#Id go into detail about the things id let him do to me but im afraid id use up all my tags

[kaethefangirl]

yall gon hate me for this one 😭😭

HEAR ME OUT....

WHY HE KINDAAAA.......

[purpurussy]

.

[orestesimp]

RED FLAGS ║ PART 12

CO-WRITTEN WITH @THIRSTWORLDPROBLEMSS

Pairing: Steven Grant x female reader x Marc Spector (x hints of Jake Lockley)

Summary: You get more than you bargained for when you follow Marc out into the night. Or alternatively: 🎵 Fighting evil by moonlight. Winning love by daylight 🎵

Content: Cthulu horror, violence, blood and gore, angst, yikes overall.

Word Count: 6.2k words

Series Masterlist | Astroboot’s Masterlist | Thirstworldproblemss’ Masterlist

[PREVIOUS] - [NEXT]

You’re not thinking straight. 

Somehow you’re already at the end of the hallway, pushing the button for the lift and having a staring contest with the red floor indicator, and you don’t even know if you managed to lock up behind you.

The lift is stuck at the ground floor, apparently unwilling to do the one bloody thing a lift is supposed to do and lift itself. You can’t be bothered to wait. Before you even properly register making a decision, you’re already down the five flights of stairs, out the building's front door and onto the street, cheeks stinging from the bone-chilling cold.

Usually, the residual heat from the bustle of city life coupled with fumes from the busy traffic will keep London warm enough even in the dead of night. But now, as you make your way down the cramped street, it’s so cold that your breath is frosting in front of you. 

It’s eerily quiet for Central London. The only sound is the one made by your feet carelessly splashing through the puddles of rainwater filling the potholes in the cracked pavement, and it seems to echo off the tall concrete walls on either side of you. 

You don’t know what you’re doing.

It would be better, safer,  smarter for you to go back upstairs where you could stay comfortably warm under the covers while you wait for Steven to return to you in the morning. 

You know all of this, but you don’t turn around. Don’t even hesitate. One foot after the other, you stride determinedly down the narrowing passageway that’s lined with pungent beer bottles and deep fried chicken bones, until you reach a fork in the street. 

This is all so stupid.

You don’t know which direction Marc went—right or left—don’t know what his intended destination is or if he even came this way at all. But you do know one thing.  

Marc Spector loves you. 

His quiet voice still echoes between your ears. ‘I love you too’, he’d said, and it was real. 

You chance left into an even smaller alleyway. You don’t know why, other than that the dark tapered alley seems like a more likely place for Marc to have slunk off to in the middle of the night. 

There are no street lights here, and the walls on both sides seem to narrow in on you, until you feel like they're practically scraping against your shoulders. Somehow, even though you’ve been more or less living in this area as of late, you’ve not ever come across this path before. 

A foetid smell lingers in the air, like someone’s left rotten eggs out in the sun. London’s never exactly smelled good, but the sudden overwhelming odour stings your nostrils, invading your throat in a way that threatens to have you doubled over, dry-gagging.

The rain is coming in heavier now, but it does nothing to help with the smell. Just permeates every single layer of your clothing, until you’re soaked all the way down to your socks. 

You’re bloody freezing. 

Something doesn’t feel quite right, but you chalk it up to the fact that you've chosen to take a stroll down a dark alley in East London in the middle of the night by yourself. Not your brightest decision ever, but here you are.

A tingling at the back of your neck makes you throw a quick glance over your shoulder, checking to see if someone’s watching you, but there’s nothing there. All you see is the same depressing-looking alley that you just came down. Red-rusted brick walls above a concrete street covered in manky puddles and rubbish, just like every other dirty little alleyway in East London. 

Somehow, this does nothing to reassure you.

The skin between your shoulders itches, prickling with uncomfortable heat despite the cold, and it feels like a warning sign. 

Despite the fact that you’re wearing sturdy boots and covered from toes to chin, you still feel uncomfortably exposed. Like any minute now something might start nipping at your heels from behind. It’s the same illogical fear you feel when you’re alone in bed at night with your feet sticking out from under the covers. You’ve left yourself defenceless and vulnerable to the monsters under the bed. It’s only a matter of time before something from the darkness will reach out and grab you by the ankles, dragging you under. 

You continue forwards, hurrying your pace with every step. It’s irrational, but you can’t shake off the feeling that if you don’t, something will catch up to you.  

Some sort of.... clicking starts up behind you, and you slow to a stop. Some lost survival instinct is screaming at you, telling you to freeze. To hide so it won't see you.

The unsettling noise continues, rattling oddly in your ears and growing ever more distorted as it echoes off the walls around you. You’ve never heard anything like it, and you wish you weren’t hearing it now. It’s… strange. Not quite right. 

Other.

The noise stops, leaving just the sound of your breath rasping in and out of your too-tight chest. You force yourself to move; fighting the warning siren of your heart hammering painfully hard in your chest, you turn slowly to look over your shoulder at the alley behind you.

There’s nothing there. You're alone.

Slowly, slowly you turn the rest of the way, but there's still nothing. Aside from the usual smattering of rubbish, the only thing in the alleyway is the image of the moonlit sky mirrored on the rain-covered, empty pavement.

You let out a breath you didn't realise you were holding, and force yourself to keep breathing, fighting the stubborn tightness of your chest to take in deep, calming breaths that turn visible as you exhale against the crisp air.

So you heard an odd sound. And what of it? Probably just someone’s ancient radiator clicking up a storm. That’s all. Everything else is just your overactive imagination. Might even have been a bird. Someone’s escaped parakeet doing a strange mating call perhaps. What do you know? London wildlife has always been unpredictable and strange, after all. 

You’ve nearly managed to convince yourself, about to turn on your heel and continue on your way when you spot it. The gentle ripple pattern spreading out across the thin sheet of water covering the grey concrete. Not unusual in the least, given that it’s raining. Except it’s a large ripple. Too large to be from the rain.

Despite the freezing temperature, your spine prickles with cold sweat underneath your thick coat. 

The noise starts up again. It warbles and clicks-clicks-clicks. You can’t pin where it’s coming from. It’s disorientating. It comes from the ground, rattles off the walls and lingers in the air above. It’s everywhere. 

Water splashes on the ground some feet away from you, a small spray going up in your peripheral vision, like something stepped on it. Something heavy. Something large.

But there’s nothing there. And that maddening clicking noise won’t stop. 

You can’t see anything in the empty space over the water puddle in front of you. Nothing, not even the smattering droplets of the pouring rain. The water is eerily still which… can’t be right. 

You narrow your eyes at the puddle, dragging your gaze upwards, and…

There’s a hole in the rain.

A void of some sort, defined only by the absence of the falling water. Following the empty space upwards, you can see a clearly defined boundary where the droplet starts again. Like the rain is bouncing off a transparent surface.

There’s something there. Something solid. Something big.

A huge eerie shape. As you squint at it, you begin to recognize that the water is outlining crouching limbs and a torso. Your brain keeps trying to pin down what it looks like, but it’s not the shape of any animal you know of. There’s something not right about its form. It's disproportionate; all overly sharp edges and grotesque bulging curves that make your skin crawl. The angles are wrong somehow in a way that makes your brain itch to look at them.

It’s... 

It’s…

Not of this world. 

You hold your breath, standing motionless, feet rooted to the wet pavement as rain pelts your face so hard it stings. 

Click. C-Click. CCCCClick. 

The noise rattles closer. Louder now. It feels like it’s burrowing under your skin. Into your brain. But the warning sirens blaring inside your head are louder still. Deafening. Every instinct and nerve ending in you is screaming one thing. 

RUN. 

You turn and run, one leg leaping in front of the other. You run without looking behind you. Running even as you almost stumble, feet skidding against the slippery-wet concrete. Your lungs burn, but you don’t stop. Don’t dare look back. Eyes fixed on the dim, rain-fogged light at the end of the alley in front of you. You run. 

There’s a loud crash behind you. A percussive thunderclap of sound that hurts your ears. The crunch and clatter of concrete being torn apart. 

But you don’t stop. Don’t look behind you to investigate. You run. 

You run, ignoring the bile pushing its way up your throat. Run, ignoring the shrieks of sound erupting behind you. Running from the sound of a wounded creature, like no animal that you have ever heard in your life. A hellish scream that doesn’t sound of this world, tearing through the thin space. A pain that is born out of pierced flesh and broken bones. You run.

Stupid. You’re so fucking stupid. 

Why are you here? Why didn’t you just stay in the safety of your home, tucked up in bed under the covers? The stinging wetness in your eyes blurs your vision as you tear down the alleyway. Does it open out into another street or dead end? You can’t tell yet, but there’s nothing else to do. You run.

You collide with something solid and firm.The impact knocks the wind out of your lungs, and a strong pressure surrounds you from every angle, grabbing hold of your shoulders and constricting around your ribs. You can’t run. 

You can’t breathe. There’s something clamped over your mouth and nose. Coarse gauze pressed into your nostrils, suffocating you. 

You make a desperate attempt to free yourself, arms trying to push out against the tight hold, hands clawing at whatever you can reach, but your pathetic attempts are no use. The grip only tightens at your resistance. It’s too strong. You can’t get free. 

This is it. There’s nowhere left to go. You’re trapped. It’s over. 

Still, you can’t stop fighting, thrashing in every direction, trying to squirm yourself loose.

“Stop! Stop!”

You recognize that grumpy, impatient voice. You’d know it anywhere, even muted as it is by the blood thundering in your ears. You register that the solid weight holding you captive is a person. 

Marc. 

You go limp. Shoulders slumping into his hold. Legs no longer kicking as your feet settle onto the ground below.

“I’m gonna let go of you now. I need you to not fight me. Or scream.” 

You nod into his hand, and the pressure finally gives, as does his grip. Then you’re free. 

Turning around, the sight that greets you nearly has you screaming and running after all because it’s not Marc at all. It’s…

A mummy.

Layers upon layers of white gauze are wrapped like bandages over every inch of the body before you. Wound around limbs and woven over a broad torso, continuing up to shroud the face. 

And the eyes…

Where the eyes should be, the eye sockets are hollowed out. The gorgeous brown you expected is absent, replaced by a white glow that blinds you when you try to look directly at it.

You wobble on your feet, a sick nausea filling your throat. 

It spoke like Marc. Used his voice. 

Oh god! Is this some monstrous creature that mimics human voices to lure in its prey? 

Did it eat Marc!? 

Is it going to eat you!? 

The glowing eyes narrow into impatient triangular shapes, the shoulders pulling up and back while the feet shift in an almost nervous gesture. An odd sense of recognition fills you.

“M-Marc?” 

The eyes narrow further into a scolding glare. Even without a mouth, you can tell he’s scowling at you. The thing growls, but it’s a human sound. And a familiar one. 

Marc, definitely Marc.

Only he could manage to scowl behind a hoodie, three layers of mummy bandages and a glowing Halloween mask. 

As you watch, the hood and mask recede, evaporating into thin air. White bandages give way to golden-tanned skin, and you’re greeted by the face you know so well. Hard eyes staring down at you above steel-cut cheekbones and a jaw set with displeasure. 

“Marc!” Thank god! Relief floods your chest, but it’s short-lived. That thing could still be out there. “We need to go!”

“Why are you here? You can’t be here,” Marc grates out, resisting your attempts to pull him into motion. He’s clearly furious, but right now the two of you have got more important things to worry about.                                                                                  

“We need to go,” you repeat, pleading with him, hands grappling for his, trying to tug him in the direction you were running before, but he resists you effortlessly, like he’s anchored to the spot. You might as well be trying to tug a stone statue.

“Marc, please! There’s something out there! Like a– a–” you fumble, unsure of what to name it, because you don’t know what the hell that thing was. 

An invisible monster? A demon? A boogeyman? 

“I don’t know what it was! Some kind of… creature. Something big,” Your voice breaks. Your fingers tremble where they’re curled over his arm, and you grip harder. Digging them further into the bandages, trying to get them to stop. “You have to believe me Marc!”

He’s not going to believe you, is he? He’s going to think you’ve lost the plot and need to be sectioned. God, maybe you do.

But the vexation in his face fades as he watches you, his expression shifting into something softer, filled with worry. His hands reach for you, the bandages soft against your cheeks. 

“Hey. Hey, it’s okay.” He tips your chin up, eyes searching your face, and if he thinks you are mad or hysterical, there isn’t a trace of it in his gaze. There’s no disbelief. “I know.” 

His calm acceptance stuns you. 

“What do you mean you ‘know’?” 

“I know because I…,”—he hesitates, mouth set in a grim line—”I took care of it.” “You took care of… what? Marc, what–? What do you mean by that?” 

Marc falters at that, and runs one gloved hand over his hair. His eyes dart around like he’ll find the answer hidden somewhere behind the overflowing rubbish or carved into the worn brick of the alley wall. 

“I…,” He hesitates again, glancing at you and then away, like he can’t make himself hold your gaze. “This is what I do,” he finally spits out. “I tried to keep this shit away from you. It’s not something you were ever supposed to see. I need you safe.” 

The unhappy set of his mouth makes your aggravation falter, but you need to understand.

“What do you mean? Tried to keep what shit away from me?” 

“I–” He breaks off, eyes darting up and across the wall of the building across from you, high above your head. “Shit. We need to go.”

Oh sure! Now he wants to leave. (Though it’s not like you’re going to argue.)

Marc grabs your arm again, and you do your best to keep up as he hauls you along down the alley. 

You try to watch the alley walls and street as you run, searching for any sign of the grotesque invisible creature from before, but you can’t make out anything in the pouring rain this time. You try to listen instead, but you can’t hear anything over the sound of your heartbeat pounding in your ears.

Marc stops suddenly, and you stumble to a halt as well, crashing into his back and nearly falling. 

“Mar—“

“Quiet,” he cuts you off with the low demand, and the quiet urgency of his voice has you freezing instantly. He stares at the mouth of the alleyway, then up where the moon is just barely visible in the gap between the buildings, eyes wide and alert, face rigid with something like fear. It makes your own fear balloon, your pulse screeching in your ears.

Suddenly there’s a scraping sound, and small bits of brick fall from above, skittering down from the wall on your left. You peer at the shadowy face of the building, but there’s nothing to be seen.

Another grinding sound, closer this time. Something large and heavy rubbing against brick. Another shower of gravel and debris, but you still can’t see where the bloody thing is.

Dread curls in the lining of your stomach.

Then it starts again, that otherworldly clicking that seems to burrow right  into your skull. You cover your ears reflexively. Would claw them right off if only it would make the noise stop. 

Marc reaches for you then. Moving slowly and deliberately, he wraps an arm around you, scooping you close against his chest and taking you with him as he backs away. 

You huddle against him, staring up at his determined profile. His eyes are trained on a spot on the building across from you, clearly seeing what you can’t. 

Without looking away, he leans in closer to you and whispers, “Get ready to run.” 

He’s barely finished speaking when the wall crumbles above you, and Marc’s arms untangle from you, leaving your side. 

You think you catch the sight of something moving in the rain, a slight distortion visible as the shape crosses in front of the moon, then you’re shoved to the side, voice echoing in your ears.

“Run!”

You weren’t ready. 

Shoes skidding backwards in the slippery rain, you lose your footing, and go down. You land hard on your bum, and can’t seem to get up again.

Everything is happening too fast. 

Your chest hurts. Breath stuttering in your lungs, too quick and shallow to let you take in any oxygen. Your heartbeat is pounding so rapidly against your ribs that you’re sure it’s going to rip a hole straight through your chest to the open air.

It’s too bright.

The light from the moon above seems to flood the alleyway, and your eyes throb.

Too loud. 

A solid thud reverberates through the air mere feet away from you. It’s the sound of knuckles meeting flesh. A blood curdling shriek rips through the space. 

Too much. 

Marc's forearm is held up, parallel to the wall, like he’s pinning something that isn’t there. Something large and thrashing. Your eyes are fixed on the bizarre scene before you. You don’t understand what you’re seeing. Don’t understand how the man who folds your clothes in neat squares and makes you lukewarm tea is the same man as the one who stands before you now. Poised and calm in the violence. Holding his own against an otherworldly monster, and winning. 

None of this feels real.  

His fist slams forward, landing some distance away from the brick. Punching into the invisible air. But there’s a horrifying squelching sound with each landing punch that lets you know something is there that you’re not seeing. 

You watch, so focused on Marc and the damage he’s meting out that you almost don’t notice when a damp gust of air grazes against the fine hairs on the back of your neck and sends the soft skin underneath prickling. You fail to take it as the warning sign it is. 

Fuck. There’s another one!

You don’t have time to react. No time for anything. Just the sound of glass crunching against asphalt, and something slamming into your back, so forcefully that the impact threatens to crush your ribs. 

You land face first this time, cheek kissing the concrete with a painful sting. There’s a heavy weight on your back, and mud in your mouth. Or maybe blood. Everything tastes like pennies. 

Marc shouts your name. His voice is raw, panicked. So full of fear it's almost unrecognisable.

You want to go to him.

Anchoring your elbows on the gravelly ground, you try to push up against the heavy weight pinning you to the ground. It hurts. Everything hurts. Your shins are stinging. Cheek too and your forearm where your sleeve must have ripped. Your ribs are one big throbbing blotch of burning pain. But you manage to lift your head up in time to see Marc leaping towards you.

He seems to be suspended in time, one hand pulled back, the other outstretched in mid-air as he reaches for you. Droplets of rain sparkle where they’re caught in his hair, and others seem to trickle leisurely down his forehead above his brown eyes that are wide in blind panic. 

You feel it before you see it. 

His fingers curl around your wrist, the solid weight of his hand clamping tight around your forearm. Time speeds up again at the touch. You hadn’t realised sound had gone missing too until it returns with a deafening fury. 

The suspended rain smatters down all around you. Marc’s other hand impacts the creature pinning you down with a sickening squelch, and a grotesque shriek tears through the space behind you, tapering off into a rheumy deathrattle. 

Marc’s face fills your vision, the terror in his expression just starting to shift into relief when some small distortion, barely seen out of the corner of your eye, breaks into your line of sight, and he’s ripped away from you again by some invisible force.

You don’t understand what you’re seeing. There’s some disconnect between what’s happening in front of you and your brain’s ability to process it. 

You know that can’t possibly be Marc hurtling through the air, white cape billowing behind him like a white flag of surrender. Surely there’s no need to worry because of course you aren’t seeing his body impact the side of the building with a horrifyingly meaty thud that reverberates in your bones, and then tumble to the ground in a shower of broken masonry

You stare at the pile of white fabric and brick pieces there on the ground for a moment, and your heart pounds so forcefully that you feel lightheaded.

It’s a horrible nightmare made reality, and your brain wants to fight it. To pretend it’s not happening. Tell you that it’s not Marc’s lifeless body lying facedown on the ground in front of you.

But… it is.

You can feel the bitter acrid taste of the truth carving itself into your throat. 

You scramble up, ignoring your bloody knees and the searing pain in your side, not stopping until you’re hunched over Marc’s body. He’s terrifyingly still. You grip his shoulder, tugging hard until you’ve managed to turn him onto his back, all the while begging to any deity or higher power who might be listening to please let him be all right; let him be awake; let him still be alive. 

Please. 

He has to be. 

Cupping his cheeks in your palms, you have to swallow the raw sob in your throat at how cold his skin feels against yours. 

A pulse. You need to check for a pulse. 

You shove two fingers against the column of his throat up under his jaw, trying to find the right place, but the stupid bandages are too bloody thick. You can’t feel anything through them. You tug at them, trying to rip them free or wedge your fingertips underneath to get at bare skin, but they’re hard as steel. You don’t stop though, clawing at them now because you’ve got to– 

A heavy, thudding footfall lands on the ground a short distance away, and you jerk your head up.

The creature is there in the alley, right in front of you… 

All you can see is the malformed outline, silhouetted by the cascading rain refracting in the moonlight. It turns slowly towards you, feet grinding against the pavement.

Absolute terror swamps you. Every cell in your body is screaming. You need to escape!

RUN! 

You scramble to get ahold of Marc, barely managing to wedge yourself underneath him until you can wrap both your arms around his chest from behind and heave, straining to drag his uncooperative body away from danger. You don’t get very far.  

Marc is heavier than he looks, and your feet scrape and skid against the wet concrete as you desperately try to drag both of you backwards. You barely manage to budge him at all, gaining at most a few inches before the creature begins clicking again.

You can see the outline more clearly now. If you squint you can just make out mangled tentacles protruding from where its head must be and writhing grotesquely in a way that your eyes refuse to focus on. Your breath seizes in your chest and you have to look away, your body wracked with shivers.

You watch it come out of the corner of your eye, thick limbs advancing on you one torturously slow step at a time. You don’t understand why you’re still alive. The creature certainly seemed capable of ferocious speeds when it had attacked Marc before. You get the feeling it’s mocking you. A giant supernatural cat playing with its prey before it eats, and you’re the hapless dinner. 

The thought sickens you.

You tighten your grip on Marc, wrapping your arms around him with renewed determination. Clutching him as close as you can in a futile attempt to protect him from this thing. Unwilling to let it have him. 

There’s more loud clicking, closer still, scraping against your brain like nails on a chalkboard and making your spine curl. 

You’re out of time. Out of options. Your brain furiously scans through a lifetime of collected memories and information for any shred of useful knowledge. Anything to help get you out of this, but there’s… nothing. No secret escape route. No Hail Mary play. 

 It’s hopeless. 

You wish it hadn’t come to this. That you could somehow save Marc and Steven and yourself. That you had more time. 

You wish you had taken the time to eat the breakfast Steven’s made for you with him yesterday morning. That you could have had the chance to taste Marc’s pancakes again. That you had kissed Steven more often (should have done it every opportunity you had), gotten to see that sunshine smile of his light up the room one last time. That you could’ve told Marc you love him in person. 

But that’s the thing isn’t it? 

You don’t have all the time in the world. You never did. Everything has an end. 

You hug Marc closer to your chest. You’re just glad you got to face your end here with him, together.

Searing pain rips into your ankle as cold claws sink into your flesh. The breath you’ve been holding all this time is knocked out of you. Any small shred of peaceful resignation you’d been able to muster in the face of certain death is ripped away, and you react without thinking.

Your foot flies out in a swift kick. The heel of your boot connects with something soft and pulpy that yields with a sickening squelch. 

There’s an angry clicking shriek. It rattles your eardrums painfully and vibrates through your chest, like standing too close to a speaker at a club. The monster takes a step back, but the taloned grip around your heel doesn’t ease, dragging you with it. 

You kick again. Firm sponginess that makes you think of decomposing flesh. Unnaturally soft for something still moving. You think you might vomit. 

The thing screeches but doesn’t loosen its grip. Asphalt and shards of glass dig into your back as it drags you along. You try to cling to Marc, but you can’t. You might as well be a flea for all the hope you have of challenging its strength. 

You twist around onto your front. All you see is mute greyness of the alley. The increasing distance between you and Marc as the thing drags you along. You try to claw at the ground but there’s nothing to hold onto. Your watch, somehow miraculously still on your wrist after everything, pops free now, and you watch it disappearing from your sight, growing smaller and smaller as you’re dragged away, and somehow that’s the final staw. You squeeze your eyes shut on a ragged sob, draw in half. breath to scream, and…

Everything stops. 

It’s dark behind your closed eyelids. Your throat is raw, burning. Are you still screaming? You must be, but you can’t hear anything anymore. There’s no more clicking. The rain seems to have stopped. You can’t feel it falling onto your skin or the asphalt scraping against your torn clothes.

Are you… dead? 

If you are, why do your knees hurt so much? 

You crack your eyes open to find yourself staring up at the pitch-black sky lit by a perfectly circular moon. 

Something white flutters in the periphery of your vision. A white… flag? No, it’s a long flowing white cape that hovers over your body. 

Marc! 

Or… is it? 

Something’s different. 

Tracing the cape upwards, it takes your frazzled brain a second to register what’s changed. This mummy is missing bodyparts! Or… no. His costume is just a different colour. Solid black ink runs up his legs instead of the white bandages that were there before, masking his outline against the black sky above.. 

Is this someone else?

You crane your neck towards where you last saw Marc’s body lying on the pavement, but he’s not there any longer.

This must him, then. 

…Isn’t it?

He’s standing hunched over empty air, a vicious brutality emanating from his entire body that wasn’t there before as he delivers repeated bone-shattering punches to…. nothing. His fists sink into the space that you know isn’t really empty. You can hear the impacts now, even if you still can’t see the creature. The dull wet thud of knuckles connecting with flesh over and over and over again, with almost mechanical precision.

With each blow the same hellish scream you heard earlier rings in the air, but it’s growing weaker, soggier each time until finally it fades all together. And the stomach twisting crunch of bones breaking grows ever louder as his fists sink deeper and deeper into the invisible mass. 

Then, finally, silence falls.

Squinting your eyes open—when did you close them?—the first thing you see is his silhouette standing some feet away from you. Right where you last saw him, but he’s standing upright now, towering over you and what’s left of the creature, a now semi translucent mass that glints wetly.

There’s an unsettling calmness to him as he takes a step back, head tilted to the side as his eyes narrow, observing the thing with disdain. One leg lifts, rising above the ground, poised like an executioner’s axe… and then falls.

The creature isn't making any sounds anymore, not even a whimper when that foot comes down,  delivering an earth-shattering stomp that shakes the ground beneath you. 

There is only a stomach-churning, pulp-crunching sound, of something moist-yet-solid being torn through. You clamp your eyes shut, stomach roiling, trying not to think about what is there that you can’t see. Instead you imagine he’s stepping on a bag of rotten fruit. Repeatedly.

You don’t dare to open your eyes again until everything goes quiet. 

But the horror of the moment isn’t quite over yet. He stands still in the same spot, unmoving. His shoulders squared but loose as he stares at the place the creature had been with a disdainful sneer on his features, eyes flat and blank. He eyes it like he’s inspecting a squashed cockroach stuck to the bottom of his shoe. 

The hairs on the back of your neck are still standing on end. Your body is screaming out to you that the danger hasn’t passed. Something even more dangerous is standing before you. The scene plays out like some twisted nature documentary where a rabid bear was just ripped apart by a monstrous wolf. 

Marc tips his head to stare up at the night sky. Something changes. The whole of his body seizes, shoulders pulled taut, head thrown back like he’s being yanked up by invisible puppet strings. 

The linen covering his body slithers down his limbs like receding snakes. Every inch of the primordial gauze disintegrates into dust and smoke, giving way to the much more familiar tight jeans, form-fitting t-shirt, and loose jacket. 

As if finally satiated, whatever force had its hooks in him relinquishes control, and he slumps forward, feet still firmly grounded to the asphalt, and opens his eyes. 

And then Marc is back. You think… 

Marc seems disoriented at first, breathing erratically. His body language is a stark contrast to the one he held mere moments ago, as though the calm callousness has disintegrated with the mummified gauze. Now he’s hunched over, tense, and appears confused, eyes darting around the alleyway until they land on you, still flat on your ass on the concrete ground.

His eyes stay on you as he covers the distance between you in three great strides, his footfalls skidding along the rain-slick concrete before he falls to his knees beside you. You turn your head, trying to look behind you to observe all the damage, but Marc cups your face in his hand before you can see anything. 

“Hey. Hey, you look at me,” he says, voice rough but hands gentle as he smooths your hair back from your face. His eyes search your face frantically for a long moment. It must eventually penetrate that you’re all right because the panic in his eyes finally melts into relief, and seems to spread to the rest of him. The harsh line between his brows relaxes  slightly, and he lets out a long breath, the tight line of his shoulders softening. 

Then he’s cupping the back of your head in one hand, and hauling you into his chest, and holding you there, pressed tight against him.  It makes it hard to breathe, your face mashed up against his firm chest, nose and mouth partially buried in his shirt and jacket, but you only want to press closer, have him hold you tighter, for as long as he possibly can, even if it chokes the breath out of you.

“It’s okay,” he says after a long moment, “You’re okay. You’re alright. I’ve got you.”

You’re not sure if he’s trying to reassure you or himself. 

His voice is gentle and comforting as he rests a firm hand on the small of your back and keeps it there. His eyes are soft now, no longer cold and blank, even if they do look sad. 

“You’re safe,” he tells you.  

It’s not until he says it that it finally sinks in. The rigid muscles in you melt. Your heightened survival instincts dim, your body finally willing to accept that the danger has passed. 

His grip around you loosens, and the palm of his hand roams over the top of your shoulder, fingers resting on the pulse of your neck, before ghosting under the place that stings and smarts on your cheek. There’s a tremor to his touch, but he’s still meticulous as his hands run gently down your arms, across your back, stomach, and ribs, inspecting you for injuries, and cataloguing the location and gravity of each.   

A long time passes before Marc is satisfied and finished with his examination. Then he lets you go and leans back, shimmying off his jacket—the very one you’d been haunted by when he lent it to you once before—and settles it around your shoulders. Residual heat from his body still lingers in the fabric, instantly warming you and making you aware of just how cold you were before.

You stare up at him, through the rain as the pale moonlight shimmers off the droplets of water caught in his hair. The familiarity of it makes your heart squeeze tight in your chest. Once again the two of you find yourselves in the middle of the rain with Marc’s jacket wrapped around you. It’s a deja-vu you wish you can relive a thousand times over. 

“C��mon,” Marc says, holding out a hand and helping you to your feet, “Let’s get you home.” 

To be continued...

Dedicated to @thirstworldproblemss because I am just very happy I have a friend like her in my life and that I get to share this story together with her.

a/n: to be notified of new writing updates follow @astroboots-writes and turn on notifs 🤡💖🤡

[temiizpalace]

hiiii!! omg this is exciting ^^ can I request prompt 4 for Azul and Jamil?? Jamil normally offers Yuu their hoodies, then for some reason Azul started to let Yuu borrow the coat he wears from his Octavinelle Uniform. But in the end, Yuu ends up with Jamil, he told Yuu that now they're in a relationship, they're probably going to own almost all his hoodies now doenksnwksnwksjekd head empty, just this request.

Have a great day!!!

☆┊TAKE MY JACKET, I INSIST. (🐍 vs. 🐙)

SUMMARY: COLD CHILLS RAN DOWN YOUR SPINE AS YOUR TEMPERATURE BEGINS TO DROP. HE OFFERS HIS JACKET LIKE A GENTLEMEN, BUT A CERTAIN SOMEONE HAD THE SAME IDEA.

CHARACTERS: jamil viper vs. azul ashengrotto

EVENT MASTERLIST

WARNINGS: determined end couple, jealousy, small azul angst near end?

NOTES: i knew id see this duo at least once!! tysm for your request!

reader is g/n, reader is yuu

˚∘☆∘˚

jamil felt sick.

not literally, thankfully, but horrible enough to feel like he had just gotten a disease. is this happening? seriously? you, in an octavinelle coat. more specifically, azul’s coat. disgusting. he can’t believe his very eyes. why?! and just as he was about to ask if you needed to wear his sweater.

as a very very platonic exchange between two very good friends, you have been wearing jamil’s sweaters during the colder seasons. not like he cares or anything. (he does, he’s literally the one to offer it) however, seeing you in someone else’s clothes? and azul’s nonetheless? do you hate him??? as much as he wanted to run over to you, toss the coat off the window and immediately give you his own sweater to wear instead, jamil would rather die than make such a scene.

he can think of a few.. others.. that would do something so rash, but not him. no, no. he’s seen countless things he never liked to see before! surely this is the same, right?

“jamil! good morning!” you smile, rushing over to him with an enthusiastic wave. “[MC], morning.” he politely greets you in return, eyeing the coat for a second before looking at your eyes. “like my coat? pretty nice, don’tcha think? azul’s letting me borrow it.” you model the coat for him, allowing him to look at every single little detail.

“it’s..” absolutely atrocious. jamil hesitates, biting back any and all comments or remarks he could come up with on the top of his head. he doesn’t wish to insult you! never. the coat itself on the other hand, well.. “..something.” he narrows his eyes, knuckles forming in his hands til they turned pale. “thank you for your sincere input.” you reply sarcastically, already being able to sift through his lie.

“why’re you wearing it?” he asks, crossing his arms and raising a brow. answers. he wants answers. there’s no reason you should be going to azul for anything, so how come? “funny story actually! you see—” “jamil? [MC]?” you both turn your heads to see the refined businessman already on his way towards your direction, jamil unable to hide his obvious annoyance.

“oh, azul! morning.” you wave, unaware to your poor friends furrowed brow. “why, good morning prefect! i see you’re satisfied with the coat?” azul smiles, picking off the lint that was left on your collar. he looks to jamil, taking note of his peeved expression.

“hello, jamil. hanging out with the prefect again, i take it? you know, how about borrowing an octavinelle coat to match with our dear [MC] here? im positive it will look just as good on you as it does on them! our coats are accustomed to keep their subjects nice and warm for the winter seasons.” azul chimes, pulling out a neatly kept contract from his pockets.

“not on your life.” jamil states bluntly, crossing his arms with a pout. “they really do keep you warm though!” you add, much to azul’s delight. “see? i have no ill intentions in the slightest.” the octomer grins, his smile obviously not reaching his eyes. “prefect, i will see you at lunch. we can meet by our usual spot.” jamil sighs, looking at you and now just ignoring his classmate. “oh, okay! see you later then, jamil.”

classes droned on like they usually did. jamil wrote his notes with a focused expression, the thoughts in his head being a complete contrast. small doodles were drawn on the corners of the page, the pencil lead growing duller and duller with each passing minute. stupid octopus bastard.. he sighs, turning to azul wearing a more-than-pleased smile. oh how he wanted to rip that smug grin on his face off and ship him away to a place far, far away from here.

passing period was also no better. azul beat him to the punch, walking you to class like a gentlemen. jamil didn’t fail to notice the boys ears turning red as you laughed, his body language shifting from refined to embarrassed. he fought the urge to bite his nails in anger, leaving that old habit behind him many years ago. a spine chilling aura startles students around him as he walked, his face screaming neutral but his mood nothing but foul.

it’s that damn coat. that damn coat is what’s slowly drifting you away from him, and he cannot allow that. he’ll settle this. once and for all.

jamil awaited your arrival patiently by the tree. his foot tapping aggressively on the concrete as your presence seemed to delay. “sorry im late!” you shout, rushing over with a huff. no. no. no. no. no. no. this was a nightmare. not only were you wearing the coat, but the fedora, scarf, and just the entire octavinelle dorm uniform. “wh-what are you wearing..?” jamil stammers, observing your outfit with pure horror in his eyes.

“agh, azul made me wear it.” you sigh, obviously growing a little too warm in these clothes. it didn’t even snow yet! “this is too much..” he mumbles, removing your hat. slowly, he pulled off each overbearing accessory. he unwrapped the scarf, carefully removed your gloves, and eventually, the coat. “ah, i can take the coat—”

jamil removes his blazer, followed by his sweater. you’d be a liar if you told yourself you weren’t a little bit. seeing jamil in the normal nrc uniform was truly a privilege to say the least. he pulls the sweater over your head and smiles contently. “there. much better.” you hesitate for a moment, feeling your cheeks warm up at his gesture. typically you would put the sweater on yourself, but having someone do it for you? it was different somehow.

“if you’re ever feeling cold, just ask me.” he mumbles, putting his blazer back on while folding the octavinelle clothes neatly. “wow.. sounds like such a romantic gesture.” you joke, nudging his elbow. “could be.” he replies, his tone not holding any of the joking yours previously had. “what..?”

seize every opportunity. “i.. i wouldnt mind if it was.” he mutters, unable to meet your eyes. “is this a confession?” you ask, stepping closer to jamil. he swallows harshly, feeling like his heart was about to jump out of his chest. “i suppose.” suddenly he misses his hoodie. the blush on his cheeks couldn’t help but form, sweat dripping from his brow at the fear of rejection.

“jamil..” you grab his hand, placing it over your heart with a small smile. “if this is a confession, then i like you too.” you wrap him into an embrace, feeling his heart against your own. it beat rapidly, his palms sweaty before he hesitantly reciprocated your hug.

silence fell between you two for a brief moment, but one of comfort rather than awkwardness. “so.. why were you wearing an octavinelle uniform?” jamil asks, feeling the need to soothe the nagging thought in his head. “oh yeah.. that. azul asked me to wear it to promote the lounge. in return, he said id get a few food vouchers and i get to keep the coat.” you shrug, pulling out the small tickets from the octavinelle coat.

“i see..” jamil nods, still not understanding the rest of the accessories. “well, my hoodies are now your hoodies. look no further than yours truly for warmth in the winter.” he smiles, fixing the collar of the sweater. you laugh at his comment, pushing his bangs out of his face.

azul watched your exchange from afar, feeling his smile falter slightly. “oya? azul, is something the matter?” jade asked calmly, staring at his frowning companion. “..it’s nothing. what were you saying about that seasonal dish?” azul smiles, walking and talking with his vice housewarden for the future of mostro lounge.

in reality, his heart ached. even after all his efforts, he came in last. he couldn’t win your love in time. azul can’t help but want to climb into his octopot and weep. he sounds childish, but how else would you deal with a broken heart? maybe someday, you’ll find your love for him. someday, you’ll be part of his world. someday, he won’t feel so poor and unfortunate. but not today.

A/N: im sorry this was a little late something came up 😭

date published: 8/28/24

© temiizpalace — do not copy, steal, or put my work into ai. thank you!

[propertyofwicked]

SECRETS part 4 - LN

content warnings: fluff, angst, drama (the whole shabang).

ur girl is going back to working full time tomorrow so if we have slow updates blame my place of work. also, im still recovering from the 4am wakeup and lando p3

previous part -> next part

masterlist the playlist

“max pick up the damn phone,” y/n said, taking great strides across the paddock towards the car park. once again, the phone call had gone to voicemail. she clicked his contact details, ringing him again. only this time, it didn’t even ring. the phone went straight to voicemail. and to add to the matter, max’s car had disappeared from the car park.

y/n sat on the empty floor of the empty parking spot her brothers car had been in, opening up her phone to check the time and send a message to max, she probably should’ve waited for the mix of fear and anger to fade, but here she was, tapping aggressively at the screen of her phone.

if you think you can ignore me forever, you’ve got another thing coming

dont think you can jump to conclusions and throw a childlike strop about this.

but of course, the messages stayed on delivered for hours. it was at least 2 hours before lando’s caller id popped up on her phone, still with no word from max.

“hey, where did you go? mum said something about you walking off,” lando asked her the moment she answered the call.

“currently? i’m sat on the floor of the car park. where are you - ill walk over now,” she said bluntly. he stayed on the line until she entered the mclaren unit.

“y/n? what do you mean max has left?” panic rising in his voice as she walked up to him, his hands coming to rest on her waist.

“i mean he’s left. gone. driven off,” she said with a shrug, “he won’t answer my calls, hasn’t read my texts, he’s just gone.”

“he might be at the hotel? we’ll drive over in a bit and see?”

“i don’t think we should do anything, i think we might have done enough damage for one day.”

“y/n your brother has just driven off. you should at least try and check if he’s at the hotel.”

“fine, but i’m going alone.”

“let me try and talk to him first, you never know something might’ve happened with P?” lando said, still stroking her hips softly, desperately trying to think of any reason that his best friend had up and left.

4 unanswered calls later, and lando and y/n found themselves sat on the sofa in his driving room again, her head laying on her lap as he stroked her hair, trying to resolve the anxiety.

“i don’t care what he thinks, y/n. i feel so strongly about you and i think i have for years.”

“i think i have too. but i hate the thought of people disliking me, let alone my own brother.”

“i know, angel. he’ll come around soon, i promise.”

“that man held a grudge against me for years when i accidentally scraped the side of his kart when i was 12,” she said, laughing sadly at the memory of their parents having to sit them down in the living room and make them apologise to each other. the moment was quickly interrupted by her phone ringing, max’s caller id popping up on the screen.

“ma-”

“no. don’t talk to me. you two have lied to my face for years about this. lando promised me he would never even think about you in that way. and you, i don’t know what ive done to you for you to go behind my back and fuck my best friend but it’s not on.”

“max i-” lando tried to reason with him.

“oh, of course he’s there. just waiting for the moment i left to start fucking my sister, didn’t you?”

“it’s not like that, max.”

“no? then what is it like? ‘cos from where im standing it’s pretty clear he’s been waiting years to take advantage of my little sister,” he argued down the phone, venom rolling off his tongue.

“take advantage of me?” she scoffed, moving to sit up and hold the phone next to her mouth, “who the fuck do you think you are to talk to or about me in that way? who gave you the audacity to believe you have any control over who i choose to date? you couldn’t care less about protecting me, you only care about protecting yourself," she said, her voice raising and her finger moving to point as if he were stood in front of her.

“he’s not right for you.”

“that’s your opinion max. if you can’t trust me, or lando for that matter, then why should i bother giving you a moment more to talk down to me?”

lando sat silently next to her, playing with his own fingers. this was not his fight to fight right now. he’d speak to max privately later, right now, he knew y/n needed to stand up for herself, and god was she smashing it.

“why can’t you just listen to me?” max sighed, defeated, “i know what’s good for yo-”

“go fuck yourself,” she said, hanging up the call, and dropping her phone on the floor besides her. lando’s arms move to behind her waist, pulling her back to rest into him on the sofa. the room fell into silence.

“im sorry,” she mumbled.

“don’t be sorry. this is on him, and me. i should’ve told him the truth the first time round. hell, i should’ve told you the truth earlier.”

“i’ve ruined your big day, lan. p2 - you should be celebrating, not arguing with your best friend.”

“im with you - that’s celebration enough,” he said, happy to see her smile for the first time in hours. she moved to lay her head back down on lando’s lap, this time looking up at him. a knock on the door brought the two of them back to reality, and cisca walked in, adam trailing slightly behind.

y/n contemplated moving, jumping away from the boy who was currently running his hands through her hair, but it had only been 4 hours of hiding whatever was going on between the two of them and she was already bored of keeping up the pretence.

“y/n, love, did you find max?” cisca asked, eyes softening at the scene unfolding in front of her. had she secretly wished for this for years? maybe.

“yea, he um, he went home.”

“he’s not happy about this, is he?” adam said, pointing between the two of you, yet even he couldn’t help but smile slightly.

“not happy, fuming, absolutely raging - i guess you could say that,” she replied, laughing slightly to ease any tensions.

“he’ll come around lovely, he can’t stay mad at you. you’re his sister after all.”

“i love that you think so highly of my brother, cisca. he will go to the grave holding this grudge if he can.”

“ill talk to him later ang- y/n,” lando said, correcting himself quickly, not comfortable enough yet to be overly affectionate in front of his parents.

“good luck with that,” y/n joked, patting him on the arm sadly.

later that evening, y/n found herself sat on the floor of lando’s hotel rifling through her bag to find her pyjamas. earlier, her and lando had driven to her hotel room, to find that max had packed his stuff and left as expected. she didn’t want to be alone, and lando didn’t want to leave her alone. her phone began to ring, and she answered it praying it wasn’t max.

“y/n the videos of you are going feral on twitter right now,” her best friend, caitlin, shouted down the phone the moment she picked up.

“stop it - what are people saying?”

“erm, some people think it’s cute?” he friend responded, voice laced in slight worry.

“…and the rest of them think im a slut?” y/n added, but her friend only responded with a hum.

“what’s max said?”

“from what i remember, he drove off leaving me stranded at the track and then rang me to say i was making a mistake, i was a liar and he never wanted to speak to me or lando ever again.”

“taking it well then,” the girl responded, y/n could hear her eyes rolling. at that moment, lando emerged from the bathroom, with just a towel hanging around his waist. any words y/n intended to say got stuck in her throat. he took strides towards her, noticing she was on the phone and pressing a kiss to the top of her head, before moving to his own suitcase to find a change of clothes.

“y/n…are you in lando’s room right now?”

“maybe?” y/n responded in a guilty tone, quieter than she had before, glad lando couldn’t hear the girl on the other side of the phone. however, he seemed to clock on to the question from the small grin on her face.

“girl why did you answer the phone? go spend time with your new controversial boyfriend.”

“he’s not my b- you know what, i’m gonna go.”

“dont do anything i wouldn’t do, stay safe!” her friend added cheerily, laughing as she ended the call. cheery was the furthest emotion from what y/n felt at this moment in time.

once y/n was in her pyjamas, she moved her way back into the room, lando was sat up in bed, his back resting on the headboard, phone in hand. he looked up as she walked in, patting the spot next to him for her to join. her face fell into a look that screamed apprehension.

“y/n nothing bad will happen if you get into this bed and cuddle with me.”

“something bad already happened,” she said, climbing under the duvet next to him nonetheless. his hand reached behind her waist pulling her into his chest, her head coming to rest on him.

“im happy this happened, but im not happy about every thing that’s happening as a result," she told him, her eyes blinking slowly as the exhaustion from todays drama caught up with her.

“i know baby,” he responded, pressing a kiss to the top of her head, “get some sleep. we’ll sort this out tomorrow, i promise.”

★ ☆ ✦ ✧ ✩ ✶

tag list: @harrysdimple05 @scopeiguess @hiireadstuff @landosgirlxoxo @natt9598 @phantomxoxo @val-writes @secretgal66 @ririyulife @littlehoneyfreak @leclercdream @mehrmonga @eviethetheatrefreak @thatoneembarrasingmoment @doofenshmirtzevil-inc @formula1mount @lottef1 @rayna-s @5starl1ght @cthgee

[havocskies]

HOBIE BROWN HEADCANONS | NSFW

im iffy on writing actual smut bc id be reconsidering a lot in my life during it but i am not above writing headcanons xoxo

honestly this is kinda jst me rambling but oh well take it anyway

╭──╯ . . . . . ༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶ . . . . . ╰──╮

• definitely wouldn’t be aggressive but not against throwing you around just a little (if you’re okay w that obviously)

• i don’t think he’d be absolutely nasty. like he’s clearly a bit freaky, he makes a joke abt biting in his intro but i can’t see him being crazy ??

• sony let us know he’s into biting n everyone jst ignored that we need to think abt that more.

• not entirely serious. he isn’t above making a few jokes every once in a while, especially if you’re a bit nervous

• back to that though if he tries to initiate something and he sees you’re even slightly unsure or nervous ?? it’s off. he’s asking what’s wrong immediately and if it’s solvable great, he’ll solve it if it isn’t it’s off. he has no problem leaving you be if you aren’t up to it, there’s no convincing involved

• wouldn’t be into anything extremely degrading, aggressive, or violent. to him that’s porn culture and he wants absolutely nothing to do with it, even if you asked. i just don’t think he’d get off to anyone being seriously hurt

• however he has no shame with a BIT of pain. he did make a biting joke so i mean

• i think light choking would be the worst he’s automatically willing to do or receive. ofc he’s willing to talk but it’d have to be a very detailed talk abt what both of you are okay w doing/receiving

• honestly i jst think talks like that wld be important to him in general. he doesn’t wanna overstep any boundaries, especially not during something as big as sex. he’d never try to introduce you to something before having a genuine conversation about it first

• aftercare is peak w this man. godsend. you’ll never get any better

• not rough all the time. yg write him to be like absolutely insane n aggressive in bed n i jst can’t see it. like hobie never once even raised his voice unless it was loud, like in his intro. nothing abt him was ever aggressive. i think maybe he’d have no shame being SLIGHTLY rough but i don’t think his intention would be to hurt you/see how much you can take ever

• i think most of the time he’d be pretty normal. he’d be paying complete attention to you jst to be sure you’re comfortable always, he’ll stop immediately if you aren’t

• honestly he’s probably a switch, i can see it. he has no problem giving or receiving, though there wld still have to be some talks abt some things LMAO

• i see comments on edits (even mine) abt how he switches positions a lot n it lowk made me giggle. i think he definitely would on occasion just to catch you off guard, but his whole hating consistency thing imo was a joke jst to mess w miles, half the things he said in his intro were to mess w miles

• probably not very experienced but he knows enough and learns fast. like i don’t think he would be into hookup culture or even care abt sex much but he isn’t clueless, yk ?? he knows what he’s doing at least

• doesn’t really ask for head. if you bring it up, great !! he obviously won’t complain ☠️ but to him i think it’d be more of a bonus, not something he expects from you

• i don’t think he’d be into rough head either. to him it’s about what YOU’RE comfortable doing and what YOU can do. he isn’t going to force you into doing anything. like if his hand is ever on your head it’s to hold your hair back and/or just love on you

• like i said he doesn’t really get off to seeing you struggle

• also idk if it’d be pierced. would he be above it absolutely not but that also involves a stranger handling and piercing your dick. if he did it himself, then maybe

• sex to him isn’t as important. he isn’t going to be all distraught if you aren’t ready or you jst don’t want to. it’s jst a bonus to him, obviously it’s important but your needs and thoughts are SIGNIFICANTLY more important to him than what he jst wants

[space-owl]

Stolas is incredibly classist!

And probably doesn’t realise it.

I already made a short post about it here but I want to go more into detail with all of this.

First I want to show how he is acting with demons that aren’t Goetia and then how his classism even bleeds into the relationship with Blitzø.

Disclaimer: I love Stolas, he is one of my favourite characters of the show! Doesnt mean though I wont critic him for some of the bullshit he is pulling

Stolas is constantly dismissing other demons and looking at all of them from a high angle. We can clearly see it when he interacts with Millie and Moxxie

Just look at his uninterested face too while Moxxie is talking to him

Not to forget he keeps referring to Imps as "little ones“ etc

Of course he is aware of his status sometimes and does use it to get into Ozzies. But he also does it while presenting himself on a higher angle than the poor bouncer in front of the club would’ve needed

Like Stolas you’re already one of the princes of hell, the guy KNOWS who you are! Why are you giving him this look??

He doesn't see any imp or even any demon who is ranked below him as equal. It shows again when he is directly attacked by Striker. Stolas was mostly chill about the situation and not even fully aware he was in danger!

Yes, he brings it up but he isn’t fully convinced of it himself. The first time he REALLY understands he is in big trouble is when he realises that his glare doesn’t work!

I don’t think Stolas doesn’t know what holy rope is. But I do believe that he himself didn’t think an IMP could possess such dangerous equipment!

And what shows it to me the MOST that he really doesnt seem to hold any respect to Imps that aren't Blitzø is this:

How he handles Pringles, the butler of the family!

He literally squeezes him so tightly the poor guy cant get any air anymore!

Just holding him and handling him as if he was an object! Dude is already getting dizzy and Stolas wont let go of him!

Yes I know I suppose this is mostly a visual gag to make the scene more entertaining. We just cant forget that animation is a long process to do. Anything, any action a character does is there for a reason! If Stolas WASN'T a person who wouldnt handle an Imp butler like this, it would'nt be in the scene!

This is already enough proof for me that Stolas is very classist. Its so casual for him and normal that he doesnt even seem to realise it! Why do I think that? Because it bleeds into the relationship with Blitzø!

All the things Stolas keeps saying about Imps, he also says directly to Blitzø.

Calling Blitzø "his little Imp", again just saying Imps are little and "things" to be posessed

Dismissing Blitzø when he tries to get serious, just saying he is cute even though Blitzø is trying to complain

Also the constant cheek pinching, something youd mostly do to a child.

And dont forget the most posessive thing of all of them to say in "Truth Seekers"

"Who dares to threaten my impish little plaything?" (youtube didnt pick up the audio here so no automatic subtitles appeared (holy shit im so thankful season 2 finally has proper subtitles!))

Stolas literally called Blitzø HIS "plaything", also pointing out the Imp part again.

Id say something like "oh but that was probably just before he got feelings for Blitzø! And then it changed!" I mean even if that was the case it wouldnt make it any better. But no, Stolas literally had a crush on Blitzø the first time he SAW him! Look, this is his literal first reaction:

Stolas always had feelings for Blitzø, but still he keeps downplaying Blitzøs feelings and totally ignores the class thing. Because he himself is already in a higher class! So he can just pick and choose which Imp he respects and which he doesnt.

Worst of all of this is that as a child Stolas was a LOT more open about those things!

Until his father "corrects" him

And Stolas rememberd this statement until his aduldhood. The only exeption he makes to this rule is Blitzø.

And Blitzø of course notices those things. Of course he notices the constant dismiss of Stolas! Being called a "Plaything" and a "little imp!" He is already self conscious enough. And that makes him even more vunerable and hyper aware of those things.

Even though Stolas showed general intersted in him someties, Blitzø already accepted himself as his little tool.

Moxxie even brings it up to Blitzø, obviously playing to Stolas feelings for him.

But Blitzø immediately thinks its still just about something sexual. And nothing else.

Because he cant see himself being anything else to Stolas than just a plaything. It doesnt matter how often Stolas was honest with him and showed interest. His constant belitteling and downplaying on him and also any other Imp that happens to be present while Blitzø is with him is enough.

With ALL of that context, its totally clear why Blitzø lashed out at Stolas in Full Moon. For him this confession came out of nowhere. He didnt have time to breathe or understand what was really going on there. And Stolas himself keeps ignoring their class difference and has 0 self reflection on that part so far, not getting why this is so upsetting to Blitzø.

"Blitzø, I think so very highly of you. I didnt realize you think so low of me!"

GEE STOLAS! I WONDER WHY BLITZØ DOES SO!

[bratphilia]

would it be a bother to ask for a fic w a tomboy reader and william afton? ive been on such a kick w william afton x reader fics here since i watched the movie and i love all of them but i am not feminine in the slightest so if you could write one id be so grateful!! and age gap and size difference too would also be sooo 👌👌👌. thank you so much!!!

note ✧.*‎ this was a lil hard for me to write considering im on the girly-er side so if anything looks weird in relation to the premise i apologize in advance!! also so sorry for getting this out a lil later than promised.

pairing ✧.*‎ steve raglan / william afton x reader

cw ✧.*‎ age difference (reader is 18-21, william is 45-50), degrading, spanking, approximately two slaps to the face, blow jobs, rubbing through jeans? idk what to call that, coming in pants (fem)

taglist ✧.*‎ @dilfity

synopsis ✧.*‎ while attending yet another meeting with your career counsellor, he has a few choice of words for you.

jeans (w. afton x reader)

you sit in mr. raglan's office, trying to sit straight up, legs crossed, not bouncing. he slightly shifts in his chair as he reads your file, moving his spinning chair from side to side, as he mentally scrutinizes your report. it's nerve-wracking. anyone in your shoes would feel this way, but the way he's intently reading over every little detail makes you squirm.

the worst part is, this isn't even the first time you've been in this exact position. it wouldn't be so bad if mr. raglan wasn't such a hard ass on you. always practically demanding answers of why you keep getting let go from the jobs he gives you, criticizing the tiniest details. nothing gets passed this guy, and yet here you are.

(there's something that almost riles you up about the way he talks to you, though. he has a habit of talking with those big hands of his in a way that makes your insides twist.)

"so you sit here in front of me..." he pipes up suddenly, looking at you then lifting a brow, "wearing jeans to a meeting, for christ sake, asking for yet another job, so what? you can get 'let go' again?"

"well, yes," you say, a little dumbstruck at his comment on your attire.

mr. raglan laughs shortly. "i got news for you, kid. people with your kinda track record don't exactly find jobs as easy as you think they do."

you hold back from rolling your eyes. your fists clench at your side angrily. you speak through gritted teeth, "look, i just need a job. i'll take anything, i'm desperate."

"hate to break it to you, but things just don't work like that—"

you've had it. "will you just stop being such an asshole and give me my damn options already?! i didn't come here to be lectured."

you're seething, breathless from your outburst. your heart is pounding but nothing can beat the jaw-slacked look on his face. there's a deafening silence that has you on the edge of your seat. then, shortly, "you come here for advice, and i'm giving it to you."

you want to say something again, you open your mouth to do so, but he raises a hand to silence you promptly. "you said you're desperate, hm? want my real, useful advice?"

you stare at him, not liking the direction of this conversation or his weirdly tone of dripping malice. "get the fuck on your knees then."

it's hot, you'll admit it. and he's the whole package too, total dad-i'd-like-to-fuck and all. this isn't your type of deal, but if he's gonna offer it to you, fuck it, you'll take it. you'll take everything this man gives you. "mr. raglan—" you say, purposefully furrowing your brows, trying to act scandalized for godsake—

"get your ass over here," he scoffs with a roll of his eyes.

you shut up, perking up at that, and make way to the open space between his legs. "look at you, you degenerate thing. on your knees for such a cause."

your head swims and the buzzing between your thighs becomes far too apparent to be ignored. but you're willing to wait for that relief. you part your lips expectantly, hoping he'd get the message to undo his pants and he just laughs at you. "filthy fucking thing wants my cock in her mouth so bad."

"uh-huh," you say, mouth still open.

he does away with all the restraints and guides his cock into your mouth. eagerly, you take him and lick up the underside of his dick, eliciting a groan from him. he makes a fist around your hair and guides your mouth up and down his cock, not caring about what you can and can't take and you fucking love it.

the noises of him hitting your gag reflex is music to the mouth of your ears. the way you push him out only for him to slide back in is truly a marvel. and the grunts, groaning, and degradations that come from him makes you want to take him even faster, more than what your body can handle, and he just laughs it off, commenting on much of an "eager, filthy thing" you are.

when you feel his helping hands thrust your mouth more erratically is when he decides to pull you off. he uses your hair to stand you up and practically shove you against the desk, back facing towards him. you yelp in pain, only adding to the ache in your stomach. he stands to his full height and you gulp. fuck, he's so much bigger than you, of course he can just throw you around like that. when you ask him if you should remove your clothes, he pauses for a moment, thinking. then, mischievously, "no, i want to make good use of those jeans."

curiously, you look back at him, but his fingers are pressing against your clothed pussy. he presses hard, letting the fabric grind on you. "oh, fuck," you moan.

"yeah? you like that?" he asks gruffly, rubbing your clit through your pants from side to side. usually this stimulation wouldn't be enough, but fuck you were so hot for him that you didn't care. "fuckin' dressed like a boy," he scoffs.

tears burn in your eyes, partly from his words, the other part from the stimulation. then he slaps you across the face. "i asked you a fucking question."

"yes!" you cry, moving a hand to rub at your stinging cheek. he grabs your hand and then slaps the other side of your face, just for fun. a few tears slip down your face at his physicality, but doesn't change that fact that you, "love it so much!"

"think you deserve to come?" he asks. "after that shit you pulled. you think you deserve it?"

you sniffle, knowing damn well what his answer's going to be. "well, i don't."

he removes his hands then promptly wipes them on his pants. you sob out, grasping for his hands but he pushes off of you. "you better come back with a better attitude if you expect anything more than what i gave you."

[mazzystar24]

actually the hospital wing joke is starting to bother me a lot more because buck actually fucking died 😭and he didnt even change clothes from being at the hospital all day why would you say that to someone. ik it was a fakeout but bobby looked like he was fr coding on the table. and like just a couple weeks before chimney almost died?? like im sorry i only accept those kinda jokes from people who have known me for years and even then they can be a little upsetting.

thats the thing though!!!! id be perfectly fine with buck and tommy if they gave us more than actual crumbs. 709 felt like buck had more chemistry with ravi in the same scene that tommy was in! they’re supposed to be dating so why do they feel like colleagues? and why are the more emotional and vulnerable scenes getting given to EDDIE if they want me to support buck and tommy as a couple? why wasnt tommy at the hospital with them considering he’s said multiple times he wishes he had a family like the 118 does? why are the only times hes on screen now only establishing his jealousy and that gerrard exists? is that the only reason why hes still here?

actually i wanna get back to 706. it wouldve been so easy to keep tommy there but they wrote him out of most of the episode 😭 he couldve said for the bachelor party! he couldve helped them find chimney! he couldve done literally ANYTHING. chimney was confused as hell as to why he even showed up at the wedding at all 😭 but no!!! they had him show up, ignore what buck wanted, then leave so we could have buck and eddie performing their drunk mating rituals or whatever 🤸‍♂️ but yeah buddie who?

also im never letting go of the wedding singer comment btw because what was that. why did they make tommy reference a movie where the two leads in the ROMANTIC COMEDY start the story dating the wrong people. i feel insane about it actually. also him calling buck evan will forever confuse me until we get an actual acknowledgement in canon because literally why

and the humor falls so flat but eddie has the same type of humor and it never does. he was making fun of buck in 706 (the making chimneys wedding about him line) but it never actually felt serious to me?

anyway sorry for yelling in your inbox i have a lot of mixed emotions about this season -birthmark anon

Yes totally get that like I’m the same like me and my best friend will be saying downright horrendous trauma jokes to eachother that make people around us clutch their pearls but I feel like it takes a certain level of rapport to get to trauma joke level - ig not everyone is the same when it comes to that but I think that again the writers absolutely failed to give us enough bucktommy scenes that justify having this kinda line

AGHSKF NOT THE BUCK /RAVI AHJDKFKF 😭😭😭 THIS IS ESPECIALLY FUNNY WHEN YOU SEE THE BUCKTOMMY SCENE AT THE CEREMONY VS THOSE BUCKLEY DIAZ FAMILY STILLS (still bitter the scene got cut) like someone explain to me why the actual couple is coming across less couple-y

ALSO FR THO THE SARDONIC ENERGY IS JUST NOT BEING BALANCED RIGHT like it’s coming across more 🧍

Like i can’t remember who I was talking to the other day but I was saying like this 🧍emoji just embodies Tommy to me

EXACTLYYYYY LIKE PURELY UNHINGED TO HAVE SUCH AN EMOTIONAL EPISODE AND MAKE NO EFFORT TO USE THOSE EMOTIONAL BEATS TO DEVELOP THEIR DYNAMIC BUT INSTEAD CONTRAST THAT WITH THE VULNERABILITY BETWEEN BUCK AND EDDIE THIS EPISODE

AHSJKF we going back to 7x06 and that’s so valid of us AGSJKF DRUNK MATING RITUALS AHJDKFKF STOP IM CACKLING

THE WEDDING SINGER COMMENT HAUNTS ME ISTG BECAUSE EVERY NOW AND THEN ILL REMEMBER THIS COSTUME DETAIL AND WAKE UP IN A COLD SWEAT:

THE CALLING HIM EVAN THING I LEGIT MADE LIKE THREE THEORIES ON RANGING FROM POSITIVITY TO NEGATIVITY

YES ABOUT THE HUMOUR like there just isn’t that balance or lightness to even the joke out, like I’m a big dry humour and sarcastic girlie but it’s just not being delivered right in a way idk if it’s the writing or the acting or just the fact its most his very small screentime but it’s just falling flat to me

Never apologise for yelling in my inbox babe and same for the mixed emotions

Love ya birthmark anon byee 🫶🫶

[hazshit-hotel-hater]

Could you talk about the designs Viv makes? I don't see many posts talking about this and I wanted some design tips, I intend to post my own cartoon designs (I just don't know when) and I wanted some tips <⁠(⁠￣⁠︶⁠￣⁠)⁠>

Hey hey!! Id love to talk about designs!

I actually answered this entire question and then uh…. Tumblr deleted my draft so let me try to redo all this lmao

Vivzie has a problem with bodytypes I’ve noticed. Almost all of her cast is insanely skinny and the only two “plus-size” characters I can think of are Millie and Mimzy. Meanwhile, Angel Dust, Vox, Stolas, & Alastor are a few very skinny characters I can think of off the top of my head.

For the best example, I’m going to be using Vox for now. Here is my Vox design next to his canon appearance

They don’t look too different right? This is still easily identifiable as Vox because his main characteristics are there; stupid little hat, tv head, thats about it.

My design also keeps elements of his suit with the stripes and shoulder pads, though in my design his body is a bit wider and his shoulders + waist make him look more commanding and intimidating while still maintaining a sense of professionalism. As for his canon design, he definitely looks sketchy, but he doesn’t really give me that commanding sense of popularity or authority that I feel an overlord should have, especially one with such a wide range of influence as Vox. His canon design looks top heavy and a little pathetic in that “he was born in a wet cardboard box all alone” way. Don’t get me wrong, a small waist can do wonders for a design, but when your designs start to look like… this

I think you might have a problem.

Now, I know I am nowhere near the best character designer in the world, but I have designed my fair share and I think I have enough experience to flatter myself a little.

This is a very simple design choice to make. Body types are probably some of the most intricate and interesting parts of a person in my opinion, and with a lineup like this where everyone looks more or lest the same from the torso down, it’s kind of a dead and sad looking cast, and not in the intended way.

I’m aware my designs are very detailed and wouldn’t be easy to animate with my style, but it’s very easy to draw extra body types with a style fit for TV.

Gravity Falls is a great example of stylised bodies and also using them to build personality. By looking at these characters you can generally tell what their base personality is probably like right? You can do the same thing to an extent with the Hazbin Cast, but all of their designs get muddled into the other. Can you even tell where half of these people are positioned in this screenshot

It’s so pink and red im going to start seeing green when I look away. There are so many colours, use them!!!! You can still slap a red overlay over it and make it “look like hell” or whatever, but you’re still gonna have more variety.

Here’s my body/fur references for Angel and Husk. They are almost entirely opposite to eachother but you can probably get an idea for how they are based on colour and shape. I recommend studying other TV shows and things like anime or movies to see how body types and colours impact character design, but general things I always think of are, like I’ve said, body type, personality, colour, and silhouette. Silhouette is a bit harder to pin since a character can have a very recognizable silhouette and still not be a good design, but honestly to me as long as you can tell which character is which from silhouette you’re good to go on that front.

- Generally just don’t reuse the same colour palette over and over (heres some of my hazbin colours)

- Give diversity in shapes when you can and when it benefits the design

- Try to show their personality through their clothes and pose

- Don’t be afraid to add little physical or personality details that other people might not notice, a good design should keep you interested in tiny details like that or surprise you later on

- Pay attention to what would and wouldn’t make sense (ex. A character that doesn’t like modern fashion wearing modern fashion)

Im not the best at explaining all of this but I hope you could grasp even just a tiny bit of an idea from this! At the end of the day as long as you’re having fun and not actively harming people with the designs then you should be good to go

[astonmartinii]

F1 ASKS!

i saw this tag floating around and wanted to let yall get to know me better since i’ve been doing this a while and have only really spoken in the form of authors notes! also im not going to tag anyone so just do it if you wanna!

who is your favourite driver?

i think for anyone who has read anything i’ve ever written it’s probably a bit obvious but max verstappen! what can i say little me was told we’re supporting red bull and here was this little charmer (emphasis on little who let that child get into an F1 car)

do you have other favourite drivers?

also based on my writing you can probably tell that my top three are max, charles and oscar! however, i will also say that alex is a close fourth for me (he’s also very nice irl). also as for retired drivers i think the mamma mia series is a bit of a spoiler but i love jenson, seb and kimi

who is your least favourite driver?

i used to say i didn’t dislike anyone on the grid - that was a lie. i’ll still write for anyone within reason but you can also probably tell with how in detail the back and forth is on certain pieces that i am really not a fan of sainz, actually people who get yelled at while i write them would argue it’s more than “not really being a fan of” but i am fake and i have maintained that if i meet him at silverstone (which i very nearly did last year) ill tell him im his biggest fan! also not the biggest fan of like pierre he’s just kinda there for me and a wee bit too cringey ALSO what you may not be able to guess from how i write him… im not really a fan of lando! ive really, really tried especially after his win but he just kinda rubs me the wrong way (i was immediately proven right with the trump comments lol). people say i should pull for him cause he’s from bristol which is where i live but he’s from glastonbury babe - also ive done a few swimming competitions at the school he went to a WOAH baby has so much money.

do you pull for drivers or do you like teams as well?

i mostly pull for drivers but like i guess i like red bull? well i did. i love max so i would follow him everywhere but i did like red bull as well as a team (i like alex, danny and checo so that also helps) but this whole protection of christian horner shtick is really disappointing so id say im a driver person.

if you like teams, who do you pull for?

like i said red bull were the team id pick if i HAD to follow a team - i support chelsea so i cant handle even more disappointment if i followed ferrari and also i only like charles there and they’re the source of all of his misfortune so …

how long have you been into F1?

so my family has always been into F1, my cousin karts and my uncle is a mechanic and makes karts on the side but i had always been more into football cause i could actually go to that with my dad - and also for young me who didn’t know what the fuck a strategy was it seemed kinda boring. but i’d say from maybe 2016ish i started watching it more regularly (hence the max stanship). my mum loves it and her first love in the sport was mark webber which is why we like red bull. but yeah i remember watching max’s first win and was like MUM I WANT THAT ONE (and i have technically met him? idk we made eye contact when his taxi nearly ran over my foot)

what got you into F1?

my mum! i love her and she’s just as much a passionate fan (and hater when appropriate) so it’s a nice thing to do together - especially because me and my dad are season ticket holders at chelsea so spend a lot of time together doing that so this is like my sport time with my mum (along with the olympics that’s our shit we’re very excited for the swimming). so i guess it was being around her watching it and listening to her and my dad argue about it! my mum is an ardent seb supporter and my dad is like a twitter account away from being in teamLH so canada 2018 (2019?) was VERY entertaining. also my uncle loves it so he likes that im proper into it (like have a sports journalism degree) and so we always chat about it - he’s trying to recruit me into motogp next

do you enjoy fanfic/RPF?

i mean i’ve written so much i must love it. lol jokes i do enjoy it and i feel like it helps me like people more (case in point: when i was trying to make myself enjoy the lando win i just read my own fics of him LOL)

but also its something fun to do that’s also creative and has helped me make new friends from all over

how do you view new fans?

ugh i hate the hate new fans get like not everyone can be born into loving a sport? if anything the more people that watch and love the sport the more money it’ll make? idk this whole superiority complex some fans have is just so unneeded for the sport and we all know why is majorly directed at girls. i do fear that some of the new fan behaviours could border on worrying - waiting outside hotels and ambushing drivers is stalking actually!

but overall im always happy to have new people in a sport - a bigger community is always good and new fans bring new perspectives which is good as older fans may just be desensitised to “normal” things in the sport but new eyes can remind them - hey halos are the best thing to happen to F1 and red flags in heavy rain are necessary.

if you could take over as any team principal for any team who would it be and why?

i know i previously dunked on ferrari but there needs to be an intervention because my girly max already has three championships and i need charles to get at least one so i can die happy - then ill move to mclaren, kick zak brown up the ass get a piastri championship and bounce (honourary race with willams or whatever team alex is with cause i need all three 2019 rookies to be race winners)

are your friends and family into F1 as well?

i feel like my other answers answered this but yeah! i also recently reconnected with an old primary school friend who is also really into it. i went to a sports uni so basically everyone there liked it as well (which means me and a friend did trek to the F1 arcade at 4am to watch aus 23 where she had a public meltdown over sainz (i enjoyed it)). also ive made a couple friends through working at races!

are you open to talking to other fans/making friends?

i always am! i am a year out of uni and working from home with all my home friends still at uni after taking gap years so i am big time lonely so always feel free to slide into my messages!

[untulithed]

so, i haven't seen anyone talking about one of the qualities of DBDa that i don't really enjoy/understand..

as a preface id like to say that i love the show! and it is incredible,, buttt i still wanna be honest with my critique of it (and would love to hear y'all's thoughts about allat too)

there is, at least in my opinion, a pretty big difference in the quality between the show's dialogue and non-dialogue writing

at least for the first 4-ish episodes the dialogue feels very expository (clunky, even) and maybe dumbed-down?

like the first few scenes for example.

Charles and Edwin help the war-ghost, and Edwin tells Charles that they have to go, or else Death will take them too. Ok, a bit too in the face, could have been shown, still not bad.

Then we are actually shown-not-told death's process and the boys hiding. Ok, that kinda defeats the purpose of Edwin telling us allat in the previous moment..

And then we are basically told AGAIN that this is Death and the boys have to run from her.

and like. its a cute moment, Death's part is really good too, so i just dont see the point in other characters spelling it out

but still, i then thought that maybe, its just that the show is more for younger teens. but its not. and like besides all the violent moments, the show has SO MUCH nice and well incorporated detail! and the characters and their storylines are deep and multifaceted!

and even with all that detail and nuance, the dialogue just pretty much ruined some moments for me, even if just in small ways

its like the show expects its audience to notice and understand things so minute you have to rewatch it multiple times to actually notice them, while also not thinking that we can handle basic concepts like "we are ghosts and we run from death"

like The Cat King's clothes matching Charles' socks and his signature color, just to mess with Edwin more, which also means that he watched the boys since they appeared in Port Townsend, which means that him asking who exactly used the magic on that cat was just to get Edwin alone (cuz he already kinda liked him) and to be an even bigger drama queen. i for example didn't notice any of that until someone said it on twitter!

and then the more character-driven/emotional dialogue somehow manages to be both, but that would take another 10 paragraphs to explain so i will gracefully let you do your own analyses <3

in conclusion, i dont know if the writing process is to blame, or the higher ups, or maybe i am too picky, but i needed to rant, so im excited to hear y'all's thoughts on this, and thank you for reading this fully, i may have yapped on too long :D

and a little gif as a reward <3

[inventedfangirling]

Pran's Growth : from pran-so-cool to pran-in-love

Since I did one for Pat I thought I should do one for Pran too although this one turned out slightly different than Pat's and far faaaar (im talking crazy levels of scrolling far) more detailed because i'm only human idk how to be brief about Pran FORGIVE ME.

Look at him he's my baby, i just CANNOT. So that now we have established that I have unexplainable levels of fondness for him, and so can only view his actions through love tinted glasses which means i'm basically Pat which means I'm super qualified to write this post, lets move on to what i actually wanted to say.

The first glimpse we get of Pran's mind (if you look in the chronological order of events in the show's universe) then its during his conversation with Pat where they discuss what song to perform for christmas.

Here we see the normally closed off Pran share his feelings (albeit about the topic of the song) with Pat with an ease that feels uncharacteristic of the Pran we come to see later. Because while Dissaya was still overbearing and controlling, Pran hadn't had to bear the worst of it yet. For a single child without friends that he could really open up to, it was natural for Pran to feel a pull towards Pat boisterous though he was, because he offered him a space where he could for the first time in his life open up in. 

It could be argued that Pran didn't reveal anything to Pat (it could be argued otherwise too i will get to it soon) but for a person of Pran's nature, who finds expressing himself difficult the space Pat offered for him to express his creativity and his passion for music and song writing was by itself a lot. But it's not just that. Pran is not only talking about a random song is he? He is talking about putting his actual feelings into the song. How he likes the feeling of hesitation of wanting to jump in but being afraid to be heartbroken.

He is knowingly or unknowingly speaking about his own feelings with respect to Pat. I say unknowingly because it is hard to imagine Pran really revealing his heart like that if he really knew what he was going through at that very moment.

And how does Pat react to Pran's words. He pays attention, listens intently and encourages Pran's idea. Pran opened up and Pat let him and Pran actually felt great about it. Its one of the rare moments in his life where he could be honest about something so special. 

And then Pat goes on doing random thoughtful acts like making the guitar pick out of his own ID just cos he saw Pran was struggling to play the guitar without it. He had nothing to gain and he still did that. He is nice to him. He says hi to him by the juice stand, he tells him he'd see him in the music room. Like he wants to see him there. Pran almost forgets their family feud. He was falling in love after all. How could he not?

The feeling being new to him, Pran like any teenager was curious to see what would happen? 

What if I step closer? What if we spend more time together? What if i was more nice to him? Could something actually happen?

But then he sees InkPat in the music room and Pran loses the spirit he had suddenly gained. 

Maybe not. Pat probably didnt feel the same way.

 And then the bracelet thing happens. 

Of course he didnt feel the same way. 

And then the christmas show happens and they practice together again, they play music together again and music and his feelings for Pat have somehow been inextricably intertwined ever since that conversation they first had about the song. And so here he was finally singing the song in front of people, declaring his feelings out loud, and the crowd was actually cheering and grooving to their song and the whole vibe of it puts him in a space where he feels anything could happen and in a rare moment of indulgence he turns to smile at Pat while singing the song he wrote about them. 

But then before he could even taste the feeling of freedom that that performance was potentially offering him, it all comes crashing down as he sees his parents standing in front of him, face aghast and anger writ large on it. And before Pran knows it he's shipped off to a boarding school away from everything he ever knew.

For any teenager that's a harsh change. For a neurodivergent gay introvert like Pran it would have been an even more isolating experience. Finding himself in an unfamiliar environment with no friends, no family and just a bunch of strangers, his only companions the anger and frustration at the whole situation at his mother and the boy who broke his heart (oblivious though he was of it).

How could Pran have let this happen? How could he have ever thought there was something there? And even if there was, that something could happen? How could he let him in? Of course it was gonna end up like this.

3 years at the boarding school pass and we can assume that Pran makes his own set of friends during this time. But we know that none if any are close enough for him to even bring up later on. Which means the one person who got him to open up, who gave him a safe space to talk and share feelings was still Pat. The one person he didn't have to be anything other than himself was, Pat. The only person who he ever felt comfortable enough to open up to was Pat. And Pran can't believe his terrible luck when he sees him stand across from him. 

Unlike Pat who has seemingly gone back to acting like a spoilt child fighting for no reason who is trying to hold onto the person he had become the past 3 years when Pran sees Pat all his feelings come rushing back to him. Despite it all, despite the three years of gap where he swore to never let himself be in such a position again, the moment he sees Pat he is gone again. Because the three years felt like nothing suddenly. And he's once again standing across from the boy who broke his heart.

Why the hell did this have to happen? Out of all the universities he could go to, why this one?

And this time things are more conducive to their budding friendship. And Pat  soon gives up his macho act and somehow keeps finding excuses to spend time with him. Of course Pran's feelings sprung back up in twice the ferocity.

His defences were still up but what the hell was happening?

Why is he helping him out for no reason? Why is he offering to do that? What the hell is being like this way for? Why is he smiling at his dimples like that? This possibly can't be real.

And yet. Day after day Pat keeps coming back and Pran's defenses are slowly threatening to come down and it's scary but its also exhilarating, but it's mostly scary.

And then he's proven right. To have been scared.

Because of course Pat never feels the same way. Of course he likes Ink. Of course that's what was happening all along. Silly Pran letting himself hope again. How foolish of him.

Episode 5 is Pran scrambling to pull back and secure his defenses, Pat is never getting through this wall again. He's done with this. He can't possibly be heartbroken over and over and over again for the same oblivious guy who probably has not a single clue what he's doing to Pran's heart.

And then the freshy night happens and then Pat acts a confusing combination of angry and hurt at the bar and Pran is supposed to be celebrating but he can't wipe Pat's betrayed face from his mind and then if that wasn't enough the confrontation with Wai happens and things come to a shrieking halt in the rooftop where Pran has finally had it. He tells him.

He finally lets it out, in the most Pran way he could at that point, telling Pat to not give him any hope to not do this to him. But instead of the final nail on the coffin that he expects Pat to hammer in, he knocks the winds out of him as he tells no, because no he actually does not want to be friends. He actually wanted what Pran wanted?

After all this time?

And then they step closer and wait for a while before Pat finally leans in, giving him the kiss that he had been dreaming about since god knows how long. Except the kiss is too short and maybe Pat had only that much to give, but Pran had years worth of love and want and longing he had been carrying around and he wanted nothing more than to let it all go. And so he does. He pulls Pat closer and gives him the kiss that he's been wanting to give him forever. 

Pran tells Pat every single one of his feelings through that kiss. Because he was never going to ever be able to put them into words was he? But alas...if Pat wasn't putting the final nail on the coffin, then the wave of realizations that follow the kiss tells Pran that he needs to be the one to do it.

It's never gonna work out ever. This is the most they could ever have. And knowing that Pat returned his feelings doesn't make it any easier.

Because what the hell was he doing? Letting himself go like this!? Setting himself up for getting hurt again? Pat may have kissed him, but he liked Ink too didnt he? And even if he didn't any longer, their families hated each other. And the last time they knew they got close, Pran had to go through hell and back. 

How could he do this to himself again? No.

It is over. It has to be over. He can't keep getting hurt again.

And he pulls back.

By miles. He is done letting his guard down and getting hurt and causing hurt. This is best in the long run. He should just stay away from Pat. No matter how much it hurt. It was never gonna work out anyways.

But then Pat comes back. Pran pushes him away. He has to give up at some point. He has to. Why would he keep coming back? But Pat keeps surprising Pran. He keeps coming back and butting in and being a pain in the ass and Pran is at his wit's end because he just doesn't know how much more he can withstand. He could see how much effort Pat was putting just to have a conversation with him. And eventhough he was staying away to protect himself he also thought he was doing it for Pat's sake too. That it was better for everybody in the long run. But Pat's steadfast efforts finally get to him.

He was still the one person in the world he could truly be open in front of. His defenses were somehow at his weakest. And sitting there on that beach dreaming of a reality where their parents don't have a life consuming feud going on Pran actually lets himself open up once again. After that it was just a matter of time before Pran was lured into the who falls in love first challenge bet. Bringing their love for competing with eo into this was the only way Pran could be eased into this.

Pat knows him so well. They've come so far. What the hell, he could win this challenge couldn't he? Pat followed him all the way to their hostile architecture trip didn't he? He would cave in.

Pat keeps surprising him though he keeps finding new ways to flirt and stump him, and Pran never to be beaten has a few tricks up his sleeve too.

Neither end up winning and things stay in that will they won't they when will they limbo and there was all chance of it continuing indefinitely and then Pat surprises him again.

He doesn't take Pran's easy out. Pran had basically offered to confess and end this bet. Pat was being handed an easy win. But he declines it. And then he surprises him even more by walking into the loss, showing up to play Kwan in a drama he didn't even need to act in, in a play he signed up for just to flirt with Pran and now the play he is offering to do, entirely and completely for Pran. At this point Pat really had the upper hand in the bet. And he still willingly volunteers to lose. He puts himself out there, knowing he will lose. Because on the other end of it Pat saw a relationship with Pran. Why prolong it any longer? And how could Pran not melt at that. Bet be damned. 

And that's why he cooks curry for Pat and when Pat tries to eat it himself, Pran stops him, looks at him meaningfully and then feeds it to him, as if signalling to Pat that if you lost for me, i'm losing for you too.

And so they start dating. And Pran now has to get used to this feeling of his defenses being down. His vulnerabilities exposed and his heart basically out there to be hurt. It was absolutely terrifying. And he wouldn't have had the courage to go for it if Pat hadn't done what he did. Showing him that he valued Pran and his feelings over his own ego. Pat's consistency and sacrifice proved beyond a shadow of doubt as somebody Pran could actually trust himself with. Over and above his overwhelming love for Pat, I believe it is that trust that helped him take that step. 

And Pat keeps showing him every step of the way that the trust was given in safe hands. After every fight, every disagreement, they stop and they talk and they communicate. Pran asks for time. Pat gives it. Pran asks him to keep it under wraps. He's okay with it. Pran compromises on a lot of things himself. He steps out of his comfort zone, willingly does things he wouldn't have dreamt of otherwise just to make Pat happier.

Because he realizes that if the relationship has to work, they both need to put equal effort. By being with Pat, Pran while being in a safe space gets to open up his heart in ways he would have been afraid to otherwise.

It is implied that Pran is the one who cooks for both of them, he leaves cute notes to make Pat smile when he's upset, he does random thoughtful things like putting the paste on the toothbrush for a waking Pat, he hurries home immediately to comfort an upset Pat, and even if it made his friend mad he still showed up to practice sessions and games because he wanted to support Pat and be there for him.

When Wai outs them it is the tremendous trust that he has in Pat and their relationship that helps Pran go over to assuage Pat and helps them get through it together. Every step of the way every block in the path they handle it together. His trust in Pat, his belief in their love growing more and more.

And that's why when Pran sees that Pat is quite serious about staying on at the beach, despite his reservations and fears and wanting to be there for his mother too he still goes all in. Of course he does. Of course he goes all in for the boy he has loved ever since he knew what love was. The one person who kept showing up over and over. The only one who he had complete and utter trust in, to be there for him. 

Because finally, finally Pran could see what he couldn't even dream of when he was young and a life he didn't dare let himself think about in their few months of relationship. A life with Pat, the kindest warmest love-shaped boy he knew, no matter how silly he could get, he would always want to be there for him, with him and he no longer felt like he had to clutch onto his defenses like they were the only thing he really had, because no? He had Pat didn't he?

The only person who knew what it was like being in Pran's shoes, and who loved him nonetheless and maybe even all the more because of it, the way Pran did with him, because he knew Pat would never hurt him knowingly.

He could do this.

He could do this with him.

His belief in their love, his trust in their relationship, the commitment that Pat expressed to him in that conversation, ensured that no matter what challenges came up later in their fake break up era, things would still be okay. It's because of that faith that Pran knew that he could afford to go to Singapore for a couple of years and they would remain strong though it all because of that assurance and confidence he felt in himself, in Pat and this relationship that they had nurtured and cherished.

We see him grow up from a boy who was scared of feeling things to a boy who was brave enough to overcome that fear to let himself be open to hurt to crying in the arms of Pat, letting himself be his most vulnerable to braving hurt to fighting for what he loves and doing what he feels is right.

We see his growth from when he went from being afraid to express his feelings to expressing that in actions and then in words and asking Pat to do the public confession and writing a song for him and asking him how good he was in bed and demanding Pat call him sweetly.

Unafraid of his wants or desires and no longer averse to expressing them. We see him growing beyond childish hijinks to buying a gift for the man who had once hurt his mother, because two things can be true at once ( Ming was an asshole, but he was still Pat's father). He was building a life with Pat, and a meticulous planner like Pran was obviously not going to leave his relationship with his future father in law to chance. 

And that's my take on how Pran went from "You still owe me" to "Every time i'm near you, nothing good happens" to "Can you please stay away from me?" to "You know that fact (that you aren't my friend) now leave" to "Someone like you what's to like?" to "You've got to stop doing this to me Pat" to "Why start when you know how it's gonna end" to "It's the kind of relationship i always avoid"  to "I care about you more" to "if you want my hand be brave" to "If i do that (thinking of it as a song for Pat) then how can i ever really quit" to "Being with you already feels like freedom" to "We like each other. Why does it bother anyone?" to "I can be anywhere as long as i have you" to "I wrote this song for him." to "Give it to him for me" to "If not you i won't allow anyone else to use it" to "Call me nicely" unafraid of expressing his feelings and desires, heart more open and loving than the one he started off with.  

To conclude and in short throughout the show the growth we see in Pran is perfectly illustrated in his password change from the Pran (who was uber protective of his own self and was emotionally repressed and closed off trying to appear cool and unaffected) of Pran So Cool to the unabashedly in love Pran (having made rapid progress in expressing his feelings and braving fears) of Pran in Love, and it's Pat's love and kindness that helped him along the way. 

The world didn't change him. Pat's love did.

[anzuhan]

april end innovade update (and possibly one of if not final update)

Statistics:

this was the first month in which i've only drawn one out of all trinities (michael only) (-)

the draw rate has raised since last month's 2.04 to 2.16/day (+)

first time ive drawn a piece including all innovades i tend to usually draw (+)

first time inclusion of 'others' (with the miku innovade designs) (+)

still only drew least drawn innovade a single time (sky) (-)

total drawn - 249

per innovade:

tieria - 59

laetitia - 15

regene - 23

revive - 19

bring - 18

divine - 17

anew - 14

sky - 6

hiling - 33

ribbons - 41

trinities

michael - 9

johann - 3

nena - 3

other - 2

—

ending note / long ramble about the whole situation

its been a long while huh 😭 exactly 4 months. minus a day ! on a year with a longer february as well, nonetheless. its been fun, but i may stop drawing them now; not to say natsume has utterly obliterated my love for innovades inside of my brain (though i thought of announcing it this way with a funny headline like BREAKING NEWS ! natsume has murdered the entire species of innovades in cold blood. we are sorry for the inconvenience), but also as of late it did sort of become a bother to draw them; mostly because of the keeping track of it as well and because i did not want the draw rate etc to drop. i did get to 1/4th of my goal.. minus one ! im not saying i will NEVER be drawing them ever again, but i doubt ill be keeping track of it anymore — alongside that, i do not think i will be drawing them almost at all anymore either (now, for a while. but they may still appear here and there from time to time.. as all my past fandoms do), so if you were only here for them and not me & my works, feel free to unfollow. i will still be up to have talks about them ! but i just wont devote such a high amount of time and effort to them anymore. it is hard to say ive been slowly falling out of love with them, and mayhaps even harder to say im falling in love again with natsume 😭 and EXACTLY a year later after i last stopped drawing him too... which is crazy .

i feel like besides this, it was also becoming apparent that drawing them has become a chore to me ; i was not feeling up to drawing highly detailed pieces with them anymore that id spend time on. i was not happy with the results on many of them either. and things like the page of every single tieria outfit, despite it used to be a thing i was once hyped about doing... back in january when i just got here, it no longer was that way. yes, i pushed through with it, but it took me a very long time and i kind of disliked going back to it, which is why it even took me that long 😭 and was moreso just done to keep up the numbers of innovades drawn ; for myself, for others.

i cannot lie about the fact it did make me happy i was giving to such a small fandom and brightening other peoples days, and this is a big flaw i have that i tend to put others above myself, but this has become much too big of a bother to me to keep on doing it. i still love them ! not as much, but i still do, especially ribbons. there is nothing wrong with them, i just do not wish to continue essentially wasting so much of my time drawing things i do not enjoy drawing, unless i am to see it finished and thats all the joy i get out of it.

as for the requests with the innovades, i am unsure if i am to do them anymore except for a singular one that ive also not received thru an ask but dm, purely because i am actually hyped about it 😭 and that may be the extent of which you will be seeing anymore 00 content from me.

im sorry if ive let anyone down & thank you for following me through this journey ; i hope to see you again :)

[vroerry]

Hi. So, to start, i dont know the difference between oneshot and short fanfic, im not used to those words yet, im sorry ;n; so make it whichever one of those two you feel like and would have fun with! Id like a nice little story to read, not just headcanons alone if possible.

Ive been thinking about this idea that takes place after Kazuichi Soda gets yelled at by Sonia in the Dangan 2 game, and they all storm off in their own directions. But then, reader tries to go comfort Kaz and one thing leads to another~

I suppose a touch of angst would be appropriate for such a story, but i dont want it to be just that, or too focused on that. Thats the lead up to the NSFW, which is the focus.

Reader goes and finds Kaz in the night after everyone went seperate ways, comforts him, they talk, hes probably a bit snippy, but then calms down. These 2 were buddies, not dating, but then all the ~stuff~ happens, and, you get the rest. Sexy stuff ought to cheer the man up lol. You fill out the "how" of this scenario. Howd they end up in bed? Have fun with it.

Im sure reader would feel bad for Kaz, not wanting him to be in distress. Maybe reader has been secretly pining for Kaz, but that doesnt HAVE to be a detail, im kinda making this all up quickly, throwing in lots of details, and you decide what sticks~ The others on the island didnt see each other for the rest of that night, so they could definitely get alone time no problem. Maybe after he calms down a bit, reader comes up behind him and hugs him, sweet and somber.

Idk about location, because the others would be in their cottages, but the motel should be free at this point, so maybe there so they can be loud and not care.

Can i PLEASE have reader taking kaz's hat the morning after because her hair is so messed up, like "gimmi that shit, your hair looks fine as hell, im the mess today i need hat." Maybe something in the end about them trying to act natural the next day around the others, you know? Perhaps some hickeys gave it away or somethin, whatever you think up and wanna write is cool.

Gender neutral or female reader is cool if ya dont mind. And idk what genre to label it as like you asked in your rules. Slight angst with mostly NSFW? Idk how to genre, i apologize ;-;

Thank you for reading, i look forward to your future works, whatever youre inspired to do is cool. Take it easy<3 ~Tiara👑

I'm so freaking sorry for the wait😭 My life took a heavy turn, but I'm fine now!

When I tell you I took my sweet time to play around with this scenario~

Also, difference between short fanfic and oneshots: It might be made up by me??? For me a short fanfic is multiple parts, 10 at tops, each part being around 1600 words at least?? So the entire fic is maximum around 16k words.

But now, to the fanifc:

A comforting touch

Kazuichi Souda x fem reader, NSFW

words: 1380

Another day on the islands, another day to end in chaos. Just the usual Jabberwock Island drama in the middle of a damned killing game.

Everything was fine, everything was going well, until Kazuichi decided to express his love for Sonia again. And this time, it did not end well. And you were the one that was in charge of finding Kazuichi. Again.

"Just make sure he doesn't do anything stupid" Hajime asked you and sent you off on your way.

"I will!" you replied and took went on a journey to find your buddy. Ever since you've ended up in this situation, he made you weirdly comforted. His goofiness, his fun aesthetic, everything. Except for when he was driving Sonia, and after that everyone else, insane. Even you struggled to understand his obsession with her, but brushed it off. It's his business not yours. It's his business not yours...

When you started looking for him, the sun was still up, but soon the moon took his place on the sky with the stars and you were completely clueless about his whereabouts.

"Let's see..." you thought to yourself. "What did I miss...?" The locations quickly ran through your head. Library, check. Theater, check. Cottages, check. First island entirely? Check.

"The motel!" you said out loud. "Well, I doubt he'd be there but... it's worth a shot" you wondered and decided to give it a go. You made your way to the third island and immediately headed for the motel. The abandoned looking building looked the same as ever, and the smell of musk was just as strong as before. You slowly opened the door and called out to the seemingly empty building.

"Kaz? Are you here...?" you walked inside and started looking around. "I just want to make sure you're okay, bud... I've been looking for you for hours..."

No response.

You continued to walk around the dusty place, stopping every now and then in front of doors.

"Kazu? Please be here, I have no other idea where to look for you... We can do whatever you want... Just be okay..."

Still nothing.

You sighed.

"Fuck, maybe I was wrong..." with a heavy heart you started to get to the exit. "I hope he's alright..." as you started walking away, a door behind you opened. You quickly turned back to see Kazuichi standing in the doorway.

His hair was the usual mess, he cried his eyeliner off.

"I'm sorry" he mumbled. "Were you that worried?"

"It's okay! Oh god, I finally found you..." you said and went back to him. "Thank god you're okay... Would a hug be okay?"

"Yeah..." he replied and you wrapped your arms around him and so did he.

"It's going to be okay... I promise, Kaz... You'll apologise to her tomorrow and everything will be fine..."

"I will..." Kazuichi said. "I... i went overboard... I didn't want to upset her..." he slowly let go of you.

"I suppose... You don't want to go back there, right?" He shook his head in response.

"I don't want to be near anyone right now... Well, aside from you, I guess... But if you don't want to stay, you can go back..."

"No, it's fine" you brushed the offer off. "I'll stay here with you... I promised the others and myself that I'd keep an eye on you..."

"Alright then.. I guess... we can stay here..."

"Do you... uh... want to talk about everything that happened..?" you ask. He stays silent for a bit.

"Let's sit down..." he said and went back to the room he was hiding in. You followed him.

He sat on the bed and gently tapped the space next to him.

"C'mere... Let's have a... chat..." he smiled at you gently and rested his back against the wall. You sat next to him with a curious look as he speaks up.

"So... I know I fucked up... Miss Sonia didn't deserve that" he mumbles, looking down with a guilty expression. "But at the same time.. I... don't really know how else to show her how I feel... My parents never really... taught me how to handle emotions... But it doesn't matter now... She's got real close with that demon lord or whatever he calls himself"

"Kaz..." you sigh. "I know, rejection sucks but... I'm sure you're going to find someone that knows how to take care of you, someone who loves you for you..." you smile at him and pat his shoulder. "Even if that person isn't Sonia... There must be someone out there.."

"Where?" Kazuichi frowns. "I won't ever find my match and you know it... I'm like that one sock at the bottom of the drawer, always lonely and"

You suddenly press your lips on his, making him shut up in the middle of his dialogue.

"That someone is right here, Kaz..." you whisper to his lips. "I may or may not destroy our friendship but I don't care... I am that person..."

"Man... what since when why..." he starts asking every question that comes into his mind. Nonetheless, you quickly. make sure he stays silent.

"Just shut up and enjoy the moment" you kiss his soft lips once again, wrapping your arms around him. Pulling him close, not letting him escape your touch.

Kazuichi's eyes slowly flutter close, as he kisses you back, letting himself go under your touch.

Your hands start to wander around his chest. Slowly caressing each spot through his overall then zipping it down to reach under it...

"Are you surre this is a good idea?" he breathed out.

"Do you feel better?"

"Yes" he whispered.

"Then yes..." you kissed his lips again. "It is a good idea.." You smiled and slowly tugged his overal off his chest.

You now began placing passionate kisses all over him. Starting right under his ears, steadily working your way down his neck, stopping at the collarbone and then repeating the said path in reverse. Now going up, every now and then gently sucking on his skin, leaving hickeys. He let out soft sighs of pleasure, his eyes fluttering after each kiss.

"Let me take care of you too" he tried to switch things up but you stopoped him with a firm expression.

"I am the one comforting you" you took your shirt off, making him blush and his eyes lit up in excitement.

"Actually...Keep going" he said with sparkling eyes, as you went down on him with a sly smile. You kissed him like there was no tomorrow, making sure all of your love went through. All the love, admiration, and comfort. Everything that was boiling inside you whenever you thought about Kazuichi But despite your order, his hands began wandering too. Pushing your clothes down, guiding you into his lap.

"Ride me" he pleaded.

"Any time" you replied and began grinding your hips. Back and forth in his lap. Kazu groaned, feeling the pressure of yourbody. His patience on edge, his mind wishing for the clothes to disappear. Both of you bit down on your lips to keep the silence. , Trembling, shaky breaths leaving his mouth he spoke up again.

"We can be as loud as we want... Just please ride me already" he pleaded again, whining under you. He was so on edge, so impatient. So ready for everything to come crashing down.

"I’ll get right to the point, I promise...” you continued to rock yourself back and forth, putting more and more pressure on his body. Even you started to tremble and placed your hands on his chest for support. Gently grabbing onto his small pecks, feeling muscle tensening at your touch. 

"Don't just promise me. Do it"

The next morning the two of you were walking back to the first island. Hand in hand, smiling as the sun was coming up.

"So.... We're together?"Kazuichi asked.

"I am not sure" you replied. "All I know is that..."

The two of you entered the first island. You quickly grabbed his hat and placed it on your head.

"That I need your stupid hat... My hair is a mess..."

"Mine too!" he tried to get his hat back.

"Yours is alway a mess, Kazu. Mine not" you giggled. He rolled his eyes.

"Love you dork,.. And your comforting touch..."

[iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia]

yippie!!

ok so one day i was hangin out and thinking about how jinx and murie are both my favourite little sad wet guys in my two fave medias of all ever *And* at the same time SO far apart on the spectrum personalitywise

and it took me listening to this to flip the switch on the Autism Blender and want to just fucking mash them together like a coked up toddler making Slime out of fish guts and hayao miyazakis mothers ashes because thats what i do thats my job💅👌so theeeen it comes out pretty reminiscent of my first muriel au that also sprung up from a song i like, just- a bit to the left? like, moving along on the scale from The OG not liking violence and being involved in it whatsoever, to AU 1 where i pictured him going "yeah ok fuck it this is what i do i guess" and revengy motives to his whole thing that i now connected with him more thru the song lmao it just made me realize the vision of like. jinxies "murderingmurderinmurdering 💕fun✨" aspect + his potential desire to still do good things despite being doomed to be a machine made for destruction (ignore the fact of that desire being nonexistent in his canon form because of how he perceives himself as a thing unable to achieve performing any good ever under any circumstance) (but still refusing to actively cause harm as he isolates himself to prevent any situations arising that would lead him to do so) (ignore all that) (were yassifying him a little were allowed its fine ive already lost the plot here anyway were wildin) so a vigilanty type beat and also ~my axe is my buddy🥰 we both cry with the trees😔✊ /me & my axe will bring the devil to his knees (✿◕‿◕ )~ goes hard as phUCK

so then all that led to This new V.3 mutation where hed be actually having fun with it........ so I kinda start turning him over in my brain some more, forgetting about jink by now and at first I go Huh this is kinda. him but lucioey a lil bit. and THEN i go hm. Well this ground is awful soft n ready to dig

so with all that out of the way i can now present!: Brand New Vague Shadow of a Concept of an Idea that ill Never Do Anything with

and I really don’t know how to verbalize this very well at all mmjfdh but like. Ok bulletpoints activate

Muriel:

From a badass warrior tribe

Didn’t get booted out cuz theyre fine this time oopsie no genocide

Hes in there way chillin way awesome way good at fighting everybody loves him

Hes like. Way himboey in this one. SO jock. Smiles a lot <3 <3 <3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3

Like okay if i was actually serious about writing this I think id need a fucking lucio consultant because I really know zilch about that bitch but like okay you know how lucios kinda all scary n cunty and cunning and fancy and seems like hes got shit figured out. Until he *starts talking*? Muriel here is like that but hes just really fucking scary until he starts talking BUT not like normally where hes adorable just has resting bitch face, its just like. that part of him that came thru in the reversed ending at the very end, yknow. but make it less depressing ihjhsrfbjs hes like full letterman jacket highschool bully core total kurt & ram vibe, like ok youd see him on a battlefield ABsolutely WRECKIng some fools into a pulp with his bare bear hands and immediately after that he turns around like WOOOOOOO THAT’S what im TALKIN ABOUT LETS GO GUYS WHO WANTS A BEER *cut to him chugging an entire keg over his head with da boys around losing their minds* like think college frat but they raid villages for fun and profit. Pretty orc coded. Kinda thor coded. Actually exactly thorcoded wow that really is what I was going for. I was wondering why I couldn’t help imagining him with a australian accent, I guess that’s a mystery solved. anyway

Maybe his parents got killed in some other battle im not sure how to weave around that in detail yet BUT- ok so check this I thought ill have to give him some motive to wanna reach the devil somehow for,,.,,… something right. to make him fill an antagonist role So this might be stupid a lil I just thought of this and it needs to cook for sure but what if he just rolled up into vesuvia as the magic capital or something whtver, to figure out how to get to talk to the devil, cuz he just like, really wants his parents back cuz they got valhallad in some glorious combat, and they were cool and he misses them and they could fight some more cool fights together and pillage n chill jhbsfvjgzdc beCAUsE hear me out im rolling with the swap inversions opposites motive here right, so the thing that popped up in my head was- Lucio had the “I wanna kill my parents bcause I hate them and so I can rule and get what I want” thing goin at the start right, like that is basically what started it off he got his dad he didnt get morgha SO what IF I gave murie a “i wanna conquer this place and use it to get my parents back. cuz I missem :(” like fully turned it around idk IDK IT SEEMS MESSY IDK IS IT CUTE IS IT DUMB IT MAKES ME FEEL DUMB BUT IN THAT WAY THAT MIGHT MEAN THAT ITS ACTUALLY WORKING BUT I DONT KNOW *screaming with no air*

But overall yeah hes khal drogo but more noticeably himboey but not in a likeable way cuz were switching them so I cant make him likeable for myself hnjdgfgb leaning into popular dumb jock trope

UnLESSSS i DID combo it with murdermuriel au 1.0 some more and made their tribe like. Not murdery somehow like what would be the opposite of the og scourge roaming around ruining shit. well that was the og kokhuri but now I gotta do some fucking triple axels here to make it make sense so how the fuck do I make this version of kokhuri more warriory in culture than the original but still nice like robinhoody style jhbfsvhjbs this is falling tf apart might need to scrap it bc on lucios end itd be even harder wouldn’t it. Spartan cunts but they don’t kill people that’s a nono lmao

now im thinking some more about the aspect of lucio being, you know. a pretty shitty leader right, and how to incorporate that here, because i have no idea if im following an actual set rule here regarding whats swapped and how even, theres barely a theme im straight up just

but yeah so now i figure it could be murie tryna get his folks back because they were the actual defacto leaders of their tribe, he was just kinda still following along and doin his chores in being the uhh the face, the charisma, the one to kinda like. get the people on board easier with whatever decision they made for them and hyping it up as the best possible choice anyone could ever make and maybe even actually believing it too cuz theyre actually that tightknit and he trusts them with anything aw. is this too onedimensional or can i give my boy some good nice facking family relations at least in an alternate life ghhkjkfdh hes their pride n joy and can do no wrong but yeah the point is he himself hasnt actually made any decisions without them before, isnt very good at actually leading and strategizing and planning and knowing how everything complicated works and he knows it, so he sees his only solution in bringing them back to not let everything fall apart

SEE I BROUGHT IT AROUND I CLEANED UP NICE WITH OG LUCIO SETTING OFF FROM THE POINT OF FEELING LIKE HES THE BEST AT EVERYTHING AND SHOULD B RECOGNIZED AS SUCH AND TRYING TO GET RID OF HIS PARENTS TO GET IT AND MY BOY HERE ENDING UP EXACTLY OPPOSITE. GO SHAWTY GO SHAWTY IM SO SMART am i fucking up lulus backstory i feel like i am cuz im like wait what the fuck did he kill his dad for again. demonheart. deal. thing. whatd he wish. like he wasnt already running for count n shit yet he did want to climb up the ladder in his own tribe right i have no idea yell at me in comments thank you

I also don’t know if the first (last) scourge battle wouldve happened or nah

Lucio/Montag

Oh my fucking god what if I figured out an alternative L moniker for murie so theyd get to switch letters in their namesssssssss like lucio is a made up name he made it up so like UAGHASHG L.,,,...,, Lion ofthe,... south NO he HAS to be bEAR CODED AAFYFFHG BUT LUCIO HAD LEOPARD IMAGERY N SHIT RAAHAHHGH IM FITIN FOR MY LIFE HERE

Anyway he lives in a forest somewhere cuz his tribe threw him out fully voluntarily bc he sucks ass (or at least for their standards cuz I guess he would be way younger than 18 here for this) (Like a spartan type deal ur too weak we don’t want you *drops you off a cliff*  *but theres 4 feet of snow under it so he survives*  *that’s so fucking goofy hjbsfbj kinda suits him*) so uhhhhhh i don’t know where hed be currently chilling for an mc to meet him ever but yeah hes kinda Floki Vikings™ type of vibe at least visually that’s what came to mind first to picture him lol

look at this little blond rat bastard. adorable. becoming increasingly obsessed. picturing lucio with this exact hairline. moving on

and his thing is hes still insecure as fuck but worse at ignoring it and hiding it and hes a lil nervous bundle of sticks and always talking bc of it, kinda Bruno Madrigalesque type vibe julian but a pitch more pathetic who knew it could be done yknow? opposite of The OG The Mountain The Stone Cold Silent The Muriel The Scourge The Kokhuri The Third and also me when writing and not stopped in time

oh oh what if he was totes in denial that his tribe kicked him out and in his view hes on some super intense convoluted secret mission (lasting from. age 7 to now apparently) and as soon as hes done they’ll totally come back for him kdfsgjffd I thought it could either be his own copium or he took it from some last interaction with someone who took pity on him as a kid and wanted to give him some comfort, or something he misunderstood entirely

hm. They both have canid familiars idk what to do with that. muriel with two wolves tho. thats hot shit righ there if i do say so myself

oh now im toying with the idea of taking away muriels SUPPOSED YET UNCONFIRMED AS MY VERY CONTROLLED ACADEMIC STUDY HAS SHOWN COUGHCOUGHJHBSRGJBHF talking to animals buff, i dont wanna just take it and give it to lucio tho, but like. what the fuck else do i give him. astral projecting to tie into his ghost era? sounds dope actually alright lets do that lmao

ok its 1 30 am i hope this is comprehensible to anybody anywhere im zonking out now khbsfhbfk love u

@tetsuooooooooooo I've missed your essays, this was such a treat to log in to!!!

And WOW, thorcoded Muriel is not something I ever would have thought of on my own but oddly enough I feel like the AU you're coming up with could really work, goodness me. And the way you've inverted Lucio's character too!! I'd love to see how their interaction dynamics invert as well!

Always good to hear from you friend, hope you're doing well!