#I can and WILL be annoying about this for the next month or so for sure

[ccazimi]

cw: crack, fluff, smut, dubcon, panty sniffing/stealing, scent kink, etc. (he's literally part animal what do you expect)

tiger hybrid!sukuna who's prissy and sassy, much like an actual housecat. picky about everything, from the temperature and consistency of his food to the way his water tastes to what a light sleeper he is. sometimes you talk to him, and if he doesn't feel like responding, he literally won't even turn his head to you - all you'll get is an annoyed flick of his ear to tell you that he does hear you, he's just actively choosing to ignore you.

tiger hybrid!sukuna who has a serious issue with boundaries. he's allowed to ignore you if he feels like it, but you dare try and do the same thing back? unacceptable. will be extremely miffed if your attention isn't on him at all times. yes, even when he actively acts like he doesn't want it.

not to mention you need to deal with him literally getting offended at the fact that you wear clothes around him even though "it's just you two in the house" and on more than one occasion will you be absolutely mortified when you find he’s been stealing your dirty panties- he, of course, doesn’t get the big deal.

oh, you thought that was bad? wait till you find that he insists that you sleep naked with him, and your nightly ritual includes him not only licking you clean (at least your face and neck) but sniffing down your entire body. yes, the entire thing. the part where he gets to your pussy is the worst for you, and the best for him. and whenever he gets down between your thighs to smell you, he makes this weird face almost automatically, with his lips pulled back to show off those fangs and mouth a bit open somewhere between a snarl and a smirk, like he’s trying to taste the scent

tiger hybrid!sukuna who has a special vomeronasal organ at the roof of his mouth that can pick up pheromones—and that weird thing he does, when he opens his mouth while sniffing your pussy? yeah, that’s him drawing the scent in deeper, some focused, instinctual decoding process of your sexual health

"you're ovulating, probably peaked this morning. also you're kinda stressed...maybe you need to sleep more," he graciously informs you of his findings between your spread thighs. "oh and your pH is a little off. maybe skip that stupid new soap you got next time."

he looks up at you expectantly—clearly waiting for your gratitude. and you know he won’t finish this whole ridiculous routine until you sigh and say, flat as ever, "thanks for that. can we sleep now?"

"you've got two days left if you're trying to get pregnant, by the way."

you shoot him something between a glare and a grimace.

tiger hybrid!sukuna can pick up everything, but there are two times of the month when he can pick up those smells even with just his normal nostrils. the first one -obviously- is when you’re ovulating. but the only thing worse than the scent of you ovulating, is the smell that envelops you right before you get your period. “worse” in the sense that it drives him completely insane. sweet, cloyingly thick, warm. in fact he blames you for tempting him. you'll be innocently doing the dishes or something when suddenly it's too much for him and he pounces on you from behind, wrapping his arms around you to keep you in place, claws instinctively pushing out to dig into your skin so tight it hurts.

of course you panic, squirming as he begins rutting into the curve of your ass, his cock quickly swelling up till it's very noticeable. and the scent of him that becomes so much stronger when he's...excited like this - warm, musky, all iron and spice, wrapping around you.

"sukuna- let me- go!" you try as you struggle in his grasp, but it's too late he's too far gone, just mindlessly grunting and growling as he chases his release, too desperate to even fuck you properly. "almost there, just a bit more," he pants, nuzzling his nose into the crook of your neck and inhaling deeply. "it's your fault anyway, walking around like -hah- i can't smell your pussy fucking begging for me." and right as you're about to splash some cold water on him, you hear him groan filthy, and guttural, as he finishes in his pants just from grinding against you.

and that's when he finally comes to his senses, trying to retract his claws to let go of you. unfortunately they get stuck in the fabric of your clothing, and he just panics making them get even more tangled while you yell at him to stop moving so that you can unhook his claws. finally you turn with your arms crossed, giving him the coldest, and most stern look of all time. he stares at you guiltily, a large wet patch forming on the crotch of his pants where his cum seeps through.

it's not his fault -not exactly- like any good hybrid he needs to be trained, and soon enough you've corrected that little problem of his (mostly)

tiger hybrid!sukuna is intensely territorial, especially when it comes to you. so when you come home smelling even faintly like another man? he’s agitated to no end — not even jealous, exactly, he just feels like it’s wrong. soon after come several arguments his way about “how he can’t piss around your house to mark his territory” or about how “it’s completely unacceptable to leave long clawed scratch marks on the walls or furniture”

tiger hybrid!sukuna who simply cannot keep his hands off you when you're on your period. this time he doesn't touch you (too much) without your permission, but he will beg you incessantly till you finally give in. and that's how you end up with your clothes shredded, and him biting and sucking every inch of your body hungrily as he makes his way down, tail wrapping possessively around you to keep you in place

tiger hybrid!sukuna with long sharp fangs that make his kisses hurt just a little, especially when gets too excited and nips your skin, drawing just a bit of blood that he happily licks up. he loves when they scar a bit too, just so that you’re marked as his.

tiger hybrid!sukuna with rough, spiked papillae on his tongue meant for cleaning raw flesh off bone that are now scraping against the bud of your stiff nipple. you gasp and writhe, and he knows he can't lick you nipples too much (as much he wants to) or it'll really start to hurt.

tiger hybrid!sukuna eats you out like he eats wild prey, teeth just shy of nipping your clit as he laps at your cunt. and of course the rough sandpaper texture of his tongue against your swollen nub feels like nothing else - a bit painful, borderline overstimulating, but so good at the same time. but just like with your nipples he has to be carefully so he doesn't seriously hurt you down there.

tiger hybrid!sukuna who just can't help himself from pinning your thighs open almost painfully as you cum, just to stick his tongue inside your hole and finally taste the leaking sweetness that's been teasing him for days. even when you're done, he continues to lick your pussy gently, almost affectionately. you squirm a little from the slight overstimulation but just let him do his thing as he laps your folds clean, deep purrs rumbling from inside his chest as he does so

[biteyoubiteme]

Making out with yeonjun!! Nothing more just a hot make out session 😍

an: i dont know how this came out so long ;-; its not the best lmao i feel so stuck when i write kissing lmao but you know what making out with yeonjun would fix me and now its all i can think of. [m.list] wc: 1.1k warnings: rivals? to lovers, kissing, uuumm i think that's it lol

“You know you don't have to act like you hate me when no one else is around,” the sound of his voice cut through the rhythmic tapping of your shoe. 

You had known not to take the elevator, the constant reminder of the steady on and off out-of-service light blinking had been for well over two months. One day working, only to be caught halfway between floors the next. It had become a habit now to walk around to the other side of the building if you wanted a ride, or just to take the climb up the flights of stairs. It would burn your legs, but it would be better than being stuck here with yeonjun. 

The clock had only just hit the final hour in your overtime schedule. The city lights bright through the glass windows lining the back of your office. It had been in a moment of weakness, tired enough not to care if the elevator got stuck, if it meant you didn't have to walk down all the steps. You had almost been in the clear for the lone ride, the doors just an inch from closing, before yeonjun stuck his hand in to reel the doors back open. 

Your back had straightened, eyes narrowing as he gave you that cocky grin, “room for one more?” he knew the affect he had on you, knew it the moment he had joined your sales team and started to match your numbers and annoyingly surpass them on occasion. 

It wouldn't have bothered you much; you still hit quotas and pulled in more money than the company needed, but it was his arrogance that tipped you over the edge. So when the elevator stopped, jerking to a halt only a floor before the lobby, you couldn't help but sigh, foot tapping in annoyance the second the button for maintenance was pressed. 

“I never said I hated you,” You didn't have to look back to know he was leaning against the wall, hands in his pockets like he couldn't care less about the situation, “I do find you irritating.” 

He let out a short loud laugh like the sound had been pulled from him without him even realizing it. “Most people find me charming and charismatic,” 

“Most people, the less irritating type, don't go around listing their supposed qualities when no one asked for them,” and it was in the next laugh that you decided to shut him up. The way he found your annoyance funny ticked that internal clock of yours, counting down the seconds to blowing up. 

You didn't even listen to what he came back with. The words cut off the second you turned and leaned into him, his surprised hum caught right on the edge of your mouth. And he didn't even push you away, one hand coming up, ghosting over your cheek before you pulled away. “Now, will you shut up?” 

The kiss had effectively worked to quiet him, his eyes hazy and blinking at you like he was coming back from somewhere he never expected to go. In the half-second move to turn back around, yeonjun had caught you like he had the elevator, hand swift in pulling you back to him. 

He gave you no time to breathe, his mouth on yours, stealing your muffled shock. It had never crossed your mind if yeonjun would or would not be a good kisser; it was written into everyone's mind that he must be, especially when he always kept that teasing smirk right on the edge of his mouth. 

It was on instinct to want to reach out to you, his hands finding your waist, sliding along the smooth material of your work shirt. The elevator was too small to go anywhere but up against the wall. Yeonjun was effortlessly addictive in seconds, a hit that melted your body against his, destroying your inhibitions. 

Only a moment ago, you were annoyed, tired, and wished to be anywhere but here with him. Now your hands were curling along his neatly placed hair, tangling up in the strands while he chased your lips for more with every breath you pulled away to take. 

It was easily passed as a moment of weakness if it had stayed with nothing more than a fleeting lapse in judgment. But neither of you pulled away, not when he gave you the opportunity and started to kiss down your jaw, down your neck. His lips leave a trail over your pulse, your soft whine so loud in the cramped space. Yeonjun pressed his hips closer to you, locking you in place as if he could trap you right there, as if he could keep the sounds you made for him alone. 

When he pulled away, fingers still digging into your hips, your tucked shirt half pulled from the waistband of your skirt, the two of you blinked back in silent shock. His lips a deeper red, soft and flushed from the kissing, his eyes tracing over your features as the two of you looked back at what you had done. 

And neither of you cared, not when you tugged him back to you. The entirety of him devouring you up, trying to savor the moment as if you would push him away at any second. Because kissing you had been on his mind for longer than he'd care to admit, and even if you had done it to shut him up he would only get worse with annoying you if this was his reward disguised as nothing more than a petty punishment. 

But it was over too soon, the elevator jumping back ot life, pouring a bucket of ice water over the two of you. Caught in front of no one but each other. Both of you mess, silently agreeing to ignore what had happened as you pushed your hand back through his hair, only this time to put all the strands back into place. His fingers were steadily helping to tuck back in your shirt as if he wasn't doing the opposite of what he wanted. 

“Back to pretending you hate me?” his brows jumping up in question as you rolled your eyes. 

“Still undeniably annoying, people like you shouldn't be so good at kissing.” You smoothed your hand over his tie, needing some distraction as the elevator dinged right at the lobby. 

“People who are charming, charismatic, and handso-” he was leaning back in, nose dipping just enough to pull you back in before you pushed him away. He knew the trick to your weakness now, and it was hard to resist him when knowing the outcome. 

“Still annoying, goodnight yeonjun,” casually thrown over your shoulder as you tried to rush right out the door.

[reesereadsalot]

𝐹𝒶𝒸𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒜𝓇𝑒𝓃𝒶

previous chapter - next chapter

Pairings: Finnick x pregnant!reader Johanna x reader (platonic)

Warnings: refer to series masterlist

Desc: Your 7 months pregnant with Finnicks baby. When your the happiest you were in your life, your whole world comes crashing down. You were reaped for the 3rd Quarter Quell.

｡𖦹°‧masterlist

a/n: I actually had to rewrite most of this because I thought the JabberJays was before the spinning cornucopia. *cries* Also I released a blurb called “Fish out of Water” which is in the same universe as “Facing the Arena” and is placed after readers games.

“Get up. Get up, we have to move now.” Katniss says while grabbing our stuff quickly.

Katniss quickly explains that the arena is a clock. The clock has twelve sections. Each is a horror that will either kill you or mess you up completely. You can see the confusion on Finnick and Johanna’s face. Maybe they didn’t catch all of that. Funny. You chuckle to youself.

“What?” Finnick asks slightly amused but mostly confused as to why you’re laughing to yourself.

“Nothing. Just a joke I made up in my head.” You say gesturing to your head with a smile on your face. You felt like your in on a joke but it’s weird because only you know the joke. You feel like your going crazy.

You try to reach down to grab your spear, when you realize you can’t you groan loud enough for Finnick to hear. He is behind you in seconds.

“What’s wrong?” He asks his deep green eyes search your face and body to see if you’re injured. He places his hand on the small of your back and the other on your belly.

“I can’t grab my spear.” You half groan half whine while trying to grab your spear again.

“Don’t exert yourself. You don’t want to hurt the baby, I’ll grab it.” He says patting your stomach with a smirk. He swiftly grabs your spear and hands it to you. You and Finnick notice Katniss lingering by you. “Same goes for you, Karniss.” Finnick says smirking and gesturing to Katniss’ stomach. You snort and Katniss rolls her eyes. Finnick just winks at you.

“I want to get a better look at the arena. We should go to the Cornucopia.” Katniss says.

“What about the careers?” Asks Finnick

“It’s fine. We out number them anyway, Finn.” You say “That’s a good idea, Katniss.”.

“And how do you know?” Finnick says in a teasing tone.

“Because I know everything.” You retort playfully.

“Are you sure?” Finnick asks raising an eyebrow.

“Are you sure you want to ask that question to the mother of your child?” You put a hand on your belly and the other slaps him playfully in the bicep.

“Touche. Touche.” Finnick mumbles and you grin.

Peeta grabs Beetee’s blood soaked wire. It’s as thin as a hair so it must be really long since it’s a big bundle of coil. Wiress starts singing a song about a mouse a clock. It’s annoying but you don’t say anything. She’s still in shock. You have to step between Johanna and Katniss. They are getting on each other’s nerves. That’s annoying too.

You feel like you’re going to snap from frustration and annoyance. Your joints are aching and you start to notice how your ankles are swelling. You feel embarrassed. Yes, joints hurting and ankles swelling are normal pregnancy events but you feel weak. You could do more to help the group bust instead you’re pulling the group down.

“Stay by me.” Finnick says when you get to the cornucopia. You grab his hand and walk with him. Wiress is now giddy that we figured out the clock.

“I need to sit down.” You say. You’re clearly out of breath. You go to sit down by Wiress as she washes the wire that Katniss handed to her.

Finnick looks at you warily before talking with the others. Peeta makes a map of the arena on a leaf. We don’t know all the sectors but we know some. Like the blood rain and fog. You get up to inspect the weapons. You’re tired of carrying around a belt of knives.

You start to get goosebumps. Wiress has stopped singing. Before you realize, you’re swinging around and pulling a knife out of your belt. You see Gloss slitting Wiress’ neck. You throw your knife and it lands directly into his skull with a crack. Huh. Guess the knife belt was handy. You thought trying to distract yourself from the fact you just took another life.

Finnick is at your side at once. The careers are attacking. Cashmere filled with rage over her dead brother charges at you but Finnick throws his trident, hitting her directly into the heart.

You feel the ground shift below you. The Cornucopia starts to spin violently. You don’t get a chance to hold on to the Cornucopia before you’re flung into the water. The current tries to drown you but being from District 4 you’re strong enough to fight it. Katniss flies off the Cornucopia flying directly into you. She hits you and you feel the pain in your head immediately. You help eachother stay above water.

Then, the Cornucopia comes to an immediate stop. Everyone lands on the ground with a groan. Brutus and Enobaria have already run away. You and Katniss emerge out of the water and climb back onto the Cornucopia. Well, she climbs back on but you struggle. Finnick runs to you, pulling you up. He inspects you.

“Are you okay?” He says frantically. He touches a spot on your forehead and you wince. You touch it a notice blood.

“I’m fine. Just a little scratch.” You say with a sad smile.

The group gets back to the beach. You and Finnick are making a big net while playing eye tag. It’s a fun game you both play in a crowded room to make each other laugh. You’re on a streak though. You haven’t laughed before him in ages and he is obviously frustrated. You’re about to break and laugh when you hear a girl scream. It’s unrecognizable.

“Prim! Prim!” Katniss yells running into the jungle. Peeta didn’t register where Katniss had gone before she was halfway to the jungle. He couldn’t stop her.

“Katniss!” Finnick screams before following in after her.

You tried to stop him but he was too fast. You hear another scream of a man this time. You’re unfamiliar with it. Then you hear it. Your scream. You, Johanna and Peeta rush into the jungle. You—obviously—are behind because you can’t run fast.

Peeta runs into an invisible wall. A force field. Not as strong as the one that literally killed Peeta but strong enough to hold back tributes. You can’t hear the screams anymore. You try to spot Finnick or Katniss but you can’t. You start to get worried. You’re breathing heavily when Peeta notices.

“Here sit down.” Peeta says helping you sit down.

You can’t speak. It feels like your throat is closing in on itself. You continue to hyperventilate getting more and more anxious. Peeta and Johanna are both trying to soothe you but nothing works. You try to find Finnick but you can’t. He could be dead. You thought. No, you would have heard a cannon. You start to fight with yourself in your mind. You feel yourself retreating into the other world. The world where you, Finnick and your baby live peacefully.

Then you spot Katniss. A second later, Finnick follows her. He’s running from something. You look up to see blue and black birds swarming them. JabberJays. That’s what was making the screaming noises. It’s not real but it’s still torturing them. You heart feels as if it will break into tiny fragments. They’re torturing Finnick. You look at his face thats filled with sorrow and confusion. You realize how this must look. We are standing here, not doing anything to help them. Katniss must think this because she looks quite angry.

Peeta tries to yell at her, telling her not to run into the invisible barrier but she can’t hear him. Just like how you can’t hear them. Katniss runs into the force field hitting her shoulder. She looks as if she’s crying out in pain and sorrow. Finnick sees you. You’re no longer hyperventilating but instead you have a hand on the barrier. He outs his hand in the same place before curling up into a ball—shrinking himself—then covering his ears.

The hour feels like days. Days until you can hug Finnick. Days until you can talk to him. Peeta is still trying to reassure Katniss who can’t hear him. He knows that but he doesn’t care. Katniss shot a few birds before following what Finnick did.

When the hour is over, the barrier comes down. You rush to Finnick. He is stuck in a fetal position and visibly shaking. You pull him up cupping his face in your hands.

“Hey. Hey. You’re okay. It was just JabberJays. It was fake.” You say lifting one hand to brush a blonde wave out of his sweaty face. He leans into your touch.

“I-I heard you.” He said, tears forming on his already puffy face.

“I’m okay. We’re okay.” You say placing one of his hands on your belly.

He rubs your belly as you whisper sweet nothings in his ear. Just as he did for you when you used to wake up screaming from a nightmare. Eventually, he walks with you down to the beach. It’s now your turn to take care of him. You weave 12 bowls so each person had two bowls. You filled the multiple bowls with water for everyone. You delivered water to Katniss and Peeta first, then Finnick, then Beetee. Lastly, you filled your own bowls of water.

The waves crash over each other. The sound relaxing you and Finnick. His head is in your lap as one hand plays with his hair and the other helps bring fish to your mouth. Finnick’s amazing net caught it as always but that didn’t cheer him up. He hasn’t spoken much or ate since the JabberJays. You’re worried about him.

“Hey remember that time when I forgot to clean the fish fully and ate a bone.” You say trying to make conversation. That actually did happen and you broke a tooth. He laughed at you like always.

“Yes.” He said plainly.

“My tooth is still rigid.” You say feeling around for the broken molar with your tongue.

“What made you bring that up.” He asks you can tell he’s playing the memory in his head again. He turns his head to look up at you, sea green eyes staring at you.

“I’m eating fish.” You say matter of factly sticking the fish in his face.

“Okay, no need to shove things in my face.” He says laughing and swatting your hand away.

“Hey don’t attack the woman carrying your child.” You say crossing your arms.

“I am so, so sorry.” He says sarcastically. You smile and continue to play with his beautiful blonde waves. He turns back to face the ocean.

You guys go into a peaceful silence after that. You realize that these might be your last moments with him. You are both going to die here. I’m not letting him leave me and our child alone. You thought while a tear rolled down your cheek.

Part 5

[microwavesaferat]

I've seen multiple hcs of English Teacher Jason Todd, I've also seen multiple teacher aus in general. I would like to propose a 3rd Option:

Secret Day Jobs

All the Robins and Batfam extended universe (aka, until I get bored) have started doing day jobs as they get older, but they are all worried Bruce will bench them if they find out they're burning the candle at both ends, so they keep it secret.

We all know Dick is a cop in some comics, but I would like to propose they all go into teaching in some way. They don't tell the others, and gradually all end up transferring to the same school. We're also assuming they are all adults here.

We have:

Jason Todd - English Lit Professor. Doesn't like dealing with college kids, so moves to high school literature. Sometimes covers drama lessons if it's Shakespeare plays.

Dick Grayson - Health and Wellbeing (don't know if this is just a UK thing, sometimes called PSE). Basically teaches kids the dangers of smoking and how to stay healthy mentally and physically. He also runs the schools gymnastics club and helps at some other sports clubs.

Tim Drake - Computing. One of those teachers that doesn't care if you swear or call him the proper title. Does not care if you are misusing the school computers. He figured out the others are all teachers and hacked himself onto the payroll cause he thought it would be funny. Hacking emails to change names to see how long he can keep the others from figuring out they all work in the same place.

Damian Wayne - Biology. He kind of wishes he went into chemistry, because he despises the giggles and childish behaviour whenever something mentioned in the course is even mildly sexual. Refuses to do the frog dissection and nearly gets into a physical fight with the head of department. This event is what clues Dick into his presence, "Did you hear the new biology teacher threatened to kill Mr Smith over something? Apparently had a Katana or something in his desk".

Cassandra Cain - Guidance Councilor. Very good at interpreting the body language of the kids. Also does some work with ASL interpretation when needed. Thought everyone was aware of each other and isn't really trying to hide. Tim still has no idea she's here. Dick gets jumpscared when Cass shows up to one of the after school clubs he helps at.

Stephanie Brown - Somehow in a different position everyday. She appears as a janitor one day, then she's doing the school bus run the next. On Fridays she works in the Canteen cause the food is good on Fridays. There explicitly to annoy Tim who knows she's there, but can't find her in the payroll.

Duke Thomas - Politics/Modern Studies. The sort of teacher to say he's putting on a documentary, then pauses every 30 secs to go on a tangent about something. Disagrees with half the shit in the curriculum, so does his own thing. The projector in his classroom hasn't worked for months, but no one needs to know that.

Also, the moment they all figured out they are all there.

Dick hears about the frog incident and very quickly catches on.

Duke goes to the office to pick up jotters and Stephanie is working there.

Jason used the guidance councilor's room to take a minute and chill. Cass was on top of a cupboard for 10 mins before revealing herself.

Dick goes to grab the first aid kit after a kid falls at gymnastics and Stephanie is the Custodian in today.

Damian needs some supplies and the lab tech is Stephanie.

An Arkham breakout happens during a parents night and all of them run to change into costume. Issue is they all hid their costumes in the janitors closet.

WE runs a scholarship fund for students and Bruce has to show up to the awards ceremony for successful students. He gets a tour of the school only to slowly run into all of his kids. To start with, the tour is run by Stephanie who is refusing to break character.

Stephanie: Thank you for coming Mr Wayne

Bruce: Stephanie wha-

Stephanie: Please, Miss Brown, Stephanie was my father.

Steph: Anyway, here is our lovely new labs that WE do graciously funded.

Damian: *Yelling at a child to follow safety procedures*

Bruce: What? Dames?

Stephanie: and down to the left is our English department.

Jason Todd: *Animatedly discussing the influences of Romeo and Juliet in modern culture*

Steph: This is our lit teacher Mr Todd Peters

Bruce: *makes a note to remind his kids on good undercover names*

Well I'm tired but will probably add to this at some point.

[digitaldaydreamm]

Hey! I loveeee your work, especially the best friend series with Rafe- I was wondering if you would consider one where the readers on her time of the month/ having cramps? Because these cramps be killing meeee. If not I totally get it, love your work 🫶🏻

unspoken claim

rafe x childhood friend!reader

a/n: he doesn't know how to react when you're in pain and there's not much he can do about it, so as a defense mechanism he's just aggressively helpful in his own way 🫶

masterlist

⋆｡𖦹 °.🐚⋆❀˖°

★ first of all, he’s pissed on your behalf. like, genuinely mad at your uterus. “fuckin’ bullshit, kid. why the hell you gotta go through this?” he’ll mutter about how unfair it is under his breath the whole time.

★ hovering but stubborn. he’s pacing the room like he’s about to square up with mother nature herself. at first he’s like, “i dunno what you want me to do, kid,” but the second you so much as wince, he’s immediately at your side, demanding you tell him what to do.

★ very aggressive about helping. “move over. gimme the heating pad. i’m puttin’ it where it actually fuckin’ helps.” he forces you to lay back and presses it against your stomach himself, like he doesn’t trust you to do it properly.

★ snapping at everything and everyone. god forbid someone texts you something annoying while you’re suffering — he’ll snatch your phone and start typing like he’s ready to fight them. “who the fuck is stressing you out right now? i’ll block ‘em myself.”

★ babying you but trying to act like he’s not. brings you snacks. demands you eat even if you’re not hungry. carries you around like you weigh nothing if you even hint that it hurts to walk.

★ letting you nap on him. even if his arm falls asleep. even if he’s uncomfortable. he’ll just mutter, “s’fine, sweetheart, go to sleep,” and stay perfectly still with your head on him.

★ hands constantly on you — rubbing your lower stomach without you asking, massaging your back, kissing the top of your head with little grumbles under his breath about how “you don’t deserve this shit.”

★ absolutely no patience if you get self-conscious or say you feel gross. “shut the fuck up. you’re literally perfect. if you apologize again, i’m gonna lose it.”

⋆｡𖦹 °.🐚⋆❀˖°

You barely make it halfway down the stairs before you have to stop, one hand braced on the wall, the other clutching your stomach.

“Jesus fuck,” you mutter under your breath, squeezing your eyes shut against the cramping.

“Hey—hey, what the fuck?”

Rafe’s voice cuts through the house, low and sharp. You blink your eyes open to see him standing in the living room, a scowl already forming like he’s about to fight whatever invisible enemy hurt you.

“I’m fine,” you lie immediately, straightening up. “Just… cramps.”

He stalks over without hesitation, grabbing you by the waist like you might keel over any second. “Bullshit. You look like you’re about to fuckin’ pass out.”

“I’m not,” you say, but you’re already leaning into him, because god, he’s warm and you hurt. “I was gonna get my heating pad—”

“You’re not getting shit,” he snaps, already steering you toward the couch. “Sit down before you fall and i gotta fuckin’ carry you.”

You don’t argue. Mostly because you know he will literally throw you over his shoulder if you resist.

You flop onto the couch with a huff, watching as he heads down the hall.

A minute later he returns, arms full—he’s got your heating pad, your favorite blanket, a water bottle, and two kinds of snacks like he didn’t know which one you’d want so he just grabbed both.

He tosses the snacks on the coffee table, shoves the water bottle into your hand.

“Drink up,” he orders gruffly. “And if you say you’re not thirsty, i’m still makin’ you drink it.”

You bite back a smile. “You’re very bossy.”

“And you’re very fuckin’ stubborn,” he grumbles, sitting down next to you and yanking you toward him like it’s his god-given right. “Now lemme help you.”

You curl into his side, and without thinking, he pulls your shirt up just enough to press the heating pad directly against your bare skin.

You flinch at the sudden heat and he immediately glares like the heating pad itself insulted you.

“Better?” he mutters, adjusting it carefully, his fingers brushing your skin way longer than necessary.

You nod, snuggling closer, the cramps dulling slightly with the warmth.

He stays there for a long moment, one hand resting heavy on your stomach, rubbing slow circles like he can will the pain away.

When you shift to get more comfortable, he frowns.

“You want somethin’ else? Painkillers? I’ll fucking fight a CVS employee if they don’t sell it to me fast enough.”

You laugh, weakly, pressing your face into his shoulder. “No. Just you.”

You don’t even realize what you said until the words are out.

Rafe freezes.

Then, very quietly, he says, “Yeah, sweetheart. Always got me.”

He tilts your chin up with two fingers, his touch still weirdly gentle despite how aggressively protective he’s being, and kisses your forehead.

And you swear, you feel him muttering into your skin, “Stupid fuckin’ cramps. Wish i could beat their ass.”

You fall asleep on him like that, breathing in his cologne, your cramps easing a little more with every lazy pass of his hand over your stomach.

[bloodchapell]

so its been what, a month? since i started working at the bakery cafe 😜 and that calls for more headcanons of senku as the annoying regular

first of all, he was already a regular when you started working there.

"who are you?" he asks when you bring his order instead of kohaku or jasper. you tell him your name with a smile, trying not to smack him with the tray at his rude question. of course after you get to know each other, the passive-agressiveness increases between you two. he tells you that he is studying at the university close by and you tell him you are too.

as time goes by, you exchange contact information, just so he can spam your phone before he comes in so you have his order ready (double texting fears bro). whenever he sees you posting stories having fun or literally anything, he will reply saying something like "so this is why my coffee wasn't that good today, disappointing. get more days at work."

he doesn't even realize what he said until you point it out and mock him for it. "aww, are you saying i make the best coffee?"

"no, i am saying that factually it is the least worst one. kohaku burns it somehow, jasper's coffee makes me think of retirement. yours is only barely tasteable for my refined taste so therefore the least worst."

"whatever u say brah💀" what makes it for him though, is the next text: "then make your own coffee."

"i make the best coffee on this planet, probably."

and so, you find yourself on a thursday afternoon, sitting in his living room as he makes coffee.

"senku i fucking hate coffee, i have no way of determining if this is good or not" (me probably and the rest of the coffee haters). he makes you tea, the good thing about tea is that there is not much to it as long as you're not brewing it with leaves and are simply using the little tea bags, so he can't fucking brag about it either.

for theatrics and inclusions, if you do like coffee, he serves it to you and it is surprisingly good. he says 'i told you so' like the genius he is 💀, he invites you once in a while to his house to drink coffee while he talks your ears off about science.

nowwwww, we forgot to mention the pastries 😈

senku likes sweets. think of it like a L from death note situation... joking, but he does like sweets. my evidence? he got petrified drinking an energy drink.

he likes chocolate, but not excessively, it is actually pretty easy for him to find the food cloying after a few bites. red velvet is a meh, carrot cake is good but unmemorable, cheesecake has a nice texture but too sweet after a while... so his favorite is napoleon cake, sweet but not so much, if he is feeling fancy he will get a berry napoleon.

will ask for a recommendation on pastries and try it and then complain that he didn't like it. my personal favorite pastry is plain tres leches, which he would like because its sweet but not too much and its just like watery and mhhhmhghhghm delicious (is this blantant bias and favoritism in our year of the lord 2025?)

anyway, i will most likely do a third part to tie it to his fucking problem of crashing your dates 😇, for more check my mistresslist (i should have formatted this like my usual posts but the first one i did of these was just like a ramble (check it out HERE) and its 1am and i worked for the last 8 hours and have to get up to work again)

[lesbicosmos]

happy one year of dead boy detectives!! ❤️🔎💙

incoming very long very sappy ramble about it:

it's always the shows you find while you're ill at home and just looking for something to make time go faster, huh?

see: me last june, suffering in bed because of a really bad chest infection and stumbling on a few tumblr posts about this silly ghost show, then deciding to watch it because i had nothing better to do, and needed something to distract me from feeling like shit.

i knew ten minutes into watching episode one that this show would become a fixation - and a big one. but even that is such an understatement of how much i love this show and how much it means to me.

i've been in many fandoms over the years, gone through many phases of a movie or a tv show taking over my life and personality for weeks or months at a time but i don't think any of them have stuck with me as much as dead boy detectives. sure if you mention any of my past interests i'll get really excited and mentally dust them off, but this one hasn't had the time to gather the dust in the first place. i'm also always desperate for everyone i know to watch whatever it is my brain is fixated on at any time, but i fear i annoyed my friends and family more than ever with this one, i'll still bring it up in conversation whenever i can

i've always been more of a character-oriented person than a plot person - even if a piece of media has a plot that barely makes sense, i will obsess over it if it has good characters. and this show has SUCH good characters. they're all so unique and every one is relatable in some strange way. and, of course, the queer representation is everything to me. it's SO queer without feeling performative about it. so many of the characters are queer and that aspect of their character is an intrinsic part of who they are as a person without it being their only trait. i only hope future shows take notes. no show has ever really had characters that resonated with me as much as these ones, especially the core four. and bonus! it has brilliant plot writing, too!!

and of course the cast and crew are all just as brilliant. i love when you can just tell the people involved in a show had a genuine passion and genuinely loved working on it. that's evident in every part of dead boy detectives, and the cast interactions that still happen even a year later.

this fandom is hands down one of the kindest most welcoming ones i've ever been in: the fandom events (i ran one myself and co-ran another!! i've never been that involved with a fandom before and it was so much fun), the meta commentary, the fics, the fanart - and the people. i only joined the dbda haunt discord a couple months ago but it's already one of my favourite online places to be and the people i've met on there are all absolutely wonderful, i love you all sm <3

the inspiration this show has given me to write fanfic has been INSANE. i've written before, but i've never had this many ideas i'm so desperate to write down. i still have so many that haven't been written yet!!

okay this post is long and i'm rambling but i just love this show so much and even though we've now had twice as much time since the cancellation as there was before it, i'm in awe of how much the fandom has arguably grown since then. i'll never stop fighting to get this show back, but even if we don't, i'm forever grateful for what we've got and the people i've met and become mutuals with because of it, and i truly believe no one will ever be able to stop us keeping this show alive - no pun intended

happy one year dead boy detectives, can't wait to see what the fandom brings over the next one <33

[cranberrymoons]

WAIT can you drop some wisdom on changing your life at 32 im 33 and i know SOMETHING needs to happen but i feel so trapped in my life TT TT (also oblogatory i think that buck calls eddie papi as a joke one time but it blows eddies mind and cue buck bouncing & squealing on it etc etc)

hi yes of course! I will acknowledge the privileged position I was in to have the freedom to do this (no spouse, no kids, mediumish financial stability) but to be really honest it was not easy and has not been a straight linear path. it was way more mental work than anything else, and I think the key to success at least for me really has been like a compilation of random things picked up from miscellaneous internet users "don't let yourself give up on yourself" "the time will pass anyway" "your fear of looking stupid is holding you back" "who cares what other people think about what you do with YOUR life" "the things you do during the day is how you are currently spending your life" "do it scared" like these are all random throwaway comments but I have actually repeated them to myself so so so many times. and said them in the mirror. and spoken them out loud in my car while I'm on my way to do something that is really really scary for one reason or another. and they have all genuinely helped me.

long rambling story below the cut lol also the papi thing is not my personal journey tbh but yay forever re buck bouncing on it 😌

about 18 months ago I had the Thing happen to me where your job that's been remote since covid suddenly decides they want everyone to be in the office. and so I had to decide if I wanted to move halfway across the country to do that, or if I wanted to lose my job. woohoo. :)

and so I started thinking about it and it kind of made me realize I actually fucking hated that job 😭 I'd been there for OVER FIVE YEARS and there were so many things I did notttt like that I had just kind of gotten used to? but as soon as I decided I didn't want to move for this job, it was like I could not stop noticing the things that had been like. low level annoying me for a really long time.

and so I started looking for a job and looking and looking and realized like. I don't actually want to do these jobs. the idea of taking another job like the one that I had was literally making me feel sick to my stomach (it was a vague email job where I had like a "project manager" type of title but even though I had that job for 5 years I honestly do not really know what I did all day or what my job really was. one of those like extremely fake office jobs that still somehow manages to give you anxiety because everyone else is always talking about how BUSY they are etc)

and anyway long internal personal journey blah blah blah, I started to say to myself like. you are 31-32 YEARS OLD!!!! it is time to finally be an active participant in your own life instead of just doing what everyone else wants you to do. but also like – okay, so you don't want to do this vague officey email job, but you have to do SOMETHING so what do you want to do??

and eventually I noticed this pattern in my life of like, I have always sort of done the thing that's *next to* the thing I actually want to do. if that makes sense? like – I've always done the thing that "makes more sense" for what people expect of me, or the easier option, or the thing that feels safer. idk. so I was like okay – moonshot, you can do whatever you want, life is just an open world video game (again, I am unmarried and don't have kids, so there's no one directly depending on me to take less risks, which makes this a little easier). if you could do anything, what would you want to do.

and so over the past year and a half, I quit my job, took a pay cut to take an easier/chill fun job in the meantime while I went back to school, started to get super in shape for literally the first time in my life lol, became an EMT, and now I'm planning to start with a fire academy at the end of the summer, which is like 70% something I have actually always wanted to do but was embarrassed about for some reason / 30% hyperfixation so strong it became a profession. which – turns out! – is a profession that I am actually super good at and love in a way that I have never loved a job before. like, looking back at my life 2 years ago it is unrecognizable to what I'm doing now. yay.

[sturniololuvz]

Hiii💋 I love every single one of your fics! Can you write something where Chris’s daughter is growing up and is going through puberty and stuff and Chris has to tell her that she will eventually get her period and stuff! Thank youuu!!❤️❤️❤️

“You’re Growing Up, and That’s Okay”

Chris had always known the day would come—

The day his little girl would stop being little.

It started small. She wasn’t asking for piggyback rides as much. She rolled her eyes a little more. She closed her door when she changed, and he noticed her getting shy in the cereal aisle when the topic of pads or tampons came up.

Chris wasn’t dumb. He just… didn’t know how to bring it up.

One night, after a quiet dinner and dishes, he found her curled up on the couch in a hoodie that was definitely his, scrolling on her phone with a weird, scrunched-up expression on her face.

“You okay, bug?” he asked, sitting next to her.

She hesitated. Shrugged. “Yeah. I guess.”

Chris tilted his head. “You guess?”

Y/N looked up at him, her face unreadable. “Can I ask you something… weird?”

“Always.”

She hesitated again. “Is it normal to, like… feel weird in your body? Like, it’s changing but not in a way you get?”

Chris blinked. His heart stung, just a little, because—

Yeah. That was it. The beginning.

He gave a small nod. “Yeah, it’s totally normal. That’s puberty. It’s your body starting to grow into the next phase of life.”

She groaned and hid her face in the hoodie. “I hate it. My chest is sore. I got mad at my friend for literally no reason. And I cried watching a dog food commercial.”

Chris tried not to laugh, but it came out in a soft chuckle. “Been there.”

Y/N peeked at him. “You cried over dog food?”

“No. But I’ve cried over dumb stuff before.” He paused. “And I’ve seen your Uncle Matt cry over a coffee spill, so.”

She giggled.

Chris shifted on the couch, letting the humor settle before his voice got softer.

“Hey… there’s something we should probably talk about. I know it’s kind of awkward, but I want you to hear it from me and not just from TikTok or school or whatever.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Okay…”

He took a breath. “So… sometime soon—maybe in a month, maybe in a year—you’re going to get your period. It’s completely normal. It just means your body is doing what it’s supposed to do.”

Her eyes widened slightly. “Oh.”

“And it might seem scary or annoying or embarrassing,” he added quickly, “but it’s nothing to be ashamed of. It happens to every girl. You’re not gross. You’re not weird. It’s just biology.”

Y/N looked down at her hands. “I’ve seen videos about it. But it feels so weird thinking it’ll happen to me. Like… I’m still just a kid.”

Chris nodded gently. “You’re still my kid. No matter what.”

She looked up at him. “But I’m growing up.”

He smiled sadly. “Yeah. You are. And I’m so proud of the person you’re becoming. Even if I kinda miss when you couldn’t pronounce ‘spaghetti.’”

She laughed again, cheeks pink.

Chris reached into the side table drawer and pulled out a small bag he’d hidden weeks ago—just in case. He handed it to her.

Inside were pads, wipes, a mini heating pad, and a little card that said, “You’re strong. You’ve got this.”

Her mouth dropped open. “You… made this for me?”

“Been ready for a while,” he admitted. “I just didn’t want to freak you out.”

She hugged the bag to her chest, eyes glassy.

“Thank you, Daddy.”

He pulled her in for a side hug, kissing her temple. “Anytime, baby girl. And if you ever need anything—cramps, questions, chocolate—I’m your guy.”

She smiled into his shoulder.

Even though she was growing up, she was still his little girl.

And Chris? He was always going to show up for her—even for the awkward stuff.

⸻

[midnightwind]

Clipped Wings

Summary: One Year. Lucanis Dellamorte has been imprisoned for a whole year. If he had to guess. Desperate, almost hopeless, rescue has finally arrived in the guise of two excitable elves, but his saviors might be too late. Who would want a demon to come home? (Lucanis and Spite PoV)

Word Count: 6743

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Chapter Four: Demon in the Depths

It was cold when the haze of unconsciousness finally faded, his body sluggish. Flashes of what had happened played like the hitched scenes of a stage play. They had brought the accursed vial of his blood to the cell, had wound the strings of their vile magic around his limbs, and contorted his motions to suit their needs. The demon had thrashed in his bones at it, throwing himself against his ribs painfully and clawing behind his eyes as he screamed in fury. They had returned his leathers, a baffling action, and had him cast aside the prisoner's rags he had worn for almost a year. His gear hung loosely around him, the torture and confinement hollowing him out. Spite hissed at the ugly feeling it caused, sinking teeth into the soft meat of his soul.

Struggling against the magic’s hold, he had to simply watch as another mage approached. The man held a comb in one hand and scissors in the other. The sight was so absurd he wanted to laugh, but the spell only allowed him a vicious smile. The man's hands shook, the tremor worsening as the assassin glared him down with naked bloodlust the closer he got. A year at their mercy and they still were terrified to approach him. It was one of the only pleasures left to him here. Spite had lodged himself in his throat, gripping his vocal chords and begging for blood. It caused an almost feral growl to crawl from his lips, his would-be barber jumping at the noise.

They were making him presentable, he realized. Dressing him up for someone or something. It caused a drowning panic to rise in him like a vile tide. Spite howled, seizing his limbs with his own phantom versions and thrashing. His fingers twitched and the man stumbled backwards, away from him at the motion. No one stopped the cultist as he fled out of the cell, though the mage with the phylactery did bark orders at him. When they weren't met with obedience, he scoffed. Fear always won. Instead of trying to finish his twisted spa day, they trapped his hands behind his back and clapped iron around his wrists and ankles. The mage in charge had muttered something about having other subjects to prepare and he was soon being led through the facility as his phylactery was spirited back into the depths.

He had waited until the searing pull of the thing faded before launching into action. A simple jump to pull his hands back in front of himself, using the shackles to bludgeon one cultist to the ground. When another swung their magic imbued daggers at him, he caught the blades with the chain between his hands. The enchantment cut through it like a hot knife through butter. If nothing else, the Venatori were deft hands at crafting weapons to draw blood from even the most armored victims. He still had to dodge the rest of the swing, but his hands were free and that changed everything. Now the familiar rhythm of work was settling into his frame, every movement and swing of blades like a beloved symphony he had almost forgotten. His body sang with each kill. He carved a bloody trail through the halls, using another cultist blade to cut the shackles free completely during a brief reprieve. He had searched the bodies for keys, whatever relic or weird device would allow him to finally leave the prison.

He never got far, another wave of Venatori descending on him. It was exhausting, but he was a Crow. He had trained for exhausting. The wave of demons was a surprise he should have been expecting. The surge of the tiny bastards nipped at his heels, pushing him away from the path to freedom with slashing claws and sharp teeth. Spite was hissing like a feral cat at them. It caused every hair on his body to prickle, an electric hum so intense it felt like his bones were vibrating. The creatures seemed to falter and as he surged forward into that hesitation with sharp blades, he barely noticed the large shape that crashed into his side. He was thrown against a crumbling wall, left scrambling in the sand for purchase before a large clawed hand wrapped around his chest. The demon squeezed, his ribs screaming as the air was forced from his lungs. He angled vicious stabs into the creature's flesh, but it didn't seem to phase it. It simply tightened its hold. His world spotted black as he wheezed for a breath, clawing at the iron grip. And then the world went dark.

Now he was in a new prison, cold ice steadily locking him in place. He thrashed, the desperate need to escape chasing the fatigue from his limbs. Wherever they planned to take him next would be worse than the Ossuary, he had no doubt. Spite was rousing at the sharp emotions, sinking sharp nails into his psyche as he clawed awake. The spell was winding closer and closer, alarm almost blinding the assassin now. And then it paused, wavering, as discordant voices cut in. The demon surged, a sharp snap heralding skeletal wings bursting into existence on his back. They lunged for freedom as one, the ice shattering as the spell failed. The familiar work of killing settled into his hands once more, his world narrowed down to the cultists trying to trap him and nothing else. He was a flurry of ruthless violence, each Venatori dead within seconds of the last. Pulling in a shivering breath, he turned to face whatever had interrupted the ritual and then paused in surprise. Those were not cultists.

Mage.

The demon’s voice curled at the edges of his thoughts, almost purring the word as he stared at the two women blocking his way out. There was a fascination to it, but also a hunger, a pull the spirit felt. He watched its ghostly form stalk around the tanned elf, pulling in huffing breaths. It pawed at her red hair, as if trying to capture a lock between its fingers. Frustration growled from the spirit, turning instead to stare into her slate eyes.

Smells sweet. New scent. What is it? So sweet…

He blinked in confusion, taken aback. In the year since the demon had been forced into him, it had expressed curiosity only a handful of times. The pure rage of being trapped usually took up most of their stay. It unsettled him how Spite was suddenly enamored with a stranger. It felt foreboding. Then the demon was twitching to look at the woman’s companion. Another elf, dressed in bright leathers with her dark hair gathered in a messy bun. She seemed to vibrate with nerves and energy in equal measure, with heavy looking metal… contraptions, for lack of a better word, wrapped over her arms.

Dusty. Reeks of magic. Stolen. Borrowed. Found. Smells of ancient.

And then it was back to prowling around the redhead, a starving grin cracking its face. It caused a scowl to crease his own. Anything or anyone that captured the demon's attention like this was trouble. He shouldn't have even given them pause. A few more knife flicks and he'd be on his way to freedom. The cold calculation of his work was washing through him, but then Spite was surging to stand in front of him, causing him to jump.

Smell good. Maybe help? Finally! Let us out! Free us! Outoutout!

The thoughts were a deluge, slamming into his mind like a tidal wave. It scattered him for a moment, causing his head to swirl. He tightened his grip on his daggers, leather and steel biting into his palm. The weight of his weapons centered him, but before he could pull himself into familiar, deadly action, Spite's fascination was speaking.

“You must be Lucanis Dellamorte.” It wasn't a question. Her eyes seemed to almost shine as she looked him over.

She knows you.

He narrowed his eyes. “Who sent you?” And then his brain finally recognized the armor she wore. “You're a Crow.” She was sporting the leathers tailored for mages, loose sleeves trailing her motions. Had another House put a price on his head? Did this mean he had been properly abandoned here?

Before the doubts could work themselves into a proper panic, she was giving him a flourishing bow. “Of House de Riva. It's an honor.” It sounded almost genuine, voice tinged with a laugh. Then her head flicked up slightly, her gaze meeting his. “Caterina sent us. She’d like you home.”

Hope swelled in his chest, bittersweet and sickly. He hadn't been forgotten, but it was too late wasn't it? He was far too changed, now. A monster in human skin. It was a cruel twist of fate. He pulled in a long breath, finally sheathing his daggers. A member of Viago's House meant this was likely genuine. Rescue had come and he could trust that. So long as the other Crow led, he wouldn't have to worry about a poisoned blade nicking him. A second assassin would make his job easier, too.

“I still have a contract here. I need to kill Calivan, but before I can do that we need to find the vial of my blood they took.” He had to grind the words from his throat, disuse trying to choke them back down. “They can use it to control me otherwise.”

The other elf finally spoke up at that as she almost cowered behind the Crow. “Because of the demon.” Her voice was soft, empty of malice, but the single sentence cut him to the core.

This was where they'd leave him at best, or try to kill him at worst. He felt his fingers twitch, heartbeat leaping as adrenaline surged. He'd have to kill the mage first, that was fine. He knew how to do that. She sported a knife instead of a staff, so he'd have a few seconds to close the distance as her orb was summoned. That was plenty of time to slit her throat and collide with the archer before her bow could be nocked. He'd owe Viago an apology for killing one of his Crows, but it was par for the course.

“That’s fine, assuming you're still the Mage Killer the First Talon promised me.” The mage said brightly, smiling.

She didn't move for her weapon, her hands even clapping quietly in front of her. That was baffling. The word demon sent mages into a panic, usually, all fire and brimstone raining down at the thought. Why did she look almost gleeful?

“I can still work.” He answered carefully.

“Perfect!” Relief caused her shoulders to sag for a moment. “Once we clean up your contract, I have my own for two ancient elven mages pretending at godhood. If the stories I've heard about your work are even partially true, your help would really turn the tides.”

“I…” Gods? That was a new one. “I would owe you.”

“A favor between Crows.” She closed the distance in an instant, startlingly fast, and held a hand out to him.

The sweet scent that had fascinated Spite washed over him. Red berries and jasmine. It was pleasant enough, but strong. Hiding the acrid smell of poisons and venoms with perfume was a popular cover among assassins. Given her House, it made sense. The scent was simply dizzying after his year in this pit of the ocean smelling only rotting seaweed, blood, and burning flesh. It also made him hesitant to touch her at all. His reluctance must have been obvious because she laughed, pulling her hand back.

“You know Viago, huh? I don't coat myself in poison quite as enthusiastically as him. Perfectly safe to touch!” And then she was winking at him. “Kissing less so, but you look like a gentleman.” He wasn't sure what to do with that, but she was spinning on her heel and waving at him over her shoulder. “I’m Mirenna, by the way, though people are calling me Rook nowadays. Maybe Viago mentioned me?” There was a hopeful note in her voice, a desire for acknowledgement. When he remained quiet, she let out a disappointed sigh. “Likely not by name. If you ever had to listen to him rant about an annoying protege, I apologize. I exist to annoy him, apparently.”

That did stir some faint memories of the Fifth Talon muttering about a recruit causing nothing but trouble. His tone had never been properly angry or even particularly murderous. It had always read to him as a similar energy he reserved for Illario. A sibling that needed to be scolded, but whom you loved. Now he had a face for the many complaints. The reverie was interrupted as her companion popped into his view.

“Um, I’m Bellara, by the way. It's nice to meet you. I think?” She seemed to want to say more, mouth opening before snapping shut as she scurried after the mage. “Do you really have poison on your lips, Rook?”

Rook’s eyes crinkled as a devious smile curled across her face. “Would you like to find out?” 

Her voice was low, almost sultry. Tempting. It was familiar. Viago was close with Teia, it wasn't a far leap to assume that the elf would have had contact with House Cantori. The casual seduction had Teia written all over it. The perfume also made a little more sense, the initial allure of the honeytrap. His assumption that she was trouble only felt more vindicated.

Bellara tittered away from her, half laughing and half nerves. “No! I'm okay. I like not being poisoned.”

“Shame, it's a fun one.” Rook hummed. “I can give you the rundown back at the Lighthouse. We have Venatori to gut and a legendary assassin to free.”

Knows of you. Likes the idea. Spite was prowling behind her, head cocked. What would. Poison taste like?

“Not as pleasant as you want.” He muttered, voice quiet and leaden feet finally following his odd saviors.

Taste like smells? So sweet. What is scent?

“Red berries and jasmine.”

She glanced over her shoulder, a knowing smile on her lips. How loud had he said that? Turning on her heel, she walked backwards to face him.

“Offer stands for you, too.” Her voice was just as alluring as before, but she had dipped her head toward her chest, looking up at him through her lashes.

Cheeky! I like her!

He blinked blandly back at her, cursing himself for letting the demon bait him into this situation. “I'm familiar enough with what the Fifth and Seventh Talons may have taught you.”

She tilted her head to the side, mischief touching her features. “No curiosity for what their talents combined might create?”

Spite is! Let me talk. More fun.

“I am perfectly content as is.” His tone was flat, emotion scrubbed free.

Boring! Let me out! Let me talk. Spite was raking claws through his psyche, his shade looming before him as he screamed. Outoutout! You cage! You trap!

He pinched the bridge of his nose as he walked past her, trying not to think about the myriad of poisons she could sprinkle on his leathers at this distance. Dealing with the demon was exhausting enough, a second Teia would simply be too much. There was a quiet scuff of her boot on the rock floor as she turned back around. The silent speed that had her matching his pace shortly after was unnerving. She seemed on the verge of saying something when they finally emerged back into the facility.

A group of Venatori had been desperately trying to set up the wards again, the blood magic causing his eyes to ache. The two Crows were in motion instantly, his daggers almost leaping into his hands and a crackling orb sparking to life in hers. Lightning magic explained her speed. Bellara was a few seconds slow on shrugging her bow off her shoulder, each assassin removing a blood mage before she had an arrow loose. The smell of ozone filled the room, like the air before a storm. He had expected the mage to fight at a distance, but she peppered the Venatori with quick bolts before lunging forward with the mageknife. Her magic jolted through their bodies at the contact, their writhing forms easy prey for his blades. And then she was shooting off to swipe the enchanted blade at the next target, sweeping their legs and falling upon them with a ferocious stab.

It had been some time since he last saw a Crow mage in a melee. Watching her parry a bolt of energy back at the caster before letting loose a scorching ray from the orb, walking slowly forward as the magic ate the man alive, quashed any doubts he had about her training. She danced and dashed among swinging blades, hunted down any mage that dared to fire in her direction, and was careful to curve her dagger around his and Bellara's strikes as they navigated the field. She was skilled. By the time the Venatori were dead, he had a seed of respect for her taking root. He had been afraid the flippant energy had meant he'd be babysitting another Illario in a fight. He had been wrong.

Smells of blood. Metal and sharp. Powerful.

Wiping his daggers clean on the tunic of a dead mage, he watched her sheath her weapon and shake her hands. Almost like she was trying to regain feeling in them. When she caught his eye, she gave him another wink. He frowned, turning away to pluck the key for the door from a corpse. She followed two steps behind him, quiet for a moment.

“You don't like the tactic.” Again, not a question.

“I was never fond of Teia’s method. It is more my cousin's style.” He rested a hand on the pommel of a dagger. “I prefer being direct.”

“Oh.” There was a note of disappointment coating the word. “Teia took me for a ride. She promised it would be funny, but she meant for herself, didn't she.”

He narrowed his eyes at her, busying himself with unlocking the door. “What?”

“Told me to tease you. Said it would be hilarious.” Was she pouting? “Now I just feel like a jerk and like I made a terrible first impression.”

“Would you have preferred I swoon?” The door opened silently under his touch.

She made a noncommittal noise in her throat. “If it made you a little less gloomy, sure. Laughing would have worked, too.”

Gloomy? He imagined he would look a little worse for wear, but gloomy?

She wants. A smile?

Ah. That felt beyond him.

“Rook messes with everyone.” Bellara chimed in, hovering several steps behind him. It made him wonder how long it would take to slip a dagger between her ribs from this distance. A few seconds, just a handful of quick steps. “Usually means she likes you!”

“Should I be flattered?” There was an almost bright note to his voice as he led them through to the next dilapidated chamber, perhaps an overcorrection on his part.

“Only if she stays nice with it.” She continued, her steps gaining an almost bouncing quality as they walked.

“Don't give away all my tells, Bell!” The mage feigned injury, hand pressed her chest, but the wide smile betrayed her intent. “I'll only look cool and capable until we get back to the Diamond.”

“Oh, was Viago not done? He sure yelled at you for a long time already…” Bellara gave her a sympathetic pat on the shoulder.

“He could berate me for a week straight and still have a bone to pick.” She shook her head sadly. “Such is my lot.”

The two continued their inane banter for a while longer, but he ceased to listen. Instead, he focused on the twisting pull of his would be phylactery. Normally its presence filled him with dread. It still did, as they drew closer, but there was a note of dizzying anticipation. The shedding of the final chain. Freedom. His steps quickened, pulling ahead of the two women. He led the duo toward his target, singular focus trained ahead. And then he stopped, staring at the wide chasm that yawned between him and a very enthusiastic stabbing. The path had collapsed at some point and he faltered. He didn't know the facility well enough to pick an alternative route, if one even still stood.

“Ah. Damn.” Rook muttered, chewing on her thumb. “I really hoped we wouldn't come back this way. I don't have a plan for this.”

Just walk? Path is right there.

“What?” He forgot to quiet his voice, too baffled by the suggestion.

Do you not see? Oh! A path. Just for Spite! Poor Lucanis. Needs help! The demon was definitely laughing at him. I can pull. The path through. Let me reach.

Rook had turned a confused eye to him and he groused under the gaze. “He says he can pull something through.”

“Who..?” She started, but he was already holding a hand out.

Spite had pressed itself into his body, the ghostly avatar layering over his skin. He felt the demon grab something, weighty and odd, and together they pulled. Phantasmal rubble sprang into being over the gap, an echo of what used to be. It felt draining in a strange way, an inkling that the path wouldn't stay forever.

“You can just do that?” The mage gasped.

“I'm as surprised as you.” He breathed before shaking his head. “I don't think it lasts, let's move.”

That seemed to light a fire under them as they quickly scrambled to the other side. The route grew more precarious as they went, large chunks of the facility sheared away from itself to form deadly chasms. Bellara had fallen silent, staring down at her feet as they shimmied along a crumbling wall. Rook for her part was almost trapezing along the rubble, lips curled faintly in a smile. She paused as they reached the next section of fractured flooring, head tilting.

“Demons.” Her voice was almost flat.

He stole a peek, sizing up the several prowling shades. “Zara’s pets. That’s what success looks like.”

She gave a hum at that before tossing him a wild grin. “I’ll get their attention. Looking forward to seeing you work again!”

Before either he or Bellara could object, the mage was vaulting over a broken pillar. Lightning crackled as her orb materialized, her mageknife rolling once in her hand. She took bounding steps, running the outer ring of the platform as her weapons streamed magic. The demons swarmed towards her like moths to a flame. Lucanis cursed under his breath, sliding down the slight incline to try and close the distance. Bellara had begun nocking arrows, firing into the mass from her vantage point. He wasn’t going to make it before the creatures reached the elf. Why did all his jobs go south?

He loosed a handful of throwing daggers, downing one demon and staggering another. That earned him a few more seconds. It might actually be fine so long as she kept running. Except she turned on her heel without warning, her orb shimmering into a second dagger as she lunged into the mass of monsters. She planted the two blades into the heart of one demon and then pulled. The air sounded like it was torn apart violently, a violet maw cut open with electricity and lightning slicing free. It floored several demons, easy prey for his daggers. As the magic fizzled away she was throwing out another spell, a carpet of thunder that sent her jumping backwards with a cackle. For a split second, the magic almost looked like a cloud of feathers before it too evaporated.

When the creatures finally recovered, most of them were dissipating back to the Fade. The stragglers went down easily to the dancing blades and patient arrows. He huffed as he pulled a dagger free from the steadily disappearing corpse under his boot. Rook was back to shaking her hands, bouncing from foot to foot for a moment. The sounds of rocks being displaced announced Bellara joining them on the lower platform.

“You,” he started slowly, pointing a blade at the mage, “are reckless.”

“But it tends to work.” She gave him a lopsided smile.

“Until it doesn’t.” He clipped.

“S’why I have you guys!”

“Rook…” Bellara cut in, her tone scolding.

The mage sighed, holding her hands up in surrender. “Fine, sorry. Proper plan before the next fight.”

“With any luck, our ‘next fight’ is Calivan.” There was a sharp edge to his voice now as he started to pick his way further into the facility.

She was silently at his side again with no warning. “Was there a specific way you wanted to deal with him? It is your contract, after all.”

“Oh, do Crows not usually work together?” Bellara asked, popping up on his other side.

Rook hummed, shrugging. “If you belong to the same House and your Talon tells you to? Then sure. Between Houses is more rare, but poaching a contract is frowned upon. Unless they super fuck it up, anyways. Besides just being rude and an insult, the buyer can use it to try and weasel out of paying which causes all sorts of issues. But since I’m here on a contract for the First Talon, I think we’re good. I don’t plan on trying to cash in on the Calivan contract either.”

“If you help me take him down,” Lucanis cut in quietly, “you would be entitled to the reward.”

She gave him a queer look at that, head tilting slightly. “Viago would likely take any gold I make. Besides, your whole thing is killing mages. I don’t want to get in your way.”

“And here I thought you had a fondness for attention.” He mused.

A wide grin slowly stole across her face. “Is the Demon of Vyrantium teasing me?”

“Surely not, I’m gloomy after all.”

“Bell, I need you to pinch me.” She extended an arm behind his back, causing every alarm in his mind to scream. “This has to be a dream.”

The sound of the other elf gently slapping her hand away with a laugh had him quickening his steps. They responded well enough if he played along, good to know. It kept them distracted, but that had its uses. He didn't fully trust having another Crow from an ostensibly rival House at his back, but he could only dedicate so much worry towards her right now. If Caterina had truly given de Riva the contract to rescue him, she was maybe safe enough.

He had a bigger target to focus on. Confronting Calivan had a few ways to play out. If they were lucky, he was holed up in a chamber with deep shadows and high perches. Dropping on the man from above to crush the air from his lungs as daggers bit deep would be ideal. Quick but brutal. Given the state of the facility, however, it was far more likely the mage would be in an annoyingly open area with next to no cover. Getting to punch him into submission had its allure, but it was messy. Unreliable. Dangerous. He did have a mage and ranged support, so a head to head confrontation would likely go better than usual. It made him uneasy, but a little trust would go a long way.

“When we find Calivan,” he started suddenly, voice even, “if he's in a place where I can take him down from stealth, that works perfectly. I think it more likely he'll see us coming a mile away with the state the Ossuary is in. Which means I'll likely be the distraction whether I want to or not.”

“I'll make sure to shock him within an inch of his life for you.” Her grin had a hungry edge to it this time, the job bringing a sharp focus.

“Helping with a Crow contract…” Bellara sounded almost in awe at the idea. “The Jumpers won't believe me.”

“We gotta find him first.” Rook hummed before she stopped suddenly, catching the edge of his leathers and tugging gently to have him follow suit. He almost wrenched it violently from her grasp, a year of bad memories leaping up at the touch. “Lots of Fade activity ahead. It's a mage at the very least, could be Calivan though.”

“Quick and quiet, then.” He murmured the little mantra, blades snapping into his hands as he prowled forward.

It was, unfortunately, not their target or his blood vial. Instead it was an underling trying to fend off loose demons. They simply waited for the mage to finish killing off the monsters before quietly approaching and putting an end to the Venatori. The next few chambers were just as disappointing. More demons and abominations to be put down to clear the path, the facility seeming to hold an obnoxious amount of them. The tug was growing more incessant and there was a sense of familiarity to the area. He'd walk this path many times on the way to the Venatori lab. His stomach twisted at the thought. That singular room held many horrors for him.

For us. Spite hissed.

There was a nagging worry as they entered the large chamber that functioned as a torturous lab. If they didn't want to break his phylactery, if instead they wanted to use it, would he have time to stop them? Would it be better to lead the way, forcing them to pass him to seize control, or hover behind them, daggers hungry?

He was playing and replaying the scenario in his mind as they took in the remains of the less fortunate subjects. When they quietly destroyed the many Venatori crystals locking them out, he was favoring the plan that let him bury a knife in each back with one strike. He let them walk in first, eyes watching their weapons carefully as they beheld the sizable phylactery.

“I’m guessing the monstrous vial is yours?” Rook offered weakly, trying to force a note of mirth into the words and failing.

His daggers slipped silently from their sheaths. “Destroy it and let's move on.” His voice was level, not quite emotionless, but peaceful. Encouraging.

“Should we-” Bellara started, but she cut herself off with a yelp.

The vial exploded without warning as Rook flung her mageknife at it. The loud shattering was the most beautiful sound he had heard in his life. She shifted a foot back, bracing, as the fiery laser leapt from her hand again. The blood concoction ignited, burning any lingering connection to a crisp. His daggers were sheathed in the next instant, eyes fixed on the mage. There was a familiar cold calculation to her features, the Crow focus brushing aside the lopsided grin. There was a deeper emotion buried in it, almost like a fury. That was interesting.

Free. Spite seemed to breathe the word. She freed us. She hated. The final chain. Why?

Maybe she knew something about being controlled like that. Maybe as a mage she simply had a dislike for phylacteries. Maybe the mere thought of dominating someone like that sat ill with her. He didn't have an answer for the demon. So he remained quiet as they boarded the elevator, focusing instead on carving his path to Calivan. Killing the man wouldn't make up for what had been done to him, but it would feel good. He'd take the scrap of positivity.

His mind turned back to planning, imagining sinking a dagger to the hilt in his tormentor. If they gave him the time, there were several places he could plant a knife before finally killing the man. A little payback would be nice. Some kind of retribution for the cruelty.

“So,” Rook's voice sliced through his murderous fantasy abruptly as Bellara seemed to huff next to her, “what's Caterina like, usually?”

Was she trying to fill the time? Couldn't she have asked anything else? He couldn't help the bitterness in his voice. “I've been gone so long, I fear I don't remember.”

She seemed to flinch, a quick hunching of her shoulders. “Right. Well… we’ll have you reunited soon enough it won't matter.”

The elevator thunking to a stop saved them both from trying to salvage the conversation. Rook led them down the crumbling hallway with quick steps, a sharp focus coming over her. She was almost darting forward, seemingly appearing on top of piles of rubble to look ahead. She had pulled the hood of her leathers up to hide her shocking red hair as she scouted. An unhappy hum escaped her as she bounded back to them.

“Big open space. Might be some side rooms, but… we should be ready for a fight with little cover.”

Iron and salt. Screams and curses. Blood for blood. Kill Calivan.

It felt like Spite was clawing at the world from behind his eyes. He rolled his shoulders, neck cracking. “Time to work. Ready?”

Bellara swallowed heavily, but gripped her bow tightly in hand and nodded. “If he doesn't know Rook and I are here, then that gives us an edge.”

Rook flicked her mageknife into hand, the blade glinting as her orb crackled to life. “Quick and quiet.” It was unto a prayer for their work, her features sharp and focused.

“Quick and quiet.” He echoed before he stepped into the open.

The Venatori mage was waiting for them, in a sense. A ritual circle was carved into the floor, a permanent fixture to the chamber. He had been turning a slow circle, observing the runes, when Lucanis stepped into the open. The jailer clicked his tongue in almost disgust, an exaggerated shrug lifting his shoulders.

“Of course it’s you.” He spat. “Zara and her little jests. ‘He’s already the Demon of Vyrantium! Won’t this be ironic?’ We should have killed you months ago when the demon never manifested. Waste of time and effort.”

The Crow didn’t wait, daggers in hand as he sprinted towards the man. If the monster wanted to taunt, let him waste the air. The Fade fizzled as glaring red orbs sprang up around his target, forcing him to spend precious time dodging left and right. He caught a brief blur out of the corner of his eye as his knife lunged out. The blade caught against the mage’s staff, his offhand punching towards the man’s gut. The burn of magic in the air stung his eyes, his strike missing as the Venatori fade stepped away. The scream that followed from the mageknife biting into his back brought a ravenous grin to his lips.

Rook had used his initial rush to dart around the little piles of rubble and crumbling pillars. Calivan had positioned himself directly in front of her hiding place and she had wasted no time capitalizing on it. Her magic sparked along his body, shimmering as it pinged off the barrier so common to mages. Calivan spun with a snarl, swinging his staff towards her, but she tossed out her own spell. The carpet of electric feathers blinded the man as she darted back into the shadows.

“You made friends. Was the demon not enough?”

The taunt was met with two daggers swinging for his neck, the barrier cracking heavily under the dual strike. He snarled, a wave of red crystals erupting from under his feet that left a flaming trail. It forced Lucanis to leap backwards, daggers held defensively against a follow up attack that never came. An arrow cracked loudly against the barrier and it shattered as Calivan half turned with the strike, a red line cut into his cheek. Spite surged at the smell of blood, a fury and glee rushing through his limbs with such strength it caused his hands to shake.

Blood for blood! Screams and curses! Iron and salt!

The manic chanting caused his head to swim, his step faltering. It earned him a crimson bolt in the shoulder. The pain grounded him and he let the attack’s momentum spin him into a low crouch. A throwing dagger was plucked from his belt and loosed in the motion, gifting the mage a matching pain. Two more arrows arced towards Calivan, a zigzagging shadow rapidly approaching from behind. His angry summons sliced through the air, the force of the Fade bursting open throwing the two Crows back as a lumbering demon took the mage’s place. That… that was a problem. Lightning crackled along its body as it clawed into the physical realm. Lucanis took two steps back, assessing, trying to find the weak point, bracing for an attack. A familiar mad laugh reached his ears, his gaze stuttering over to Rook.

Her orb was streaming magic again, held aloft like a beacon as a wide grin split her lips. “Now there’s a challenge!”

She was taunting demons again. It turned on her with a starved hunger, blade lashing out. Lightning arced along her legs, the air burning with her magic and she seemed to blink around the strikes the demon aimed at her. Her cackle matched Spite’s own echoing laugh in his mind. She was weaving closer and closer to the demon before her orb seemed to snap out, snagging the demon’s blade mid strike. It flicked the weapon back into the creature’s face and it staggered backwards. Three daggers and a flurry of arrows descended in an instant, the thing screeching. The next exchange of blows it managed were weaker, scattered, and Bellara managed to bury two expertly shot arrows into its core. It died with the sound of dry wood cracking.

Victory was short as Calivan manifested where the demon had stood, a look of pure fury on his face. The shimmer of his barrier was back and as he fade stepped out of the way of more arrows, several copies of himself popped into existence. They all smiled with his sickening grin, but the gloating ended abruptly. Rook had lunged forward into the center of the clones, two magic daggers sparking. The air was rended, a loud cracking of lightning heralding the devastating tear she had used earlier. Calivan staggered, alone in the center of the room and cursing. The line of spikes he sent out with a furious growl did catch Rook before she could recover from her casting, sending her staggering over a pile of rubble.

Two more arrows thudded into the man before he could chase the downed Crow. He spun with a snarl, launching a barrage towards the archer. It was all the opening Lucanis needed. He was behind Calivan like a dark shadow, one dagger slipping easily between the ribs to puncture the heart, the other drawing a quick line across the throat. The mage sputtered, hand grasping uselessly at his neck before he crumpled. Lucanis let him slide off his blade with a heavy thud.

“The Crows send their regards.” Was all he offered, bending down to wipe the blood from his daggers on the rich robes of the Venatori.

Cold and quiet! Heavy chains, scraping metal, sharp edges! Silent and gone!

The demon's celebration felt like it was rattling his teeth. Bellara was sprinting to where Rook was struggling to sit up, the mage rubbing her legs gingerly. Her leathers were singed, but she appeared fine otherwise. She was wincing as the elf helped her to her feet. With wobbling steps, she joined Lucanis over the body.

“Well, one contract down.” A lopsided grin settled on her lips.

Lucanis nodded, his response drowned by Spite.

Smells like blood. Ashes. Not done. Not yet!

His eyes narrowed as he stared at the demon manifesting at his side, to the point where he almost missed Rook's question.

“Lucanis? Are you good?”

Careful. They know. We're not right.

“You cannot see him. I had wondered…” His voice was tinged with weary curiosity.

“Alright, vaguely ominous. But more on all that later.” She waved it away. “I'm tired of the ocean, aren't you?”

An earnest laugh rumbled in his chest. “More than you know. Lead the way.”

She seemed to beam at his response. “Oh, does your plus one have a name or… title? How do demons like to be addressed…”

A wry smile tugged at his lips as they filed out of the chamber. “It's Spite.”

Requested Tags: @weaponizedvirtue

[orangedogsquad]

Mr gummybear had his final post dental checkup today. At long last, the one gum site that refused to heal has fully healed!

[ponyboi-69]

.Here we go. Send good vibes and wish me good luck.

[aerodaltonimperial]

I'm really not used to people paying attention to me, I just sort of lost most of my wrestle fandom friends in the past year or so, and I guess I just want to say hi? Thanks for being here? I've gotten more followers in the past week than I've gotten in several months. 💚

[rosykims]

crazy that i was offline for soooo fucking long this year to the point where i didnt post 1 single time about my galemancer wynevere who is maybe one of the greatest ocs ive ever dreamt up in my life. instant cult classic to the imaginary people who live inside my brain. truly outdid myself with her actually

[uwuthomasuwu]

Anyone else see The Spider at the ass crack of dawn every morning but only when opening your right eye or is that just me?