#and i mean. i'm vaguely impressed by the follow through

[oidheadh-con-culainn]

goodreads fascinates me because you get people who read hundreds of books a year and 68% of the books they've rated in the last 13 years (i.e. literally thousands of books) are 1- and 2-star reads for them, and a further 25% are 3-stars, and it's like. i'll be honest. if i thought 2/3rds of the books i read sucked that much, and the best i could hope for most of the time was merely liking something, i might start wondering if i actually, you know, enjoyed reading. or enjoyed those genres. or whatever

they have, in the past 13 years, rated 11 books 5*s, none of them more recently than 5 years ago, and frankly i would have gone and found another hobby by now if i was enjoying myself that little sdflkjdsf it just seems kind of masochistic at that point

[evilminji]

Okay, as I have mentioned, I'm Ace AF. And you know that plot line in kids cartoons where the alien or foreign Warrior Royalty just sort of *violently kicks down door in full armor* "We Will Marry."? I?? Always said:

"Sure!" (#OhThankFUCK!)

Like what do you mean "No"? The powerful, attractive, monarch that is very into you has travel a great distance JUST to marry you! Now you don't have to date! They seem nice! You can skip the whole "trying to find a life partner" awkwardness.

So, Sudden New Fiancee(tm) how we doing this? Blended customs? Two weddings? One in your peoples traditions, one in mine? Should we invite your family? Tell me more about yourself.

God, this solves just... SO MUCH for me? No having to make small talk. No "do they like me?" Or "am I reading the signs here right?" No failed dates! It's positively ideal! AND they announced why they were qualified, in a VERY impressive show of power and prestige, when they arrived! Good lineage AND accomplished!! Very nice.

Don't get why everyone's so upset.

Sure the "we leave at once" thing that usually follows would have to be discussed, but that's what you DO as spouses. Really guys, it's like you think I'm incapable of common sense here.

And you know who probably agrees with me? Damian Wayne.

Hell is other people, INDEED. You expect him to just... randomly go up to people and try Courting them? What do you MEAN it's "creepy" to compile portfolios on eligible individuals of worthy bloodlines? How ELSE is he supposed to know if they are worth attempting to talk too?!

There are BILLIONS of humans on this gods forsaken rock, Richard! Is he supposed to just GUESS? Gamble and hope for LUCK? This is a MARRIAGE not a "best friends club"!

Then? Danny showes up.

Gotham heard her baby talking. Heard her KING being harassed by clearly plotting Observants and power hungry ghosts MANY times his age. Connected some dots. Formed themselves a new OTP.

Danny says "Fuck It". Worst he can say is No. According to Gotham, he is neither Shy not the meek obedient sort. Is in fact, VERY stabby. So if he's not interested he'll no doubt be BRUTALLY clear about that.

So? Danny gets Fright Knight. Go get him a horse. Someone fetch Cujo some armor. He's been told the guy like weapons and animals.

TIME TO BE IMPRESSIVE.

He goes FULL Regalia. Armor of solid night sky. Cape of frost and stardust. Crown like crack in reality itself, through which the cosmos gleam and shift. He gets a horse from the far frozen. They're wooly and carnivorous. Gets THE most impressive sword he can find to wear.

It's gonna be a gift, since he doesn't need it.

He does the whole "rend the skies open" thing. Fan fair and knights. Every title he's ever been given, no matter how embarrassing he find them in reality. And announces his intentions. Declares that ONLY Damian Wayne, aka. Robin, is WORTHY to Marry Him. And (in the traditional Ghost proposal of "either accept or tell me to fuck off" /w violence) Demands Damian accept his offer of Marriage.

Right there.

IN THE WATCHTOWER.

In front of EVERYBODY. And yes, ESPECIALLY the Bats. Who are making glitching, vaguely threatening DEMONIC NOISES. Because? You... you THREATEN the BABY? Death. Ten thousand years DEATH.

People are :O ing and backing away from the visible heatwave of unadulterated FURY being put off by Batman. Danny is nano-second from every bone his ANCESTORS had being reduced to a fine paste.

Then? Damian consider him... considers the sword being thrust in his direction, still held aloft in a steady and armored hand... contemplates those titles for a second...

And goes: "Acceptable. Very well, but I have demands."

N..... Nani the FUCK? Says local Bat-Dad. No??? You are NOT GETTING MARRIED.

Try to stop him. He very obviously IS, according to Damian, the man brought him a kick ass sword and has a giant green dog. Is the king of an ENTIRE REALITY. Yes, he realizes he probably COULD do better... but frankly? This one's cute. But if it upset you so... extended engagement. There. Happy?

NO! Because the JLA Dark are LOSING THEIR SHIT. Damian is still UNDERAGE. We don't even know how OLD this being is! NO MARRIAGE.

Damian is unimpressed. A whole six months? That he's likely already LIVED thanks to various timeloops, temporal shenanigans, and reality warping bits of fuckery? You're reaching.

Just? Marriage Meet Cute.

@hdgnj @ailithnight @the-witchhunter @nerdpoe

[hyuuukais]

-`♡´ - APARTMENT 143

pairing -> lee minho x fem reader

synopsis -> after a bad breakup, y/n needs to find a new place to live. although she's grateful for her best friend, up-and-coming model hwang hyunjin, for letting her stay at his, she can't keep living with him and his model roommates. so when an opening for somewhere nearby with cheap rent opens up, she jumps on it, despite knowing next to nothing about the 3 other tenants, only that one owns 3 cats. the three quickly learn of her breakup, determined to help get her back on her feet. but what happens when one of them begins to develop feelings?

warnings -> gen, food mention, guns, somewhat vague description of a robbery, blood

MASTERLIST | PREVIOUS | NEXT

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO -> BEFORE (partially written, wc: 1.0k)

"Welcome to my childhood house," you say, opening the creaky door, Minho following you through. "It's not that impressive."

With an awkward laugh, you sling your bag over a chair in the dining room to the left, kicking your shoes off in the process. There isn't much to say about where you grew up, the modest little house speaking for itself. Family photos littered the fireplace mantle in the living room, but aside from that, there wasn't much personality in shared areas. No one was home much now since you and your sister had moved out and your mother works long hours.

"Can I see your room?"

You swing around to see Minho leaning against the doorway with his head titled toward you. The action sends a small shiver down your back.

"No!" You blurt, and his eyes widen. "A girl's room is very personal."

He stares at you for a few moments before breaking into laughter. "Did you just quote 10 Things I Hate About You to me?"

"...I might have," you giggle, surprised he got your reference.

"You're wondering how I knew that, aren't you?" The way your eyebrows raise says it all. "How many times did you watch that movie again...?"

"It's amazing," you roll your eyes, a small smile forming on your lips. "You never stuck around to watch the whole thing, so I didn't think you'd know, okay?"

"What do you mean?" Minho seems genuinely confused, standing straight. "I did- ah, right, you fell asleep that time. You snore, by the way."

This makes you blush. "Everyone does."

"I'm messing with you," he sighs.

Rolling your eyes again, you walk past him and move down the hallway toward your childhood bedroom. When you open the door, you're greeted by the soft mint walls and fuzzy white rug surrounding your bed. You sit on the bed, plush blankets shifting. Minho slowly enters, walking around slowly, and suddenly you feel exposed. All of your silly phases and old hobbies out for him to see, past art awards displayed on your desk in the corner and a pile of dirty laundry in another. He stops on the other side of your bed, fingers finding the frame of your family photo, still lying face down on your nightstand, and your heart hurts.

"Don't," you whisper, not ready to see it again. Immediately, Minho pulls his hand away and looks over to where you're now sitting against the headboard, legs tucked into your body.

"What is it?" Minho nods to the frame. When you don't answer, he climbs onto your bed and pokes your side, making you jolt. "Earth to Y/n. What's the photo?"

"Just a family one," you shrug, and he's still trying to catch your eyes. "Before."

"Before what?" He questions, and you finally lock eyes with him.

"...before I got him killed?"

His eyebrows furrow at this, clearly confused. You don't object this time when he reaches over and flips the frame up. Everyone is smiling and happy, two little girls standing with their parents at some kind of theme park. You couldn't have been more than twelve when it was taken, one of the last family vacations you took.

"What happened?" Minho asks, voice low, turning his whole body to face you with the photo still in his lap.

"It was my birthday," you start slow, willing yourself not to cry. "I had just turned fifteen and I didn't get this one album I really wanted. My dad could tell I was upset and said it wasn't in stock when he went to order it, but that he could go now and check if the store had it. We could make a day out of it, and we did.

"The mall wasn't super busy that day, so we got food first. In the actual store, he asked me to go browse as he found the album and paid since he wanted the illusion of surprise still." You sniff, taking the photo in your hands. "So I left to wait outside instead. This guy bumped into me on the way out and I made some stupid comment about watching where he was going," your voice wavers. "When I turned around, I saw he had a gun. Next thing I knew, I was watching him threaten the cashier and my dad."

You pause, taking a deep breath. Minho hasn't said anything, patiently waiting for you to either finish the story or announce you were done, you didn't want to say more. But you did. This is the first time you've opened up to someone about this, not including Hyunjin or NingNing.

"I panicked and ran to my dad, but that must have freaked the guy out because he tried to attack me, but my dad jumped out in front of me and got hit instead." You look up at Minho with damp eyes, voice barely above a whisper. "I still remember the feeling of his blood seeping into my clothes. I still remember screaming, begging him to move. He bled out a lot by the time the ambulance got there."

"Thank you for telling me," Minho says when you're quiet again.

"If I hadn't..." you shake your head. "If I hadn't wanted that stupid album, he'd still be here."

"Don't do that," Minho grabs your face gently by your chin, forcing you to look at him again. "Don't blame yourself for something you couldn't have possibly predicted would happen. Y/n, that's not your fault. This is what you've been blaming yourself for?"

You nod. "If I wasn't being so stupid-"

"You were fifteen, Y/n."

And you can't hold it in anymore, sobbing and hiccupping into his shirt for the second time that evening. You stay like this for a while, and you don't know when you shifted into a lying down position, wrapping an arm across his stomach with a leg wrapped around one of his. His hand is in your hair, the other tracing lines up and down your exposed arm. Falling asleep is easy and unexpected, and when you wake up, he's been replaced with a large, purple cow plushie that was previously sitting in the corner of your room. There's a text from him on your phone waiting for you when you're about to ask where he is.

notes -> sooo....... y/n is starting to open up more to minho ! 😁 also, i will be closing the taglist at ch 25!

taglist -> @chaeryred @toplinelix @channie-143 @staysinbloom @puppyminnnie @tfshouldidohere @kangaracha @chlodavids @whitney190 @thisisnotjacinta @borahae-reads @brooklynie @gini143 @kayleigh-28 @skz-streamer @babyphotos0325 @scallywag1299 @venusmoonxnight @naomisosoup @fertiliezedtoesw @s00buwu @realrintaro @anothershorthuman @stayatinykatsy @ilovejeongin007 @btswestan @multifandomedsimp @ihrtlix @raehawthorne @euphoric-univers @catchingskzzzs @evermourning @satsuri3su @jazziwritesthings @minhwa @wyzminho @fic-for-readers @dreamerwasfound @imsiriuslyreal @lailac13 @palindrome969 @lixie-phoria @aalexyuuuhm @sunflowerbebe07 @st4rhwa @lukeys-giggle @jabmastersupriseee @judeduartewannabe @gaysontheprince @stepout-09-15

^^^ orange means i can't tag you

[acewithapaintbrush]

A gift for @emthimofnight who's Sonadow fankid Stellar has stolen my heart. Inspired by this comic and my firm believe that Sonic is a little shit who would definitely hold something like that over Shadows head forever

🦔🦔🦔🦔🦔🦔🦔🦔🦔🦔🦔🦔

“Should I… leave?”

Stellar jerks her head around and stops rummaging through the cupboards. She doubts she'll find the shoes she is looking for anyway. They had grown a bit tight the last time she'd worn them and her Papa had given her a suspicious side eye when she'd still refused to get rid of them. 

He hates clutter. Says her Dad is messy enough for all three of them. 

And anyway! The shoes are pretty much immediately forgotten the moment her friend's words reach Stellar’s ears. 

��Why?” she asks. “I thought we'd spent the day together?”

Camellia only spares her a quick glance before she looks away again. She is wringing her hands the way she does when she is nervous about something. Stellar wonders what could have caused that and follows her gaze. She tilts her head with a frown. All she can see are her parents being… well. Her parents. 

“I mean,” Cam gestures helplessly at the other couple, keeping her voice low. “This is obviously a bad time.”

Stellar joins her side and keeps looking between her friend and her parents. She has no clue what has gotten into Cam. 

Across the room her Dad crosses his arms behind his head and taps one foot up and down. His grin is playful, much like Stellar’s own when she is in the mood to tease but his voice has an edge to it. 

“You know I'm right, Shads! Just admit it!”

Her Papa scoffs and crosses his arms in front of his chest, a perfect imperfect mirror of his partner. Sometimes Stellar marvels at the fact that two hedgehogs can be so similar and so different at the same time. 

“You? Being right? Haven't seen any pigs fly lately.”

“Oh. That comeback was almost witty. Have you been practicing?”

Ah. They are arguing. Again. Or maybe still? She vaguely remembers a friendly conversation over breakfast about an old mission or something slowly turning into a heated debate about who took down more Badniks. Are they still on about that? 

She sighs. Seems like it's going to be one of those days, huh? Stellar ignores her parents and smirks at her flustered friend. She is so uptight sometimes. Kinda cute. 

“They are just squabbling. Don't tell me your parents never do that.”

Cam blinks, surprised, before she sniffs a little, nose in the air and all. “My parents never argue. Certainly not in front of guests.”

“Yeah, sure. The hedgehog with the giant hammer and temper issues and the literal cat with fire powers never argue.” Before Camellia can swipe at her arm Stellar continues “And anyway, you are not a guest, you are practically family.”

Her friend's face is suddenly as red as a tomato and she turns away to delicately cough into her hand. Stellar raises an eyebrow. Cam is acting super weird today. 

Her parents have kept arguing meanwhile. It's pretty much just white noise to their daughter after all these years. Stellar tunes back in just in time to hear Papa insult Dad’s memory which has obviously suffered from too many hits during fights. 

And Stellar knows that glint that enters her Dad's eyes, the way his smirk grows deceptively soft. She can do nothing but groan and slap a hand against her forehead as the blue hedgehog sighs and saunters over to the mantelpiece. She has seen this song and dance one too many times to think she can stop what's coming next. 

He picks up one of her baby pictures and presses it against his chest. “Maybe you are right. Maybe my memory isn't as good as it used to be.”

Stellar is as always reluctantly impressed with the way her Dad is able to put so much emotion into utter bullshit. He sounds like he is on the verge of crying and Stella can hear Cam gasp softly in dismay.

Maybe they should have left after all. 

“The memories begin to fade,” he laments and are those tears in the corners of his eyes? Ugh. “But you know what memory will never fade? My most precious one?”

Papa grits his teeth. She thinks it might take all his strength to not jump across the room and do something he might (a very slight might) regret. 

“How Stellar called me Dada first.”

It's a favorite story of his and he pulls it out every time Papa annoys him or he feels like he is losing an argument. 

And her Papa is smart and strong and level headed and cool. But he is also super bad at hiding how much that ‘betrayal’ still eats at him. 

“You are never letting this go, are you? You are pathetic!”

“Pot meet kettle. And why should I? One of her precious first milestones and it was all for moi!”

“I taught her how to walk.”

“And I taught her how to ride a bicycle, which is even more difficult.”

“I taught her how to swim, something you actually need for survival.”

“Oh yeah, if you call throwing her into the deep end and telling her ‘to figure it out’ teaching.”

“That's not how it happened!” Papa turns to Stellar proving once and for all that both are aware of their audience and don't care. They probably enjoy embarrassing her in front of her friend, the sadists. “That didn't happen!” 

She rolls her eyes. “I know, Papa.”

“Oh right!” Dad cuts in, outraged. “That was me! Your beloved husband!” 

“We are not married.”

“For good reason!”

Stellar does her best to ignore the two of them. Camellia still looks bewildered but there is a reluctant smile blossoming on her face, as if she can't help but be amused despite the awkwardness. 

“Now I know where you get it from.”

Stellar gasps and clutches her chest. “How dare you!” She pauses and her pretend outrage turns a bit more genuine. “Wait! What do you mean? Get what?”

Cam has the audacity to snicker at her and it is not a beautiful sound to Stellar’s ears, nope, not at all! “Oh. You know.”

She doesn't. She totally doesn't. 

She is about to demand some answers when the expression on Cam’s face stops her cold. She turns back to her parents and… oh no. 

Why is she even surprised anymore?

Papa has crossed the distance and has the back of Dad's neck in a tight grip. He is growling and flashing his teeth. 

“I think it's time for you to shut your mouth.”

Dad just leers and leans closer, pressing his chest against the other hedgehog, tangling his hand in black and red quills. 

“Why don't you make me?”

Stellar grabs Camellia’s hand and pulls her out of the room as fast as she can. 

“Oh-Kay. That's our cue to go. Go go go! Don't look back!”

“Wait what? Why? Shouldn't we stop them? What if they hurt-?”

“Nope! You do not want to get between them right now.” She shudders and quickens her steps. “Trust me!”

There is the sound of a muffled crash behind her, like two bodies falling to the floor, her Papa saying something triumphant, her Dad laughing. 

Stellar loves her parents. But God! They can be so embarrassing!

**********

They are the worst, I love them! This was supposed to be really short and grew into this... Hope you like it❤️

[railingsofsorrow]

(not so) stupid things

[spencer reid x reader]

A/N: hi! this is my entry for the CM meet cute challenge created by the amazing @imagining-in-the-margins

summary: the one where reader is a detective responsible for a case the FBI is called to work on and as they try to make a good first impression, it slips their mind that one of them does not shake hands.

or... based on the eighteenth episode of criminal minds' S8.

pairing: s.reid x gn!reader

w.c: 1.7K

warnings/content: anxiety (implied); case related violence; mentions of injuries and blood; mentions of needles; two awkward people (try) flirting; fluff; language.

navi

masterpost

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“The number of pathogens passed during a handshake is staggering. It's actually safer to kiss.”

“O-oh,” you stutter out, blinking in surprise and immediately drawing your hand back. How could you have forgotten this?

Your boss had told you some important information about the team you were going to work with: the Behavior Analysis Unit. It completely slipped your mind who the “Doctor who doesn't shake hands” was. You just vaguely knew Aaron Hotchner and David Rossi, but the rest was a bunch of strangers you hadn't connected the name to the face yet. That included the Doctor who was giving you a tight-lipped smile and had sputtered out the most quick statistics data you had ever heard.

Did he just said kissing is safer than shaking hands?

The blonde sighed, her glare towards Dr. Reid softening when she turns to you. She offers her hand and you take it with a light chuckle.

“That's just Spencer's way of saying he doesn't shake hands.” She clarifies. “I'm Jennifer Jareau, but you can call me JJ.” She introduced herself and then proceeds to do the same with the rest of the team. You finally connect the name to the face and you feel more at ease.

“Nice to meet you all,” you say. “I've prepared a room for you to set in during the investigation.” You lead them to the bigger roundtable room you had in the station and wait for them to scatter around to start listing the findings of the case you had until now.

They had a quick way of thinking – it was the first thought that went through your mind as you observed each Agent throw a possibility on why the crimes were happening and the reasoning for the M.O as well. It kind of amazed you how connected they seemed to be to have reached that adjustment within themselves.

The first lead took you to a museum. Your main goal there was to find anything on the suspect you've been following. That required you to speak to one of the museum tour guides who apparently had contact with them as you saw in one of the security cameras.

“How long have you been doing this?”

You immediately grimace at the invasive and completely inappropriate question that leaves your mouth. You couldn't help saying stupid shit when you were nervous. The FBI made you nervous. You had been chasing the suspect for more than three months and only now you were able to find a pattern in their behavior. Obviously, you weren't working alone, but you still feel dumb for not having noticed what is clearly obvious in federal agents’ eyes.

“Doing what?”

Your attention snaps back from the crowd of people to him, whose head was slightly tilted in confusion. The question you made escaping your mind for a second. “Oh. I— Actually. You don't have to answer that, I'm sorry.” Cheeks burning and hands sweating weren't a great combo right now. Your witness still hadn't stepped away from the group of children so you had to wait.

“It's okay.” He shrugs, burying his hands on his pockets. His eyes fall into your fidgety hands and he's familiarized with the feeling of being uncomfortable in big crowds. The museum was full, which was unusual according to you. “Mhm, did you mean how long have I been in the FBI?”

You hum quietly, arms folding across your chest.

“Seven years, five months and twenty-one days.” Your lips part in astonishment.

“Seven years?” You ask, dumbfounded. Spencer nods in affirmation. “You look like a college student—” you quickly cover your mouth with a hand, your cursing being muffled by it. “Sorry, I'm sorry. That came out wrong, I just meant that you look young and—”

“No, no, it's okay.” Spencer chuckled, amused by the whole thing. “I do get that a lot. Technically, I am a college student. I'm on my third PhD.”

Have you just met the next Einstein?

“How do you do it?” You say in wonder. “I mean, I went through college one time and I couldn't wait to get far from it as I possibly could and—” you were interrupted by the sound of his laugh, his eyes crinkling at the sides caused you to smile a little. You realize your shoulders were less tense and you could actually feel your feet again.

Spencer clears his throat before responding, his face carries a soft flush and you find it endearing. “I like studying.” Before you can ask him to elaborate, your eyes narrow at the tour guide, who you were supposed to talk to, stealthily disappearing into a hallway. This is how you end up running around a museum chasing someone that had just moved up to be the primer suspect in an ongoing investigation.

“You okay there?” Agent Morgan's voice pulled your gaze away from the medic stitching up your wrist.

Luckily, you and Doctor Reid succeeded in catching the museum tour guide, leading you to find out that the murders in the city were actually premeditated by two people, not just one. But that didn't go smoothly, the unsub — a curious name the BAU used, you've never heard it before — had a knife in their possession. Just as you were about to snatch it away from their reach while Spencer talked him down, your skin earned a slice right on your wrist because you were bold enough to tackle them to the floor.

Not a nice feeling, but you faced similar situations before, so that wasn't out of the ordinary. That didn't mean you enjoyed the feeling of being poked around.

“I'm fine,” you give him a grateful nod. “Just a scratch.” The image of the BAU's genius flash through your brain. “Huh, is Doctor Reid okay? I'm pretty sure he almost got one of these in his face.” You refer to your cut that was currently being dealt with.

Something that you can't recognize twinkle in the Agent's eyes. Amusement? Smugness? “Oh, Reid's alright. He's actually been asking non-stop about y—”

“Morgan.”

You see his smirk increase when Spencer strides over to where you are. The two share a look that you can't translate due to the tickling of the needle in your sensitive skin.

He's sitting beside you in no time and you're about to say that he doesn't have to bother, but he beats you to it.

“Up to 1 in 10 adults struggle with needles. 16% of them actually avoid getting vaccines because of their trypanophobia.” You look at Spencer as he inhales to keep rambling. “Studies show that many people grow out of that fear, but some remain with it.”

“Clearly,” you mumble, embarrassement causing your neck and cheeks to become red.

His eyes widen and he quickly raises his hands, “Oh, no! That's not what I— I didn't mean to—” he sighs as your lips try to hold back a smile. “I tend to say stupid things when I'm nervous.”

The medic says you're good to go and that's your cue to let out the breath you've been holding in instant relief as you can not longer see the needle. You thank them and step out of the ambulance.

“Like claiming that kissing someone is safer than shaking their hand?”

He stumbles upon an answer which takes you to a laughing fit that attracts some attention. You ignore the ugly looks in order to focus on a warm touch on your shoulder, stopping you from bumping into a police officer.

“Sorry, I was messing with you,” you say slightly breathless, your shoulder tingling where his hand lay. “I say stupid things when I'm nervous, too. I guess we have that in common.” Spencer is grinning when he pulls his hand back. You wonder what his thinking as his eyes travel across your features.

Maybe he's finally concluded that I'm a fool.

“Why would you be nervous?” You look away at a passerby to avoid his stare.

“Nothing, I—” he swallows, folding his arms and unfolding them right after. You don't need to be a profiler to realize he's nervous.

Your slow pace halts when he stops following you. You wait for him to sputter out random statistics or literally anything except for what he says next.

“Can I have your number?” He croaks out. “I thought that it wouldn't be unprofessional after the case was over because technically we aren't working anymore and— you know what? Never mind, forget I said—”

“Doctor Reid,” you say carefully. He clips his mouth shut. “Yes, you can have my number.” He lets out a soft oh and you smile. You ruffle through your pockets to find a pen and when you do find, you silently ask for his hand and he raises it towards you, confusion drawing his brows together.

He feels a tickling sensation as you write your number down on his open palm.

“There.” You offer him a smile to which he replies with one of his own as his eyes scan your scribbling on his hand. A vibration in your blazer forces a heavy sigh to leave your lips. You apologize as you grab your phone. “Ah, yes. I'm— I'll be there.” You turn to Spencer with a disappointed look after the call ends. “Sorry, I have a lot of reports to finish and they need me in the station.”

“It's okay.” He nods. “I understand.”

You don't leave right away though, hesitating in your step. He just as awkwardly stands there. Are you back in high school or something? When have you ever been that shy?

“So, I'll see you around?” You ask.

He outstretches a hand to your surprise, “Yes.” When you accept it, your fingers tingle at his soft skin. Both of you draw yourselves back at the same time. “Bye, Detective.”

You wave at him, already retracting to leave to avoid further embarrassment. “Bye, Doctor.”

You can't help the giddy feeling in your chest as you walk back to your car. A few hours later, your phone screen flashes with an unknown number.

[genshin-side-piece]

Hazy Shade of Winter (Part 1)

Warnings: Yandere Content, Implied Kidnapping, Implied Captivity, Implied Stalking, Implied drug use, Mentions of alcohol, ]Non-Consensual Touching, my bad writing, anything else I missed, 18+, Minors DNI

A/N: Slightly (?) OOC Wriothesley. I think. I'm honestly not sure. But fair warning just to be safe.

You awoke to a loud clang. The sharp noise reverberated through your drowsy skull, pulling you from the heavy slumber that had kept you under until this time. Cloudy thoughts were covered by a heavy layer of fog, making it difficult for you to focus. You couldn’t place the source of the sound. Metal had connected with metal, making it distinctly foreign to you. In all the years that you had lived in the Court of Fontaine, you had never heard anything make such a racket. It was doubtful such a disturbance would be tolerated by the general population, let alone your neighbors. The harsh, cutting quality was enough to wake the dead, yet there were no screams that followed it. Just an echo that quickly faded and the sound of air being pushed through pipes.

Air being pushed through pipes? 

The mental fog lifting enough for you to flinch at the bitterness that rested on your tongue. Heavy and salty and altogether awful. Your stomach involuntarily wretched at the taste. You tried to use what little saliva you could muster in the hope that you could wash it away, but that too was in vain. The taste just lingered without any hope of it going away. “Here” The injection of the rich male voice into your world briefly snapped you of your stupor. Out of everything, whether it be the metal or the pipes or the lumpy mattress that was not yours, the most out of place was that voice. You lived alone. When you had returned home last night, at least the small bit that you could remember, you had sworn you had been alone. The two at the bar, who had turned a relaxing cocktail for one into a pub crawl, were nowhere to be seen.  You had been wandering the streets of the court alone. Slipping and stumbling the entire way, but at last check, you had been on your own. So where had the man beside you come from?

You blinked up at him, ignoring the glass of water he was offering you. Your hazy mind was too preoccupied with trying to place him. You knew him, no, you’d seen him before. Recently. Had he come into your place of work? No. Perhaps it had been in a shop or on the street? Narrowing your eyes at him, you thought it might be, but it still didn’t explain why he was here. Looking past him, it didn’t explain why you were clearly not at home. The patchwork metal walls and dim lights were a far cry from the plaster embellishments and glass lamps of the court. Though, they seemed to match, if not enhance the scarred facade of the man beside you. “My apologies for the rough awakening.” He shifted, the chains of his attire moving with him. The clanking sound that filled the room as he set the glass of water to one side grated on you. It pierced through the air, causing the throbbing in your head to get worse. “That stuff in your system packs quite the punch.” What? You turned away from him trying to make sense of that statement. What stuff? You couldn’t make heads nor tails of what he meant by the word stuff. “I told them to take it easy on you, especially since they were already plying you with alcohol, but it seems they didn’t heed my warning. You’ve been out for close to an entire day.” Your entire body involuntarily lurched at that news. What? An entire day? How could that be? You’d gone home hadn’t you? His vague references didn’t mean anything, because they hadn’t happened. That was the only logical explanation you could muster. “I was actually getting slightly worried. The head nurse was under the impression something else might be amiss. I’m sure she’ll be thrilled to know you’re okay. Though, I suppose she’ll still recommend some restorative treatments.” He made a face, one that echoed both dread and disgust. “I’ll do my best to spare you, but you may have to humor her some. Just for the sake of your relationship with her. I’d hate for you to get on her bad side at the start. It doesn’t make for a comfortable living arrangement if we don’t get along.” You blinked. The casualness of that statement seemed out of sorts given your present situation. How could he speak of relationships or living arrangements when you had no clue as to where you were and who he was? This wasn’t your home. You didn’t live here. Unless- 

Your eyes darted around the room again. A foreign place. A bed, a place to refresh yourself, a strange arrangement with an even stranger man. The effects of the stuff you had been given cleared just long enough to allow you to realize the gravity of your situation. 

The reaction that followed your epiphany was almost an involuntary one. Your entire body disregarded your drug induced hangover long enough to make the sorry attempt at fleeing. You tried to leave the bed, but the man who later introduced himself as Wriothesley was quick to stop you. His thick heavy arms had come around you before you had even fully sat up, effectively keeping you right where he wanted you. There was a struggle. Despite your queasiness and your pounding headache, you fought him. You twisted and turned in his grasp, desperate to get out of it, desperate to get away. He only tightened his hold on you, cooing reassuring words at you like one would to calm a frightened animal. The notion that everything would be alright. That you just needed time to adjust to your new surroundings. That he would take care of you from now on caused you to retch. How could he say such a thing, when you’d had no choice in the matter? Your life up until this point had been average, bordering on boring, but otherwise fine. Who was he to say that it needed changing?

At some point, after what felt like hours, he let you go. Wriothesley put some much needed space between you, allowing you to absorb the facts he chose to tell you about your situation without the burden of him being wrapped around you. His weight, coupled with the explanation that he had oh so nicely prepared for you would have been a cumbersome thing.  It was as you had fear. You had been abducted, but by whom was far worse than you ever could have imagined. It would have been enough if he had been some lord or even a high ranking member of one of the crime families. You would have a level of recourse then. If you managed to get free, you could charge him. You could have him sent away. In the end, there would be justice. With Wriothesley, that wasn’t possible. Though he carried the title of Duke, he was for all intents and purposes King of your new home. Immune from both the laws of the court and the justice you found yourself beginning to crave. It was a cruel twist on what was proving to be a brutish situation. You could only sit there in silence after he finished, smoldering as your fate washed over you. 

“You’re taking this quite well.” You blinked, trying to quell the rage that had been building since you had first woken up. The fact that he sounded legitimately surprised did nothing to help your mood or the growing urge to claw his face to shreds. How did he expect you to take it? Did he think you would make a scene? Had he gotten out of bed thinking he would hear screaming and wailing coming from the general vicinity of your door?  You rolled your eyes in response to his praise, choosing to turn them away from him. The wall next to you seemed infinitely more interesting than the man who was blocking your only exit. “Come on.” He shifted ever so slightly, the chains on his outfit moving with him, rattling as they settled back into place. “I had to.” He had to. You let out a silent huff at the lame excuse. He was the Duke of Meropide. The only thing he had to do was maintain order in the fortress. Last you checked, having someone spike your drink with a heavy sedative and stripping you of everything you owned was not a part of his duties. Yet here you were, in a strange bed, locked in a strange room, with only a cotton shift to your name. You could only guess that the slim comfort of the bed and modesty of the shift ought to be viewed as a gift, considering he could have left you nothing at all. That fact did little to assuage the fire that was currently shooting through your veins. The sheer audacity of the entire situation was enough to make you want to claw his eyes out. The actual act though would involve you having to acknowledge his existence. An action you weren’t keen on following through with.

He moved again, this time the hard rubber soles of his boots scraped against the metal floor. They stopped after a few seconds, only to be followed by a creak of metal that came from the general direction of the footboard. From the corner of your eye, you could see Wriothesley leaning against it. He obviously wanted a closer look at his hard won prize or maybe he just wanted to test the proverbial waters. You weren’t entirely sure and you weren’t in the mood to find out. Instead you held your focus on the wall, beginning to mentally count the bolts as a means of drowning him out. 1..2.. The bed groaned as he shifted his weight again. 13..14..There was another rattle of chains followed by a soft thunk against the floor. That had to be his jacket. God he wasn’t getting undressed was he? Surely Wriothesley wasn’t callous enough to abduct you and force himself on you within the same day, was he? The memory of him holding you down came back. A cold shiver shot down your spine at the very idea of it, of him using his weight to do more than just restrain you. 27..28.. The bed groaned for a third time, followed by more footsteps. These drawing ever louder, ever closer. Your heart began to slam against your ribcage as he stalked you, closing the short distance between you. The cold that had made it’s way down your spine began to ebb through you with every step he took. The louder they got, the sharper the chill that raced over your skin. You swallowed hard, trying to calm the shivers that were flowing across you like waves. You could hear him now, goosebumps raising all over your skin when the jingling of his handcuffs was so near to your ear. 41.. The footsteps stopped. Above you, he hummed, the rough flesh of his hand slowly wrapping itself around your chin. On instinct, you broke contact with the wall, trying to get away from him, but his nails scraping against your chin stopped you. You whimpered as his jagged nails bit into your flesh forcing your attention firmly back to him. It took almost no strength on his part to force your head in the direction he wanted, yet he still used slightly more than was necessary, just to get his point across. His fortress, his captive, his everything. You held no power here. Not now, not ever.

“For future use and reference.” You swallowed again as you were forced to stare up into those piercing eyes of his. “I don’t care for being ignored. Especially when I’m addressing someone.” Wriothesley tilted his head, a soft smile permeating his lips as he brushed his thumb over your chin. “But I’ll make an exception here.” His tone, which had been annoyingly cocky up until this point, faded into something slightly gentler. Something you could almost mistake for understanding, possibly even empathy for your current situation. A deceptive tactic on his part. Something to play into the fear that was still racing through your entire body and ease you into forgetting that your entire reason for being here was standing before you. Had you just only woken up or maybe if you had still been under the influence of the sedative, it might have worked. You might have bought it. But your benevolent captor had waited a hair too long. He had given you enough time to get your wits about you and because of that, you could catch him in the lie before it was too late. “You have every right to be angry, especially today. I can’t take that away from you.” His hot breath fanned across your face, causing you to momentarily flinch. The sensation was in direct contrast to his eyes, which matched the chill that was coming up through his fingers. The cold that radiated from his skin hurt to the point that it burned. You squirmed in his grasp, trying to get away from those unrelenting fingers of his, but it was no use. He had a firm, to the point of punishing grip on you. One he had no intention of loosening any time soon.  “I’ll be generous and give you today.” He paused, thinking it through. “Actually, I’ll give you until after my morning meeting. I can’t accuse you of breaking my rules if you aren’t aware of them and unfortunately, I can’t explain them or my expectations to you right now. So consider this a pass, free of charge.” You wanted to spit on his definition of generosity. He would get the rest of your days to ruin what little life he allowed you to have, yet you were expected to process everything that had happened and would happen to you in an hour? The inequity of it was ridiculous. “Oh don’t look at me like that.” He offered you a cocky smile, the confident tone returning. “If you’re good, I’ll bring you something nice to eat later.” You had to wonder what he meant by good. Aside from the bed, the only other items in the room were a sink, a toilet, and what looked to be a crude form of a shower. Short of soaking your bedding or possibly the mattress, you weren’t entirely sure what kind of trouble you could cause. He had purposefully limited your options to doing more harm to yourself than him. If he was as clever as he had shown himself to be, Wriothesley wouldn’t give you much chance to hurt him directly. 

With time things might change. He seemed like he had the ability to soften. Much of the sarcastic act you were seeing was exactly that, an act. If you played your cards right, might he give you an opening to hurt him, but it wasn’t like it would be worth it. The investment for the opportunity would take months and that’s if he ever opened himself up for the shot. If he did, and you were able to take it, the wound wouldn’t be a deep one. It would be superficial at best. A minor inconvenience for him. The hell he could bring after it was enough to end those thoughts before they went any further. The punishment that would follow for the impertinence of trying would be far worse than anything you could even attempt to do. For now, it was easier to acquiesce to some of his demands, at least until you could see how much rein his rules and expectations would give you. “I wish I could stay.” He let out a whimsical sigh. “How nice it would be for us to get better acquainted over the course of the morning, but-” He sighed heavily. “Duty calls.” He pressed your face a little harder, adjusting his grip so he could bunch your cheeks. The discomfort, along with the gentle rocking of his hand pulled what you knew would be many squeals out of you. He only laughed, bending down slightly so he could coo at you. “You’re so ungodly precious.” Wriothesley sighed again, lovingly regarding you for a moment. The notes of affection and pride that were evident on his face made you want to slap them right off of it. “Aw look at that glare. Still angry huh?” A very undignified puff of air through your nose was your only response. One that was matched by a shit-eating grin from him. “You’re cute when you’re angry. Though, you’ll have time to sort through it while I’m gone.” He paused for a beat. “Why don’t you start us off on the right foot and give me one of your charming smiles before I go. I know you’re angry, but it’ll help me get through the monotony of the next few hours.” He let out another chuckle, one of his fingers loosening slightly so he could run it across the base of your cheek. “Now that you’re with me, I may need it all the time.” 

You could do nothing but stare at him as you felt your blood pressure spike even higher. Was he serious? Did he really expect you to smile at him after all he had put you through? It was hard to believe. Clever he may be, but in touch with reality, he certainly was not. Thanks to his actions, you doubted if you would ever smile again. “Come on sweetheart.” He tightened his grip on your chin again, giving it a little shake. You flinched, but that was all. The last thing you wanted was to give him the satisfaction of pulling another sound out of you.  “Don’t make this harder than it needs to be.” Something dangerous flashed in his eyes, his once confident tone dropping an octave as you refused to follow another one of his orders. For a brief moment, you saw the man who had actually had you kidnapped. His amiability was little more than a tool. It was conditional on whether he got what he wanted. If it failed, that tool would be swapped in for something altogether different. That would happen with every infraction. When one tool failed him, he would simply try another. He would keep doing so until he found what worked best. Whether that was pain or pleasantries, you could tell it didn’t really matter to him. Just so long as he got his way.  “It’s just a smile.” His tone had captured the chill that you had become numb too. You nearly shivered from it, but you were able to stop yourself in time. His request was a simple one. An easy one. It required a minimal effort on your part, but it would ultimately be a gain for him. Right now, all he wanted was a smile. A small, yet significant sign that you were willing to obey him. That his deception tactics and attempts to get you to trust him had worked. If you followed through on it, then that gave him license to ask for more. The more you gave him, the less you could refuse later on. Your willing obedience would bring an expectation of behavior with it. One he would never let you forget. 

Smile, speak, sit, stand. They were all commands that you imagined he would eventually expect you to learn and perform at his whim and pleasure. He had already made it abundantly clear that you had very little choice in the matter. Yet you refused the command all the same. If he could test the waters, so could you. Your eyes just fixed on his, glaring up at him in utter defiance of his order, daring him to try and frighten you further. “Hm.” He tapped a finger against your jaw, causing you to blink. “Seems like I’ve got some work to do with you. A shame really.” He tilted his head in the other direction, heavily exhaling through his nose. “But maybe some time alone will change that.” Wriothesley broke eye contact first, looking around the room for a moment before those eyes of his found yours again. “I did say you could be upset at me, so by all means, be upset.” He gave your face one final squeeze before his hand fell away and you were finally able to put some much needed distance between you and him. An action that didn’t go unnoticed by him. His displeasure as you shuffled away from him was evident. “When I return though -” He planted a hand on his hip. “I expect that to be the end of it.” He paused looking away for a second. “Or at the very least.” He looked at you again. “We have a polite conversation about the future.” You wanted to ask what future? Did he expect you to politely discuss the future he had stolen from you? The one where you were happy and oblivious to the monster that lurked just below the waves. The same one who had seen fit to breach the safety of the shore, just so he could pull you under. 

Or perhaps he meant the other future. The one where you were forever sealed beneath the unforgiving sea. Bound to a man you found neither desirable nor worthy. Forced to smile and obey and be little more than a pet until death saw fit to take either him or you. A horrific, abysmal future that not even the gods themselves would save you from. How could you expect them too, when he had taken you beyond where any of them could ever hope to hear? That was the hard reality of life within the walls of the Fortress of Meropide. A place to abandon the lost, the forgotten, and the unwanted. It was the dumping ground of the world above. A den so rife with vice and sin that not even the gods themselves could ever hope to sort it out. According to many it had improved since the new administrator had taken over. He had ended the corruption and the chaos that had plagued what many had termed the tin hell. Yet miraculously, even with Wriothesley’s efforts it was still a place where the gods found it all too easy to turn a deaf ear to the screams and the cries of the repetent as they echoed up from beneath the waves. Here there were no gods. No heros. No saints. Here there was only hell. Only the sinners. Only Wriothesley to save you from it all. In the span of a night, under the witness of heavens above, he had become your god. 

All you could do was stare back and question how benevolent your new god would actually be.

[blorger]

So, picture this:

Here I am, sat in an internet-less room, twiddling my thumbs and waiting for time to crawl ever so slowly by. For lack of a better alternative, I start flipping through the pages of Chamber of Secrets and I notice A Thing.

"My, how peculiar" I say to myself, fully intending to let The Thing be, but alas; time moves slowly, boredom persists and, not unlike the tell-tale heart, The Thing calls to me.

"Come," it beckons, "notice me further". "Compile some data" it begs, "that's surely the most productive way to pass the time"; like a moth to a flame, I am caught.

This, dear reader, is how I found myself tallying all the different ways the word "mudblood" is used in canon. So gird your loins and let me introduce you to

The Mudblood Chronicles, or what's in a name?

part 1: methodology

Since the purpose of this exercise is to analyse the use of the term "mudblood" as a slur, I'm not going to count the times in which the word is not being used with malicious intent. Throughout the books this happens on several occasions, those being:

during the course of the narration (it happens once in the context of "everyone present knew mudblood was a very offensive term")

when Harry uses the term, since it only happens when he either recalls someone else saying it (one time with Draco and once with Snape) or he's forbidding Kreacher from using it (twice).

when Ron uses it; it happens once to explain the slur's meaning and once (in conjunction with Ginny) to demand Kreacher stop using the term.

when someone is quoting themselves. Draco quotes himself to Dumbledore once ("you care about me saying mudblood when I'm about to kill you?"; incidentally, it's also the last time he ever utters the word)

I am counting instances in which a muggleborn character uses the term to refer to themselves, since it happens in the context of reclaiming the insult and I am interested in who the author chooses to highlight thusly.

part 2: the results/ WHEN

The word "mudblood" and its plural "mudbloods" are used as an insult a total of 62 times in the Harry Potter books. Here we can see the book by book breakdown:

Unsurprisingly, The book where "mudblood" is used the most ( a total of 34 times) is Deathly Hallows since it takes place during a war about muggleborns. Chamber of Secrets, where the term is introduced, follows with 10 mentions, after which is Order of the Phoenix (7 mentions), followed by Goblet of Fire (6 mentions) and Half-Blood prince (5 mentions). The term "mudblood" is not used in either Philosopher's Stone or Prisoner of Azkaban.

part 3: the results/ WHO

So who is our biggest culprit?

Draco Malfoy is our uncontested lead, having both the advantage of appearing in all books and of orbiting around our narrator. Both Bellatrix and Kreacher make a good showing, with Bellatrix's 6 times being especially notable since they all occur during the course of Deathly Hallows.

Let's break this down further, shall we?

Despite introducing us to the term, Draco appears to scale back his usage of the slur as he ages.

Before partaking in this experiment, I was under the vague impression that, in the wizarding world, "mudblood" is seen as a childish insult. I can now see why: in times of peace (i.e. before Voldemort's resurrection), Draco is the only person in Harry's day-to-day life saying it and he himself peters off in the usage of "mudblood" as things get more serious. To Draco, it appears, "mudblood" IS a childish insult, and we'll see further proof of this at a later date.

part 4: the results/ HOW

Let us now look at how the term is used:

Unsurprisingly, the person "mudblood" is hurled most often at is Hermione. As a main character, she is the most visible muggleborn in the narrative and, if that wasn't enough, she is more often than not the only muggleborn present, even when it doesn't make much sense (Hermione is the only known muggleborn member of the order of the phoenix, an organization whose supposed aim is the fight for muggleborn rights.)

There are no known instances of the word "mudblood" being used to refer to any other muggleborn student during Harry's time at Hogwarts. Lily Evans is the only other school-aged character who gets the dubious honor of being a "mudblood".

Let's break this down further and look at who people are referring to when they say "mudblood":

*= Walburga's portrait never directly addresses Hermione, she only alludes to the presence of various filth (muggleborns, blood traitors, werewolves..) in her home. That said, Hermione is the only muggleborn we ever see in Grimmauld Place so it must stand to reason that Walburga is referring to her, just like she's indirectly referring to Remus Lupin when she mentions werewolves.

**= Both Hermione and Lily use the term mudblood to refer to themselves in an attempt to reclaim the slur, they both do it twice.

***= Our only "other" is mr Ted Tonks, who Bellatrix only mentions in order to disavow when Voldemort talks about the birth of Teddy Lupin.

Interestingly, the only people who ever refer to Lily Evans as "mudblood" to her face are Severus Snape (one instance recounted three separate times) and Lily Evans herself. Voldemort uses the insult when talking about her with Harry long after her death.

Of further note, our only written "mudblood" comes by courtesy of a ministry pamphlet Harry finds in Diagon Alley, heavily implied to have been written by one ms Dolores Umbridge.

part 5: a brief interlude/ Draco's language

Draco refers to Hermione as “Granger” 13 times and, while their interactions often consist of him talking about her blood status, he uses "mudblood" instead of her name only 4 times. Furthemore, there are 4 additional times where he uses both mudblood and Granger (as in "that mudblood Granger").

The very first time Draco mentions Hermione in the books occurs during this exchange with Lucius:

I find this interesting because, even in private, his first instinct is to use her given name. It's only after he is scolded by Lucius* that we get our first "mudblood", in a scene where he is once again feeling threatened by her.

*= Guess who never utters the word "mudblood"? Lucius. Even Narcissa does once (in DH, when she recognises Hermione at the manor)

part 6: conclusion

I am not a linguistics expert, I cannot tell wether JKR uses the slur she made up in a way that mimics real world slurs. What I can do with the data I compiled is try to track various characters' attitudes towards muggleborns in the books by looking at what they call them.

People whose views remain unchanged (Voldemort, Kreacher, Walburga) remain consistent with their usage of "mudblood"; Draco, who grows up as the books progress, scales back. Snape only ever uses the word once, in the past, and the incident is retold multiple times to signify its importance.

As the situation in the wizarding world worsens, more people feel emboldened to use an otherwise taboo term, as seen by how most one-off utterances of "mudblood" take place in book 7, during wartime.

Finally, I would like to note that we only ever hear two muggleborns' (Lily and Hermione) opinions on "mudblood" as a slur, the rest of the time it's mostly purebloods (and the occasional half-blood) telling us how to feel about the insult; I find that very interesting.

There. Now all this useless information is out of my brain and into the aether, where other nerds can ponder on its significance while this nerd here sleeps the sleep of the truly righteous.

xoxo

[mustainegf]

OMG PLS ELENA MAKE THIS HAPPEN So you two are hanging out after the show and you ask him to teach you how to play billiards and while he's teaching you he's standing right behind really close to you and you start grinding your ass againt him teasing him and he gets hard and fucks you on that table🤤

Bro thank you so much for requesting this, because every time I see this gif I THINK THE EXACT SAME THING

𝐁𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐀𝐑𝐃𝐒 ¹⁹⁹¹

Lars's basement was vaguely lit and reeked faintly of stale beer and cigarette smoke. A scratched up pool table dominated the center of the room, surrounded by faded band posters and abandoned instruments. James racked up the balls as I stood behind him, highly conscious of his broad shoulders and the way those jeans wrapped around his ass.

James turns to me, holding the cue stick. "Alright, first things first, grip the cue like this." He demonstrates, wrapping his fingers around it loosely. "Now you try."

I step up to the table and wrap my slender fingers around the smooth wood, emulating his grip.

My hand brushes against his as he adjusts mine, and sends a shock through me. I pull back quickly, feeling the flush rise to my cheeks. James smirks at my reaction.

"Like that," he says, stepping closer until our bodies almost touch. "Now focus on your stroke. let the cue do the work."

As I set up my shot, my eyes cannot help but dart to the firm lines of James' jaw and how well his black leather jacket fits him across his arms. His nearness is like venom, making the game difficult to pay attention to.

I take a deep breath and strike the cue ball, watching in delight as it sends the solids scattering across the green felt. "Yes!" I exclaim triumphantly, wheeling around to James with a grin.

He chuckles, shaking his head in amusement.

I step up to the table again, lining up my next shot. James moves behind me this time, close enough for me to feel the heat radiating off his body. Strong hands reach around me, adjusting my stance, fingers grazing the sensitive skin of my inner thighs as he does so.

"Mmmph." I bite my lip, stifling a moan at the intimate contact. James seems oblivious, entirely too focused on fixing my posture. But his hands touching me, however fleetingly, sends a jolt of desire straight to my core.

"Relax your shoulder," he says, his warm breath dancing across my ear. "And keep your elbow slightly bent."

As I follow his instruction, I am hyper-aware of every single point of contact between us. the press of his chest against my back, the gentle pressure from his thumbs against my hips.

As James continues guiding me, I grow bolder, my weight subtly shifting to grind my ass back against the prominent bulge forming in his jeans. A low groan rumbles in his throat, sending the vibrations across my ear.

The hardness pressing into me makes me ache with desire. I know exactly what it means-James is turned on, and I'm loving every second of it. Emboldened, I start to swivel my hips in slow circles, rubbing myself against him like a cat in heat.

"Fuck..." James growls, his hands tightening on my hips. "What are you doing?"

I don't stop the sensual dance, softly panting while his erection throbs against me. "Just helping you get a better view," I purr in a husky tone, my voice filled with lust.

"Oh, I've got a perfect view, all right," James grunts out, breathing hard in an effort to stay in control.

I giggle at the wicked gleam in my eye, quickly picking up the pace, really grinding my hips into his straining cock. The friction is fun, and I can feel myself getting wetter by the second.

"You're enjoying this, aren't you?" I tease, reaching back to palm the impressive bulge in his pants. "Mmm, feels like you're enjoying it a little too much."

James utters a strangled imprecation, his fingers digging into my flesh as he fights the need to thrust forward and bury himself inside me. "Enough," he snaps, but there's nothing real behind the word at all.

"Enough," James repeats more firmly, reaching to grab my hips in a bid to still my movements. The words are an outright lie, though, because I can feel his arousal pulsing hot and hard against my ass.

James whirls me around to face him suddenly, his piercing gaze locking with mine, dark with scarcely restrained hunger. "You want to play, baby? Let's play."

His mouth crashes down on mine in a bruising kiss, all teeth and tongue as he claims my lips with fervor. I moan into his mouth, my own desire igniting as I cling to him desperately.

James breaks the kiss, leaving me gasping and wanting more. "Strip," he gruffly orders while his eyes shoot over my body in blatant appreciation.

I do so without argument, shimming out of my tight jeans to reveal a pair of lacy, purple panties underneath. My tank top is next to go, followed by my pair of black bra cups, which leave my nipples in view. Finally, I slip off my shoes and step out of my clothes to stand before James in my underwear.

He drinks me in, his gaze lingering on the swell of my breasts and the soft curve of my stomach. "Damn, you're sexy," he mutters, reaching out to trace a finger along the waistband of my panties.

I shiver at his touch, my heart racing in anticipation. He hooks a finger into the fabric and tugs gently on it, urging me to lift my hips. I do so, all too willingly, and with a quick move, he peels my panties off down my legs before flinging them aside.

I am standing before James, naked, my skin flushed with desire, my breasts rising and falling with every quickening breath. His hungry gaze roams my body, drinking in all the details, from the light freckles sprinkled about my collarbones to the glistening folds of my sex.

"Beautiful," James whispers, his voice low and rough with need. Stepping closer, he fills my vision with a muscular physique, his scent, a mix of smoke, leather, and masculinity, engulfing me.

He reaches out, palms so much larger than mine, and he cups my breasts. Thumbs brush over my nipples in a way that shoots sparks straight to my core. I arch into his touch, a needy whimper escaping my lips.

James leans in, hot breath fanning across the skin of my neck as he nuzzles the crook.

Without warning, James spins me around and bends me over the edge of the pool table, my arms splayed out for balance. The cool, smooth surface presses against my bare breasts as he positions himself behind me.

He leans in close, his lips brushing the shell of my ear as he says in a husky whisper, "Gonna fuck you right here, where anyone could walk in and see you getting pounded. Imagine Lars' face if he caught us like this."

A shiver runs down my spine as I contemplate it-a thrill of fear mixed with the utter taboo of it all. James' words are filthy, designed to push my limits, to ignite my desire further.

"I bet you'd love that, wouldn't you?" he continues, his hot breath sending tingles down my spine.

"Bet you'd come so hard if someone saw me spreading these thick thighs open and burying my cock deep inside your tight little pussy." The sharp slap he gives my ass follows his words, the sting of it blending with the pleasure coursing through me.

"Yes," I breathe, pushing my hips backward in silent invitation.

I hear the distinctive sound of James' zipper lowering, followed by rustling fabric as he frees his throbbing erection. My heart races in anticipation, my pulse pounds between my thighs.

He bends down over me then, and I feel his hot breath caressing my ear again. "Alright, doll, just relax and let me take care of you," he coos; the voice is soft and melodious, a direct contrast to the raw desire behind it.

Slowly, deliberately, James presses the head of his cock against my slippery entrance. I instinctively clench, but he does nothing more than hold still, allowing me a moment to acclimate to the feel of him pressed against me, his thick length pressed against me.

"That's it, just breathe," he coaches, his hand settling on my lower back. With a soft, almost gentle motion, he begins easing inside me, inch by glorious inch.

As James slowly sheathes himself within me, I reach back and clasp his hand tightly, my nails digging deep into his skin. The sensation of his full length buried deep inside my clutching warmth is overwhelming, bordering on painful in its intensity.

But it's a good pain, the reminder of how thoroughly I'm claimed by him in this moment. I hold his hand like a lifeline, anchoring myself as he begins to move, his hips rocking against my ass in a slow, deliberative rhythm.

"Oh god, yes," I moan low, my words muffled against the table. Each thrust sends waves crashing through me, coiling a pressure tighter and tighter in my core.

James sets an unrelenting pace, his strong strokes pushing deeper and harder with every pass. The table creaks beneath them, its salacious accompaniment primal in coupling.

"Fuck, you're so tight," he groans, his hand reflexively tightening on mine as he pounds into me. "Gonna fill this sweet pussy up soon, mark you as mine."

The promise sends another jolt of excitement through me, spurring me onward. I rock back to meet his thrusts, the slapping of skin against skin loud in the room.

Suddenly, James becomes erratic, his thrusts shorter and with more force. "Ah, shit. baby, I'm close," he warns in a strained voice, his words laced with imminent release.

I feel him swell inside me, his cock throbbing to the cadence of his racing heartbeat.

As James pistons in and out of me, I concentrate hard on the sensation of his heavy balls slapping against my clit with each powerful stroke. The coarse hairs at the base of his cock graze my inner thighs, adding a delightful texture to the friction.

His thick shaft stretching me wide and his balls stimulating my sensitive nub prove to be my undoing. A scream of pleasure tears from my throat as my orgasm crashes over me, walls clenching rhythmically around his plunging cock.

Overwhelmed by the force of my climax, I collapse forward onto the table, my chest heaving as I fight to catch my breath. James' hands are still tightly clutched on my hips, holding me in place as he withdraws from my spasming channel with a wet pop.

Before I can even fathom what's coming, I feel the first splash of his hot cum against my ass, painting my skin with his essence. He continues to shoot stream after stream, marking me as his in the most animalistic way possible.

As his last spurts subside, James steps back, leaving me drenched in his seed and shaking with aftershocks. Sprawled across the table, I just lie here, my body still humming from pleasure, my mind scattered everywhere from the ferocity of our encounter.

I shake and my knees go weak as I sit up, but my legs give out totally under my weight. Large arms wrap around me, picking me up off the table and cradling me against James' firm chest before I can fall.

He murmurs, "Don't you worry, gotcha," as he carries me across the room to set me down easy among the plush cushions of the couch. "Stay put, I'll be right back with some towels to clean you up."

He gives my thigh a reassuring squeeze before getting up off the bed and out of the room, leaving me to my afterglow and composure. Though the tremors still rack my body, I curve my lips in a contented smile as I settle backward into soft upholstery, already looking forward to James' return.

He's back in a moment with a dampened cloth and carefully cleans up the evidence of our lust, his touch tender, almost loving, as he cleans me up, making sure to not rub too hard over my sensitive skin.

His fingers dance tantalizing patterns across my thighs, tracing around each swipe of the cloth and leaving goosebumps in their wake. Then, every now and then, he pauses to press a kiss to the spot he's just cleaned, peppering my skin with sweet compliments.

"So pretty like this, all flushed." he murmurs, leaning in to plant a lingering kiss on the small of my back. "Such a beautiful mess."

[agentmarcuspike]

"is there a reason you're naked in my bed?" part 3

(gif by @pascalsky)

cw: neighbor!dbf!joel x f!reader, smut, manipulation, misogyny (sorry), dubcon (but it's ok), penetration, oral m and f recieving, gun present, implied underage sex but it's not really, threats of violence, uhhh jumping from a roof? synopsis: you're on a terrible date and call your neighbor joel for help. he helps you out in more ways than one... a/n: this is my first attempt at smut, please be nice w.c. 3k lmao

part one + two + four

You try not to roll your eyes as your date, Jack, blabbers on about how much make-up turns him off, how he prefers his women natural, and how much of a womanizer he is.

The whole evening has been like this, only interrupted by him sending his friends at an adjacent table looks saying, "Oh yeah. Look at this catch. I'm gettin’ sum tonight." As if you're not sitting right in front of him and have eyes. 

"I'm just saying," Jack continues, and you force yourself to listen. "There’s beauty in youth and innocence, right? Like, any man who says he wouldn’t choose 18 over 25 is lying," He looks so full of himself, leaning back in his chair, spreading his scrawny legs as much as possible. 

You want nothing more than to knock this guy off his high fucking horse and teach him some sort of lesson. Scare the creep and cockiness out of him. You've been mulling it over all night, pretending to listen to his awful misogyny, and you have a vague idea about what you could do, but it involves taking him home, and you're not sure it's worth it.

"Sure," you lie. "A lock that can be opened by many keys versus a key that opens many locks et cetera." The remark is meant to challenge him, but he bites.

"Right! You get it!" He leans forward on his elbows. "You know, I rarely meet girls as smart as you. Females can't usually," He taps a finger to his temple. "keep up with me."

That almost makes you laugh out loud. Who does this guy think he is? But you bite your tongue and smile politely, as he snaps his fingers at a waitress. 

"Hey!" he all but yells. "I'd like to pay for the little lady and myself." You want to wipe the satisfied grin off his face, but instead you send an apologetic look to the poor waitress, and excuse yourself.

In the bathroom you take out your phone and set your plan into action.

YOU: I need your help.JOEL: Where's the body? YOU: On its way to your bedroom. JOEL: Key’s outside.

All of the lights in Joel’s house are off as you approach, and you’re crossing your fingers in your pockets, hoping that means he understood your vague explanation over the phone. 

"So…" You turn to Jack and gesture up at your neighbor’s house. "This is me!"

He raises his brows, impressed. "Wow," he replies. "You live here? On your own?"

"Mhm," you humor him through a smile threatening to escape as a laugh. He grabs your hand pulling you towards him, but as he leans in to push his lips to yours, you swerve.

"Quick, before the neighbors see," You grab his hand and lead him up the stairs to porch, squatting down by the door mat. The key is there. You flash Jack a quick smile, before turning to unlock Joel’s front door.

Back in Joel Miller’s bedroom. Everything just as you last saw it. He really wasn’t joking about not changing the sheets, you think, as you plop yourself down on the mattress.

Jack is quick to follow, throwing himself at you. His hands are all over the place, squeezing your tits way too hard, sucking himself onto your lips like a vacuum cleaner. You can barely get out of his grip enough to stop him from tearing at your shirt.

"You first," you say, out of breath, and he pulls his shirt over his head. He's... for lack of a better word, ripped. Breathing strained, he's flexing his washboard abs at you, and you're more impressed with the amount of time he must have spent working on it, than you are turned on. "Pants too."

He stands up, quickly undressing, before he starts pulling at your skirt. Ideally, you wouldn't let it go this far, preferring to not let him touch you at all, but he has already pulled your skirt and panties off, and placed himself between your legs on the bed.

"Want me to go down on you?" he grins. "I'm really good at it."

You disguise your laugh as a cough. "No that's fine, I'm good."

As if he didn't hear you, he disappears between your thighs, and starts lapping at you, slightly above the right spot.

"You like that?" he asks you, almost immediately. You don't.

"Mhm," you manage, biting down on your lips to stop from laughing at the absurdity of this guy's unjustified confidence in his own abilities.

“Your body is amazing,” he says, but before you can thank him, he continues, “like a solid 7/10. If you shaved, you’d be an eight.”

Thank God he’s too busy doing whatever it is he’s doing down there, because you can only gape and roll your eyes at the backhanded compliment.

After about a minute of slurping, he asks you if you're close yet, and you just can't keep it in anymore. You let out a snort, and he looks up at you confused, but only for a second, because the next thing you know, Joel Miller bursts through the door.

Armed with a rifle.

"Get the fuck out of my house," he yells. Jack leaps to his feet, quickly gathering his clothes.

"Oh shit," he whispers, looking to you for help. You cover your mouth to hide your grin, playing along.

"Daddy!" you yelp.

"That's right," Joel replies, placing his foot on Jack's crumpled up jeans, just as the owner is about to reach for them. "That's my baby girl you're trying to fuck.”

Jack steps away, unsure of what to do. "I'm so sorry, sir, I didn't— I didn't know..." he mumbles. "Wait, how old are you?" He turns to you, hands in the air.

You feign innocence, thinking of the most scandalous number you could get away with. "16...?"

His eyes widen and he swallows harshly. "I'll leave right now."

"Yeah you will."

Joel stares him down, making no signs of moving from the doorway he's occupying. Jack looks back and forth between the two of you, unsure of what to do, before Joel breaks the silence again. "You can use the window." he cocks his head towards the second story window at the end of the room.

"What?" Jack looks at you again, genuine concern in his eyes. He takes a moment too long to move, because Joel yaps again, pointing the rifle at the half naked man.

"Move!"

And towards the window he goes. He pushes it open, one leg outside, looking back at you for support you’re not going to give him. Then he meets Joel's threatening stare, and climbs all the way out on the gable. Joel walks towards the window, watching as Jack slides down the roof, yelping as his feet hit the ground underneath.

Joel throws his jeans and shoes out after him. "And don’t come back!" he bellows.

You're still laughing when he puts the rifle down and turns towards the bed.

"Too much? S'not loaded," he assures you.

"Kinda wish it had been," you giggle back.

He snickers and sits down next to you. You've covered yourself with his sheets but feel strangely at ease considering how undressed you are in front of him.

"You doin' alright?" With his brows furrowed at you, he looks genuinely concerned.

"Yeah, I'm fine," you smile reassuringly. He smiles back and lays down on top of the covers. “It was funny.”

"Did I come in here too early?"

"No, you came in way too late," you laugh. It didn't bother you too much, but deep down you wish you had been interrupted before the asshole put his mouth on you.

"Oh..." Joel looks away, and you wonder if it's the light, or if he's actually blushing. "So, you... Did you... Finish already?"

It takes you a second to realize what he's talking about, and then you laugh again. "No, oh my god, no!"

You cover your face with your hands as you giggle, embarrassed, and feel the bed shift under his weight as he moves. When you look back up, he's right next to you.

Joel carefully brushes your hair behind your ear and leans down to plant a kiss on your shoulder. Goosebumps appear down your arms, and you shuffle under the bedsheet, feeling a rush to the pit of your stomach.

"Do you want to? Finish?" The question should have caught you off guard, Mr. Miller being your dad's friend, your neighbor through most of your childhood. But it doesn't. You already know you want to.

You nod slowly, and feel your breathing get heavier, as Joel's hand moves the covers away. You're still wearing your shirt, but you feel more naked than you have been all night.

Joel's hand continues down your thigh, caressing and squeezing lightly, and you press your legs together to alleviate some of the pressure building between them. Then he looks up at you, placing his other hand on your cheek, and leans in. For him you don't swerve.

His lips touch yours lightly, only a delicate brush, before he kisses you harder, properly. The force of the feelings arising in you takes your breath away, and you fall backwards onto the mattress. Joel follows, without breaking the kiss, landing carefully on top of you. As your mouths explore each other, you open your legs, inviting him between them.

The jeans covering his bulging erection is rubbing against your own growing need, and you could get off just like that, but you suspend it by shoving your hand between the two of you, cupping him. He groans into your mouth, just as you gasp into his at the feel of his size under your palm.

“Fuck,” he murmurs, moving one of his big hands to explore your chest.

“Been thinkin’ about you. About these.” He gives the breast in his hand a light squeeze, covering your neck and collarbone in light kisses.

“Been thinking about you too, Miller,” you sigh back at the sensation. “For years.”

He stops for a second, and you can feel him smile against your skin. Oh God, what did you just say.

“Years? Really?”

You can feel yourself blushing, the blood previously between your legs now in your face. Why did you say that?! You suppress the need to get up and knock your head against a wall over and over again.

Joel’s kisses continue, moving down to your belly.

“Fucking cliché,” he looks up at you, grinning like a devil.

“Well,” His mouth is at your inner thigh now, giving it a careful bite. “I guess dreams really do come true.”

And then his tongue meets your wetness, moving through your folds, from your core to your clit, in one long movement. Your hands grip at his dark curls, as he repeats the motion, dragging soft moans from you.

Joel looks up at you again. “He didn’t do it like this, did he?” he says, mouth full of poise and pussy. His soft lips swipe your clit, and you stifle a laugh as you shake your head. No, he didn’t. No one has.

The hard tip of his tongue caresses your swollenness, and you can see him moving a hand down to clutch at his own. The thought of him touching himself makes you even wetter. You long to see him, to feel him inside of you.

“Joel,” you moan, as you near your finish, but you don’t want to go there yet.

He looks up at you, only his dark eyes visible over your pubic bone.

“Joel, I want you.”

He laughs softly at that. “You’re having me right now, baby,” His thumb rubs at your center as he says it, causing you to grasp at the bedsheets. Not yet, not yet.

“I want you inside of me.”

He pauses, giving your sex a final taste before he sits back on his heels.

“I bet you do,” he says as he removes his belt and opens the zipper of his jeans. They’re strained around his hardness, and you sit up to knead his bulge, looking up at him with eyes full of compliance. He pulls his jeans and boxers down for you, his hard cock springing free, and you gasp at the sight of him.

He chuckles at your reaction, but makes no comment, other than pumping himself carefully a few times, nudging it towards your face.

“Come on, now”, he says, and you get closer. “Give it a kiss, get to know it.”

It’s not like you haven’t done it before, but you’ve never wanted to like this. You kiss the head of his cock, before grabbing the base with your hand, placing little kisses all over his shaft as well, prolonging the tease. From the soft moans it elicits from him, you suspect he wants it as much as you do.

Joel’s own hand comes to join yours around him, carefully parting your lips with the head, silently urging you to quicken. So you go all in at once. You open your mouth, taking him as far back as you can, triggering your gag reflex, making your mouth fill with spit. He groans loudly at that.

“F-fuck,” he sighs, throwing his head back. “Holy shit, girl”.

You smile, mouth full of him, and give him a few strokes with your fist while waiting for your mouth to re-fill with saliva. You go at him again, this time pumping him into your wet pit, head bobbing back and forth over him.

His hands grab at your hair, almost holding you back with the force of his grip on you.

“Careful, angel, careful,” he stutters. “You’re driving me insane.”

Joel moves his hand to your jaw and carefully drags you off of him with a soft pop.

He pushes you back down on your back, his naked groin against your own, lowering the rest of his clothed body down to whisper in your ear.

“This what you want?”

You swallow harshly, the taste of his dick still in your mouth. “Yes. Yes.”

“Yeah?” he repeats, teasing your opening. His eyes search for yours, and you meet his thirsty gaze.

“I want you.”

It’s the confirmation he needs. He pushes inside of you, the stretch of his girth stinging pleasantly as he opens you up. A grunt escapes him as he bottoms you, and you yelp at the sensation. “Ah!”

He pauses and looks at you. “You good?”

You are. “Yeah, it’s just a lot.” you admit. “You’re… big.”

He grins at that. “Just tell me what’s too much, baby.”

Grabbing his hips and pushing him back in, you grind against him. “Slow,” you say.

“However you want it, princess.”

He cages your head with his strong arms, the ones you’ve been secretly pining for when you’ve caught him mowing the lawn bare-chested through the years, and you squeeze his bicep, your other hand grabbing his neck and pulling him in for another kiss. He groans into your mouth as he lets you work him slowly in and out of you, and he pushes his tongue into you as well, filling you up where you’ve so desperately craved him.

You move your hand down to touch your throbbing clit, sighing as relief washes over you. You’re so close, you can feel yourself pulse around Joel’s cock.

“Come on, baby, you can do it,” he coaxes. “You’re choking my cock so good.”

His words of encouragement send you over the age, and your back arches as you reach your climax. You feel him fighting with your body to stay inside of you, your walls clamping hard around him. Your breath catches in your chest, legs shaking, and as your orgasm nears an end, Joel’s hips slam into you over and over again, his pubic bone grinding against your sensitive clit as he fucks you hard. His breath quickens in your ear, nearing his own finish. His arms are snug around you, holding onto you for dear life.

“Come inside me,” you whisper, hands on his ass to let him know you don’t want him to pull out. The words seem to hit the spot, because a second later he comes with a series of moans, and a few scattered “fucks” and “holy shits”.

You feel his hardness soften inside you, twitching, sending aftershocks of orgasm through you, his and your own. His exhaustion quick in his clothed chest, pressed firmly against your own. You don’t dare to move, worried it’ll send him the wrong signal, that you want him off you. You don’t. So you lay still, breathing softly through your nose.

Joel kisses your cheekbone as he rolls over, covering you both with the comforter, and you snuggle into his side. A minute goes by, only filled with your eventually calm breathing, before Joel turns to you.

"Was it everything you thought it would be?" he jokes.

You punch his shoulder and bury your face in you chest as you both giggle at how the evening has ended. His hand carefully plays with your hair. You turn your head upwards to plant a kiss on his cheek, his stubble tickling you skin.

"Don't get to comfortable," he huffs, and moves his hand from your hair to caress your arm which lays draped across his midriff.

"Why?" you reply without looking up at him, hoping the disappointment isn't too obvious in your voice.

"Promised your old man I'd help set up his new DVD player tonight," he says. "So don't fall asleep on me 'cause I gotta get back up soon."

You close your eyes in relief, comforted by the fact that he didn't mean "don't get comfortable with us, with this".

"We probably shouldn't arrive together, anyway," he continues. "You're supposed to be at a terrible date, remember?"

You sit up on your elbow, looking at him earnestly.

"If you go over first, will you promise to comfort me when I come broken hearted and crying through the door right after?"

He chuckles at that.

"'Course I will." He sits up too, planting a kiss on your hair, before getting out of bed. He tucks himself back into his underwear, still fully clothed, grabbing a shirt that hangs over a chair in the corner of the room.

"Give me 15," he says, buttoning his cuffs, heading towards the open bedroom door.

He looks back at you tangled in his sheets, and nods towards you.

"Gotta change 'em tonight," he decides. "Next time I want just you and me on them."

He winks at you, and closes the door behind him.

a/n: screams what did i do

thanks to @toxicanonymity for the date's name lmao

[thewritingmagician2022]

Hey! I just found your blog and I've read through your work and I love it 💗 can I request MC trying to talk the brothers out of confessing to them?

(Perhaps taking place towards the end of season 1, beginning of season 2)

The brothers tell MC they love "LOVE" them and MC thinks they're joking and when they finally realize that the brothers are being serious MC's like "I thought you had better taste... are you sure you're not just infatuated with an idealized version of me that you created in your head? I mean you can do better, besides what would the people of Devildom think? Honestly, I didn't really get the impression you liked "liked" me in that way... I think you should think it through, maybe it's because I'm a novelty that your interested in me?" Or something along those lines? The point is that MC doubts their feelings and thinks they can do better.

Thank you so much! 💓

This is one of my favorite prompts because it’s so realistic and human and authentic. Which is terrifying too because I know I’m not gonna do it justice and I’m so freaking late on this. Back on topic - what makes us special to these brothers? Is it going to last? How long until we’re nothing new? (starts playing Taylor Swift in the background while I contemplate these)

Lucifer: Lucifer is vaguely insulted by the implication that you don’t trust him to know his own feelings. Yes, he understands your self doubt because he’s the high level demon Lucifer, the best of the best, and it makes sense that you would feel intimidated by that. But to doubt his feelings is to doubt Lucifer’s judgement and that won’t stand. He knows who’s worth his time and affection (no one) and he is not willing to open himself up to such a state of vulnerability without absolute certainty. So when he says he loves you, it’s true. He’s been around a long time and you’re the only person who has been able to capture his attention and heart in such a way; he isn’t worried at all about the feelings fading or being an illusion. He is under no delusions of who you really are - the person who doesn’t listen to him and runs wild with his brothers and causes so many problems in the Devildom and also the person who brought his family back together again and who reminded Lucifer of who he used to be and could still be. He will provide you reason after reason to back his point if you need it but he really feels he should only have to express his feelings once to make it clear.

Mammon: Mammon’s feelings are definitely hurt when you question him, even if it’s coming from a good place. He knows he’s not the most serious demon and maybe he’s a bit of a tsundere but he doesn’t understand how you can doubt him after everything you’ve been through together. He’s your first man, you’re his best-friend. Mammon is no stranger to romance and flirting over the millenia; demons, angels, witches, humans, etc. He’s got options, almost as many as Asmo, but you are the only person who has ever made him feel this good, this special and loved and in love.It breaks his heart a little every time you doubt his love for you. He might not be the best at talking about his feelings but he promises that he will spend the rest of his life showing you exactly how much he loves you for you, the same way you love him for him - the good and the bad and the weird. He is yours until the end of time, whether or not you’ll ever actually be his.

Levi: Of all the brothers, Levi is probably the most understanding of your doubts - not regarding him, that’s super crazy and he doesn’t understand how you could ever think he could do better than you. He does understand how self-doubt doesn’t always follow logic so he actually does well not taking it personally when you ask him those kinds of questions. He’s a man of many hyperfixations but they’re lasting. Have you seen him with his favorite series or Ruri-chan? This man is dedication personified. He’s already added you to his list of hyperfixations and, okay, maybe he does idealize you a little but he’s not as deluded as you think. He knows you have weird, messy bits of you - just like him - and he loves that so much about you because he’s able to actually be comfortable with you. He loves you and trusts you and respects you, which is more than he can say about anyone else in his life, and he is going to be your simp long after the series finale and he only hopes you’ll agree to let him stay in your life and worship you the way he knows you deserve.

Satan: That line of questioning makes him angry, shocking. He hates that you’re doubting him and his feelings. Satan is the intellectual of his brothers (if you ask him). He’s smart enough to know that there’s a difference between lust vsinfatuation vs love, and he’s considered it for a long time before he came forward with his feelings. He knows they’re genuine and lasting; he even avoided you in the beginning to avoid catching those kinds of feelings but it happened. Satan knows maybe he can romanticize things a little, like in the romance novels that he secretly loves, but he doesn’t think it’s to an unhealthy or unrealistic level - no more than a general man in love might do. He’ll sit and discuss all of this with you for as long as necessary, reigning in that anger that stems from feeling rejected, until you finally realize that he’s genuinely in love with you.

Asmo: Okay, so Asmo gets it, you know? He’s most beautiful being in three realms and charming and funny and sweet and basically everything good wrapped into one wonderful, sparkly, good smelling package. It would make sense that any human he pursued felt a little insecure about his feelings and their worthiness. But like…it’s you! You’ve seen Asmo at his worst - the days when he’s not as beautiful or kind, when he’s selfish and cruel and narcissistic - and you’ve stuck by his side the whole time. He is going to do the same for you. He sees your inner (and outer) beauty every time he looks at you and he falls a bit more in love with you every time. He knows what lust and infatuation feels like - he feels those every day and has them reflected right back at him tenfold. You are not those things. There’s still the passion and longing and affection but it’s so much warmer and steadier, like the warm sun that Asmo used to see in the human realm. You make him better (a hard task considering how close to perfection he is) and he won’t stand for you having any kind of doubts. He’s going to love you into loving yourself until you’re unable to doubt him or your relationship ever again.

Beel: That’s…not unfair to ask him. Beel may not be the smartest brother but he’s not as stupid as others make him out to be. He is the only brother who is going to hear you out and actually take the time to think about what you’re saying. You are the first human he’s ever had these kinds of feelings for, the first person actually. Beel is not used to romance at all and so he really needs to think about the line between romantic and platonic and familial; he doesn’t want to mess up the relationship by defining it incorrectly and breaking both of your hearts in the process. He doesn’t agree that you’re not good enough or interesting enough to inspire those kinds of feelings in him; he thinks you’re the most wonderful being he’s ever come across and anyone would be lucky to know you, let alone be loved by you like he is. It doesn’t take him too long to come the conclusion that no, he is in love with you. He would choose you over food or sports or even some of his brothers; hefeels empty without you in a way that even Belphie can’t compare to. He wants to kiss you and hold you and keep you around forever to share in his food and laughs and affection. Once Beel makes his decision, it’s completely solidified. Beel is a ride or die kind of man and you know you’ll never have to doubt him once he tells you he loves you.

Belphie: Belphie is torn. He understands why you may question his love for you. He did betray you and literally kill you in another universe; he would be more concerned if you weren’t skeptical about him. However, you feeling not good enough? Absolutely absurd. You need therapy ASAP. You are the best thing that’s ever happened to him and his family, even if you are a human. He never wanted these feelings; he loathed you at first but, over the months and different experiences you’ve shared, those feelings have grown to respect and trust and love. He couldn’t stop himself from loving you even if he tried (and he’s tried). He can understand your nerves but he knows down to his very soul that he loves you and that he will always love you. If you can’t accept his feelings, he’ll be the most accepting of it, especially because he doesn’t think he deserves you at all but he will never back down from his claims and he will continue expressing his love for you until the very end.

Diavolo: Of them all, Diavolo most understands why you may doubt the longevity of this relationship. He’s the demon lord. He’s the top choice of the realm, and everyone is scrutinizing him and his choices. He gets why you might be afraid of that and what comes with it. However, he wouldn’t be choosing you if he hadn’t thought long and hard about it to make sure his feelings for you withstood all of those doubts and fears. Diavolo does not lovely easily or lightly; he’s been offered companionship from more people than he could ever care to count but he’s never seriously considered any of them. You are the first and only person to have made him fall so completely head over heels in love that he’s able to get out of his own head which is so often filled with those some kinds of doubts and questions. He may not make every decision in his life with 100% confidence but this is one that he feels so sure of that he’s willing to stake his entire future and reputation on it. He loves you and he will do everything in his power to prove that he loves you and will stay by your side as you both rule the Devildom together, putting you at the top with him - exactly where you belong.

Barbatos: Barbatos is efficient, if nothing else in the world. Do you really think that he would pursue you if he wasn’t completely sure of his feelings and your future together? This is the man who has spent his entire life dedicated to Diavolo; he’s turned away from every and any meager temptation that’s come his way. No one has ever caught his eye like you have and certainly no one has ever made him question where his loyalty lays. Of course he is still Lord Diavolo’s servant and he serves the Devildom to the best of his ability but his heart isn’t in it the same way and that’s because he’s given it to you. You are what consumes his every thought and feeling; he’s broken the rules and used his powers for you, he’s gone against Diavolo for you, he is willing to do anything so long as he can be near you and make you happy. You don’t even have to accept his love or love him back, if you really can’t or won’t, but he’s seen you in every timeline and loves you in all of them. Nothing in this world or any of the others will change that and, if you give him the opportunity, he will dedicate his every moment to proving to you why you can put your full faith in him. After all, Barbatos has never failed at an assignment before.

Solomon: Solomon can understand insecurity on your end. It’s hard to consider yourself special enough to last for someone who has seen everything. Solomon has lived thousands of years, visited the three realms, love and lost time and time again. It’s hard to imagine that you’re anything more than the next shiny toy he’s got his eye on. For someone who can never die, what is this love other than a small blip on his radar one day? Solomon can’t stop you from feeling that way because, in a way, it’s true. You can’t be a permanent fixture in his life because you’re human but he can certainly be one in your life. Solomon would argue that he’s seen so many people and places over the millenia and he has lived long enough to know himself completely, and he knows that he loves you. He knows that no matter what happens or changes, his feelings for you will never waver. He will carry his love for you until the ends of time itself. It’s his curse to bear and the only thing that would make it bearable is being able to love you directly for as long as he’s given the chance.

Simeon: Simeon is the most patient and sympathetic as you ask him these questions. He would never invalidate your fears but he will confront them with you and break them down and banish them. Simeon is an angel who has watched over humanity for as long as they’ve been around. He has seen the best of the best and the worst of worst and still he’s never been tempted to turn away from his Father for one. At first, he could have explained it as curiosity and then fondness but it blossomed into the deep, unwavering love that he feels for you now. He sees your flaws and humanity and loves you all the more for it. You have become the new object of his worship and affection; he would fall from grace if it meant being able to hold you in his arms and shower you in the love he so truly believes you deserve. He will remind you every day of why you deserve to be happy and loved; he will tell you everything he loves about you from your smile to your kind heart to your most selfish desires. So, please, just put the same faith in him and his feelings that he puts in you and let him love you.

[ashleys-doodle-corner]

I love love love your two coins same side au so much. Im so happy whenever you do art for it. Thank you for making it ♥️♥️♥️

I beg of you. What would Loop answer for Isa? Is it a variation of "You know he's never made a wish. Especially for you."

Also bonus: any answer in particular you'd like to share that you didn't in your comic?

Hoho, you have fallen for my trap card, because I am going to list out dialogue for ALL the possible answers that I didn't do in the recent comic! You will be subjected to long answers because I have not written in a WHILE.

But first, OW, no yeah, I think Loop would answer with what you mentioned, though maybe they would be vague about it, because I don't think Loop would know what Isabeau wished for since in-game Siffrin only finds out at the end of Act 5. It would be a very fine line between wanting to make Siffrin feel bad about himself but also a bit of self-deprecation.

But let me put all the answers right here under the cut for y'all <3

Loop: Who do you think sent me to help you?

"The Universe?"

Loop (LOL3): That's kind of a cop-out answer, isn't it? The Universe leads, and we can only follow, so obviously they had their hand in sending me here! Loop (LOL5): What, did you think you could weasel something out of me for that pitifully vague answer? Well, tough luck Stardust, you're not getting anything!

"The Favor Tree?"

Loop (Thinking): ... The Favor Tree isn't exactly a person, you know? Why do you think it would put me here? (... You feel like you were onto something, since The Favor Tree grants wishes, but it's not exactly making them, is it?) Siffrin (Disbelieving1): I guess I mean that someone wished for you to be here with The Favor Tree...? Loop (Well2): ... in a sense, I suppose. Loop (Teehee2): Bit of a weak answer, though. But nice try.

"One of my allies?"

Loop (LOL2): Well, which one, Stardust? Siffrin (Um1): ...

"Uh, Mirabelle?" Loop (LOL1): Is it because you think she worries too much about everything? That she was worried about poor, poor you and enlisted me to help you out? Loop (Well2): ... I suppose it wouldn't be too hard to imagine it. Loop (Happy1): But no, it wasn't her.

"Uh, Isabeau?" Loop (Well2): ... I thought he didn't make a wish at The Favor Tree. And besides. Loop (Subdued): What makes you think he'd make a wish on something like that? Loop (Fake1) [dialogue occurs if Siffrin has gone through the Bad Touch Event]: Do you really think he would do that for you?

"Uh, Odile?" Loop (Well1): Hm, that does feel like the most level-headed option, doesn't it? Loop (Happy1): But no, it wasn't her.

"Uh, Bonnie?" Loop (Looking Away): ... no, Stardust, it wasn't them. Loop (Well2): But I'm sure they would have if they were given the chance.

"The Head Housemaiden?"

Loop (Considering): Hm, she did say that the loops were broken, didn't she? That she couldn't fix it by herself? Loop (Teehee1): A good answer, but not the right one, unfortunately! She didn't send me here.

"Uh... I don't know?"

Loop (LOL5): Here I am, asking you a question for once, and you can't even be bothered to give back a good answer? Loop (LOL3): I'm you and you're me, and you couldn't even wrack your silly little head for something you'd think I'd say? Disappointing! Loop (Teehee5): Oh well! I was just curious about what you'd thought. I won't ask again!

"It doesn't really matter, does it?"

Loop (Oh): ... it doesn't? Siffrin (Neutral3): "I don't need to know why you were sent here or anything else." Siffrin (Serious): "You're the me that got out of those loops, and you're helping. I don't care about the rest." Loop (Looking Away): ... Loop (Fake1): ... I suppose you're right, then. (... You get the impression that Loop's not happy with your answer).

[dailydegurechaff]

challenge: hollow knight bug tanya

vessel tanya

my thoughts got long. warning under the read more for Hollow Knight spoilers.

ok listen listen, while i have you i need to implant an idea here

This oversimplifies both character’s motivations and stories a bit but like. do you see what im cooking. the vibes are THERE

like. Being X wants to bring Salaryman to his lowest to see if that suffering will make him a believer. Salaryman's values revolve entirely around his autonomy & free will. so an au where being x reincarnates Salaryman/Tanya into Hallownest as a Vessel, a creature that is meant to have no agency and is generally very doomed

so we'd see HK AU!Tanya (Bugurechaff if you will) trying to survive in this new world, but also slowly learning the lore of this world and what's happened to it. and I think over time, as she discovers who the Radiance is/was, she'd probably realize the similarities between Radiance and Being X and go "Hey wait a damn minute." My thought is she'd have a classic Tanya Misunderstanding Moment and misconstrue the two of them as one entity. Whether this fills her with vengeful rage and she takes it upon herself to destroy the Radiance, thinking Rad is Being X, I'm not sure. I could potentially see it.

some other vague ideas

Tanya's whole shtick is that she wants to achieve a comfortable, safe life where she's free to do whatever she wants. I genuinely believe that after somehow escaping the Birthplace, fighting through the ruins of Hallownest, and eventually coming across the town of Dirtmouth, she'd gladly end her adventure there. Think about it. Dirtmouth is safe, nothing really substantial goes on up there. There's no point for her to go back into the depths if she can just live peacefully there without any problems. There is nothing to stop her from doing this. Like, does she need the Geo to buy a house? No point, the whole town is virtually abandoned, just pick a house and live in it. Elderbug actually says this about Iselda moving in.

I think the point I’m trying to get at here is that if the story will let her, Tanya would probably get complacent. Which means that we'd probably need to find a reason to force her to act if we want her story to go farther than just 'makes it to Dirtmouth, the end' Do you think she'd get bored eventually? What is there to do? As said previously, nothing really goes on there, and there are very few permanent residents.

One way I feel like Tanya could be pushed is in regards to her social motivations. Like. I feel like she needs to be seen as a respected, productive member of society in order to feel fulfilled. I don't think she could get that in Dirtmouth, so the question is: Is this desire enough to overcome her desire for safety?

I think motivating Tanya to get moving and back to exploring (and therefore learning about Hallownest & by extension the Radiance) could be more easily accomplished by giving her companions who drag her outside of her comfort zone. So like. Let's drag more YS characters into HK.

In my head I have the mental image of tiny little vessel Tanya rescuing some other travelers on her way to find a safe place to settle. These travelers being Bug!203rd Battalion (Visha, Weiss, Koenig, Neumann). And she just absolutely destroys whatever was endangering them. And they're so impressed by her they just end up following her like lost puppies.

And like. Vessels can't speak. So she can't just tell them to go away and leave her alone. So she has an entourage now, who at least can help her fight. They also probably tell her about Dirtmouth, and they travel as a group to bring her there.

Maybe after she makes it clear she'd like to live peacefully in Dirtmouth, they end up leaving her. Only to return later when she's gotten restless, new party member in tow (Grantz!), who she helps to train and such.

Also also, Vessels being unable to speak definitely creates problems for both Tanya and the narrative. It has the possibility for hilarity with the good old Tanya Misunderstandings that YS is so good for, but also it creates problems with getting her to interact with people. There would have to be a LOT of charades, characters conveniently bringing up information to her, or conveniently guessing what she's trying to get at, which i feel would be hard to do naturally.

You could perhaps solve this with her meeting someone who can teach her to write or sign? Like Lemm or Quirrel. I think it'd be cute to see Relic Seeker Assistant Tanya with Lemm for a little while. I doubt she'd have an interest in the relics, but he'd probably give her a lot of insight into Hallownest history.

the Type 95 is definitely a charm in this universe. In HK canon, we're told charms are created by a bug's dying wish or something to that effect, so my first thought was that it would be a charm made by HK AU!Schugel's death that Tanya ends up getting her hands on, and then Being X blesses it... But then we also see in HK canon that Leg Eater is able to make his own charms, albeit fragile/easily breakable ones.

so my concept is this: Bug!Schugel creates his own fragile charm. I'm thinking the effect would probably be something revolving around converting infection to usable Soul/Mana (akin to the canon Type 95's Mana fixation thing). So, wandering inventor Schugel, looking for an assistant comes across Dirtmouth! Vessel!Tanya, who's hanging around (probably bored out of her mind and desperately needing to do SOMETHING productive) sees this invention and think it might be useful for the world, happens to have nothing better to do, and gets roped into this. Naturally something goes wrong, and before it fails horribly and disastrously, Being X steps in and blesses the charm. This makes the effect work, but using it also causes the wearer to become more susceptible to mental corruption/infection.

Also, I think that it also needs to become permanently unequippable (Like Void Heart) so Tanya can't get rid of it. Also also, the charm needs to have some insane cheesy name after Being X alters it. Everlasting Blessing. Immortal Prayer. Idk. But it needs to be something Tanya would hate.

I think the Silver Wings Assault Badge could also be a charm. I'm not sure what it's effect might be, but maybe something like the monarch wings, but its powered by Soul. She's an aerial mage. She needs to fly. Also it needs a cheesy charm name too. Fluttering Soul. Wings of Argent. etc. you get what I'm going for.

The Pale King is described a lot as being pure white and gleaming. Vessels, as his offspring, do look a bit similar to him. I think somewhere within this concept, you could have Tanya gain the White Silver nickname based on her appearance. Her mask/head is pale white like PK and when she uses Soul she shines like silver? idk i think it could work. Someone (203rd member perhaps?) sees her fighting and bestows the nickname on her and it gets shortened to just Silver or something

(Before this, since Vessels cant speak so she can't tell anyone what to call her, she gets called "Little One" by Elderbug. She hates it.)

if you couldn't tell, i've thought about this a lot. i invite you all to think about it with me. if you have ideas. please. share them. especially if its about other YS characters and how to fit them into HK universe. also especially if its about how HK characters would interact with her. Is the Knight/Ghost running around in the AU? How do they feel meeting a fellow sibling like this? What about Hornet?

[journey-to-the-attic]

3rd anni req 19: [INFERNAL FRIENDS] barbatos / tea party

ao3 link

note: requested by "average robot enjoyer"! i'm fairly sure i do know which tumblr user this belongs to, but since you didn't specify your handle i've refrained from tagging you, just in case - hopefully you see this! (this takes place prior to the other two infernal friends requests)

∎ ∎ ∎ ∎ ∎

There isn’t a precedent for what happens when a servant of the prince erupts into flames mid-way through a gathering. To be honest, Barbatos hadn’t thought it would ever be necessary.

Satan eyes him with impressive serenity. “...are you feeling alright?”

He looks down at the crimson flames dancing around his feet. To be fair, there isn’t any heat. “I feel well, yes.”

“I’m going to make a call,” Lucifer announces, then pulls out his phone. “Diavolo, your butler is on fire.”

Perhaps it’s a good thing that the Young Master is running late to this particular occasion, Barbatos thinks placidly as Lucifer listens to his response with a small grimace. Then the flames climb rapidly up his legs, and his surroundings fold in on themselves.

The world compresses to a sharp point in a crunch of indiscernible colours and sound, then expands again into the shape of a living room with peeling wallpaper. Barbatos takes in a shallow breath, then looks down and makes eye contact with IK - the Young Master’s new human friend.

Now it makes sense. Barbatos has only met her once, and she spent most of that time hiding behind Diavolo’s wings, but he vaguely recalls being told that she’d been given his summoning ritual. Still, he hadn’t expected her to ever use it.

“Hello,” He says pleasantly. “Did you mean to summon me? Or were you perhaps seeking the Young Master?”

IK shakes her head.

“You wanted to see me, then?”

A nod.

“Why?”

IK gestures at him, turns around, and very purposefully walks out of the room. Barbatos, understanding quickly, follows - pausing to extinguish the candles on the carpet with his tail.

She’s waiting for him at the end of the hallway. As soon as she spots him emerging, she darts quickly into the next room. (Barbatos allows himself a private smile - though she isn’t nearly as chatty, IK reminds him quite uncannily of a particular young demon. Nevertheless, he resolves himself to his usual brand of distant attentiveness.)

“Would you like to show me something?” He asks, glancing around the kitchen. Hmm. Well-maintained, but a little messy.

IK points up. Barbatos opens the cupboard, as directed, and finds a tissue-wrapped teapot.

He turns around. The child gazes hopefully up at him.

“I see,” He says after a moment. “You would like me to make you some tea. Is that it?”

IK’s eyes light up as she nods. After a moment, very quietly, she adds, “Please.”

Well... clearly he hadn’t been needed at that gathering, if the threat of him being reduced to a pile of ash had been so unremarkable to the others. Making tea is hardly a heavy task for him, anyway. He supposes he has the time to spare for a companion of the Young Master.

There isn’t anything nearly as fine as the castle’s crockery in this kitchen, and it takes a while for him to navigate around all the clutter - but, finally, he has everything laid out prettily on the table, without so much as a speck of a stain on his gloves. A job well done, he should think.

IK stands blankly in the middle of the kitchen - where she’d remained, unmoving, while Barbatos worked. He dusts off his hands, clears his throat delicately, and pulls out a chair.

“Please, young miss - sit,” He says, as courteously as he can.

A beat passes. IK slowly approaches the chair and clambers up, looking entirely bewildered.

“Very good.” He sets a cup in front of her, then pours out a careful measure of tea. Lightly floral, a lovely rosy colour - quite acceptable. He takes the liberty of pouring himself a cup as well.

IK watches him, wide-eyed, as he seats himself on the opposite side of the table, and blows delicately on his cup before taking a sip. He sets it down, then quirks an eyebrow at her, and she stiffens a little.

Then, eyes steeling, she attempts to copy him. The cup and saucer clatter together rather unelegantly, and she puffs like an angry little bird, but Barbatos feels something about his resolve soften nevertheless.

“How is it?” He asks after a moment.

IK blinks at him over the rim of her cup, then sets it down again. He glances into it. It’s empty?

To be able to completely drain a teacup, without looking as if you’re doing so, is something of a feat. Barbatos tries not to look too impressed. “...well done. Was it not hot?”

IK looks him dead in the eye. Then her face scrunches up.

“Do you need some ice?” He asks patiently. A head shake. “Is it not to your taste?”

She looks a little shamed, then nods. He sighs lightly, but smiles. “Not to worry. You are young - your palate will refine with time. For now, shall we add a little sugar?”

He stands up to retrieve the jar from the cupboard. As he touches the handle, IK suddenly says from behind him, “Don’t you add milk?”

Barbatos pauses, then turns around. “Pardon?”

IK looks at the tea set, then back at him. “You… add milk. To the tea. And— and when the girls play, the tea isn’t real…”

She trails off. Barbatos stands there for a moment, then finally realises why she’d looked so perplexed as soon as he started actually filling the pot.

“I see,” He concludes after a moment. “You only wanted to play.”

IK nods slowly.

“My apologies. I'm accustomed to acting in my capacity as a—” He cuts himself off, realising that IK probably understands his sentences about as much as he understands Leviathan’s slang, and instead says, “—well, I’m afraid that I am not used to this sort of thing. I could call…”

Then he pauses to think about it. If IK had wanted to play tea parties with Diavolo, she would’ve summoned him in the first place. She’s obviously picked Barbatos for a reason, even if it isn’t for his actual tea-brewing skills, and he’d hate to let her down now.

"Perhaps you should teach me,” He suggests instead, returning to the table with the sugar jar in hand.

IK stares hard at it, then admits, “I don’t know how to play either.”

“You don’t?”

“I don’t play with the girls…” She blinks, then adds, very fast, “I want to. But I don’t.”

“Why not?”

“They’ll think I’m stupid because I don’t talk.”

“You’re talking to me, are you not?”

“That’s different.” IK goes quiet for a moment. “...you’re supposed to say clink.”

“Clink?” He repeats.

“Like this.” IK picks her cup up, then reaches it across the table and knocks it against his. “Clink.”

“Clink,” Barbatos repeats again, returning the gesture this time. “And what else do you do?”

“You pretend to eat things,” She says slowly, then mimics taking a bite out of something with surprising accuracy. “Mm. Wow. Tasty.”

It comes out so completely monotone that Barbatos has to press his lips together to prevent a chuckle. IK seems to notice anyway.

“I don’t get that part either.” She looks at the tea set again, then adds, “I just wanted to try. It’s lots of pretending. And lots of talking.”

“You don’t have to play exactly as they do,” Barbatos tells her, beginning to pour her another cup, this time with a half-spoon of sugar added. “You don’t have to talk to me if you’d rather not, either.”

IK thinks about it for a moment. “...no, I like talking to you. You say big words like you mean them.”

“I’d rather think that’s because I do,” He replies, disguising a surprised (and rather pleased) smile. “You will learn to use big words with time, as well.”

“Your name is a big word.”

“It is,” He acknowledges. “You’d be surprised how often even other demons spell it incorrectly.”

IK squints at him, as if asking if that’s a challenge, then starts, “B-A-R-B-E—”

“A.”

“—I— what?”

“B-A-R-B-A,” He corrects.

“B-A…” IK stumbles, then finally settles on, “Toss.”

“B-A-R-B-A-toss,” He agrees, nodding. “Very good.”

IK nods as well, then picks up her teacup. She copies him once more: blowing lightly, then taking a careful sip. She’s already doing it with much more poise than the first time.

She looks thoughtful when she lowers the cup - she’s refrained from drinking it all at once this time. Barbatos holds his own cup out again, and IK quickly reaches over to knock hers against it.

“Clink,” She says, happily this time. “This is fun.”

“What sort of games do you play with the Young Master?” Barbatos asks after a moment. Both of them are rather easily amused, it seems. “Ah - Diavolo, I mean.”

“Young Master,” IK repeats a little sceptically. “Um… he reads to me. I have to teach him games, as well.”

“And you talk to him?”

“Sometimes. When I feel like it.” IK taps her little fingers on her saucer. “...talking is hard.”

“I think you are doing a superb job,” Barbatos tells her, and means it. IK gives him a smile more warming than the tea. “The Young Master speaks very highly of you, as well.”

“Why do you call him that?” She asks, scrunching her nose.

“As his servant, it would be discourteous to address him too familiarly.”

“You’re a servant?” IK leans across the table with wide eyes. “...how much does he pay you?”

“Pardon?” He didn’t know a child of this age knew to consider wages. “Well— it isn’t often monetary—”

“He doesn’t give you any money?”

“I receive payment enough,” He says, and decides to leave it at that.

IK’s eyes are owlishly wide, but she doesn’t question him further. Instead, she asks quietly, “What does dis-court-us mean?”

Barbatos explains it, and a great many other things - talking for long enough for the remaining tea in the pot to go stone cold, so absorbed that he doesn’t realise that the front door has opened until IK’s father walks into the kitchen. He barely flinches upon seeing him, and Barbatos gets the feeling from his loose handshake and absent introduction that the man’s mind is utterly elsewhere.

Though his weary eyes brighten when IK hurries to greet him - she's gone quiet again, but in a way that Barbatos takes to mean that no words need to be said. He decides to excuse himself soon after that, wary of intruding, but offers IK a warm smile and deep bow when she enthusiastically waves goodbye.

He steps seamlessly through one of his own doors, back to the Devildom and emerges in the castle's entrance hall. A moment later, Diavolo is already upon him.

“So?” He asks eagerly. “How did it go?”

“Young Master,” Barbatos greets with an incline of his head. After a moment’s thought, he admits, “I do believe everything you have told me is true.”

[blighted-lights]

because of course im gonna ask: first aid? —cmofirstaid

(Based off of this post! TFP Soundwave, IDW Sunstreaker, IDW First Aid, IDW Ravage, and IDW Cosmos have all been asked for! Feel free to send in an ask for any character that isn't one of these five 🌸❗️Not limited to followers or mutuals, so go wild!)

First Impression: Oh shit, First Aid! I read MTMTE before I read most of IDW, and I was fucking stoked to see him appear in the Delphi arc- ESPECIALLY with how he was introduced with his report that doubled as the issue's intro narration. Aside from that, though, I didn't focus on him much during my first read-through. Pharma and Ambulon immediately stole the show away from him, and it wasn't until my second read a few months later that I really focused on Aid. Aside from being happy to see him, I LOVED how he was drawn in MTMTE. He's always been cute, but something with how he was drawn in the first half of MTMTE really cemented for me that he has one of the best designs. He somehow manages to be boxy and round at the same time and I love him for it.

Impression Now: You are ENTIERLY responsible for how much First Aid means to me now, I hope you know this. One of my top ten IDW faves. His design remains one of my favorites, and I wish we got more canon content digging into his POV of things pre-mutiny. I wish he stayed on the Lost Light instead of being called away, too! There is so much focus on Ratchet passing over the title of CMO to First Aid, but then Aid leaves so quickly after. Idk, I wish we just got to see him more pre-mutiny. Aid is such a tragic character to me but he's another background tragedy and it makes me want to shake my screen a bit when I think about him. A somewhat vaguely odd thing to say, but I wish we got to see more of First Aid's grief over Ambulon and his feelings towards Pharma. Honestly I wished we got to see more interactions between Aid and the rest of the medical cast in general- including Ratchet, Velocity (ESPECIALLY Lotty (is not biased)), and Rung.

Favorite Moment: Speaking of Pharma, my favorite moment of First Aid is this one right here:

I think Aid should be shown like this more often. I NEED him to be angry. I need him to be murderous. As a treat for myself. I hate the idea in media where the good guys refuse to kill a villain because they'd be "letting the villain win". It's good to see that narrative challenged by Aid here.

... Even if the consequences aren't easily forgotten.

Idea for a Story: Someone put First Aid and Rung into a therapy appointment, I need to pick their interactions apart under a microscope. I do not thing going to Rung would be able to help Aid. In fact, it might just make an already shitty situation worse. But I want to see First Aid sit down and talk about what he is experiencing. And maybe I want to see Rung unintentionally making his grieving process more difficult. We already know from Rung's own admission in Lost Light that he does not know who he is without his patients. He banks his entire identity and self-worth on trying to assist other people. But what happens when nothing he does seems to help First Aid, and therefore his own self-image begins to crumble for it? How does his own perceived failings affect his treatment of First Aid?

Unpopular Opinion: 🤔 Not sure if I have one. I'm allergic to the idea of Aid being really nice and nervous 100% of the time, ig. All things considered, the First Aid we have in IDW isn't nervous at all. But I don't actually know how prevalent this is in fandom or if this is even an unpopular take 🤷‍♂️.

Favorite Relationship: Canon-wise? It's a toss up between him and Ambulon and then him and Ratchet. It is devastating how hard Aid takes Ambulon's death, and his desperation to help save Ambulon when Ratchet wouldn't let him was heartbreaking to read. At the same time, I NEED more of First Aid and Ratchet arguing with each other and Aid calling Ratchet out on his bullshit. It is rare that anyone steps up to Ratchet like that and succeeds in affecting him. I would like more, thanks.

Non-canon relationships? Another toss-up between Velocity and Ravage. Put these three in a blunt rotation, I'm sure they'll be fine.

Favorite Headcanon: First Aid is extremely tactile. There is not a word or phrase that could properly describe how touchy First Aid is. He has the capability to turn someone who is touch-starved to touched-out in the span of thirty minutes. While this is in part due to just him being an affectionate person in general (or at the very least, more physically affectionate than most other Autobots), it is also partially because of his intense focus on Autobot brands. He is so used to checking everyone he comes across for their brands in the case that they might have a bullet shot through them that the process of checking someone over is compulsive. This extends to people who fall outside of the Autobot ranks who do not even have brands, like Ravage, Cyclonus, and Ten. It's earned him more than a few strange looks and awkward silences over the course of being on the Lost Light.

[green-eyedfirework]

trick or treat!

A deleted scene from 'a fair thought'! I went through many iterations for the second chapter.

___________

Dick paced side to side, restlessness burning through him. Raindrops splattered against the window panes in tune to his footsteps, and lightning flashed intermittently. At the next clap of thunder, Dick controlled his flinch. The storm was right on top of them.

"Dad," Grant drawled from his seat on the cushions. "Make Dick stop pacing. He shouldn't be walking around."

"I'm pregnant, not ill," Dick snapped back before Slade could respond.

"You're making me ill with all that pacing," Grant grumbled.

"Leave Dick alone," Slade said without looking up from his chess game against Joey. "He knows his limits." A subtle rebuke--Slade hadn't hovered during the pregnancy, and gauged Dick's mood better than he did himself sometimes. It was infuriating.

Rose only snickered from the corner where she was sitting and sharpening her sword. Dick winced as his back cramped and paused near the window. It was pitch black outside, light from the lamps drowned out by the ceaseless rain. It was making his senses prickle. This was the kind of night about which his parents used to tell campfire stories. And not the pretty kind.

As though following the script of his thoughts, there was a knock on the door.

"Come in," Slade called out, looking up from the game, and both Grant and Rose straightened when the guard showed in a drenched trembling messenger. "Get near the fire," Slade ordered, and the man smiled gratefully as he clutched the blanket around his shoulders.

"Thank--thank you, Your Majesty," the man shivered, nearly plastered against the fireplace.

"It's pouring out. What message was important enough to ride through this?" Grant questioned.

"I--I apologize for the interruption, Your Highness," the messenger ducked his head. "It's a matter of urgency."

"What happened?" Slade asked, eyes narrowing.

The messenger's gaze flicked to Dick, strangely, before moving to Slade. "Your Majesty. King Bruce has returned to Gotham."

It was like the world cracked around Dick. "I thought King Bruce was dead," Grant said immediately, and all three of the Wilson children were staring at Dick. Dick didn't know what to say. Dick couldn't remember how to breathe.

"Missing, not dead," Slade clarified, not even glancing in Dick's direction. Dick had explained the situation to him, but Dick had long since lost hope of Bruce coming back. After Ra's, after--after everything, after Dick had to give so much up to save what he could, now Bruce came back? "Where is he?"

"In the capital, Your Majesty." The man looked uneasy now. "He--Gotham's council accepted him back. They declared him King again."

The council that Dick had left there. The council that Dick had left to safeguard the interests of his and Slade's heir, the baby that was currently kicking against his stomach like she knew what was happening.

"How did he get all the way to the capital without being noticed?" Slade growled, and the tension in the room skyrocketed. The cramps were getting worse, and Dick felt vaguely dizzy, frozen in place with the weight of judging stares on him.

"I--I don't know, Your Majesty. But he's expelled the Defiance soldiers from the capital. I--what would you like us to do?"

Dick had promised Slade Gotham. Bruce took it back. Dick wasn't under any impression that Bruce would abide by the deal that Dick had worked so painstakingly to broker. Bruce was the rightful king. Anyone could argue that Gotham was never Dick's to bargain with.

Defiance still had soldiers posted all throughout their territory--if Slade wanted to keep Gotham, it would mean war.

Dick couldn't broker another peace. Not when he was on the wrong side.

The shifting surge of dizziness clued him in that he hadn't been breathing, and his too-fast, too-deep breath made it worse. Dick swayed, abruptly unbalanced, and the sharp cry of "Dick!" nearly toppled him completely. Strong hands grabbed him roughly and pulled him forward, Dick stumbled and fell, only to hit the edge of a table. Grant cursed under his breath before more carefully maneuvering Dick into a seat. "I told you to sit down," he said sharply. "What is it? Are you feeling dizzy?"

"Get the doctor," Dick heard Slade's voice over his head, it made his stomach turn over, queasy.

"I'm fine," Dick rasped out, staring at Slade's boots and not daring to look the king in the face. "I just got a little lightheaded. I--there's no need to make a fuss. I'm fine."

Slade made a little snort as if to demonstrate what he thought of that, and Dick hunched his shoulders further. He moved away, though, back to the messenger, lessening the attention focused on Dick.

"Thank you for bringing the message. Go and see Wintergreen about lodging and food--nothing can be done while the storm rages. You did good work."

"Thank you, Your Majesty. By your leave, Your Majesty."

[renae-the-turtle]

I saw your trolls au where Branch raises Coooer and I wanted to know.......could you please info dump on it??? I'm all ears! :3

OK first of all I'm sorry it took me so long to get to this, it's been literal months lol

I'd be happy to infodump about it, and I finally have time!!!

Putting it under the cut just in case this gets really long lol

So I got the idea for this AU because of a fanart I saw on pinterest. It seemed to be concept art for a Broppy au with the pairing trope of kindergarten teacher × single parent, with Poppy as the teacher, obviously, since that's canon, and Branch as the single parent. I couldn't tell who the kid under Branch's arm was, and assumed it was an OC (I later figured out it was probably Keith from the TV show).

But this made me think about how I would do such an AU, because I like to try and avoid using OCs in fanfiction, especially for any major role in the story. It's just more fun to think about which canon characters, no matter how minor, could fill the roles I need.

Anyway, somehow I came to the conclusion that I would take one of the main cast from the first movie and de-age them. At first I considered Biggie for some reason, but then I realized that Cooper already has a very childlike personality, so he's easier to imagine as a child... and then I recalled his backstory that was revealed in the second movie...

See, Cooper's egg fell from the sky and landed amongst the pop trolls, and I get the distinct impression that this was after the escape from the Troll Tree, both because of the forest-looking background in the flashback, and just sorta from the way Cooper tells the story. And since the first movie takes place on the twentieth anniversary of their escape from the Bergens, this means that Cooper is less than 20 years old, and is therefore a teenager in the first movie. Which honestly makes so much sense for how he acts.

I also headcanon that he as ADHD, though. With the way he frequently seems to space out and miss parts of conversations, or just doesn't follow along with what someone said, the way he makes weird connections between what's going on and something random... and he's pretty easily distracted... as someone who actually has ADHD, it seems pretty obvious once I thought to look for it! And I will be writing this headcanon into my comic.

I might as well get into the little bit of plot I've got for the movies, though it's just vague ideas, really.

For the first movie, I'm actually not certain what I'm gonna do... should Cooper be one of the ones taken or not? It would make Branch way more fired up to go get them back, and just generally more emotional and snappy throughout the whole thing, but on the other hand I've still gotta get through how actually raising Cooper changes Branch... like, technically the point of this is to force him to interact with Poppy more prior to canon events because she's Cooper's teacher lol. So idk about the first movie.

But the second one! Branch is either more or less paranoid and I'm not sure which is better lol, but he'll be a lot more prepared before leaving with Poppy on her impulsive quest, because he's gotta make sure his son is taken care of while he's gone. Cooper is only 5 and obviously isn't gonna come with them, that'd be stupid!!! ...unfortunately for Branch, Cooper listened in on the meeting, and snuck out of bed to follow his dad, heard him talking to Poppy, and since he both doesn't want his dad to leave him (trauma from the first movie????) and wants to find out where he came from... Cooper sneaks onto the balloon lol. Biggie might not even come with them, idk. Or maybe I'd have DJ Suki come with just cuz I like her and it's a shame she wasn't in the second and third movies. Idk.

Anyway this means I get to draw baby Prince D as well!!! Cooper doesn't get to the funk trolls before Branch and Poppy because he's traveling with them! The King and Queen haven't been searching for as long as in canon, and oooo boy there's gonna be drama lol. Because technically the funk trolls have a right to keep Cooper??? And Cooper isn't an adult or mostly-adult who can make his own decisions about where to live??? I mean, at the time, Cooper and D are just excited to meet each other. And there's a rock apocalypse to stop. And Cooper wasn't supposed to be along in the first place because this quest is no place for a small child.

Anyway yeah, the second movie is gonna be so fun to write with an adhd five year old along for the ride lol.

Third movie, Cooper might not even be in it, or he might take the place of Tiny, idk yet. I think I'm leaning more towards Cooper staying with the funk trolls for the duration of the movie events as some sort of split custody thing so Cooper can get to know his twin and bio parents??? But. This means that Bruce is not the only Brozone member to have become a dad during the split. ;3

And I think it'd be so funny if Branch and Poppy don't mention Cooper, or at least don't refer to him as Branch's son, until they get to Vacay Island, and Bruce mentions how becoming a father really changed him, and Branch can say something like, yeah, I know what you mean. And John Dory gets a double shock because what???? Spru– Bruce is a father??? And SO IS BRANCH???? WHAT??? Hahahahahaha!!!! It's gonna be hilarious >:3

Anyway, cue Branch and Bruce gushing over their kids, Branch showing photos of Cooper, someone asking if/implying that Cooper is Branch and Poppy's kid, the silly flustered denials because they may be dating but they are NOT ready to have that talk yet lol (it's an understandable assumption tho bc Poppy and Cooper are a similar shade of pink and Cooper does have that bright blue hair and at this point Branch and Poppy are obviously together so???)

OK so that was in fact a long rant as I expected, hope you enjoyed, and thanks for the ask!! I won't be working on the comic until after Christmas because it's gift-making time and I have. Two months. To make at least 6 presents. Aaahhh.