#HEYYYYYY

[soapyakships]

mama and papa

[triski73]

Via webharrystyles

[messysketchyobeyme]

How to Woo A Human: Chapter 1

[Chapter 1], [Chapter 2]

Satan/Reader

(Nightbringer Spoilers)

Summary:

"Different humans have different love languages. Taking advantage of a human’s love language will allow you to gain their trust, which can be used to manipulate them easier."

As long as Satan ignored the parts about deception and manipulation and focused on the affection part, he was certain he could change himself into someone who would be worthy of love.

He would make sure of it.

—

A book fell on Satan’s head. It hurt. A lot.

He came tumbling down with a strangled shout. Grunting, Satan sat up and eyed the fallen book on the floor and snatched it up, hiding it under his jacket. 

Satan didn’t want anyone to see the book that had made him stop in his tracks at the library. It had been on the top shelf, but just within reach that Satan thought he could grab it. It seemed that he had misjudged a tad.

When Satan made sure nobody was watching, he pulled the book out. He traced his fingertips over the brown cracked leather that seemed almost too fragile to touch. The golden lettering that had initially caught his eye still shone as brightly as ever. How to Woo a Human.

Even just reading the title made Satan’s cheeks burn painfully, but he paused when he saw the tagline: A Guide To Deception, Earning a Human’s Trust, and Sealing the Deal.

Of course. Satan had only been alive for a little under two years at this point, but he should have known that no self-respecting demon would write a How-To on how to romance humans of all things. 

He should just put it back on the shelf and forget this ever happened.

Satan flipped to a random page. Love Languages.

He snapped it shut.

—

Satan can’t believe he checked out that book. That stupid, stupid book.

It sat at his desk mocking him. He sat in his chair curled up as tightly as he could. He glared at the book. 

Ugh.

Satan loved you.

Fine, he admitted it! In his head of all places but still.

He had no idea when he started to develop feelings for you. Perhaps it was when you looked at him without any of the disdain or fear the others held for him. Or maybe it was the moment you showed him what it was like to be a part of a family. Or it could have been when you had offered him a cup of water after he complained of a sore throat.

Before that, Satan had only read about love in books and fairytales. He wasn’t expecting to experience the feeling for himself. And so soon.

Satan knew you didn’t love him. He knew you liked him, just as you did with the rest of his brothers, but you didn’t love him.

How could you? Satan was overcome by rage. He screeched and thrashed, destroying everything in his wake. You were often dispatched to the House of Lamentation just to deal with his messes. Satan was unlovable.

But…perhaps this book could teach him how to be more charismatic, so you might fall in love with him.

Satan opened the front cover, flipping the pages to the chapter he had seen earlier. 

Love Languages:

Humans have five methods they use to express and receive affection. Love Languages include words of affirmation, gifts, quality time, acts of service, and physical touch.

Different humans have different love languages. Taking advantage of a hunan’s love language will allow you to gain their trust, which can be used to manipulate them easier.

As long as he ignored the parts about deception and manipulation and focused on the affection part, Satan was certain he could change himself into someone who would be worthy of love.

He would make sure of it.

[yrsonpurpose]

OSCAR PIASTRI FP1 // Canadian GP 2023

[caker-baker]

Playing Sides

The detective allowed themself tense shoulders and whitened knuckles, if only to properly play the game.

Body language could make and break this meeting, and they needed to be a collection of fearful memories on display for the villain, an offering, appeasement, something else here and there.

If anyone other than the villain noticed the act, they were obviously choosing not to say something, going about their individual days, drinking coffee and politely nibbling on microwaved pastries.

But those people didn’t matter, not when there was something else much more pressing at the table.

“This seems a tad…” The villain sitting across from the appeasing detective took their time looking for the word. “incompatible.”

The detective only spared a sweeping glance at the rest of the cafe. “For you or for me?”

Chuckling, the villain raised their coffee cup to their lips. “Tricky, tricky, tricky. Always is with you.” They took an appreciative sip, eyes never leaving the detective. “What is this act you’re putting on? It’s good, believable, but not enough of a constant for me to place any value in it. I don’t appreciate attempts at flattery.”

The first thought was to argue, because why wouldn’t it be? The detective was a professional, their job was to unearth, discover, and find the final truth, the one answer.

Sitting in front of an anthropomorphized file of contradictions with the ability to lie, could, arguably, make the detective jumpy, twitching to argue and argue and argue until that final truth was revealed.

“Maybe it’s not an act.” The detective finally said, not exactly an argument, but a halfway concession, relaxing their muscles, loosening the vice grip on their coffee. “Maybe I’m scared.”

“But not of me.”

“Should I be?”

The villain offered a closed lip smile, one motion away from baring their teeth.

“I don’t so much mind you, my dear detective friend.”

“I don’t care for flattery, either.” The detective said.

“Good thing it wasn’t flattery. You would notice if I were to compliment you.” The villain watched them, particularly their relaxed hands.

The detective managed to rid the urge to move their hands then and there, stayed completely still even as the chill creeped up their spin.

“No, no, not flattery.” The villain continued. “Merely acknowledging the truth. We have a good deal going for each other.” They leaned forward. “Which is why this meeting worries me, why I was unconvinced of your taut facade, your attempts of appeasement.”

The detective straightened, knowing well enough that the villain was mocking their strategy.

“You were hoping to…what? Beg for some sort of help?”

“No.”

“Ask for something, then?”

The detective stayed silent, looking away as the villain stared them down, goading them on in their silent way.

The two did have a good deal going on, and if the detective was wrong, this could ruin that.

But they weren’t wrong.

“There have been whispers, Villain.”

“There tend to be, yes, old friend.”

“About something, someone, coming.” If the villain wanted to respond, the detective wasn’t going to give them a chance. “Now, you know me, you know us, our usual deal. I play both sides of the fence, just barely. Lately, during some of my data tracking for the heroes, I’ve noticed a disturbing pattern.”

“Oh?”

“I’ve been forced to wonder something, I have a question for you. All I need is a simple yes or no-”

“Going to stop you there.” The villain set down their cup, fixing the detective with a colder, less amicable gaze. “I do know our usual deal, which is why I’m insulted now. You wanted information, pertinent, valuable information about something disturbing, and you were hoping to bargain with your fear?”

“Villain-”

Their eyes widened, the table under their fist began to crack.

“Careful.”

The detective couldn’t hide any body language from that, flinching at the tone of voice, tones, that the villain had - a million low voices all merging into one, horrific growl that sent shivers wracking up the detective’s spine, hurting their very bones.

“My guilt!” The detective spat out, ignoring the building bone nausea. “It wasn’t fear. You’re right. I’m not scared, not yet, but I’m guilty, and I will be terrified depending on your answer. If this ends up a yes, then I’m prepared to offer you something that I cannot take back, Villain. I’ll trade in something terrible for the rest of us, if it means I have the smallest chance to prepare.”

Those wide eyes narrowed, but the cracking table at least stopped, and the million low voices returned to one.

“Do tell.”

“Answer me first.”

“Tricky, tricky, trick.” The villain relaxed into their chair, amused now. “I’ll decide if it’s worth answering, Detective. Seem fair? Ask your silly yes or no question.”

Another sweep around the coffee shop, everything going according to how the detective had set up.

“Normally, your type gets quiet, goes under radar before a bigger stunt is pulled. I keep track, alert the proper channels, make sure not too many civvies are in a particular high risk zone at a given day. Some contacts in other big cities have reached out, said it’s been too quiet, everyone’s been too quiet.”

The villain’s amusement had already been fanned like a flame, crossing their arms and watching the detective lay it out for them as if it was some soap opera.

“I’ll spare you too many details, but I have reason to believe something big is being planned for here.” They held up a hand, watching the villain’s eyebrow quirk up. “I just need to know, yes or no, is this happening? Is my home going to be razed down for a personal vendetta? A final heroes vs. villains?”

The villain looked the detective up and down.

“If you knew the answer to that, what would you do?”

“Let you and yours duke it out with the heroes. Take the place if you want, it’s only a place, but I’d like to minimize civvy death count, Villain. I’d get in touch with those channels and start mass evacuation. I’d start it now.”

“And now the fun part.” They leaned in again. “What could you offer me in exchange for this answer? What could bring you of all people to guilt? You, whom I almost respect?”

The detective swallowed, and placed their bag on the table, letting the villain take a look inside.

Body language would make or break this.

“Power dampening cuffs. A prototype. I can’t guarantee they work. But I’m sure if you and yours worked together, you could figure something out.”

For the first time, the villain seemed surprised, hardly giving the prototype cuffs another glance.

“Detective-”

“I can’t guarantee they work.” The detective repeated. “But in this squabble of yours that may or may not be coming up, you could use these, and they would help, I know they would.”

“Hm. And you’ll let me walk out with these and the current schematics if I answer you? What if I lie? You make the wrong call, and I still have these. Maybe I will lie, maybe I want to see you be horribly wrong at such a cost.”

“You don’t.” The detective wasn’t wrong. They weren’t.

“Why’s that?”

“It would be no fun for you. You couldn’t almost respect me if this was the end of our partnership, my too easy failure.”

There was so much the detective was betting on, and knowing the villain was one of them.

The villain was a villain through and through, conniving, powerful, selfish, dangerous. And sometimes, those traits, the selfishness, carried into these little deals of theirs.

No, the villain wouldn’t want this to end without a bang. The villain would want to string along the detective until there was no more use of them.

��In a way,” The villain said, standing and grabbing the bag. “You’re right. It would be no fun. I don’t just want these, though. I want something else.”

“Answer the question, I’ll see what else I can do.”

The villain stared down at the detective for a long time. A minute. Two. Three. Or maybe it was only three seconds, stretched out into the fraying ends of a perfectly planned meeting.

“Yes.” The villain finally said. “The answer is yes, something is coming.”

The detective stood, not too quickly. “Thank you. I appreciate that. What do you want? Codes to inaccessible areas? You can have them as soon as-”

Reaching across, the villain grasped the detective’s shoulder. “The ramifications of razing this city down, as you so put, were lost on me. How could you and I keep this up if you’re running off, evacuating with the other saps?” They watched how the detective’s eyes flitted to the villain’s hand. “What I want, Detective, is to keep having fun.”

“Villain, there’s not much you or I can do to continue this deal of ours if there’s all out super war-”

“You play for heroes and villains, or, excuse me, just barely.” Their hand tightened on the detective’s shoulder. “Let’s see what sort of fun we can have with that.”

Before the detective could open their mouth, the villain smiled, and the two disappeared.

[jauffre]

MOHGWYN PALACE (x)

[aceywhomps]

was explaining some kinda fairy tail lore to a clueless friend on stream, these doodles are the fruits of my labour...

[fellxthecat]

hey guysssss.... (i may start being active on here again xP)

[chelstory]

Wow it’s been almost a year since I posted here 😭

Took a bit of a hiatus from posting bc quite frankly… I’m tired lol

There’s so many socials to keep up with, work, being perceived is annoying, rebranding, trying to figure out how to have fun and be professional online at the same time has been a headache, finding energy to draw, deciding when and what to post, Instagram has the whole AI shit going on, PLUS life/adulting stuff (hey wtf is a 401k), the state of the world is driving me bonkers, aaaaGHHH it’s so much.

BUT, despite all that, I wanna tell stories and I wanna get back to just… making stuff without feeling like I have to perform in order to get a job, keep a job, and be hire-able 😅

So yeah, for those still following, thanks for sticking around! I’m still figuring out who I am as a story teller and artist in general but tbh, I think I’ll be doing that until I’m dead, so…

ANYWAY, YEAH ART!! I’m gonna continue posting my old story stuff from last year that I didn’t cross post here yet and THEN I’d like to start (for real this time) posting stuff from my sketchbook and future stories I wanna work on! I really wanna show my process and just be more candid here but in a more ✨structured✨ way if that makes sense

2024 is almost over but tbh, the year didn’t officially start for me until March anyway so whatever

[fisherrprince]

HEY!!!!

[froggielovescoffee]

thinking about ruin

[angelforever]

pin/creds ୨୧

[that-was-anticlimactic]

will you pray for me when i'm gone?

Tachihara didn’t know when Tanizaki became Jun'ichiro or when Jun'ichiro became Jun, but suddenly Jun was the prayer he recited before falling asleep.

And suddenly, Tachihara knew the inside of Jun’s room better than his own—he could navigate his dorm even in the darkest of nights without the slightest bit of hesitation.

And now… now, here he was, watching Jun nervously tread through the tunnels as if he didn’t know what awaited him and his family.

[or, tachihara knows that jun is a terrorist, but his heart won't let him fully believe it]

❄️2,731 words | tanihara❄️

[special-agent-goobs]

Me and all the mutuals i pulled by being neurodivergent in some form

[macospersonalhell]

[sirenglow]

*taps mic* hello, is this thing on?