#I haven't written for a while

[cangrellesteponme]

wife

[katiefrog217]

AziraCrow | Book Reading

(Scroll down for mini story vvvv) + (Companion Piece)

Aziraphale liked books, especially the old ones. They were the main reason for owning his bookshop, after all.

He loved reading them, too. Sitting quietly in the back of his bookshop with a good book and the occasional accompaniment of an old record made for quite the delightful evening, in his opinion. Despite his being handless (and therefore, fingerless), Aziraphale was perfectly capable of turning pages on his own. Not with his talons of course; Heaven only knew the trouble that would come from attempting to turn the aging and potentially fragile paper with such unreliable instruments. It would be a simple enough fix if a page did happen to tear, but the memory would haunt him forever. Instead, all it took was a flick of his wing and woosh, the pages would turn themselves. Sometimes he just had to ask nicely. However, there were times that he didn't need to expend the effort.

Those times just so happened to coincide with a particularly serpentine visitor.

Crowley's visits were irregular and not always predictable. Most of the time he would pop in to complain about Who-Knows-What and disappear off to Who-Knows-Where. Sometimes he would stay longer, and they would share a glass of wine or some other alcohol, chatting a lot about nothing and reminiscing about times long passed until the shadows grew long. On rare occasions they would sit in comfortable silence, doing nothing more than enjoying each other's company. Aziraphale would then pick a book to read and Crowley would slither over to join him.

Of course, Crowley didn't like reading - or at least claimed he didn't. 'Not worth his time,' he'd say dismissively. Still, he (bored expression and all) would come, make himself comfortable by coiling around both the book stand and Aziraphale, and just watch. Just about anyone on Earth would likely be uncomfortable being stared down by such an intense gaze, but not Aziraphale. Over the many millennia, he has grown used to being observed by those golden eyes. Dare he say, he even found it comforting in a way, but that was besides the point.

He wasn't sure how it started; perhaps Crowley found himself overly bored that day, but he began turning the book pages whenever Aziraphale raised his wing to compel them instead. It had started him at first, and he had looked to Crowley with much confusion, though the demon had nothing to say in return. He merely shrugged (or at least it could be considered the serpentine equivalent of a shrug) and turned away. A few more pages in, and he'd turn them again. This happened over and over until Aziraphale heaved a sigh gave in, allowing the serpent to do as he wanted. At first, it was quite awkward to give verbal cues, and there were times when he became so engrossed in his reading that he forgot entirely, but eventually they settled into a comfortable rhythm. Nowadays he didn't even bother. It had become almost automatic: Aziraphale would finish the page and it would turn, no questions asked.

Aziraphale suspected it would baffle the minds of many to see a demon treat anything so gently, yet Crowley turned the pages in such a way that they were never bent nor crumpled. In fact, it seemed to him that the older the book was, the gentler Crowley'd be. He seemed... 'content' was the wrong word to describe his attitude towards the activity, but he never said a word otherwise. At least, not to Aziraphale.

He never pointed this out, of course. Crowley would stop doing it if he did, and he didn't WANT him to stop. He enjoyed it too much.

Once in a blue moon, Crowley would make a comment about whatever Aziraphale was reading at the time. It was often snide, mocking, not always audible. Hisses of exasperation or an exaggerated eye roll were not uncommon either. Then he would turn away, bored despondence washing over his face, shutting down any attempts to further the conversation. Not that he would respond if Aziraphale did, though that hadn't stopped him from trying. On one occasion Aziraphale had tried to push the topic, only for Crowley to deflect, insisting that he had only glanced the passage at random. He stopped turning the pages then. Aziraphale never tried again and settled with only giving him sidelong glances when he said something particularly egregious.

And so they would read, the silence broken only by the ticking of an old clock and the occasionally rustle of a page.

...

Aziraphale liked his books.

He liked reading them alone in his bookshop.

But he liked them best when Crowley was there to turn the pages for him.

[seelestia]

conclusion: aventurine likes being the only thing on your mind (to which he, in fact, is).

1.1k wc. established relationship, cringy fluff x10000 pls have mercy. petty & jealous aven says hi (ft. his beef w/ an inanimate object, help). a drabble hastily strewn together to celebrate my birthday on oct 13th! ‹3 as u can see, this silly guy is still in my head 🙏

aventurine likes to think that he is a man with sharp eyes. it makes perfect sense because if not, why else would he find sneakiness—or rather, attempts at it—to be so endearing?

all the more so, considering how you've been glancing at the display case behind him for a while now.

thrice, four times, five times. the way you try to catch more glimpses of it eventually grows from tentative to curious. he wonders if you caught on that he's been keeping track of this very top secret, very well-hidden agenda of yours – but as your eyes wander from his face for the nth time, he guesses not.

are the story he's recounting and the cup of sundae you're sharing with him not riveting enough? to have your attention be so easily stolen by whatever thing in whatever shop behind him. . . the mere thought is enough to form some kind of pull at the corners of his lips. it's insistent, it's going downward, and it's costing him some significant ounces of self-control not to pout.

(do you think the pendant is prettier to look at than him? hm, he's feeling neglected.)

but playing the fool is getting boring; finally, aventurine decides it's time to shed his veil of ignorance and lets his acknowledgement of your actions be known within the form of a jovial question.

“does it strike your fancy?” he asks, scooping a spoonful of melting sundae to his lips with a lack of enthusiasm. it tastes good—would taste better if he had your full attention and if you were the one feeding him—but alas, he digresses.

you blink, taken aback. no doubt it's at the fact you're caught red-handed. adorable, he thinks to himself. “it looks pretty,” you reply with a sheepish smile, the awe in your voice doing very little effort to conceal itself. so adorable, his mind chimes in again.

(aventurine still thinks there are better sights out there, though. like you in his eyes and him in yours, for example.)

he notices the vague hint of affection in your tone and suddenly, his interest is piqued to its limit. you rarely use that tone unless it's directed at him. when the frivolous merchant turns around to have a look for himself, his motions are oddly quick and swift – definitely not fueled by a sense of rivalry or anything of that sort. absolutely not.

in any case, he still takes in the sight of the accessory with professionalism. in the wide cosmos, aventurine has come across many of its kind that he either bought for his own collection at the cost of a pretty penny or won in a gamble at the cost of his life. your fascination with it is justified, he'd say, take it from the perspective of an avid collector.

a quaint design, smooth surface, intricate carvings, reasonable price (he doesn't mind the jaw-dropping amount of zeros), and from a make he's heard of before. . . but he'll stop at that because if he says more, he'd surely lose his appetite and the sundae still has a few more spoonfuls left.

(whatever, he's still feeling vengeful towards that thing.)

ironically, though, aventurine's eyes are the ones who wander this time as they flit from your profile to the display. back and forth, a few times in succession. you tilt your head in confusion – but all he requires is only several seconds of your time to accurately visualize the pendant adorning your features. luckily for him, your face is such a familiar sight in his memory that the vision forms itself quite effortlessly.

and when aventurine finally takes a moment to admire the finished image in his head, he smiles contentedly. who wouldn't, at the face of a beauty like yours?

“mhm,” he says dotingly, evidently satisfied at the conclusion he arrives at. “it'll look good on you.”

it's not difficult to predict what comes next when he starts reaching for the card in his pocket – or so, he thought as the sound of your laughter stops him dead. yes, you're laughing, so heartily to the point that your shoulders shake a little.

aventurine expects a demure shake of the head or a weary sigh as he eagerly offers to spend credits for you, yet again. it's common knowledge that he favors spoiling you with his riches: because he likes pretty things and he likes you, thus it's understandable why he likes you in pretty things. but this? he isn't expecting this.

of course, the sight of your expressing mirth at the silliest of things has always been kept framed in his mind but as happy as he is to see it, it still doesn't change the perplexed state he is left in. what, does he have sundae smeared on his face or something?

“thanks, but—” you giggle, a familiar melody that flows like silk to his ears. “i was thinking about how it'd suit you, silly.”

a moment of silence, just enough to let the realization sink in.

“. . .me?” the slight disbelief in aventurine's voice is unmistakable.

“yeah,” you nod with a hum, “the color really brings out your eyes.”

(and his pathetic heart skips a beat.)

oh, how a poor man's world could be flipped upside down with just a sentence. the said man dramatically places a hand over his face as if to shield himself from the light radiating off your very being. “how disappointing. i've fallen right into your trap,” he relents with a long sigh so exaggeratedly that you have to stifle a chuckle at his reaction.

he's smiling so widely, though, so is he truly disappointed? and to that, aventurine will confidently say: no, there is no reason to be disappointed when he has been the one occupying your thoughts all along.

(so, the bad blood with that pendant was for nothing, after all.)

“you're so mean to me sometimes,” he pouts, it's his right to do so after being tricked. “will you forgive me then?” you smile, then he melts just like that in the snap of a finger.

“i can never say no to that,” aventurine sighs in defeat, leaning in for a kiss to soothe his non-existent wounds. it's not like you want to say no to him either.

“wait—” you place a hand on his chest and he makes a questioning noise that sounds akin to a whiny huff. then, a gentle sensation as your thumb brushes against a certain spot on his cheek. “you got sundae on your face,” you chuckle, failing horribly at trying to hold in your laugh all over again.

darn it.

“c'mere—”

all kinds of self-restraint and public image be damned, aventurine immediately closes the distance without further delay – and when his lips meet yours, nothing else matters.

yes, not even the sundae that has melted into sugary soup by now.

[ ☆ THANK YOU FOR READING! © seelestia on tumblr, oct 2024. please do not repost, plagiarize, translate, use for AI-related purposes or claim as your own. ]

[whatswrong7]

Part 2 Part 3 Ghost didn't think much of you at first. You were just the incapable rookie to him. Constantly getting lost and needing backup on missions. He was actually annoyed at you and your incompetence, trying to stay as far out of your way as possible. But without fail, on almost every mission, your voice would pop into his ear calling for help as you inevitably fucked up, or bit off more than you could chew, or got yourself injured. He didn't even understand how you made it onto the task force, and he told Soap as much, which would usually just get a laugh and not much of a real response. He'd avoid your attempts at chit chat and small talk, barking orders at you to go do something else, unless you were at base, where he settled for just ignoring you until you furrowed your brow and went off.

And then you saved Johnny. His earpiece had gotten destroyed a few minutes earlier, the last thing he was able to say a vague description of his location. Price, Gaz, and Ghost were all preoccupied with their own fights. Ghosts mind seized up as his body continued the motions, aiming and shooting with deadly accuracy. He was gone. Soap was as good as gone, and just like his family, he wouldn't be able to save him. He couldn't breathe, all the gear too heavy on his body as his lungs threatened to collapse. Dead. Dead, dead, dead, all because of him, him, h-

"I got him"

Your voice rasped through the tiny machine, sounding out of breath and unsteady. You didn't respond to anything else, the rest of them hurrying to finish up and head to the chopper, Ghost silently hoping, praying. And there Johnny was, huffing and breathing heavily as a medic took care of him, quickly confirming to the newly arrived team he would be just fine. Ghost breathed a sigh of relief, just to turn to you and get the breath knocked out of him again. You were also getting quickly helped, blood coating you as the medic worked to remove the bullets from all areas of your body you had been hit in. Your usually bright eyes were heavy lidded, as you lazily looked around, barely glancing at Simon. Your shoulder had to get put back into place after popping it out of its socket- and by god, you were a proper mess, thick blood all over your skin and blending in with your uniform, your arm hanging limp by your side as it was held and shoved back into place, and barely able to keep your eyes open.

Ghost had never seen anything more beautiful.

[mangostarjam]

double trouble — kaiju no. 8, hoshina soshiro x f!reader x narumi gen, established relationship, shameless smut, creampies, praise kink, unprotected sex, vaginal fingering, reader is called "cutie" and "pretty girl", 1.4k words

"Pay attention to me," Narumi Gen rasps in your ear.

"I'm — can't —" you whine, back bowing as he pinches your nipples, breath hitching in your chest, "Captain — Soshiro —"

Hoshina Soshiro doesn't let up, digging his fingers a little harder into that sweet spot inside you, the clear evidence of your desire inching down his wrist. His eyes glint in the dim light of the office. "What was that, cutie? Ya want more?"

"Ye—no!"

But you're too late. Soshiro's tongue circles your clit with precision, his low groan vibrating along your nerves and twisting them tighter. "Fuck," Gen's voice is rough, his hands harsh as he squeezes your tits, "get off her. She's gotta cum on a cock."

Soshiro pulls away and scissors his fingers inside you at the same time, snickering when you jolt against Gen's chest. "And who's doing the honors this time, Captain?"

You whimper as he presses into you again, the honey sweet drip of arousal thick in your veins as your focus narrows back down to Soshiro's fingers. Down to… Gen's fingers. Gen's — he's reaching down, a calloused pad scraping lightly at your clit as he drags it through your folds, jostling Soshiro's wrist impatiently.

"Well, pretty girl? Think you've been good enough for me?"

You can't — you don't know —

Soshiro kisses you and you melt into it immediately, ignoring the taste of yourself on his tongue in favor of chasing every soft quiet sigh escaping his lips. Behind you, you're dimly aware of Gen shuffling and shifting, the warmth of his chest pressing comfortingly into your back as he sheds his shirt and jacket and pants. His hands are firm on your waist as he lifts you with ease, dislodging Soshiro's fingers from your pussy only to replace them with the head of his cock.

"Hah — oh, f-fuck, C-Captain," you stutter, mind going blank as Gen fills your aching cunt. He's thick and hard and he gives you about two seconds to adjust before he's lifting you up and rolling his hips, his teeth catching at one of the bruises he's already littered along your shoulders.

Your beloved office napping couch creaks as Gen fucks you. The harsh slap of skin on skin fills the room as you clench down on his cock and moan. Soshiro swallows some of it down but he's diverted, hands cupping your tits as you bounce on the captain's cock, eyes watching you reverently as your expression twists with pleasure. Gen's grip on you is relentless, moving you exactly how he wants as he braces his feet against the floor to go deeper and harder and faster.

"Ya better cum soon, Captain," Soshiro drawls, but his voice is low and rough. "Our girl's not gonna last much longer."

Gen grunts. "Shut up, bowl cut. I wanna hear her when she loses it."

The ache in your gut is unbearable. Your fingers clench uselessly at Gen's wrists, trying to stay grounded as he pounds into you, to hold back the babbling nonsense running through your mind as he presses his lips softly to the spot just below your ear.

"Oh, oh no, no, Capt— Gen — no please, please," but then everything goes white.

"Good fucking girl."

You feel his cock pulse inside you, the thick gobs of cum coating your walls, the thundering beat of his heart against your back as he slumps with you into the couch. You turn your head blindly, sighing as Gen kisses you loose and easy and sweet.

And then it's Soshiro's hands on your waist, his easy strength lifting you off Gen's slowly softening cock, his quick smile as he lays you out properly on the couch and settles between your legs. The top of your head bumps against Gen's thigh but he doesn't move, merely rests his palm against your cheek instead. Soshiro reaches for your ankles.

Cum dribbles out of your fluttering pussy and he scoops it back in, laughing under his breath as you squeak and squirm. "Are ya payin' attention?"

"S-Soshiro wait, I just —"

His cock slides in with a loud, messy noise, filling you so abruptly and fully you choke on a breath as pleasure shoots sharp up your spine. "Tsk, tsk," Soshiro props your ankles on his shoulders and leans forward, pressing into you as you keen. "Look at ya gettin' all sloppy on my cock."

He pulls back and you feel a thick drip of cum sliding out of your folds. Embarrassment and desire twists in your gut as he pushes back into you, fucking Gen's cum in and out of you, fucking you senseless with every thrust. "Pay attention, cutie," Soshiro murmurs, voice cracking as you clench pathetically around his cock. "Ya feel so fucking good. 'm not gonna last."

You scramble for something to hold and Soshiro releases your ankles, lets your legs fall open as he laces your hands together, nearly chokes on his own surprised groan as you wrap your legs around his trim waist to keep him as close as possible. "Gonna cum," you admit quietly, squeezing his hands.

Soshiro blinks down at you, his lopsided grin flashing one sharp fang as he rolls his hips in that way you like, nudging his cock along every sensitive inch of your walls. "Yeah?"

"Hurry it up, Vice Captain." Gen pinches your nipple and grins down at you. "We've got all night and I want another turn."

"You'll kill me," you breathe. Soshiro's thrusts get a little more pointed. He huffs.

"He's just mad I've scraped out all his cum," Soshiro leans close and murmurs in your ear, "and you're a greedy lil thing, aren'tcha? Ya sure clenched tight about that. Ya want Captain Narumi again?"

Desperately you shake your head, legs tightening further around his waist. "Just you, Soshiro, just want your cum now —"

Soshiro grins, sharp and crooked, and then settles his teeth against your neck as he cums with a low groan. You whimper as his cock kicks inside you, filling you up even as he reaches down to rub quick, dirty circles around your clit, sending you hurtling over the edge to clamp around him even more.

After a moment he soothes the new mark on your skin with a careful swipe of his tongue and then leans up to kiss you properly, brushing your sweat soaked hair out of your face. Gen whistles low. "That's gonna stain."

"My couch," you whisper, mortified, blinking up as two sets of eyes settle back on you. The pounding of your pulse is loud in your ears. "We'll have to burn my couch."

Soshiro laughs and Gen rolls his eyes fondly. "Don't worry, we'll get you a new one."

"A stain resistant one."

"We cannot keep doing this," you breathe, giggling helplessly when both men snort. The pleasure-filled haze lifts slowly as your brain reboots. "Captain! Vice Captain! This is the third couch this month!"

Gen shrugs. "Quit working so late at night and we can fuck on a real bed."

"Oh, as if either of you go to bed before midnight," you complain. "You're both worse than I am!"

"Speakin' of beds," Soshiro says, "are ya gonna let go of me, cutie, or am I gonna hafta carry ya?"

Your legs tighten around his waist and you blink up at him innocently when he hisses. "I'm just trying not to spill any more cum."

"Bathroom before bed," Soshiro mutters, somehow hoisting you up and off the couch. Strong hands grip your thighs as you squeak and tighten around him at the sudden shift in gravity. A thick drop of cum hits the floor.

Your eyes widen. "Hurry!"

Gen grumbles under his breath but follows the two of you down the hall to your bathroom, holding you up steadily as Soshiro wipes at the insides of your thighs with a wet cloth. It's not quite midnight yet, but you're two long blinks away from falling asleep standing up, so both men maneuver the three of you into a quick shower and then into your bed across the hall.

"Pay attention to me," Gen mutters, tugging you into his arms. Soshiro settles behind you, dragging the blankets over the three of you and draping an arm over your waist. "Next time I wanna go second."

"But I was good for you," you murmur, pressing your lips against his collarbone.

"You're always good for us," Soshiro says quietly. His chest is warm against your back.

Gen kisses your forehead.

"Our good girl."

[jazeswhbhaven]

Just a little something for ya'll:

Angel Intimacy Headcanons | Back Kisses

Raphael: He's always fussy when you don't see him often, met with him pouting, ignoring you and turning his back to you. The silent treatment doesn't work, and he knows that but there's a reason he does it. Your fingers trace his back, each muscle contorting to your touch. When you reach the areas where the base of his wings are located, he reacts by arching and covering his mouth to muffle his moans. You stop, but he's immediately complaining by ripping off his shirt and demanding you touch him again. You do but this time with your lips, leaving gentle kisses. His halo glows, and he whimpers. You back away so he has room to allow his wings to appear without slapping you in the face. He stretches them, and looks back at you with a contorted expression to keep kissing him. You do, your lips and fingers caressing the skin around each base of his wings. He shivers and palms himself, knowing the chastity cage is stopping him from reaching climax but it's always up to you to remove it. This time you don't, and he's left in shambles just enjoying your touch.

Michael: He says that you took too long to show up, wanting your affection immediately upon arrival. He places his head in your lap, wanting praises for not burning down another village or city in Hell, and keeping his temper under check. He keens when you pet his head, massage the wing that grows from the nape of his neck. He sits up so you can continue to massage and kiss down from his shoulders all down his spine. You continue to praise him, affirm his good behavior, and promise you'll visit more often and sooner than usual. All of that excites him, his wings stretching out and twitching when you kiss the skin around each base. He cries, for once tears of joy that you're showing so much attention that he can't stop. The two of you will start a flood if you aren't careful, but you're always happy to show your angry angel that you care. And he's so clingy. Maybe you should visit him more often.

Gabriel: If you thought his brothers were a lot to deal with, he's the worst offender. He's been so upset with your absence he's sent other angels to try and find you. He's attacked the countries in Hell just because he's frustrated. He's even terrorized a few humans trying to see why exactly you haven't come by to see him. You can only apologize, which he doesn't accept. But you know a way to soothe him. Compliment his appearance, how nice he dresses, how there's no possible way you could forget him when he's all you think about. But humans are busy, right? He doesn't believe you but you show him how serious you are, removing his shirt to delicately kiss his spots. Collarbones, behind the ears, and his back. Once you brush your lips past where his wings are normally located he folds, on his knees to pray that he doesn't do anything too sinful while accepting your affection. He doesn't release his wings at first, but after a few compliments and kisses he does and loses himself. After one day of your kisses he has to recoup for a week, which during that time everyone gets a break from his tantrums.

[dreamerinthemoonlight]

LaDS Boys when their S/O' sees a Bad Doctor's Doctor won't Listen (Rafayel, Xavier, Zayne, Sylus)

I hate dealing with shitty doctors. I really do.

Rafayel x fe!reader, Xavier x fem!reader, Zayne x fem!reader, Sylus x fem!reader

Rafayel

Raf isn't usually my favorite--in large part because we'd be the biggest disaster couple on the planet--but I feel like in this case, he'd be great

seriously, the moment the doctor stops listening, thr doctor gets the full force of Rafayel's aloof, arrogant demeanor

Raf is not the kind of person who hesitates to be a Karen if he thinks it's appropriate. And messing with his person definitely counts

Doctor: blah, blah, blah

Raf: Excuse me. I'm taking my person and we're leaving

Then you go get something to eat while he makes sure that you're ok because it's pretty disheartening to be not listened to by medical "professionals"

Xavier

he isn't with you at the doctor (probably at home sleeping or fighting wanderers) but he sees you crying when you get home

obviously he's not particularly happy to see you crying

his first priority is comforting you, maybe cuddling or inviting you to nap

then he insists you change doctors and the two of you do research to find a doctor who will listen

Zayne

As if this would ever happen

I can't see Zayne letting this ever be a problem to start with

He knows all of the best doctors in different fields

And even if the person you saw wasn't the best, just knowing that you're THE Doctor Zayne's S/o, I don't think they would dare try to give sub par care

I mean if they did, it might end their careers. Zayne would not hesitate to warn others away from that provider and Zayne's words hold a lot of weight

Sylus

Uh, you didn't tell Sylus what happened when it first happened

I mean, Sylus doesn't really hesitate to kill people and fucking with his kitten would piss him off.

Nobody messes with his kitten. They just don't

Of course, he found out about it. Mephisto was probably skulking somewhere in your vicinity while you were upset about it. And even if he hadn't seen through Mephisto's eyes, he'd have figured out when he asked you about the appointment

Sylus: How was it?

You: fine

Sylus: you sure about that, sweetie?

To his credit, he doesn't do anything to extreme. Much. He wants you to see that doctor one more time with him in tow, just so that he can tell the doctor they're fired in person

I don't think he'd kill the doctor, but he's certainly not above threatening them to make sure you get the care you deserve

The next doctor you see his one that he has personally vetted

[varpusvaras]

Dick had many soulmarks.

Not as many as someone would've thought, probably, with the amount of friends that he had, but still many. They adorned his forearm like jewelry, circling around his skin in intricate patterns. Every single one of them just as beautiful as the other, just like the people they belonged to. Dick thought every single one of them as a blessing.

He had done so especially after the first two had faded away.

They were still there, of course. Nothing could ever truly erase a mark on someone's soul, after all. Not even death. Dick would've been even more devastated if the marks would've disappeared with his parents, even if sometimes looking at the now liveless marks hurt.

They had hurt, physically, when it had happened. When the bodies had hit the ground and Dick's heart had been ripped into pieces, the marks had burned, searing hot white pain latching onto him, pulling at his skin the same as his heart.

Not that Dick had really noticed it, then. He had been hurting too much otherwise to really care about it in the moment.

He had latched onto every new mark with all of his heart afterwards. It had hurt, when Bruce's had appeared, as it made the white, faded color of his parents' marks stand out even more, but the joy had been enough to chase the hurt away. Alfred's had not hurt nearly as much, and with his friends, he had simply been happy.

Dick would've never said it out loud, but he did have favorites. His parents', even faded. He didn't think anyone would blame him for that one. Bruce's, in a sense, as it had been the first live one he had gained.

His absolute favorite, though?

Jason's.

Jason was...different. He wasn't his parents, nor was he his caretaker. He had no obligations to Dick, even if obligations did not really affect the formation of the marks. He wasn't Dick's friend, either, not the same way anyone in the team was.

He was Dick's little brother.

And Dick would've given him the world.

Jason had been ecstatic when the marks had appeared, and, to be perfectly honest, so had Dick. They were such beautiful marks too, the lines twisting around themselves to form images of wings in flight, shining when light hit them just right, every new angle bringing out a new detail.

"Birds of a feather, right?" Dick had said, grinning wildly. "That's what we are, Little Wing, and the marks know it."

He had ruffled Jason's hair, and Jason had grinned back at him, and for that moment, Dick had been able to forget everything else. No argument or hurt had mattered even in the slightest.

It had just been Dick and Jason, in their own world, one that was only for them.

---

Dick was exhausted.

In a good way, for once. If there was a good way to be exhausted. Maybe saying that he was exhausted in a better way was more correct. No one was hurt too badly, and the day had been more or less a success. All things considered, at the very least.

He missed home. It was maybe a stupid thing to say, Dick knew that so many people back home would've given everything to go to space, but Dick was tired. He was tired of being the leader, tired of seeing his friends get hurt, tired of failing in some way every single day.

He missed home. Even if things with Bruce were not perfect, everything was still much simpler back at the Manor, at least compared to this. Alfred would be there, with his gentle yet firm words and reassurances, and Bruce, even when Dick wanted to mostly scream at him, was still a familiar presence in a familiar space.

Jason would be there, too, talking Dick's ear off, making the house lived in, making it feel like an actual home.

Dick just wanted this whole thing to be over already, if he was being completely honest. Today had been a good day, all things considered, and all Dick wanted to do was to faceplant on his bed and sleep without too many worried for once. Sleep and hope that it would bring him closer to getting back home.

Of course, he couldn't do that, not just yet. Even if no one was hurt too badly, he needed to make sure that everything was in order, make sure that they had all they needed, make sure-

One moment he was thinking about all the things he needed to still do, and the next he was on the ground on his hands and knees, being torn to pieces and burned alive.

There were voices around him. Someone was touching him, hands warm on his skin, tilting his face up, but Dick couldn't see who it was. His heart was beating erratically, like it was trying to tear itself to shreds and out of its place. It burned, searing hot, white pain, that had turned him into a human torch.

Distantly, Dick knew that he already knew this pain.

He got a breath in to his burning lungs. Then another one. He was still on fire, but he could see again.

Kory was right in front of him, holding his head. Dick was mostly on the ground, now, laying on his side, only barely holding himself on his elbows.

He had no idea when he had gotten there.

Kory seemed to notice that he had come back to himself. Her face relaxed ever so slightly as his eyes met hers.

"Dick?" She asked. Her voice was low, and she was clearly trying to keep it soft, but it was still pinched with worry, just like her eyes. "Are you alright?"

Dick didn't know what to say to her.

He knew he wasn't injured, not badly at least. He knew that, but he didn't feel alright, not in the slightest.

The pain was still there, curling around the edges of him, his skin feeling like embers that were still smoldering, even though the fire had gone away. He couldn't feel his arm properly, and Dick wondered if something had-

Suddenly he felt cold.

He pushed himself up, ignoring how shaky he felt. He almost fell down again, and Kory tried to put her hands on him, maybe to push him back down or to help him up. Dick didn't know, and he didn't have the time to stop and figure it out.

His suit was on the way. Dick tugged at it, then dug his teeth on the sleeve and ripped the seam open with force he hadn't known he possessed in his jaws, and he dug his fingers in it again and continued ripping the sleeve off of his skin.

There were voices around him again, someone's hands on his shoulders, but Dick didn't pay any attention to any of it. He needed to get it off, he needed to get it off, so he could see, he needed to get it off so he could see-

Jason's mark was gone.

It had been between Bruce's and Alfred's, golden and warm and brilliant, wings in flight, and it was gone.

Dick tilted his arm, tried to catch it in light, like he had done before, to make it shine like it always had, and-

It was there.

It was still there.

Faded.

White.

Dead.

Just like his parents.

The fire burned again where his heart should've been, freezing cold, hollowing him out from the inside.

The world disappeared from around him as Dick screamed.

[billdenbrough]

TRIALS AND TRIBULATIONS OF KEEPING A VAMPIRE AS A RESCUE

aftg · kevaaron · 10k, t. vampire au · multiple pov · kevin is doing his Best™ as a vampire for @kittkatattacks, as part of the @aftgexchange · fic graphic art by my beloved @naturecalls111

In a perfect world, someone else would be on Kevin duty today. “You are literally a vampire,” Aaron grouses. “You don’t need sleep. How the fuck are you so bad at getting here on time?” “I am immortal,” Kevin says patiently, as if what he’s about to say is reasonable instead of—undoubtedly—infuriating. “Time is irrelevant.” Yep, Aaron was right. Fucking infuriating. “I will stake you,” he grumbles, then wraps his hand around Kevin’s wrist. “Come on, we’re already late.”

It’s not every day that you go monster-hunting and end up with a pet vampire instead. Aaron really just wanted a dog, but he supposes this isn’t so bad.

(It’s not every day that a monster-hunter finds you, and instead of staking you, brings you home and teaches you how to do laundry. Kevin’s not sure what he wanted, but he’s glad he got this.)

read on ao3

[goodfish-bowl]

Bunker in White

Danny Phantom x Supernatural Crossover

Masterpost

DP Crossover Angst Week Day 1 - GIW Experimentation

Summary: Sam and Dean take up a job to go investigate a government base that had been attacked by vampires.

Warnings: vague descriptions of blood and gore

Notes: hmmm, I have never written anything for Supernatural before, but I've seen a good portion of it (years ago). Probably takes place earlier in the show.

Word Count: 2044

AO3 Link

Sam and Dean had gotten this particular lead from Bobby, who in turn got it passed onto him from someone else, so it wasn’t a surprise this particular job was a mess. 

Apparently, a group of vampire’s had decided a weird, underground, government bunker would be the perfect hideout, resulting in a bloodbath between the government goons and the vamps. It was a large group too, which was a point of concern among the hunter’s who turned down the job. No one really knew who’d won inside between the vampires and the government, but Dean had placed his money on the vampires. He honestly doubted that some government agency with an obsession for the color white had any idea what they were up against, much less the correct tools for the job. Dean got proved wrong when they came across the first dead vampire. 

The bunker’s fluorescent lights were harsh against the darkness outside. The entire base still seemed to have power despite not being connected to any sort of power grid or system. It had made it an absolute pain in the ass to find, but at least that meant Sam and Dean didn’t have to wander around in the dark. The harsh lighting and bleached interior revealed a slaughter inside, staining the white walls with both vampire and human blood, leaving very little to imagination. The humans, all agents in once-white suits, looked to have been mauled by the vamps, while the dead vampires had holes blasted through them and were covered in green-tinged burns. Dean kicked one, trying to make sure it was actually dead. Yep, dead vamp, the whole place unfortunately smelled like it too. 

Sam had found one of the more physically intact agents with a large bazooka-like weapon next to him at the back of the hallway. Rummaging through the agency's pocket’s Sam tossed the ID card over for Dean to read over, while Sam picked up the weapon. 

Dean flipped open the wallet, and huffed when the agent was only referred to by a letter and position. No personal information whatsoever. 

“This asshole is apparently ‘Agent B, senior heavy weapon specialist of the Ghost Investigation Ward’, which means shit to me,” Dean complained. 

“‘Ghost Investigation Ward’? Is that supposed to be some sort of knockoff hunter’s group? Because points for vampire killing, less points for dying,” Sam added. “Either way, they were messing around with something supernatural, and had weapons that could blast straight through a vampire. Think we could find something here?”

Dean shrugged, “I’m down to take their weapons at the least. New tactics are always appreciated.”

Sam took the bazooka, and Dean picked up any other weapons of interest, from weighted nets, to more guns, storing them in piles to collect and ferry to the car later. The ID got them access to a couple more rooms, including a security camera and file room, which Sam said he was going back to later. The deeper they descended into the base, the more spaced out the bodies were, and the more violently the agents had seemed to fight, like they were protecting something. 

“Do you think they actually managed to catch a ghost here?” Sam tossed out. 

Dean snorted, “Doubt it. Sure, you can blast a hole through a vamp, but you can’t blast a hole through a ghost. Just trapping one is a pain, let alone moving it to the middle of bumfuck nowhere, Illinois.” 

Hydraulic doors hissed as the brothers entered the next level, only to pause from the sudden change in pattern. This one opened up into a laboratory, partitioned off by thick glass walls, rather than the collection of offices and storage the upper floors had been.  

Dean’s eyes narrowed at the carnage inside the laboratories. 

“What the hell were they taking apart that bleed fucking green?” Dean cursed.

Dean completely ignored the bodies of who he assumed had been the scientists. There were tons of vials of various liquids, most of them being that same saturated, radioactive green. There were also jars, lots of jars, of what he assumed were the bits and pieces of whatever creature bled green. 

“Doesn’t look like whatever they were dissecting was dead while they were taking apart,” Sam commented, pointing out the restraints on the bloodied autopsy table. 

“Fuck, that’s sick. At least kill whatever you're taking apart first.” 

Dean watched as Sam went over to a stack of papers, filing through them quickly with a grimace on his face.

 “Well, they seem to believe they caught a ghost, at least. They definitely caught something before the vampires wiped them out. The reports refer to it as Subject P-1.”

“Think it’s still here?” Dean asked. 

“Maybe. This report is a few days old, and we know the vampires attacked within that same time frame, so it’s possible that ‘P-1’ is either still here, dead here, or managed to escape in the crossfire,” Sam guessed.

“I suppose we’ll find out. We only got one more level to go.”

Dean left the lab, going down the elevator to the last level. There was nothing there, except for a singular glass cell with what looked like a blast door as its entrance, all shining with some sort of green energy. There seemed to be automated weapons and cameras all pointing at the cell, and Dean considered it a bit extreme. But also down there was the biggest collection of dead vampires they had found so far. 

The weapons in the room had obviously activated for whatever reason, considering the number of vampires with holes blown through them compared to the agents, of which there only seemed to be two, who looked more like they had also been caught in the crossfire of the weapons, rather than becoming vampire food like most of the guys upstairs.  

“Dean…” Sam shoved him, and pointed to the cell. There was…something inside. 

Dean walked over, shoving bodies out of the way with his foot to stand in front of the cell. The green… whatever it was, shone along the glass and hummed with energy, reminding Dean vaguely of an electrified fence. The inside of the cell was a mess but in a different way than outside. It reminded Dean of a few of the cells he had seen monsters hold people in before. It was dirty, and covered in blood, both red and that unknown green. There was no cot, or toilet, or any other sort of accommodation. 

The only thing in the cell was a small figure, dressed in nothing but tattered scrubs, and covered in its own blood balled up in the corner, head between its legs. Dean could only make out pale, emancipated legs and feet, and a mess of matted, black hair. 

“Is it alive?” Dean asked, tapping on the glass, which surprisingly didn’t zapped him.

Sam had a grimace on his face. “I…think.”

“Hey!” Dean shouted. 

No reaction. 

Dean pounded more heavily on the glass with his fist, “Hey! Are you alive?”

No reaction. 

“Are you P-1?” Sam asked instead. 

This got a reaction. The figure picked up their head, placing empty, hollow, and frighteningly blue eyes on Sam. They seemed to be a young boy, face pale and thin, deep bags under his eyes. His eyes were glassy and distant, looking through Sam rather than at him. 

“Well, that’s unnerving,” Dean muttered, giving Sam a look before shoving his shoulder. “Tell him to do something else.”

Sam frowned, thinking for a moment before saying anything. “P-1, state your status,” Sam commanded. 

The boy, P-1, remained silent.

“I don’t think it talks, Sammy,” Dean snorted. 

Sam sputtered indignantly. “What do you want me to do then? We know he’s P-1 now, and that he’s still somehow alive.”

“Well, we know he ain’t human, and that he’s whatever these goons have been picking apart. No clue what he is, but in that state, I doubt he can do much. The lights are one but no one seems to be home, Sammy,” Dean said. 

It was a harsh suggestion but, “We could just put him down and be done with it. The vamps are all dead, there’s nothing here except braindead P-1 over there.”

Sam, apparently, very much disagreed with that idea. “He’s a kid, Dean! And he’s been tortured for who knows how long. We’re not putting him down!”

Dean groaned. “Do you want to take him with us or something?!” Dean asked incredulously. 

Sam was silent, apparently thinking over the idea like it was a legitimate suggestion. 

“No,” Dean immediately denied. “Nope, no way, Sammy. We’re not adopting whatever-the-fuck that kid is. He’s not a dog. We have no idea what he’s capable of, let alone if he’s dangerous!” 

 “Then we keep an eye on him! You said it yourself, in that state, I doubt he can barely move. We could even put him in Bobby’s panic room if he acts up, but honestly,” Sam glanced over to the boy, “I doubt he would even notice.”

Dean hated the idea. He didn’t want the kid to potentially go ballistic, and there had to be some reason he was locked up in the first place. But he couldn’t think of any other reasons to leave the kid there. If anything, they could figure out what the kid was so that they knew how to defeat anything like him in the future. 

“Fine!” Dean relented. “But you’re taking care of him.”

Sam seemed to untense and turned back to the boy. “P-1, move to the door,” he ordered, before more quietly adding, “We’re getting you out of here, kid.”

The boy stood up, swaying on his legs, before approaching the door, standing just outside of it. Dean watched as Sam fidgeted with the door, before eventually having to pull another ID from one of the nearby agents to get the door open. Sam led the kid out, who didn’t have much of a reaction at all. Dean frowned at how small the kid was, now that he could get a better estimate literally standing next to him. He couldn’t be older than 12. 

“Okay, we’re leaving. We got some cool things and you’ve adopted a weird kid. We can confirm the vampires all died here too. Anything else we need to grab before we go back?” Dean huffed. 

“I’m going to see what I can pull from the record room on the way back. Could you take him back to the car?” Sam asked. 

Dean looked at the kid again. Yep. No one home at all. He doubted the kid even knew what was going on. At least he wouldn’t complain about Dean’s music choices. 

“Fine, but you take too long and I’m leaving your ass here,” Dean stated. “Come-on, P-1.”

Dean took the elevator back up the entrance, still careful to check around if they had missed anything still-alive, only to have silence. The kid barely made any noise as he moved, Dean decided he didn’t like that after the third time he jumped at the kid standing directly behind him. 

“I’m getting you a bell,” he grumbled. 

Back at the car, Dean tossed his looted weapons into the trunk, glancing at the kid before rummaging into his and Sam’s duffles for some spare clothes. It looked really suspicious to have a bloodied kid in a medical gown walking around. It would be oversized, but Dean grabbed a flannel, jeans, and a belt. Bobby would probably have something from when he and Sam were that small. 

“Hey, kid, P-1, put these on,” Dean held the clothes out to the kid, who didn’t react. 

Dean groaned. “Oh come on! This is why Sam’s your caretaker. I don’t know how to dress a kid!” 

Dean approached. “Gotta fucking command him like a dog,” he muttered. “P-1, arms up.”

The boy raised his arms, and Dean untied the medical gown letting it fall to the ground. Dean froze, bile building in the back of his throat, fighting the urge to throw up. Images of the jars and vials passed behind his eyes. No wonder the kid was mentally gone, Dean couldn’t see anyone surviving, let alone living long enough to walk out.

God, they needed to get the kid to Bobby. 

[peridots-pixiwolf]

[Start ID. A redraw of the official icons of the ten named slugcats from Rain World, arranged in two rows: Survivor, Monk, Hunter, Nightcat, and Gourmand in the first, Artificer, Rivulet, Spearmaster, Saint and Enot/Inv in the second. Each is drawn in roughly the same pose as in the original art and fitted with speculative interpretations of their biology, and the second image is a “dead” version of this. For example, all ten have slug-like rhinophores in place of ears, cuttlefish-like colorful eyes with strangely-shaped pupils, cephalopod-like beak "teeth", expressive barbels or oral tentacles at the corners of mouths, spiny radulas, and the frilly mantle fringes of sea slugs, though otherwise their faces are squishy, simple and mammalian-shaped.

Cream-colored Survivor and yellow Monk both share triangular, bicolored spots matching their eyes (which are tan and brown, and two shades of blue, respectively), small, bumpy fringes, and relatively neutral looks on their faces. Defensive-looking Hunter is mostly a dull orange-pink, though their blobby fringe is a more violent red and their back is purple and marred with lumps. Nightcat is navy blue and flecked with dots of yellow and teal, their rolled rhinophores are a lighter blue, and their shading fractures into stars in some places. Gourmand is almost uniformly tan, their wide, very ruffly white mantle fringe bordered by a spray of white spots, and their beak sticks out from either corner of their smile. Primarily red Artificer, snarling, has yellow markings of multiple sorts, a prominent yellow dewlap and their characteristic dark scar taking out a chunk of its face. Rivulet is a darker blue than usual, with long barbels, red gills and rings, countershading, and a cheerful expression, sticking out their radula. Spearmaster is purple with orange accents, eyes and spots, a large fringe and spines down their back. Saint’s green caryophyllidia are marked by small, yellow diamonds, and their long, thin radula extends far below them. Enot is decorated with mottled red stripes, blue patches, yellow stars, and an uneven and almost cartoonish imitation of blush, though generally the same deep blue as Nightcat, a passive or almost slightly smug look on their face and their rolled rhinophores out to either side.

In the second image, nine of the slugcats’ eyes are crossed out, indicating that these are death icons. They look fairly the same, with mostly expression differences. Survivor is caught in the beginning of a threat display, a karma flower sprouts from Monk’s side, Hunter is burdened with overgrowing, purple and blue rot, Nightcat’s rhinophores are pinned back, and Gourmand looks mildly disheartened. For the final row, Artificer bites its radula between small plumes of smoke, Rivulet drops their expression, Spearmaster looks very startled, Saint looks almost entirely the same besides half-open eyes and their markings greater in number, and Enot grins confusedly. End ID]

If you'll excuse the unusually lengthy ID: the arena meme introduced by @pansear-doodles at long last after a nearly year-long wip status (or, rather, finished a month ago today to honor my own first time playing it!)

Design notes and shout-outs under cut! :]

The following people are some of those who’ve inspired my designs most since I started this eight months ago (or just inspired me to get a little weirder with slugcat biology), among many others for sure, and I thank them for it–but this is simply to bring attention to artists I find cool, and in no way an obligation to interact or anything :]

> @saturncoyote , @carpsoup , @charseraph , @gallusgalluss , @bitsbug , @dopscratch , and @0hmanit (and a special mention to dddeerbo and hunterlonglegs, who’ve since deactivated)!

Survivor: Surprisingly the hardest to pin down the colors for, since nothing with its sibling's palette seemed to match up right (I did have to add in a little blue somewhere for Monk, the beginning of making it clear how much I’m simply going based off of vibes for the colors of scug innards). I consider them, Monk and Gourmand to be part of the same gene pool of slugcats, and even possibly the same colony even if the latter isn't really related, so took a bit of Gourmand's coloring and fit them in with their inspiration: Goniobranchus verrieri. They serve as a bit of an introduction to my ideas of scug traits (i find it really fun how many people have thought to add so many silly sluglike fixtures of biology completely independent of me, buuut here I’m mostly talking about species variation), and like in-game they’re pretty average! They, Monk and Hunter have a couple scars sourced from a piece of Joar's concept art that I'm failing to find, those across the bridge of the nose, under the eyes, and across the rhinophores, respectively, and my Survivor interpretation features many on the back of the neck, as a result of survived lizard bites.

Monk: Their coloring is primarily based off the fact that I associate them with blue fruits, honestly, a bit because I was compelled to establish a familiarity with Rivulet, and lastly inspired by the spots of Goniobranchus kuniei (and geminus, less important to me as one of my characters is a kuniei instead, but more fitting). Between the yellow + blue and the circular marking in the center of their face, they’re meant to bear a little resemblance to an iterator that shares similarities with the characterization I’ve given them, and similar coding of her sibling can be seen on Survivor’s markings around the eyes. As both a “default” slugcat and one whose campaign I haven’t played, though, I can’t say I have much more to point out about em.

Hunter: The whole rot thing made for a really fun time drawing them, and while the color change on their back is a result of this, it’s also an excuse to relate them to Babakina festiva, arguably my favorite sea slug (mostly for sentimental purposes). And to Spearmaster, a fellow messenger slugcat, and it serves as a gradient between Hunter’s pink and the “traditional” color of Rot seen in the DLLs. Aside from their affliction, they’d actually be the plainest in terms of design, as they don’t have any patterns or quirks of body type, just the red + purple and strange lumps + possible malnutrition. I can’t remember if NSH had created them in particular or just...caught + released or something, but it probably wouldn’t be strange for a lab-grown slugcat to be simple like that.

Gourmand: Like the two above, they’re rather plain in terms of coloring and adaptation, and like the two above, I find that fun. I decided it would be nice to avert the “all slugcats being of the same body type, and Gourmand’s out of place as the exception” thing by just...adding more fat to all of them, really. I did want to emphasize their sheer bulk even so, both fat and muscular (not like I couldn’t have still gone further with it, of course, but slugcat anatomy can be a little obfuscating sometimes, and they were intended to look rather plush considering personal size headcanons and therefore the lack of proper gravity), and the thick and flounced mantle looked like a good addition, as per their sea slug Glossodoris hikuerensis. Unlike Survivor and Monk, I didn’t attempt to hold their resemblance to any particular other character (which means a little less to balance out the “default gene pool” thing), so those are all the design notes I have for em.

Artificer: The second slugcat I’ve ever played, or finished the campaign of, my favorite for at least a long time, and the first thing I did was give them yellow accents, the shape of which have troubled me slightly (not quite like the spots or stripes of the others). They’re both a little more appealing and more explosive-looking to me, and considering how early on I played Arti, actually present in some of my older art. It does give them a little resemblance to Saint (completely intentional, two slugcats with strange relations to karma), as well as the fact that its radula is green for familiarity with one of its children (at some point it was going to have all-green markings, even!). I’m generous with their scars, partly because it was fun to overemphasize the one on their face and partly because it does seem like a reckless slugcat, on top of the dangers of its explosive abilities–I’ll probably just keep adding more forever. Mostly-red sea slugs aren’t too common, but Hexabranchus sanguineus works for sure. The ridged, yellow dewlap can expand for combustion purposes, or something along those lines. Arti’s where I began experimenting with a lot of the mildly-offkilter features seen in my interpretation of slugcats, as they’ve once again been a favorite from the start.

Rivulet: I've obviously given other slugcats spots, deeply enjoy the bubbly-soda markings of other peoples' slugcats, and thought seal riv would be cute. Despite not too closely resembling it, they've been government-assigned Hypselodoris bennetti, for color reasons and for a couple sentimental ones. Originally, the colors of every scug were meant to match up with the custom colors I gave them at the beginning of their campaigns, (though Arti, Gourm and Spearmy are the only three who actually apply here, since I've only played through half the slugcats: I gave arti the yellow as mentioned above, gourm brown eyes and spearmy light pink spears, furthered by the outskirts pearl accompanying me and that palette all the way to moon. Tolerance training for eternity in hell cause I already knew about the maroon pearl quest). I initially gave them the colors of the bi flag for fun... but with the limited palette of this image, I was left without pink for a while and decided to see how they'd look in red. I then realized how they now wonderfully matched Moon, and besides, red's a sort of camouflage in deep water! As a side-note, the difference between their eyes and those of others always bothered me a little for anatomical purposes, and the cephalopod eyes were probably influenced by this!

Spearmaster: Inspired as much as possible by @notyourfunnyman ’s wonderful spearmy: designed in a way that helps it fit in with scavengers, at least between the long sensory tentacles, big ruff, back spines and slightly thin/distended anatomy, a form of defensive mimicry. I always had annulate rhinophores in mind, for a little diversity sure, but mostly because the shape reminds me of radio antennae and communication towers (seems fitting for the comms array and being a messenger slugcat)! I started searching for a real-life slug to give them just by looking up their rhinophore shape...and was met immediately and coincidentally with annulate-topped nudibranchs that fit them more perfectly than I could've imagined: Flabellina and surrounding clades, I think Paraflabellina ischitana works very nicely. The orange was completely unplanned, but there wasn’t a place for light pink among the other slugcats’ palettes, and importantly it likens them to both Hunter and Seven Red Suns a little more.

Saint: I am very much a non-furred slugcat enjoyer, with respect to those who aren’t, so figuring out the only visibly furred slugcat was an interesting challenge. I’ve decided that they likely have other, milder adaptations for help in the cold, mainly just more efficient fat storage, and what looks vaguely like fur is instead a bunch of tubercles (called caryophillia, for the second reminder out of three). Their inspiration doesn’t have these, however, Miamira sinuata’s numerous yellow and blue spots (not to mention...whatever’s going on with that shape) and general effect of being the only really green nudibranch I could find were probably perfect for a strange green echo. Not pictured, but their beak-teeth are tiny and flat to make a surface for grinding soft food against with the lack of a functioning radula, which is tipped with a specialized spiny “grapple-hook” for better traction/grip (not to mention the numerous little teeth running down the whole thing).

(Best part of hiding this under a readmore means edits will be seen by all reblogs, I'm mostly sure, because I completely forgot to mention! The spots on their forehead are simple eyes. Their camera eyes appear closed in-game, I like to believe their complex eyesight is rather poor anyways or otherwise reason that they aren't seeing out of those, and while this was far from her REASON for attunement with the world, it does help compensate for mainly viewing it through a canvas of simple light and dark. This, and the fact that their swapped-out "fur" is not only to commit to a lack of hairs but contributes to sensory input!)

Nightcat/Enot: I guess you could say I found the “these two are technically the same person” compelling. (E.g. similar colors, both very strange and enigmatic, and Enot/Inv/Sofanthiel’s remark during the dating sim about getting removed from Arena Mode.) I doubt they’re the only two slugcats in their body, considering humans with DID tend to have more than a few (and I find it very funny that a slugcat bearing resemblance to Nightcat appears in Gourmand’s ending. They’re allowed in the colony and Enot isn’t </3), and I have to credit @faelingdraws ’s art for being what convinced me on it! Their design inspirations come down to trying to balance a few different ideas: making the patterns and palettes of both look oddly similar (special mention to the stars, since those are fun to draw), basing them off of Felimare sechurana and juliae respectively, using blocks of color with the same placement as in Enot’s official art, and specifically making Enot look...biologically reasonable and imperfect, whilst also clearly trying to imitate human displays of emotion (what with...the eyes and blush on that one piece of official art).

Lastly, here’s just a lineup with notes on body shape and size. Most of the nicknames (existing to give a little more space, that’s all) are obvious, and while I can’t remember why I shortened Nightcat to Nox, it is in honor of my friend by the same nickname :]

[etoiile]

itoshi rin knows that outward expressions of affection are not his strong suit. he's aware of his inability to say "i love you," no matter how much he says so in his head. he's aware of his inability to run to you and encase you in his arms, no matter how much he longs to. he's aware of his inability to show you through his words how much he truly does care for you, no matter how much he would really like to.

however, you don't mind. you knew exactly what you were getting into at the start of your relationship. this is mostly due to the fact that contrary to popular belief, itoshi rin often says "i love you." he just doesn't often say it with his words.

rin says "i love you" when he comes to your house with your favorite soup and a romcom whilst you're sick. rin says "i love you" when he carries you to your room and tucks you in bed when you fall asleep in his car. rin says "i love you" when he silently puts his hand on the corner of the table you're passing by, knowing that you'll likely bump into it and bruise. rin says "i love you" when he gives you his lunch when you forget yours at home. rin says "i love you" in a language louder than words.

not many people know that, however. most people think he's just stiff and cold, and truthfully, he thinks so too. he doesn't understand how you see so much good in him. it just isn't fathomable that someone like you could fall for someone like him. he doesn't understand it, but he doesn't question it. instead, he cherishes you with all his heart—the one person who truly gets him. the one person who's been and will be with him through everything. the one person who will stay by his side for all of eternity. the one person who loves him, and the one person he loves too. (maybe he'll tell you that someday. for now, though, he'll stick to picking up mcdonald's for you at 2am.)

© 𝐄𝐓𝐎𝐈𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒 please do not copy or repost my work on any other site. interactions appreciated! 🤍

[bun-lapin]

TWST Voice Line Scene #21

♦️Cater: Ok~! Now you press this button here and you're all set!

🐲Malleus: …. (very slowly taps on the phone in his hand)

🦐Yuu: (walks up to them) Hey guys! What are you doing?

♦️Cater: Heya, Yuu~! I'm helping Malleus set up a Magicam account for his gargoyle pics.

🐲Malleus: Diamond! A strange symbol has suddenly appeared on my screen. (shows Cater the phone)

♦️Cater: Hmm? Oh nice~! That symbol means someone liked your post! You even got a few shares already too! (winks at Malleus) Look at you! You're already a Magicam pro~!

🐲Malleus: (smiles smugly at Cater) So this is the fruit of dedicated study. Heh. Something has changed within me. Perhaps it's time for me to reevaluate my opinion of you.

♦️Cater: (awkwardly laughs) Uhh… thanks?? What was your opinion of me before?? Sounds like it was kinda low~!

🐲Malleus: ….....

♦️Cater: ….Ouch.

🦐Yuu: (silently dying from laughter in the background)

TWST Voice Line Scenes Masterlist

[inhuman-obey-me]

Human Nature

Word Count: 1330 Description: A sudden discussion about how humans blame demons for all their problems comes up one evening in the House of Lamentation. Turns out, demons don't like to be blamed for human nature. Characters, etc: Satan, Mammon, Leviathan, Asmodeus, MC -- with a little Asmo/MC at the end can be found on ao3 here

“What is it with you humans?” 

You look up from your D.D.D. with a quirked brow, turning to Satan who seems to be wearing an expression of exasperation – at least, from what you can see while his nose is buried between pages of whatever it is he’s reading.  

“What are you talking about?” 

The demon slowly lowers the novel, now looking rather sheepish. “Oh, sorry. I didn’t mean that in relation to you, it’s just,” He gestures to the viridian book in his grasp, “I get so tired of reading stories where humans blame demons for all of their problems.” 

“Oh, don’t get me started!” Mammon butts in, still laying upside-down on one of the other sofas in the common room as he scrolls mindlessly through Akuzon on his phone, sunglasses nearly falling off his head to the floor. “Forget just humans in stories, they do that shit all the time in real-life, too!” 

“Mammon, you probably have caused plenty of problems for humans.” Leviathan doesn’t even look up from his game, his fingers furiously pressing and pushing buttons with a loud click-clack-click that’s slightly maddening. 

“And ya haven’t?!” The second-born nearly tosses his phone as he twists to point an accusing finger at the other. “As if ya don’t get all smug about your name bein’ all over the damn place!” 

“H-Hey, it’s not my fault people are into sea monsters – oh come on!” The melody for GAME OVER. “B-but even with a good-for-nothing demon like me, humans like to create all kinds of stories and legends.” 

Shifting in your seat, you look around the room in amusement. “I mean, the stories had to come from somewhere, right? A sliver of truth in every lie, and all that.” 

“Sure, some of the stories have merit. Demons have influenced plenty of people, us included.” Satan shakes his head, placing the book to the side as he straightens up in his seat. “But there are humans who think any and all terrible things done by their own kind are somehow our fault.” 

“Right, like I’m not responsible for every greedy human who screws others over.” Mammon shoots the third-born a glare to stop him from interrupting. “But then ya got some humans going on about bein’ influenced by the devil, or demonic possession.”

“Aww, I haven’t done a possession in so long!” Asmodeus enters the room with a rather woeful expression, dropping a shopping bag onto a table before twirling around, a gleeful grin replacing his pout. “Now, what fascinating discussion are we all having here, hm?” 

“About how some humans blame demons for everything bad that happens.” You answer, resting a hand in your chin as you look at the Avatar of Lust with curiosity. “What are your feelings on that, Asmo?” 

“My feelings?” He places a hand on his chest, fingers splayed over his heart as a shadow of ire falls on his features. “Ugh, I’d say that humans are totally full of themselves!” 

“That’s rich coming from you, Asmo.” Satan rolls his eyes, earning an offended gasp from the fifth-born.

“But it’s natural for me, I mean who wouldn’t be if they had a chance to be me?” Asmodeus perches on the armrest of one of the sofas, one leg crossed over the other. “It’s true, though. I mean, I love playing games with some humans and all, but so much of that is in the past!” 

“Asmo, you still try to pull things all the time.” Leviathan huffs, ignoring his younger brother’s sharp look. “You probably aren’t helping.” 

“Excuse me, I don’t want to hear that from you, Levi. You’re the one who summons Lotan at the drop of a hat!” Asmodeus waves off the other’s protest, turning to look at you – you, who have just been sitting back and enjoying the conversation unfolding. “Us demons like to feed off all the negative energy that humans can produce, but that’s the thing – a lot of it comes from humans themselves!” 

Satan hums in agreement, also fixing his gaze on you now. “For example, we all in this room can sense if you’re feeling a really strong urge in our particular sin and even contribute to it, but we’re the Avatars, and we have pacts. Your average demon out there can tempt all they want, but temptation works best on humans that already have a proclivity to the sin or act in question.” 

“And a lot of the lil’ guys you see here, those real low-level demons? They’re manifestations of humans’ sins and negative energy. Meanin’ humans technically made ‘em!” Mammon is sitting up now, adjusting the sunglasses on his head as he leans on one knee. “So really, humans are to blame for those annoyin’ pests.” 

“I’m not arguing that.” You nod, remembering learning some of this in classes at RAD. “Well, I’m not really arguing anything, but I didn’t realize you all felt so strongly about this.” 

“Don’t get us wrong, we’re used to it. I mean, we’re demons, we have a reputation for a reason.” Leviathan shrugs, his focus going back to his console. “It’s more like a pet peeve.” 

“Just like how humans think angels are all innocent and good.” Satan’s words get a round of snickers from the room. “If a human really wants to blame everything bad on us, so be it. But then they only have themselves to blame if we lean into it.” 

It’s then that you remember hearing a story about Satan – a time where some human parents got angry and accused him of scaring their child, even though all he had done was return the child’s smile with his own. He ended up traumatizing the humans with his own anger, having them crying and begging on the floor for forgiveness, much to his delight. 

You wonder, had those humans even believed in demons before then? 

What of your own wrath? Your envy? Your greed? All of those feelings existed in you long before you came to the Devildom, and there were plenty of times you acted on them both then and now. Has it gotten worse since you’ve been here? It was hard to tell, though you did know the brothers’ got rather pleased when you did find yourself having a burst of pride, of desire. Who was feeding off of who? 

“I guess,” you muse aloud, “we’re all connected a lot more than we realize.”  

“That’s one way of putting it,” Satan hummed. “We just like to give humans a little push, now and then. Give them a taste of freedom, of what they want. After that, it’s really up to them what they do. If they choose the path that benefits us, well, we can’t complain.”

“Oh, what humans will do to get what they desire!” Asmodeus dramatically leans off of his perch, putting an arm around your shoulder. He gives you a rather mischievous look, lips curled into a smirk as he turns your chin towards him. “So, tell me, hon – can I tempt you into anything tonight?” 

“Get your damn claws off them, Asmo!” Before you can answer, Mammon is already up on his feet and growling at the sight. “You really think you can pull that with all of us here?” 

“Y-yeah, you can’t even charm them!” Leviathan voices his envy. “PDA Police!! Stop touching them!”

As the room erupts into familiar and frustrating arguments, you can’t help but feel some mischief swell in your chest – so you raise your voice. 

“Why, yes, Asmo. You can tempt me to something tonight. Shall we?”

The brothers fall silent, even Asmodeus staring at you for a moment before his lips split into a fanged grin. “We most certainly shall!” 

With a laugh, you find yourself running out of the room hand-in-hand with Asmodeus while the other three yell behind you. 

“You little devil,” Asmodeus snickers as he pulls you along, throwing a glance your way. 

With a grin, you respond: 

“I’m only human.”

[osaemu]

I NEED YOU TO LISTEN.

LISTEEEEEEEEEEEEEN.

(JJK MEN SUKUNA GOJO NANAMI CHOSO ANYONE REALLY SPOILING THERE DAUGHTERS AGHGHA)

(i was reading this cute lil drabble about sukuna being forced into doing a tea party with his daughter but I LOST IT UGHGHHGHG)

but any thoughts?

-💥

anon you made me spiral.. i don't know anything about choso so i didn't write anything for him but i had a lot of fun writing the rest :,) :,) sorry in advance for the angst in nanami's part lol.. whoops. gn!reader who's implied to be the kid's parent.

nanami knows a lot of domestic skills, but the one he wants to pass down to his daughter the most is how to cook and bake. nanami's known how to do both ever since he was a young child, and some of his happiest memories with his daughter would be them baking together. and it melts your heart too, watching nanami teach your daughter how to use a whisk and rolling pin on the dough they made together. while the bread bakes in the oven, you and nanami can't help but watch with adoring eyes as your daughter gazes at it with wide, curious eyes. and years later, when she knows how to make bread on her own, every loaf that comes out of the oven makes her think of her dad. (there's nothing she wouldn't give to bake bread with him one more time.)

sukuna as a girl dad would actually be really interesting imo, because i think that he'd really want his daughter to be able to hold her own in life and in battle. he has no problem helping her out whenever she needs it, but he also wants her to be just as scary as him on her own. sukuna knows that he probably won't always be able to be at his daughter's side all the time, so in the case that something happens when he's gone, he wants to know that she can handle herself. that means that from a very young age, his daughter learns basic self-defense straight from the king of curses himself. when you ask sukuna why he's so insistent on it, he replies with something about how the world won't take it easy on her just because she's his daughter, and if anything, they'll be even harsher—he needs to know that she can be strong enough to defend herself from anything that throws itself at her, for his own peace of mind.

gojo would love spoiling his daughter all day and every day. not just in terms of material items (which he would do too, duh), but also with his time. obviously being a jujutsu sorcerer is a very time-consuming occupation, but trust me, gojo would have no problem finding loopholes in his schedule to spend time with his little girl. for example if he's in the middle of fighting a curse and gets a text from you or his daughter asking him to come home, he'd stop messing with the curse and just exorcise it immediately so he can be there as soon as possible. does he ditch jobs a lot to spend more time with his daughter? yes. do the higher-ups get pissed at him for it? also yes. does he care? not at all.

[silenced-ghost]

on my way home from the bar and I'm thinking about stopping by the liquor store to pick up a bottle for the needy sub I have waiting for me. she knows I like to come home with a nice buzz after a long day to find her patiently waiting, on the edge of need and desperation to feel my grasp around her again. tonight I've got a little treat in mind for her - I'm in the mood to feed her shots straight from the bottle until she's a drunk, sloppy little slut for my cock.

I pick up a bottle of vodka, not a cheap one either, I want it to go smooth down her pretty little throat. I head home, open the door, and walk in to find her laying on the couch in just a pair of panties. she was watching tv but perked up as she heard me come in, I smile to her as I notice she's eyed the brown bag in my hand concealing the bottle I got for her. I can see the anticipation grow in her eyes and I say "I missed you today little doll, I thought I'd come home with a little treat." I motion for her to come over to me. she slides off the couch hands first and crawls towards me, just like I trained her to.

my smile turns to a grin as she approaches and I point to my left boot. "sit." she quickly positions herself on her knees and sits her herself right on my boot. I can feel the warmth of her pussy through the toe of my boot as I continue to grin at her. I pull the bottle out of the bag, open it, and take a swig. I peek down at her to admire the needy desperation growing in her eyes. "do you want some little doll?" she nods ecstatically and starts to bounce her pussy against my boot. I grab her by the mouth and hold it open, take a swig, and spit it from my mouth into hers. I can feel her resist the urge to squirm in my grip as she takes the shot gratefully. I close her mouth for her to swallow, kissing her as I do so she can taste the vodka off of my lips. I then press the bottle to her lips and feed her another shot. I can feel her press against me, her hips that were gently bouncing a moment ago are now grinding steadily against my boot. I grip the back of her neck, force her head back, and measure out another shot into her mouth.

I can't help but start to feel my cock throb against my jeans as I watch the way her lips caress and wrap around the mouth of the bottle. she starts wrapping her arms around my legs for balance as the shots begin to hit her and before long I can see she's fully wet through her panties and dripping against my boot. she tries to paw needily at my bulge but I swat her hand away and slap her. "already so drunk that you can't behave?" I grab her by her hair and tell her that if she want's to act like a slut I can get her drunk like one and use her like one. I feed her another shot and she eagerly takes it, licking and sucking the neck of the bottle as she does just to try and please me more. I smile and say "that's my slut." as I do, I release my grip for a moment to undo my jeans. I slide them down and rub my throbbing bulge through my boxer briefs as she watches wide-eyed. "get up here and kiss it" I say and she pops up on her knees to kiss my cock through my underwear with her wet lips. I let out a moan of pleasure as she starts to lick and suck through my underwear in desperation to taste my cock. I feel her grip my thighs and she bites lightly on my dick. I grab her by the neck and slap her again. she feigns shame but she can't hide that look of evil pleasure in her eyes from me. I lean down to whisper in her ear "if you bite, I'll make you bleed when I bite back." I can feel my words melt that brat in her away for the moment as I bring the bottle up to her lips again. this time I feed her two shots, one at a time, and she takes notice. I grip her gently again by the neck and say "don't count, don't think, you just need to do what I say now little doll."

I pull my throbbing cock out of my boxer briefs and slap her pretty, drunk face with it. she's starting to drool in drunk pleasure, so needy that her juices are dripping from her cunt and running down her leg. she slurs her words as she tries to beg to taste my cock and feel it slide deep into her throat. I put the bottle between her legs and tell her to grind it. as she does, I grab her head with both hands and force my hard cock in her mouth and down her throat. I start to rhythmically thrust as she does her best to resist squirming from the force as she tries to keep grinding her soaked panties against the bottle. I hold her steady and keep pounding her throat. I feel my balls ache and swell, the load I've been holding for my drunk little slut all day ready to be emptied inside her throat. I look her in the eyes and ask "are you ready for another treat?" as I continue to thrust her mouth so she can't speak. she tries to nod against the force of my hands and looks up at me with begging desperation. In an instant, that feeling of her warm throat around my cock combined with that sweet look makes me lose my edge completely.

I start to pump my cum inside her throat, watching her fight to hold my cock as deep as possible so she can gulp every drop from my tip. even still, it starts to overflow at her lips and my cum flows from her mouth and down her chin, dripping to her tits. I admire the view as I hold her head steady around my cock. I reach down and pull the bottle up from between her legs. I eye the wet spot left on the bottle from her grinding her wet pussy against it while I used her throat and lick it ferally. I smile as I open the bottle again and say "you're off to such a good start tonight little doll, now I want you to chase my cum with another shot. I'm going to have you kill this bottle by the time I'm done with you tonight - we'll see if you remember it."