down his chest, their touch playful and arousing. They are going to drive him mad. Yorinobu’s hands find their hips, seating Rooney firmly in his lap, grunting as he rolls his hips.

Yorinobu must have hit the right spot, Rooney letting out a needy moan with a shudder. His fingers dig into their leather pants, keeping them seated. They wrap their arms around his neck, Yorinobu thrusting again as Rooney whines. Rooney keeps whining, their hips moving in tandem with his. He groans, a guttural sound as hunger courses through him. Yorinobu’s cock throbs, growing harder as Rooney rides him, the friction from their hips overstimulating him. Rooney’s head is titled back, eyes filled with lust as a breathy moan escapes them. Yorinobu cannot wait until he is thrusting into them, Rooney crying his name from pleasure as he gets to watch them. At the image, he thrusts harder, a sharp mewl escaping from their lips. “Yori-Yori…please-,” Rooney begs, face flushed.

“Use your words,” He rasps.

“I-I need you to fuck me,” Rooney is frantic, desperate even, “please.”

“That’s my Roo-.” A ringtone cuts him off, Rooney’s eyes widening in shock.

“Fuck,” Rooney swears, annoyed, “Hold on for a minute.” He lets go of them as Rooney leans over, grabbing their cell phone off the table. Please don’t let this be urgent. Please let Rooney be able to save this for some other time. “Hey, is this urg-.” The person on the other end cuts them off, Rooney closing their eyes tightly and pinching the bridge of their nose. “Okay,” They respond, disappointment coloring their voice, “I’ll head there now.” Rooney hangs up, looking at him apologetically. “Yori, I’m so sorry, I-.”

“Have to go,” He finishes for them, frustrated and disappointed, “I understand.” He really does, but Yorinobu was looking forward to this, to having Rooney all to himself.

“I really am sorry,” they say, getting up and placing their phone on the table. Rooney grabs their bra from the floor and puts it back on, “I thought we were going to have more time.”

 Yorinobu shakes his head. “You do not have to apologize.”

Rooney looks guilty as they pull on their turtleneck.  “I really was looking forward to this. I promise I’ll make it up to you.”

“You do not have to-.”

“Yori,” they cut him off, their tone firm, “I wanted you to fuck me until I couldn’t walk tonight. I promise I am going to make this up to you.”

He smirks, knowing how Rooney always keeps their promises, especially with something like this. “I look forward to it.”

“Good. Make yourself comfortable. I’m hoping I won’t be long,” Rooney kisses him goodbye, sealing their promise to him. They leave him, slipping on their coat and shoes before stepping into the elevator. The scissor door closes, and Rooney winks, before disappearing and leaving him alone in their apartment. Until they come back, tonight is going to be between Yorinobu and his hand. 

[facelessurgeons]

here they are, guys sentenced to the art fight

[non-un-topo]

Just got a wave of affection for my horse OCs... as in, the random horses that appear in my fics

[not-poignant]

[allegoryofthebeast]

I am obsessed that Jedi: Survivor explores Cal more or less slipping into the dark side/dark behaviors and patterns and how leaning into emotion as a Jedi can make you significantly more powerful though also extremely reckless and aggressive - however a balance could perhaps be reached by Jedi with the patience and support to understand their darker emotions and how it could be beneficial or harmful given the situation. But they fr don’t. Every time something within that vein happens to Cal everyone is like damn… crazy. Anyway

[clonerightsagenda]

Next up on my middle grade madness list is PJO, but the first season isn't out on DVD, and if I ever get free streaming trials it'll be when I'm in recovery and can make the best use of them, so I'll skip over that for now. As an adult I do want to interrogate its central premise that the gods are in the US because it's metaphysically the most important place on Earth, which is an extremely USAmerican take and not meant to be considered critically. But I will anyway.

That makes the next one Lockwood & Co. I only read that a year ago, but I've only read it once, and I like to be up on my details before viewing adaptations so I can nitpick effectively. Plus I have to stay up until midnight for medical reasons and reading ghost stories seems like a fitting way to do that. In honor of that person who got mad at me for saying Lucy thinks dead girls are hot, and because two of my passions are making shitty mspaint diagrams and being a bitch, perhaps I'll track everyone she says is hot by gender and mortality so we can see who wins this argument.

Last on my list if I ever want to laugh and/or cringe really hard, I heard the Animorphs tv show is godawful, but idk how to find that. Could be a good time. Might not commit to rereading 40+ books though.

Setting all of this aside, though, what I really need to do rn is clean the kitchen.