#Despair-verse

[more-than-a-princess]

@ultfan asked: ACCOMPLICE :  for one muse to assist the other at the scene of a crime ritualistic courtly torture. (most likely in an ult despair context but lbr komaeda isn’t against this regardless)

A Comprehensive List of Scenarios

She didn't like having her beauty regimen interrupted.

It was, as Sonia was reminded time and time again, her greatest asset. Junko saw to that every time she graced the Queen of Novoselic with her presence: a purr into Sonia's ear before the queen took to the cameras, while she draped herself over the queen's lap as she sat upon the throne. when Sonia buried her face between Junko's perfect thighs as she brought her waves upon waves of pleasure and pain until Junko could be, at least temporarily, satiated in her lust for despair.

Beauty was the key. Beauty commanded, enslaved, teased, tortured, and conquered. Junko had run a manicured thumb over Sonia's mouth the last time, reveling in the blood and cum that lingered there, and had told her she was best, she was perfect, just like that.

And thus, in her absence, Sonia was meticulous. It had become a ritual, there in the once-lavish bathroom that had been her father's: from the silk robe she wore, to the two servants who escorted her, to the dripping tears that began to fill the white porcelain tub. At its edge, the two women clad in little more than undergarments carefully peeled the silk away from their Queen's shoulders, each taking a hand to help her climb into the tub.

"Your Majesty, Your Majesty, please!" The choked, strangled voice begged from above. Sobs and sniffles that, until that point, Sonia had ignored. Rather pathetic, really: the girl, no older than twenty if she had to estimate, couldn't even handle being stripped naked, branded on the buttock with the royal seal, and strung up with rope several meters above the bath.

She was beautiful, but she wouldn't last long. A pity: Sonia liked it best when it lasted.

"I...I am a hard worker! I will do anything, please just spare my brothers and sisters!" She babbled, her brown eyes widening as her lips parted at the sight of Sonia, pale and soft, flawless and naked in the porcelain tub below her. As if she had trouble deciding whether to plead for the lives of her siblings or plead for access to her queen's cunt instead.

Sonia's delicate mouth turned upwards into a smirk, watching her eyes glaze over. As their gazes met, the young woman dangling above her gasped, her cheeks reddened, and Sonia knew in that moment that saving her family was now the secondary goal of joining Queen Sonia's court.

"You are...most powerful, m-most beautiful.." She stammered, her gaze greedily dropping to Sonia's chest, her belly, the apex of her thighs. "P-please, I promise I can make myself useful to you-"

"You are noisy."

"H-huh?" A pitiful cry of confusion. The first time, since Sonia had sunk into the tub, that she'd been intrigued by her: not her long brown hair, or her round eyes, or the smattering of freckles just below her navel, or the pink nipples that had hardened at the sight of her queen, bare and resplendent beneath her.

"You are much too noisy," Sonia repeated, a soft purr to her voice as she reached over the side of the tub. "And not even the right kind of noisy. We will fix that."

"What do you mean, I-" The young woman tried to protest, right before a scream ripped from her throat. Her queen had retrieved the stick that rested by the edge of the tub. Or rather, what the woman thought was a stick. Instead, Sonia had grabbed the ceremonial spear, raised it upward, and cut her open from navel to nose.

"That's better," Sonia declared in a breathy sigh, her body relaxing against the tub. If she was going to be noisy, she'd at least do so in a way that pleased her. Organs succumbing to gravity and dangling below the open cavity she'd cut, blood spilling down, down, down to splatter over Sonia's elegant face, her full lips, her delicate shoulders, and down even further, over the swells of her breasts, her taut stomach, the curves of her full hips and thighs. "Mmm...that's much better."

Noisy as she screamed and begged and bled, yet lovely and sweet and caring, and thus perfect for her bath. Junko would be proud, Sonia thought as she rubbed the girl's blood deep into her skin, starting with her face, down her chest and torso before finally settling her fingers between her legs. A modern Lady Bathory she was, she thought as she sliced at the young woman further, opening up her belly before pushing her over with the edge of the spear and cutting through the brand on her ass, a better version. The men she tortured lusted for her until she disposed of them but the women, beautiful and young and hopeful and innocent, Sonia savored them. Drained them of every single one of those qualities until the blood hardened against her skin, her moans of self-pleasure ceased, and the servants entered again to bathe their Queen in milk, rose-scented soap, and water, in that order.

The corpse would be moved away discreetly, a process that occurred while Sonia was dressing and another servant entered her bedroom, bowing deeply before her before announcing a friend had arrived. "A friend? I do not have those, you silly man." She'd insisted, before ordering that the guest be shown to the dungeons corridor alongside a few other, special requests. A friend coming to visit, hmm? Well, they'd better adhere to the rules of Court.

Clad in a clean gown, hair and makeup carefully applied, Sonia strode into the corridor with her retinue flanked behind her. "Well, as if I do not already have enough 'Servants,'" She teased, the corners of her mouth turning upward at the sight of the Servant. Or Nagito, as he'd once been. They were twisted now, all twisted now, around Junko's fingers and honey-sweet promises of Despair. "What brings you to my Castle? Well, we shall find out shortly. After your welcome ceremony. Please, come."

At her nod, two guards opened the door to one of the dungeon's many rooms. Inside, a skinny boy with mouse-brown hair, tattered clothes, and chained wrists waited. He whimpered at the sight of Sonia but considerably brightened upon seeing her companion. With a sweet smile, Sonia pressed two brightly-colored wrapped treats into his hands. "Go on," She urged Nagito with a silkiness, a playfulness, to her voice. "He's been told that the man with the fluffy hair has candy for him. He hasn't eaten in almost a week, you see." The boy, caked in dirt and smelling of piss and shit, crawled to Nagito eagerly on all fours, chained hands extended while babbling pleas for the sweets. "It's only proper when you visit someone's home to bring a gift, you know." She reminded him, arms folded over her chest as she waited, watched, eyes fixed on Nagito's hands and the way the little boy used the last of his strength to claw for them, begging for the food within.

[aikidoheroine]

Peko knew the date well, it was Tenko's birthday. Her girlfriend more than likely wanted a thoughtful gift and not something so rushed. It was with that idea that she spend a considerable amount of time and effort acquiring said gift for the day. She goes and knocks on Tenko's door with the large giftbox in hand

Hello, Tenko are you there?

Tenko opened the door to her room, smiling upon seeing Peko. "Hello there, Peko! It's nice to see you as always!" Tenko did know that today was her own birthday, and so the present in Peko's hands wasn't a surprise. "Come right in!" Some of her other friends had already swung by to give presents as well. Already a fairly cheerful person, right now Tenko seemed like she might burst from excitement.

[wheels-of-despair]

Can't Help Falling In Love Pairing: Michael (Hoard) x You Summary: You hit it off with someone else's date at a wedding. Contains: Instant attraction, horny thoughts, Elvis covers, ditched dates, and the beginning of a happily ever after. Words: 3.5k

Youths and ageless blogs, Do Not Interact. Writer WILL block you.

"Oh god, she's actually brought the bin man."

"Hm?" you hum, forcing your eyes to slide back into focus.

Charlie, your boyfriend of 3 months, has dragged you to a cousin's wedding. You're seated at a gaudy table in a venue that's probably bankrupted the bride's parents. You're bored, you're sick of smiling politely each time you're introduced to someone who won't even pretend they're attempting to learn your name, and you're seriously considering just walking out and catching a cab and blocking this guy's number. Why are you even here?

"My cousin Chloe," he says under his breath. "She's dating a dustbin man. Mum didn't think she'd be brave enough to actually bring him. But she's such a horrific bitch, perhaps the bin man is the only one who can stomach her. This should be fun. Hello, my darling cousin!" He stands and embraces her. Her date stands awkwardly at her side in an ill-fitting suit, looking almost as happy to be here as you are.

Polite introductions are made, and the couple joins you at your table.

"So Michael, what do you do for work?" Charlie asks. So much for subtlety. Chloe glares. Michael shifts uncomfortably.

"I'm a b--"

"He's a businessman," she cuts him off. Her date stares at the tacky centerpiece.

"Oh? What kind of business?" You wonder if your heel has the power to penetrate Charlie's fancy dress shoes and draw blood.

"Erm…" Michael bites his lip.

"Finance," she answers for him, giving her cousin a chilling glare before turning her icy eyes to you. "And you, dearie? What sort of business are you in?"

You hate these fucking people.

Before you can answer, someone makes a noisy entrance that draws everyone's attention.

"Oh, Aunt Margie's here, let's go say hi!" Chloe exclaims. She and Charlie get up and scurry away toward an old lady, leaving you and Michael at the table alone. After an awkward smile and a moment of silence, you have to break it.

"Been together long?" you ask.

"A few months," he mutters. "You?"

"Same," you answer.

Silence.

"Glad we weren't the last to arrive," Michael says. Good, he's feeling this silence too.

"I was worried about us being late too," you smile. "What's your excuse?"

"She couldn't decide which shoes to wear."

"That's probably a more socially acceptable reason than mine," you laugh. "Couldn't get my door to close."

Michael's brow furrows.

"It sticks sometimes, but today, it just would not close," you explain. "Charlie yanked and yanked and finally got it to shut. If I can't get back in, I'm gonna kick his ass."

"He hasn't tried to fix it for you?"

"Does he look like the rugged handy-man type to you?"

You and Michael both look toward your dates, who are giggling in a crowd of their finely dressed relatives in an attempt to secure their surely sizeable inheritance, then back to each other to share a smirk. He belongs here about as much as you do.

"Any idea what's causing it?" he asks.

"No," you answer. "I keep meaning to look closer, but every time I'm headed out, I'm usually in a hurry. And it works fine when I come home, so I say I'll do it tomorrow… and then forget about it until it sticks again."

"A vicious cycle," he smiles, warm and teasing. You laugh, feeling more relaxed now than you have all night. "I'd start by making sure the hinges and the strike plate are tight. Do you have a screwdriver?"

"The fuck do you know about home repair?" Chloe spits from behind him. The smile on his face fades, and his eyes drift down to the table. It's like she pressed a button and shut him down.

The cousins sit back down and talk loudly about their crazy aunt, but their words don't register. You can't take your eyes off of Michael. The look on his face makes your heart ache. How do you fix it?

"That's a really good idea, about the hinges and the strike plate," you tell him quietly. He looks up at you slowly, caution shining in his big brown eyes. "I'll check those out as soon as I get home. Thank you."

He gives you a tiny smile. You want to crush him in a hug.

Wait, what?

"What are you talking about?" Charlie asks.

"My door," you answer shortly, finally breaking eye contact with Michael to survey the room full of people you don't know.

"And Michael the businessman knows how to fix it?" Charlie asks smugly. Michael's face flushes red, his eyes downcast once again. Chloe glares at her cousin.

"He had a helpful suggestion, which is more than I can say for Mr. I Don't Know, Call A Professional," you quip.

That shuts him up.

"Would every one take their seats, please, so the ceremony can begin!" someone yells from the other side of the room.

Everyone returns to their seats and quiets down, and the ceremony begins. A song plays on an organ, a bride is walked down an aisle in the distance, old ladies dab at their eyes… probably. Your attention is on the bead of sweat rolling down Michael's thick neck.

What if you just leaned over and licked it away?

He looks over at you, as if he knows what you're thinking, and smiles. Now it's your turn to blush. You force your eyes in whatever direction you imagine the vows are being exchanged and hope he hasn't actually read your mind. What the fuck is wrong with you?

When the ceremony is over, everyone stands as the bride and groom leave the room together. Sweat still drips down Michael's neck. The collar of that stiff suit must be drenched.

"Charlie! Chloe!" someone shouts from across the room, snapping you out of it.

The cousins get up without a word, leaving you alone with Michael again. Normally you'd be offended by their rudeness, but right now, you don't mind at all.

"I'm sorry about him," you say quietly. "And her too, now that I think about it."

"S'alright," he mumbles.

"It's not," you argue. "They're both being dicks. And to the only person I even like at this stupid thing."

He smiles, showing off his dimples. Adorable.

"Fuck, it's hot in here," he complains, pulling at his collar.

"Want to go outside for a bit?" you ask.

He looks toward the cousins, who are laughing with a crowd of people you have no interest in meeting.

"I think they've already forgotten we're here," you laugh.

"Let's go, then," he grins.

You grab your purse and follow him out of the crowded building, staying close as you dart past all the mingling friends and relatives, until you reach a shady spot on the backside of the building.

"Thought I was going to die in there," he pants, fighting with his tie. "How do you get this stupid thing…"

"May I?" you ask. He nods. You step closer and begin untying his tie. You can feel the heat radiating off of him. He's pulled it tight, making it harder to get undone, but you don't mind taking your time. "There we go," you say softly, letting it hang loose. He reaches for the top button and struggles in his hurry to get it open. Your hands rise to his collar once more, moving his fumbling fingers aside and quickly unbuttoning several buttons to reveal a simple chain necklace and a smattering of freckles. He gasps for air dramatically.

"Better?" you ask, reluctantly dropping your hands back to your sides.

"My hero," he grins, glistening in the light of the setting sun.

God, what is this fucker doing to you?

The band starts warming up inside, and you both instinctively glance in the direction you came from.

"Should we go back?" he asks, suddenly nervous. "She's going to kill me for soaking this suit."

"What if we don't?" you ask.

His eyes flick to yours, and your heart stops. Why did you say that? He's literally on a date with with someone else! So are you!

"What if we don't?" he repeats slowly.

You stare at each other. Those big brown eyes have a hold on you. You feel like you're falling into them. Like Alice down the rabbit-hole. The smell of him swirls through your brain like a fog; he's sweaty, but not in an unpleasant way. It mixes with whatever cheap cologne he's splashed on to make something unmistakably male. It's intoxicating. You don't realize you're actually moving closer together until your lips meet his. They're so soft. They work with yours, not against them, in a dance that weakens your knees and makes your heart flutter.

A shrill laugh nearby brings you back to reality. You're suddenly aware that you're pressed together, arms wrapped around each other. You take a step back and glance around nervously, wondering if you were seen. You can hear other people talking around the corner, and smell the pungent flowers growing on the walkway nearby. The band is playing something vaguely familiar. You listen closer, and recognition dawns on both of your faces at the same time: "Can't Help Falling In Love" by Elvis Presley.

Without a word, Michael reaches for your hand. You slowly take it, and place your other hand on his shoulder; his comes to rest in the small of your back. You begin to sway with the song, just the tiniest bit, never taking your eyes off of his. It feels like you're moving in slow motion. There's something about the intensity of his gaze that makes you forget everything else. There is only Michael.

And his rock-hard erection that you just brushed against.

"Fuck," he groans and backs away, "I'm sorry."

Your eyes glance downward to the python he's trying to conceal, then back to his eyes.

"You want to get out of here?" you ask.

He stares at you for a few seconds, eyes wide and fearful. Did you blow it? Of course you blew it, you both came here with other people. They may be dicks, and you've been thinking about breaking up with him for weeks anyway, but…

"You're serious?"

Fuck it. You nod. So does he. And then you both laugh at the absurdity of the situation.

"I, er… I rode here with her," he mumbles, chewing on his lip.

A wicked thought occurs to you, and you dig in your purse and pull out a valet ticket.

"Guess who shoved his valet ticket in my face while he was ogling a pretty blonde he's probably related to?"

"He did not," Michael says, taking offense on your behalf.

"It's alright," you smile. "It all worked out in the end."

Michael grins.

"Come on," you laugh, reaching for his hand. You take the long way around and eventually find the valet lot. You hand over your ticket and wait for your ex-boyfriend's car to arrive.

"Woah," Michael says when the ugly sports car comes into view.

"Daaaddy bought it for him," you roll your eyes. "Wanna drive?"

"What?" His eyes dart from the approaching car to you. "Really?"

You shrug.

"You serious?" he asks.

"I mean, you can drive, right? You've got a license?"

"Yeah?"

"Then what's the problem? Scared to defile two of Charlie's possessions in the same night?"

He seems stunned for a moment, then a grin grows on his pretty face as the car comes to a stop.

"No problem at all, miss," he smiles, darting forward to open the passenger door for you. You sink down into the seat, he gently closes the door. He thanks the valet and hands the man a few bills. You fasten your seatbelt to keep yourself from slipping and sliding all over the leather seat.

He gets in and looks around, trying to get his bearings in the strange little vehicle. He inspects the gear shift and locates the turn signals, then pets the steering wheel and looks at you with a child-like grin on his face. You lean back against the headrest and sigh fondly, never wanting to take your eyes off of him. He's adorable.

"Where to?" he asks, straightening and suddenly serious.

You point him in the direction of home, and he takes off. He's a little awkward at first, but he gets the hang of the car in no time. He even grows confident enough to drive with one hand, and rests the other on your leg. The feeing of his rough, calloused hand on your smooth thigh nearly drives you mad. The ride takes entirely too long, and you admire your self-restraint for not telling him to pull over and take you on the hood of this tiny, stupid car.

After what feels like an eternity, he finally parks near your building. He turns off the engine, takes a deep breath, and looks at you with uncertainty.

"You still want to do this?" you ask quietly, praying that he says yes.

"You have no fucking idea."

"Let's go, gorgeous," you order.

He leaps out of the car and rushes around to open your door for you. He helps you out and follows you into your building. You make it up the steps and fumble with your keys, cursing your stupid door that won't open. You're about to offer to let him take you in the hallway when he gently moves you aside, applies pressure on the knob with his hands, and pushes with his shoulder. The door pops open.

As soon as you step inside, his mouth is on yours. You drop your purse and kick the door shut, and he pushes you up against it. You moan into his mouth. You can't remember the last time you wanted anyone this bad. And that includes the entirety of the relationship you've just abandoned.

There's no time to walk all the way to the bed. Hell, there's no time to shuffle to the couch. He takes you against the door the first time, your dress rucked up and his pants unzipped. He ruts into you with such force, you wonder if it's going to break the door in half. And then he reaches a spot inside of you that you didn't know existed, and you stop caring about anything but him.

You lose the rest of your clothes and make it to the couch for round two.

You don't make it to the bed until round three.

That's when it happens.

You'd happily stare into those beautiful brown eyes all night long, but he hits a rhythm that has you both squeezing your eyes shut in concentration. All you can do is grip whatever's in reach and hold on tight as you feel your release build… and build… and build…

And then a blinding flash of pleasure washes over you. You've never felt anything like it before. Is this what writers mean when they say someone saw stars? Michael keeps pumping in and out of you, and the feeling doesn't stop. An ungodly noise rises in your throat, and he buries his face in your neck and comes with a grunt and one final thrust, his deepest yet.

Your ecstasy fades slowly. You can't move. You can't focus on anything but the way he makes you feel. You lie there, panting and sticking together for several minutes, until he finally raises his head to look at you. You both laugh when you make eye contact.

"You alright?" he asks.

"Yeah," you breathe, feeling weak and a little confused.

"Never had that happen before."

"Never had what happen before?" you ask.

"Made a girl squirt."

It hits you like a ton of bricks. You raise your head and see that you are indeed lying in a wet spot on the sheets.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" you laugh as your head hits the pillow.

"I mean, I've tried, but…" he shrugs, looking embarrassed.

You reach a hand into his sweaty curls and pull him in for a kiss. He looks happy, but confused when he pulls away.

"I've never had a guy do that to me before, either."

"Seriously?" His eyes are ablaze.

"Yeah," you laugh.

"That was a first for both of us?"

You nod, basking in the excitement on his face that you helped create. He leans back down for another kiss, which you enthusiastically return. When he pulls back, you can't help but feel disappointed. You cup the side of his face and stroke his cheek with your thumb, not ready to be apart just yet. He closes his eyes and leans into your touch. Will you ever be able to get enough of him?

"Wanna try for a second?" you ask.

"Oh fuck," he moans, coming back down to continue your kiss, already getting hard again.

While you're recovering from another blissfully successful round, someone starts banging on your door.

At 2:37 am.

"Oh, for fuck's sake," you gripe, rolling out of bed and throwing on the first clothes you can get your hands on. Michael looks terrified. "Don't you worry your pretty little head about him," you tease, leaning over to kiss his forehead. "I'll be right back.

You leave Michael in bed and stomp to the door. You know exactly who it is. "What?" you snap through the door, reaching up quietly to engage the chain lock. Just in case he's grown a pair in the last few hours.

"You fuckin' left me, that's what!" Charlie roars.

"And it only took you all night to notice!" you chirp sarcastically.

"Is the fucking bin man in there with you?"

"Don't worry about it."

"I fucking knew it! You nasty whores deserve each other!"

"You kiss your boss's ass with that mouth?"

"Open the door."

"It's stuck."

He groans loudly and kicks it.

"Yeah, that'll help," you deadpan. "What do you want?"

"I want my shit, you crazy bitch! We're done!"

"Ask me nicely."

"ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?"

You laugh and leave him to his tantrum as you fetch a paper grocery bag and begin shoving his stuff inside: body wash, deodorant, razor, a few articles of clothing and a shirt that you'd definitely used to sop up some of the fluids you and Michael had leaked onto the mattress.

Michael sits on the bed with the sheet wrapped around his waist, looking fearful. You give him a wink before you leave the room. You pick up some of the clothes you'd scattered across the living room floor, looking for the car keys, and finally locate them underneath Michael's pants. You toss the keys in the bag, fold the top down, and grip the knob. You open the door just enough to slide the bag through.

"There's your shit. Don't come back."

And then you shut the door in his stunned face, lock it, and return to bed.

Michael still looks nervous. You crawl into his lap and kiss the tip of his nose.

"Don't worry about him," you smile, "he's a spoiled brat who throws tantrums whenever he doesn't get his way, but he's harmless. Rich kids can't fight for shit. You, though? I bet you could scrap with the best of 'em."

Michael bites his lip and stares off to the side. You cup his face and stroke his cheeks, wishing he'd tell you what's bothering him.

"You know I'm not really a businessman, right? I'm just a bin man."

You laugh and capture his lips in a kiss, remembering to mumble an "I know, baby," at some point, which makes his whole body relax. You fall back onto the bed together, limbs tangled and mouths hungry.

You ride him 'til dawn.

The pair of you finally begin to wind down as the sun starts to rise. You lie facing each other, satisfied and sticky and too tired to do anything about it. You wish you could stare into those beautiful eyes forever, but sleep is calling you.

"If you want to clear out before I wake up, it's alright. I'll understand," you say softly. Inside, you're screaming and begging him to stay. But what if he doesn't feel the same?

He thinks about it for a minute, biting his bottom lip. "Would it be alright if I stayed?" he asks, almost like he's afraid of the answer. The feeling of relief that floods through you is so intense, you wonder if you're going to pass out. "I can fix your door in the morning," he adds quickly, like he needs a reason to stay.

"You don't have to do that," you smile. Worry clouds his face. "But if you really wanted to, I'm sure I could find some way to repay you," you smirk. His eyes widen. "Would it be alright if I made you breakfast?"

Now it's his turn to be relieved. He smiles and throws an arm over you to pull you closer.

"Would it be alright if I never, ever left?" he mumbles into your hair.

"Yeah," you sigh, getting comfortable in his embrace. "That'd be alright."

[soulmaking]

a poem of mine—title is from Emily Dickinson's "'Hope' is the thing with feathers"

[akirakirxaa]

𝑌𝑜𝑢'𝑟𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑐𝑎𝑢𝑠𝑒 𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑎𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑑𝑜𝑡𝑒 𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑠𝑖𝑛𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑠ℎ𝑖𝑝 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝐼 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑙𝑒𝑡 𝑔𝑜 𝑌𝑜𝑢 𝑙𝑒𝑑 𝑚𝑦 𝑤𝑎𝑦, 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑛 𝑑𝑖𝑠𝑎𝑝𝑝𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑒𝑑 𝐻𝑜𝑤 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑗𝑢𝑠𝑡 𝑤𝑎𝑙𝑘 𝑎𝑤𝑎𝑦 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑚𝑒 ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒?

[-- Dark on Me, Starset]

[coffiishake]

In my two decades of living I’ve collected silly little guys that make me happy :) this is definitely not all of them and I’m probably missing some but these are the ones that I remembered :D Omw to collect more funny lil guys

[despairforme]

headcanon generator.

❝ My balance is fuckin' perfect so of course. ❞

[neptuniadoesstuff]

Doodle of my ver of a Kolbold (in the AD universe)

So uh... I kinda decided to fuse a dog & a lizerd together to create my ver of the Kolbolds. (Which is a reference due to kolbolds looking like lizerds in western media & dogs in Japanese media)

BASICALLY.... DOG LIZERDS! (Or lizerd dogs)

[tiabritana]

For @softest-punk who’s hobhusband verse I read for the thousandth time today and got inspired. Here’s Hob meeting one of his in-laws

————————————————————————

It was one of the rare times that Death was able to get away from her busy schedule for more than a few moments, and Hob was not about to look a gift horse in the mouth.

They were currently the only two in the flat and were spending time together at the kitchen table drinking some local ale that Moira gifted him over the holidays when a thought popped into Hobs mind. He never really gave it much thought before-assuming that as with most things in the beginning- his gift was from Dream, and that was that. With the arrangement now, and knowing that prior assessment to be false, Hob turned to Death and pondered how to ask his question.

“Yes?” Death asked, seeing his stare.

“I was just wondering how I stayed the same age after all these years.” He started setting his mug down and playing with his fingers. “I just never really thought about it before, but your gift prevents me from dying, so how do I still look young.”

Death was silent for a bit, playing with her own mug, swirling the liquid around as she pondered his question.

“I never really thought of it much,” she finally admitted. “When I first made the wager with Dream, I just wanted him to see the beauty of humans. You all are-especially you-,” she paused and gave him a warm look, reaching between them to gently grab his hand from where he was still fiddling with them, “so full of life. I just wanted him to understand.” She stopped and shrugged, and Hob understood what she didn’t say. By now they all knew that Dream was in a bad place for a long time and was just starting to see that there was more to life than just his function.

“Anyway, if I had to guess I assume that Father had something to do with your preserved form.” She took back her hand to instead cup her mug and bring it to her mouth to take a long gulp.

Hob stared at the column of her neck admiring as he thought about what she said. He never gave much thought to the Endless parents as none of his spouses liked to talk about them. The closest being Delirium’s nonsensical musings about there being a black hole inside her sometimes, and the twins sharing a look.

“Why would he grant my body stasis- for lack of a better word?” He asked. His musings were starting to give him a headache the more he tried to wrap his head around the subject.

Death shrugged again, putting her now empty mug down. Hob pushed his half drunk glass towards her. He didn’t think drinking anymore would help with his burgeoning headache.

Just as she was finishing his mug, Death turnt her head and gazed off into distance with her ear cocked, listening to something Hob couldn’t hear.

“I got to go,” she said as she stood up. Hob got up and leaned towards her to press a chaste kiss to her cheek.

“I’ll see you later love.” And watched as her great wings took her off to her next appointment.

“She’s right you know.” Hob quickly whipped around at the sound of an unfamiliar voice in his now not so empty flat. Standing behind him was a young man with bright red hair-looking just like Destruction. Hob wet his lips, suddenly wishing he didn’t give Death his drink as the man changed forms into a wizen old man. He instinctively knew who was standing before him even though this was his first time meeting the being; and wondered if this had anything to do with the flat being on the border of the the Endless siblings realms.

The being-Time-circled around Hob, making him feel like a sculpture on display. He swallowed down his sudden feeling of inadequacy and smiled what he hoped was a welcoming grin. “Hel-,” he was cut off before he could finish the greeting.

“I suppose congratulations are in order.” His tone not giving anything away as he continued his perusal. Hob fought the urge to wipe his sudden sweat coated palms on his trousers, and instead met his father-in-laws eyes as he finally circled back to the front.

“I don’t like company, even from my own children, but I do keep an eye on them from time to time.” At the last part his lips twitch up, reminding Hob of Destiny when he managed to make him smile. His form shifted again, turning him into a small red headed child, though the intense look in his eyes didn’t change.

“I watched that day Death and Dream made that wager, and knew how important you’d be.” He stopped and stepped closer to Hob, his form shifting again to a baby, small tufts of red hair and a cherub face. Hob looked down and wondered how this didn’t even make it into his top ten list of weird things to happen to him in the last decade alone. “Imagine my surprise when the least likely timeline overwrote what the Fates had in store for Dream and changed Destiny’s Book.”

Hob swallowed, “uh-,” and once again was cut off from whatever he was about to say.

“Thank you.” The words were softly spoken as Time shifted again, his form now a middle again man with white streaking into his red hair and beard. He finally tore his eyes from Hob, who let out an inaudible sigh as the pressure he didn’t know was slowly suffocating the room disappeared.

When he looked back up, a shadow flashed over the man’s face making him look every eon he was. Hob blinked and the being was gone. As silence slowly descended he heard the knob on the door turning and Destruction emerged from the rain, red hair dripping and boots creating puddles in the entry way. He had shop bags in his great arms as he slowly looked a Hob’s gobsmacked face after shutting the door.

“You okay love?” He asked. He walked around Hob to deposit the bags onto the counter, but stopped and turned to face him again when he received no response. Setting the last bag down Destruction walked over to Hob and took his hands into his own larger ones.

That finally seemed to shock Hob out of his catatonic state. “I think your father approves of me.”

Destruction just stared at him as Hob let go of his hands and wandered the few paces to the kitchen counter to peak into the bags the redhead had left there. “What’s for dinner?” He asked unaware of the stunned expression his blasé response brought.

Needless to say, dinner was late after Destruction called his siblings and they all ended up talking over one another, save Destiny who sat on the couch with a small smile on his face as he read from his Book-Hob sitting beside him as he let his soothing presence help his now migraine- and handed him an aspirin and a glass of water.

[dutybcrne]

Love the idea of Kae painstakingly learning Hilichurian, at first bc he figured it was another skill under his belt then bc talking with them made him curious abt them and their origin

[kibo-no-akademi]

Cateline & Hanno's Wedding

Meme template from HeyaNeon

[more-than-a-princess]

@fairlybeloved asked: 025.   an abandoned scrapyard

Setting Prompts - Still Accepting!

Well, this definitely wasn't where she was supposed to be.

Sonia Nevermind, in her pressed skirt suit and heels, raised her head and sniffed the air around her in apprehension. She'd convinced her security detail that she was confident enough in her own sense of direction to walk home from her meeting on foot and that they could follow behind, as always, in the black sedans with tinted, bulletproof windows.

In reality, the Princess of Novoselic needed a break. To celebrate, initially: she'd gotten a notoriously difficult Japanese politician to bring a proposal to the Prime Minister. Someone who, usually, reserved his attention for her father and her father alone. But he had put her in charge, now that her school years were behind her and she worked full-time for the Royal Family, of her own initiatives as long as she could deliver the results. It seemed, then, that she had a real chance and she wanted to celebrate it like a real person. Or at least, someone more believable than her own sense of 'normal.' A walk on a busy street, maybe stopping for a meal or a treat, and not chauffeured by private car home.

However, she'd overestimated her sense of direction, and had ended up decidedly not in her neighborhood of Aoyama, where the Novoselic Royal Family's Tokyo condo was located. She was somewhere else, somewhere considerably more dodgy and filled with discarded metal. The scent she'd picked up reminded her of her old classmate, Kazuichi Souda, and the constant automobile parts and oil he'd been surrounded in. She wondered if there was a garage nearby, or at least somewhere with someone more knowledgeable about the area than she was. Her fine clothes already made her look out of place, her foreigner status and appearance a second reason to indicate she didn't belong there.

She needed help, and fast: she'd promised her security that she wouldn't cause trouble for them. Or too much of it anyway: she thought once she'd ducked down a side street, hidden behind a door, and then waited for the car to pass before continuing that she'd been clever but not too dangerous. Overly confident in her sense of direction and all. And now she was paying the price. Looking around, she breathed a sigh of relief as she spotted a tall man, with dark hair and hopefully a better idea of where exactly in Tokyo she was. Squaring her shoulders, she strode up to him: in the most likely case, he would be kind enough to converse with her in her fairly above-average Japanese and give her directions. In the worst case, she'd run into a serial killer and honestly, her day would be much improved by meeting a serial killer in the flesh, and not behind prison bars. She'd have so many questions to ask!

"Excuse me, sir?" She called out to him with a small wave. "Hello! I have found myself a bit lost. Could you tell me where in Tokyo I am, and the best way to get to the Aoyama neighborhood? I would appreciate it ever so much."

[aikidoheroine]

The Christmas holiday has arrived, Pekoyama arrives at Tenko’s place after her duties were finished at Kuzyuruu manor. In her palm seemed to be a gift for the Neo-Aikido master

It so happens that Tenko already got a gift for Peko as well, which was currently all wrapped up and waiting. So when Tenko heard a knock on her door, she opened it with a smile. "Hello, Peko! How are you doing?"

[wheels-of-despair]

Draw Me Like One of Your Dwarf Girls, Eddie Pairing: Eddie Munson x You Summary: Eddie decides to work on his drawing skills, and accidentally awakens a monster in the process. Contains: Titanic references, female nudity, a brush with death. Word Count: 1.3k-ish

"Draw me like one of your dwarf girls, Eddie," you say in a sultry voice, trying your hardest not to laugh.

"What did I tell you about talking?" He pauses to give you a pointed look, since he's already told you to pipe down several times. You roll your eyes, and he returns to his drawing with a renewed vigor.

It's early 1998, and you've recently dragged your poor Eddie to a theater to see that damn Titanic movie everybody and their mother keeps raging about. All 3 hours of it. You may have neglected to mention the runtime when you bought the tickets. You owe him.

He survived, but was suddenly faced with the desire to "work on his people-sketching skills." Which of course meant it took him less than a week to convince you to strip and pose like Rose on the couch, wearing only that red guitar pick necklace he's had since high school.

You're stretched out and exposed and already bored. Two hours ago, he'd adjusted your hand a quarter of an inch this way, your knee a quarter of an inch that way, and you'd been instructed not to move.

Well, it felt like two hours, but it was really only about 30 minutes.

With nothing else to do, and being mildly disappointed that he didn't find your commentary amusing, you watch his eyes follow the pencil scratching across the paper you can't see. He's cute when he's concentrating. Tongue poking out, brow furrowed, that spark of creativity in his eye. It must be going well, because he smiles occasionally. He even giggled once. If you had to guess, you'd say it probably had something to do with a nipple. It was a little chilly.

"Just as I thought; it's a masterpiece."

"Are you done?" You'd only been in this position for an eternity.

"Oh yeah, this baby's getting framed." Ignoring you, he holds his sketch pad out to view it at an arm's length, beaming at his creation.

"Can I move now?!"

"Yeah, you can move."

You stretch your stiff limbs and get up off the couch, reaching for the flannel he'd discarded on a chair nearby, buttoning a few buttons as you pad over to where he sat admiring his work.

You place a hand on his back and look over his shoulder at the figure on his sketchbook. You're confused, but you can't take your eyes off of it. You can't think of anything to say. Until…

"What. The FUCK. Is THAT."

He looks up innocently and says, "What? I was just following instructions. You kept talking, figured I better listen."

You have no words.

You do, however, have a fucking BEARD in Eddie's drawing.

He sits there, looking up at you with a proud grin on his face, waiting for you to react.

You stare at him wordlessly, still in a state of shock.

Until he laughs at you. LAUGHS AT YOU.

Your brain begins to swirl furiously, until it flashes one word: KILL.

You clench your fists, and he begins to sense that you're not going to start laughing with him. His eyes widen, and he jumps out of his chair, vaults over the coffee table, and stands on the couch.

"I can explain," he says quickly, trying to sound calm, steps unsteady on the cushions.

You can explain too. Explain to the responding officers how one Edward James Munson met his gruesome demise.

"It's Tolkien."

You ignore him and advance slowly, like a predator stalking its prey. Eyes unblinking. Blood boiling. Steam probably coming out of your ears. He jumps off the couch as you approach the coffee table.

"It's from a book!" He's walking backward, holding out his sketch pad like a lion tamer with a chair.

His eyes bulge as he hits something solid. You've backed him into a corner. Literally.

"Tolkien! Middle-earth! The Hobbit! Nerd shit!"

Nerd shit won't save you now, Munson. You narrow your eyes and prepare to go in for the kill. He panics.

"Dwarf women have beards! It was a joke! I'm sorry! I love you!"

The "I love you" makes you pause, just as you were about to pounce and slash your prey to pieces. The hell?

"What?" you ask, giving your head a slight shake in confusion.

"Dwarf women have beards. In the books. You said to draw you like a dwarf. It was a joke. I thought you'd know what it was."

"You thought I'd know some random detail from a book I haven't read in over a decade?"

"I mean, it's a pretty memorable detail…"

You roll your eyes, heave a sigh, and pinch the bridge of your nose. Why is this not surprising?

"So you're not gonna kill me?" He's still backed into his corner. You consider it for a moment, deciding that you've played with him enough for today.

"Not tonight, Munson."

He exhales and leans his head back against the wall.

"But I WILL get you for this," you threaten, pointing a finger at him. He nods, used to this constant back-and-forth game you'd both been playing for over a decade. He knew you'd never really hurt him, just like you knew he wouldn't hurt you either. It was just a game.

You turn to walk away, and hear him whisper to the abomination he's still clutching: "Don't worry baby, you're still gettin' framed."

You whip around, eyes flashing. He gulps. You step closer, making him lean further back into the wall. He's cute when he's scared.

"Give it."

He stares at you with those big, beautiful brown eyes of his.

"Give it," you repeat, holding out a hand and waiting for him to place his sketchbook into it.

Reluctantly, he hands it to you. You maintain eye contact as your fingers find the thick cover page, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of looking at his ungodly creation again. You slam it shut and he flinches.

"What are you gonna do with it?"

Beat your nerdy ass to death with it.

Still clutching his sketch pad, you step back silently and gesture for him to walk on by with your free hand. He slowly peels himself off the wall and begins to move with an apprehensive look in your direction, and a thought occurs to you.

As he scurries past you, you smack him on the ass with his sketchbook. He whirls around with a yelp, hands clutching his cheeks. It's cardboard, you drama queen. You step closer and swing the book at his arm.

"You made me lay there for AN HOUR! While! You! Drew! That!" You punctuate each word with another smack of the sketch pad. He continues overreacting to each hit and falls to the floor with a wail when you finish yelling, clutching his imaginary wounds. You lift the book above your head with both hands, ready to finish him.

"It started out real! But I couldn't make it look like you! It wasn't pretty enough!" You graciously decide to let him continue, still holding the sketchbook in an attack position, just in case. "I tried," he explains calmly now, "but it wasn't working out, and then you said the dwarf thing, and I thought it would be funny. I'll make it up to you."

"Damn right, you will." You lower the book and release it. It lands on his chest with a light thud. He grins from his position on the floor. You step over him and make your way toward the bedroom.

"Starting now," you inform him from the hallway, not slowing or turning around. You hear him scramble to get up, knock something over, and curse before he hurries in your direction.

He's lucky he's cute.

[rubberduckyrye]

admittedly dr2 is probably the most brutal killing game when it comes to motives due to how damn targeted and unavoidable they are and I am imagining a despair disease mikan just casually holding him smiling, and her using him as a bit of a shield when hajime starts to realize the truth, letting kokichi whine and tantrum that hajimes being mean, auntie mikan would NEVER, but also on a more lighter note, despair disease mikan being like "hmmm i could commit a murder orrrr i could let kokichi boss around ibuki while she's like this and see what happens"

LMAO I think we need two versions of this AU

The mega angsty version that dwells on the darker themes of what it would be like for a child to be raised (and potentially non-sexually groomed) by the remnants of Despair and how genuinely terrible that situation is

And a crack version where Kokichi has his lil fucked up found family but it's all fun and games and just absolute nonsense

But also Kokichi @ Ibuki like: Play with me!!! Draw with me!!! Eat these veggies I don't want them! Read me my favorite story!!!

[phantasmalnightmare]

Starter for @despairs-memorial

Junko stared down at the board member listlessly. "Heyyyy. Don't give up already. I just took one eye. Don't you wanna like live or something? Pretty L to just give up like this if you ask me." She huffed in annoyance, crossing her arms across her chest. The man had stopped struggling and crying after she'd taken his eye. She grabbed a spoonful of curry and placed his eyeball on top, bringing it to his face, but the spark of hope that had been in his eyes earlier was long gone. "Say Ah~" She trilled, and forced the spoon into his mouth, but the man had no strength to chew, or even to spit, as the curry mix fell out of his mouth, and dribbled onto the front of his shirt. "Ick."

"BORING. Hey sis!" She called out, knowing that Mukuro was somewhere else in the small house. "Get your fat, smelly, ugly ass in here! I need someone to take out this garbage." The Fashionista kicked the man with her heel for emphasis. She wore very sharp and sturdy stilettos, and the heel sank into the man's leg with a satisfying squelch.

The man was still alive and managed a small whimper, but he was already in the realms of despair. "Where is that ugly cow!? Do I have to do everything myself? I don't wanna kill someone who's already broken. It's like totally no fun." She pouted.