#and it sometimes gets him places and it sometimes works to his detriment

[weepylucifer]

AND ANOTHER THING about hot sith girl summer, i've managed to write myself into addressing a common issue in the codywan fandom, but in a weird way: that thing where fandom sometimes treats cody like he's only there to babysit obi-wan and his every single thought and action revolves around obi-wan

like, you know who'd also think of cody as existing only in relation to obi-wan, as a kind of appendage of obi-wan? vader. it's probably the only reason he keeps cody alive after cody challenges him between chapter one and two. as bait to draw obi-wan out of hiding, and just to fuck with someone obi-wan held dear, to cause him pain. and wouldn't it be interesting if cody noticed this and started chafing at it, even as he also feels (irrational) guilt over what he did during order 66. and even when he escapes vader and takes up with maul, he expects the exact same treatment: to be treated as a thing that obi-wan owned, and that can now be used as a tool to exact revenge on obi-wan (but he and maul are actually going to have a rapport, weird and fucked up as that's going to be in its own right. but at least it will be true, equal-level codependence). so he's just like "oh it's gonna be the same humiliating dehumanizing shit again but at least i'm no longer in the empire... so i'll take it 🙄" (but then it is actually different, eventually, as maul begins to see the merit of cody as simply cody)

[miyukisu]

minors do not interact .ᐟ

Thinking about older boyfriend again...

Your older boyfriend is so protective of you. He'd never let you get in harm's way or let you do anything that would be detrimental to your well-being.

Your older boyfriend would gladly listen to you complain about how bad your day was. Your professor giving you a hard time? Your manager being a pain in the ass again? He'll listen to all your woes while you sit on his lap and his hand patting your head gently.

Your older boyfriend knows all the reassuring words to tell you. He'll softly whisper in your ear how great you are and how he'll reward you when you eventually overcome these challenges. You swear you feel invincible when you're with him.

Your older boyfriend has little to no social media presence, but he'll happily fight off any creeps who have the audacity to comment filth on your posts. He'll make it known to everyone that you're in a secure and fulfilling relationship.

Your older boyfriend always has an arm around you when you walk in public. Whether it be around your waist or your shoulders—or even just holding your hand. He loves feeling your skin at all times and his warmth comforts you, especially in these crowded places.

Your older boyfriend hates to see you tired and exhausted, so as soon as he sees you panting desperately and slowing down your pace—he'll flip the two of you over and take it from there.

Your older boyfriend feels extra generous sometimes. He'd lift you up or press you against the wall all the while you have your legs wrapped around him. As you rest, he'll reward you with all the passionate thrusts that you deserve.

Your older boyfriend only wants the best for you at all times ❤︎

Gojo, Geto, Toji, Higuruma, Kuroo, Iwaizumi, Osamu, Akaashi, Sae, Barou, Oliver, Kaiser, Karasu, Giyuu, Rengoku, Sanemi, Dazai, Chuuya, Saigiku, Techou + any of your luvs

©kzyluvr do not repost/reupload/translate any of my works on other platforms

[jinnie-ret]

cover me

poly!stray kids x fem reader

genre: angst, fluff at the end

content warnings: stress from uni/work

word count: 1.5k

summary: money, work, school. it was only a matter of time before the boys would see her crumble, and be there to pick up the pieces

requested: @straykidsnerd255

1K FOLLOWERS PLAYLIST 💚🖤

MAIN MASTERLIST

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Every time she tried to take one step forward, something would ultimately knock her back twice as far. Finally having a very generously paid job as an intern at a big company was serving her well, yet with the return of going back to university, finding a work-school balance was becoming difficult.

Truly, that was the hardest thing. She had great people around her, those being her uni friends or her loving boyfriends, the renowned Kpop band, Stray Kids. The way they cared for her and each other with such strong morals and support meant that surely it would be easy to confide in them.

Not always, especially in this case.

Other times she would be thankful for the fact that her partners all had a longer practice at the company, not to their own detriment of course, but because it gave her more time to get herself together and paint on a calm picture of 'I'm definitely not struggling right now and on the brink of my second breakdown of the day'.

However, this time she really needed them. The stress had amounted to such a level that she felt it right through to her bones, and so she found herself crying over the smallest things, which in turn let out the release of her biggest pain.

"Stupid shoes, why aren't they organised, there's too many," she sniffled, sat on her knees by the front door as she began to cry at shoes. Yes, shoes. Her boyfriends' shoes to be specific. She would have thought at least Seungmin would have berated the others for their lack of organisation at this point but even his were out of place.

"They didn't even match them back up," she cried, and more tears spilled out, "oh, why am I even crying right now?"

Sometimes being in such a state meant that it was hard to understand your own feelings, your thoughts far too occupied with the wants of other people to be able to manage the basic needs of your own.

Eventually she gave up on the shoes and wiped her tears, walking slowly over to the sofa and letting her body fall into it with a soft thump. She tugged a soft velvety blanket over herself, one that Felix probably picked out due to it's plush exterior, and instinctively cocooned herself. Her heart felt heavy, her eyes hot and burning as the tears kept falling. All it took was a reminder on her phone for a work assignment, and a uni assignment, to trigger a sob to catch her throat.

"Too much," she sobbed to herself, trying to muffle the sounds even though there was no one else to hear them, "it's too much."

She was wrong. Not about her feelings, gosh, no, but the fact that she thought she was alone.

"Hey, hey, what's going on?" Hyunjin was crouched down right in front of her trembling form, almost hidden if it wasn't for the blanketed lump that had been shaking so much it couldn't have been natural.

His hand brushed her hair back and his thumb rubbed under her eyes, catching the tears that seemed to keep appearing. Hyunjin watched on in deep concern, just like their other boyfriends did the more they realised something was wrong.

"What? When, when did you get back?" she gulped down her sobs, or attempted to, even though her words still came out messily. She sat up, the blanket falling off her shoulders and resting around her hips.

"Don't worry about that, love. Just tell us what's going on, yeah? What's wrong?" Chan held her against him immediately, taking a seat ñext to her. The only time his arm that was wrapped around her moved away, was to let Jeongin lift the blanket back up to keep her warm.

"I don't know," she sniffed indignantly, coughing lightly through her cries when she tried to clear her throat. Her arm pressed against the lower half of her face.

"You're getting yourself in a state now, come on, move your arm, you know you don't have to hold back in front of us," Seungmin sighed sadly, seeing his girlfriend so stressed. He pulled her arm towards her lap which he was sat in front of, holding her hand with one of his own and the other rubbing her knee.

"Thanks," she said sarcastically at first, until hearing the rest of what he had to say and tilting her head up to the ceiling to blink away the rest of her tears.

Chan pressed a kiss against her forehead, and everyone was around her to offer comfort, Felix and Changbin in particular wanting to jump out of their seats on the adjacent sofa to take all the pain away.

"What's got you to upset, jagi?" Jisung pouted, his own eyes glistening as he saw how upset you were.

"It's stupid, really," she began, rubbing at her eyes roughly, Hyunjin subsequently tutting at her and pulling her other hand away that Seungmin wasn't occupying.

"We're not doing that, jagi," Minho shook his head, brows furrowed, looking down at the floor with his hands folded together, "if it's upset you, it's not stupid."

"Exactly, please just tell us, you know we just want to help, that's all," Felix quickly pitched in, face crumpled sadly much like your own.

"There's just too much going on really. You know? Like, oh-" she had to cut herself off when her voice cracked with emotion again.

"You're ok, take your time," Jeongin gave a small smile and nod to reassure her.

"We're listening, baby," Changbin's raspy voice rung out.

"I've got a good job right? Like, it pays so well, but now with going back to uni it's just like I don't have time for anything. I-i'm having to squeeze in hours where I don't have them because my boss won't help me work around my timetable," she explained, the clashing of two parts of her life and time issues being what was clearly causing so much turmoil.

"I'm sorry, darling," Chan tugged her closer to him, a frown on his face.

"Don't be sorry, not your fault, is it? I'm just so tired, I'm exhausted," she admitted, pressing her lips together and taking a deep breath in order to not cry again.

"We'll help you figure this out, ok?" Hyunjin leant his head against her shoulder.

"Ok, ok," she let out a deep breath and nodded.

"I think you need to focus on uni, love. If work can't meet you in the middle then, it's hard," Seungmin trailed off, not wanting to fully leave her in the dark but not wanting to be too blunt.

"What do you think, jagi?" Jisung wondered, curled up against Minho, one leg hanging over the older's lap.

"I don't know. I don't even wanna make any decisions right now," she shook her head tiredly, blinking a couple times.

"That's understandable, baby, how about we just relax for now, ok?" Changbin suggested.

"And if anything else is upsetting you, please tell us," Chan huffed with a knowing smile.

"Ok, promise," she grinned.

₊˚⊹♡

She must have fallen asleep without realising, as she found herself waking up to Jeongin and Felix giggling over something on the latter's phone.

"What's going on?" she murmured tiredly, pressing her face deeper into... Jisung's chest, it took one whiff of his cologne to be able to tell it was him.

"Had a good sleep then, hmm?" Minho poked her forehead, slow blinking at her.

"Mm, yeah," she nodded, "Lixie, Innie, what's funny?"

The two froze, looking at her a bit guiltily.

"Well, umm, you know we have that camera in the hallway, just in case for security, like if someone broke in or-" Jeongin began to ramble awkwardly,

"I know, yeah," she nods, adjusting her head against Jisung's chest as he loosely keeps an arm around her, securing her to him.

"We're actually sorry for laughing, babe, it's just... You were crying over our shoes earlier?" Felix can't even keep eye contact as he explains.

Jisung stifles a laugh and so she slaps his chest playfully through her mild embarrassment, making him yell out dramatically.

"What's Sungie done now?" Hyunjin asks as he flops onto the sofa, entering the room again after leaving Chan, Seungmin and Changbin to managing the cooking.

"It's more about what our jagi did," Minho teases, looking at her with a smug grin.

"Guys, I was stressed, leave me aloneeee," she huffed, but it didn't stop the light laughter that filled the room knowing that she wasn't completely upset about it.

"Sorry, but..." Jeongin chuckles again, "the way you throw the shoes away from you is so funny!"

"What did our shoes do to you?!" Felix laughed again as he watched the video on replay.

"They smelt bad," she grinned happily, teasing them back as revenge, "specifically Ji's."

"Yah!"

Jisung gave her a noogie, keeping her trapped in his arms. He couldn't let her discredit him like that.

"Sorry! Sorry! Hahaha!"

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listeners: @skz-streamer @kiraisastay @kpopmenace143 @haodore @arloo00 @dunno-wut-to-do @splat00z @his-angell @2minstan @skzoologist @lovingchan @atinyniki @writingforstraykids @minholing @lilmisssona @astraysimp @lixie-phoria @theo4eve @linoalwaysknows @royal-shinigami @jolly04 @turtledove824 @yangbbokari @thisrandomgoofy15 @lieslab @hannamoon143 @arumlilyeclipse

[leashybebes]

Congrats on the increased follower count, you deserve it after exes detriments (sorry, I can’t remember the official name) but here’s a prompt for you:

Buck and Tommy struggle to find time in their schedules to see each other

aww, thank you so much! 💛💛 and thanks for the prompt!

Buck knows he should be getting some rest. But if he has to lie sleepless in his bunk and listen to Chim snore much longer, he's going to do something drastic. He creeps out of the bunk room, shoots off a text, and makes his way up to the roof. He's barely sat down by the time his phone rings.

"Hi," he says, and he feels breathless and eager all over again. Still.

"Did you seriously just 'u up?' me, Evan? Aren't you at work?"

"Hey, it was a sincere question. You can tell by the lack of the eggplant emoji."

"You're ridiculous."

"Yeah," Buck agrees easily. "I miss you. And your eggplant."

"Evan!" Tommy's so good at sounding scandalized and delighted all at once and Buck grins.

"What are you doing after your shift on Tuesday?"

"Errands, then therapy, then sleep."

"Gotcha. I'm working Wednesday."

"Me too. Thursday?" Tommy suggests.

"Looking after Jee," Buck says, and while he's never going to regret time spent with his niece, this is starting to get ridiculous. "They should be picking her up by eight?"

"Drinks with the team at nine," Tommy says, and he does sound regretful, but part of Tommy working on himself is trying to let himself have more meaningful connections, both in quantity and depth, so Buck's not about to try talking him out of that. "And you're working Friday."

"Yeah. And you have that private flying lesson Saturday, right?"

"Yeah. Should be done mid afternoon if that's any good?"

Buck rubs his hand over his face. "Video call with Eddie and Chris at four, and then I'm supposed to be going for dinner at Maddie's."

"Ah."

"I could come over after?"

"I'd need to leave before seven for my Sunday shift."

"Honestly, at this point, I'll take it."

"Evan."

Buck sighs. "I know, I know."

They're dating now, is the thing. Not going on a couple of dates and then weaving their lives together without discussing it until it blows up in their faces. Actually dating.

"I could - I could tell them. You could come with me."

There's a long, heavy silence.

"I don't think I'm ready for that."

Because they're also keeping it to themselves for now. They both want to see where it goes without any outside influence, to see what it is they settle into when it's just them. It's honestly - it's kind of fun, having this little secret to themselves, going further afield than they usually would for dates, trying new places and new things. But it can't go on forever, and although he's only referred to it jokingly, Buck knows Tommy's worried what people will think - that he screwed up too bad, that they'll hate him, that they'll tell Buck he's an idiot to give him a second chance. Buck's pretty sure that's not on the cards - Maddie might go a little overprotective big sister with a side of pregnancy hormones, but he thinks that'll be it. And that's nothing they can't handle.

"Hey," he says. "Can we talk about this sometime? Check in, see where we're at?"

"Yeah," Tommy promises. "Of course."

"Okay. Monday, then?"

"Monday," Tommy agrees. "My neighbour's been raving about this seafood restaurant in Santa Barbara if you're up for a bit of a drive?"

"Sounds good. Monday's so far away, though," Buck laments.

"I can hear the pout from here, Evan," Tommy teases.

"Well," Buck says, letting his voice drop deliberately into a tone that never fails to make Tommy a bit wild. "You'll just have to buy me a nice meal and kiss it better, huh?"

"God, Evan - "

"I'm off Tuesday too. Maybe we find a nice little bed and breakfast and make a night of it? I can show you just how you how much I've missed - "

He hears the door open behind him and his mouth snaps shut. "Gotta go. Call you later."

Tommy lets out a huff of laughter. "Bye, Evan. Be safe."

"You too," Buck says, as Bobby drops into the chair next to his.

"Hey, Cap."

"Couldn't sleep?"

"With Chim sawing logs one bunk over? I'm amazed anybody can."

"You don't normally struggle."

Buck shrugs, tries not to meet Bobby's eye. Everyone used to tease him about his Tommy-face, his Tommy-voice, his Tommy-pout, and for all they're taking it slow - and they are - Buck knows he's right back there. If Eddie wasn't in Texas, he's pretty sure their secret would have lasted a week, and Bobby's the next best thing when it comes to reading Buck with a glance.

"You doing okay?" Bobby asks.

"Yep! Real good."

"Hm. Apropos of nothing at all, Kaur from B shift is looking for cover. You interested in Friday off in exchange for a six to six Saturday?"

"Yes! I mean. Yeah, I can do that."

Bobby shoots him an amused look. "Okay, then. Happy for you, kid."

Buck grins up at the dark sky. He can push his call with Chris and Eddie a little later, and still make it on time for dinner with Maddie and Chim.

"You coming back inside?"

"In a minute," Buck says. "Just gotta make a call."

"Uh-huh. Tell him hi from me if you like," Bobby offers, patting Buck's shoulder as he goes.

[sharkiethrts]

prompt: meeting highschool sweetheart! sunday for the first time. oh, just how charming he tried to be

relations: sunday x reader

notes: this is modern au! with little relation to the actual story. There are NO YANDERE THEMES in this particular work, I'm more focused on picturing the human side of Sunday (without the detrimental effects of the dream master's manipulations).

warnings: none.

He talks a lot. Though you find that every word he says tend to fill with immense knowledge that seemed to peruse all the right places that clicked all the content your teacher had tried to impart upon the class. At this point, he made the teachers' comments seem more like an add on to his lessons. A rendition, almost.

He doesn't seem to have ever possessed a single vacuous thought in his life.

He's resplendent, too. Which added onto the charm, even if the classmate had found the subject particularly boring, they'd have to focus their gaze on him at least. If his charms hadn't worked (how, even), then his commanding presence should do the trick. Even when he wasn't speaking, you found that your gaze often found their way so incredibly naturally to him.

You think he knows of his charm. Otherwise, why would he be so confident in offering to relay the summary of Kafka's 'metamorphosis' so eagerly to you as an accompaniment to your reading.

"Kafka's self esteem has essentially pledged itself upon the approval of his family, which led to the derelict condition of his heart at the post-climax of the story..."

His voice is nice too. If the noises of the library are a cacophony of miserable sounds, his seems to have conducted all of it into an irie melody. You find yourself wondering whether his interactions with you have been a combination of polite passes and a shackled formality to maintain with another. You aren't an idiot, though you can be rather forgiving to details, you certainly haven't missed the unctuous smile and words he gifts to another.

You'd like to think that you'd be able to catch it when his facade starts showing but with the way his golden eyes introduce you to a drowning reverie, you start to doubt it.

It's not your first interaction, since his eager summarisation of Great Expectations two months ago, he hasn't stopped approaching you.

A part of you start to suspect that he had planned this. Every Friday, twelve forty-five, at the fiction corner.

You'd once change your schedule, moving it an hour later and happened upon Sunday impatiently waiting by the non-fiction corner, just two steps away from the fiction corner. When your eyes met, you think you saw a hint of splendor relief. You had quickly turned away. So you missed the rest.

"Are you perhaps tired?" His questions brings you back to reality, your eyes blinking furiously from how dry it had gotten by the past minute of you completing gazing off, "I understand that you had biology just prior to this, so I'd understand if you'd prefer to talk about something... easier to swallow... Macbeth, perhaps?"

There it is again. His not-so-subtle-now-that-you've-caught-on way of leading your time together to become a plethora of unending adventures. He doesn't offer to walk away but rather, a simple remedy of a new book. Sometimes a longer one, he had tried to sneak Harry Potter in once. Sneaky boy.

Seriously though? Macbeth for an 'easier-to-swallow' alternative? Now he's getting sloppy.

You test him.

"How about we part ways for now?" His eyes turned cautious. You decide to push it further, "I don't wish to burden your... already crowded responsibilities," you're certainly aware of his role as the golden boy of the Oak family, "Nor do I wish to force more ingratiating words out of you," You're certainly aware of his hidden affections for you by now, "Now that I think of it, haven't this been going on for... three months? That doesn't sound too fair to you-"

"-Two months," He cuts you off, his eyes now looking slightly strained. His posture taut, "You shouldn't be worrying of anything of the sorts, I'm completely happy to revise any type of stories you're interested in..."

That reminds you, your lie of being interested in Metamorphosis. You're sure that he hasn't read of it, yet, with his superb recounting of it to you? He must have spent his week revising.

"You don't need to be so... genteel," You smile, knowing exactly what a fool you're making of him, "I'm not exactly the most exciting conversation partner."

"Nonsense!" He cuts you off again, suddenly forgetting his manners, "You make me feel excitable things, I can assure you-" His cheeks suddenly turn red. His mouth closes. Then opens. And shuts again.

You let out the cheekiest smile you can possibly muster, "... Excitable, you say?"

You watch his neatly folded collar wrinkle for the first time.

"Nothing scandalous!"

You weren't thinking of such but now you're certainly curious, "I'm not quite sure I believe you."

Oh, did his tie loosen? A new sight to behold indeed.

Best to come at twelve forty-five sharp next week then.

[mcntsee]

— ★fic recs 'twenty four

Hi! This is a masterlist for all my fic recs. This list will continue to update as I read and find more things to add. Credits go to the respective authors!

↳ Please make sure to check out the warning on each fic. Some of them contain stuff that might be triggering for some readers!

keys;

🫐 — angst

☁️ — fluff

🎧 — nsfw

spencer reid recs;

— ★ series;

↳ trouble almost all my life by @januaryembrs [ongoing] ☁️🫐

summary: the one time the bau needs you + the four times you need them.

↳ twisted by @dreamwritesimagines [completed] 🫐☁️

summary: no one can outrun their past.

↳ pierced by @rynbutt [completed] ☁️🎧

summary: moving into a new apartment in a new city is stressful, what's even more stressful is when there's a fucking murder in the apartment across from yours... at least the fbi agent is cute.

↳ american teenager by @lanascinnamongirls [ongoing] ☁️🫐

summary: all it took was one case. one case and you were back in your small town in your home state of missouri.

↳ say that you love me by @none-of-your-bullshit [completed] 🫐☁️🎧

summary: what happens when an ex cia operative survives an attempted murder and is plucked straight out of georgetown by david rossi?

↳ do you believe me now by @nereidprinc3ss 🎧

— ★ stand alone:

↳ forgiven by @reiding-writing 🫐☁️

summary: you lied to him with good intentions, but when he finds out the truth he says something detrimental in the heat of the moment. After weeks of radio silence any chance of reconciliation is almost lost after you get critically injured in the field.

kaz brekker recs;

— ★ series;

nothing here yet…

— ★ stand alone:

↳ three taps by @happyyyandcrazyyy 🫐☁️

summary: kaz taps three times. it’s his way to say i love you, i care.

↳ dive into the waves below by @rubysunnday 🫐☁️

summary: pekka rollins's reign is over and it's time for the new king to take his place (or kaz settles into his new office and his beaten face needs some tending to)

↳ alright by @liberty-barnes 🫐☁️

summary: you’ve been flirting with kaz ever since you started working as his bartender. systematic rejection gets tiring after a while, but sometimes all you need is a good chat and a large bottle of vodka.

↳ bloody hands by @rubysunnday 🫐☁️

summary: kaz never feels the need to explain his entire plan. he knows that, whatever happens, it will inevitably go according to plan. but when his plan goes wrong and y/n is injured, kaz is suddenly forced to comprehend with the skeletally hand of death once again.

↳ initials by @triptuckers ☁️

summary: for as long as the crows can remember, you’ve worn a ring with initials on it, and they’ve been trying to figure out what they stand for ever since

↳ love story by @luna-writes-stuff ☁️

summary: kaz hasn’t known life without you at his side. he doesn’t see reason for you to abandon him any time soon and he isn’t planning on letting you go either.

↳ what do you want from me? by @rubysunnday 🫐☁️

↳ this is what happens by @fishley 🫐

summary: a look into the journey of kaz losing another person he loves and how it not only affects himslef, but everyone around him.

↳ dark days by @rubysunnday 🫐☁️

summary: mr and mrs rietveld. a locked vault and approximately ten minutes of air left. what could possibly go wrong.

↳ his star by @alpurrtwhizkersss 🫐☁️

summary: kaz saves reader from drowning

↳ dust and rubble by @writing-havoc 🫐☁️

summary: a plan goes wrong. you get injured. kaz tries to help-

↳ pocket watch by @writing-havoc ☁️

summary: after years of patient progression on his phobia, kaz finds the opportunity to reciprocate

↳ call me what you like by @sophierequests ☁️

summary: kaz and the reader have been married for quite some years now, unbeknownst to their friends. but what if a slip up causes this shared secret to come to the surface?

↳ sweetheart by @bloodwrittenballad ☁️

summary: kaz's reaction to you calling him sweetheart

↳ the way of the water by @bubbles-for-all-of-us 🫐☁️

summary: reader is a tidemaker and during a heist kaz falls into the water and she uses her powers to pull him out and helps him through a panic attack

simon "ghost" riley recs;

— ★ series;

nothing here yet…

— ★ stand alone:

↳ alive by @criminalamnesia 🫐

summary: simon loses you

↳ phantom touch by @ghostheartfelt 🫐☁️

summary: you and the 141 are deployed to austria with the intel of a drug boss known as rolmuth who is harboring romanian soldiers to the east coast to smuggle illegal mercenary personnel into america. what happens when a rapid snowstorm picks up and you are separated from the others then further captured and interrogated alongside your lieutenant?

alastor;

— ★ series;

↳ a doe in fall by @hazelfoureyes [ongoing] 🎧

summary: a burlesquer with a penchant for conning men, you find your latest game interrupted when your next mark saves you from an aggressive fan— by killing him. the chance encounter left you curious, still half convinced you could complete your normal chase. unbeknownst to you, you were the one being tracked.

↳ painted smile by @worldofkuro [ongoing]🫐☁️

summary: you couldn't wait to meet new friends. what you didn't expect was this smiling little boy, only one year older than you, that would take such a big place in your life.

↳ deer dolly by @ohproserpine ☁️🫐

summary: “wife?!” angel dust cut her off, jaw dropping. “freaky face is married?”

↳ a misconduct of love by @hurthermore [ongoing] 🫐(☁️)

summary: control was something you always severely lacked in. so when a radio host enters your life, and seems to yearn to not only posses you, but for you to posses him in turn, you indulge in a love affair with the man your husband introduced you to.

— ★ stand alone:

nothing here yet…

hobbie brown;

— ★ series;

nothing here yet…

— ★ stand alone:

↳ where's my love by @autumn-hiraeth 🫐

summary: hobie's cannon event

[enviedear]

hey Olivia talk about Jason and love letters pls

i can never say no to you, not like i'd say no to rambling about jason lmao!! link here to what inspired this <3

swing by my askbox 🧸ྀི

basically, i think believe that jason would be not only the best at writing love letters but also the most genuine about it. to him, they come from a place of utter devotion. in my hc, i think he'd just really struggle with getting his words out. he hates the way they sound, that they never fully convey what he means, that he stops himself more than he allows himself to speak, and mostly, he cannot handle the pressure of a time constraint. even if someone were to give him all the time in the world to open up, his chest would still get tight and his throat would feel scratchy and raw. jason todd is a victim of analysis paralysis there i said it.

no—he NEEDS another outlet, another form of communication. so he writes. he always loved reading, annotating in the margins—now he does it to his own words. At first, he doesn't even count what he writes as love letters. he's not waxing poetry, he's just explaining his fucked up perspective because you deserve to know. you deserve to be privy to whatever's going on in his head. he fails (for a while) to understand that is love, the very crux of it. the devotion to spend his free time explaining what his mouth refuses to say is love in its purest form.

his words are sweet too, no matter what he's writing. he knows his audience, you. his letters always start the same, with the salutation of 'sweetheart' and an "i love you." sometimes, all that's written is a long run-on about how he feels, how overwhelmed he is. other times, it's reminders of how much you mean to him, how happy you make him. and of course, quotes.

i am a firm believer that jason todd quotes his favorite books (modern and classic) so you better assume he's throwing in quotes that remind him of you. things like "what does money matter? love is more than money." from dorian grey after you had confessed to feeling bad about him spending money on you, or "If I loved you less, I might be able to talk about it more." from emma after an argument rooted in his apprehension for sharing, and "I will live in thy heart, die in thy lap, and be buried in thy eyes." makes a common appearance. you're unsure as to why he quotes shakespeare so much, especially that line—but he's not. he knows it's the truest cohesion of words he could possibly find to explain to you just how crucial you are to him. detrimental even.

but it's not always super intense—a lot of the times it's simple letters. letters hung up on the fridge, on the dryer, in your car, even scattered little love notes in your purse/wallet. things like, "washed your clothes. you really need new leggings, i put money on the counter." / "changed your oil. remind me again in six months. i love you." / "missed you this morning. i'm coming home with dinner, your favorite. i love you."

where other men fail to find a form of communication that works for them, jason todd exceeds. besides, he's seen death once and he's not meeting it again without you knowing just how much he absolutely adores you. if he can't be here forever to give you the love he's practically overflowing with, at least the letters can outlive him. he'd like to be remembered that way—just by his saccharine sentiments for you

𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐲 @ 𝐞𝐧𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐫 (𝐦𝐞)

[starryeyedjanai]

@eddiemonth prompt: magnetic | kinktober prompt: sex toys sex shop worker eddie ficlet | rated: mature | read on ao3

Eddie's a little bored.

Applying to work at a sex shop was thrilling when he first thought about it - it felt a little risqué, helping people find cool new ways to have fun in the bedroom and having little anecdotes to come home and tell Chrissy or the band about.

But sometimes it's just really fucking boring actually.

Checking people out is still just checking people out like he would at a grocery store - with the sometimes added detriment of them being super weird or embarrassed to be buying whatever they're buying, some guys getting aggressive or defensive about their purchases.

And restocking shelves is still just restocking shelves regardless of the fact that he's putting dildos on the shelf instead of something else.

It's slow in the mornings on the weekdays that he typically works, and today, his coworker called out so that makes it even worse.

The best, or most entertaining, part of the job is observing people shop and trying to guess what they're gonna buy based on appearance alone. When he has coworkers working alongside him, they always play this game and see how close they get.

But today, he's alone and bored out of his fucking mind.

He's restocking some lube just to be doing something when the bell over the door dings, letting him know a customer just walked into the shop - the first one of the day.

He keeps shelving the lube from the box in his hands and hears the customer approach after a minute. He's expecting them to either try and get his attention or to retreat to a part of the store where there are no employees - people are sometimes weird about being perceived in a sex shop even if it's by the people who work there.

Instead he hears a voice he hasn't heard in years, a voice attached to a face that still haunts his dreams - his first crush, his longest lasting crush, inopportune as it was considering it was on one of the most popular guys at his school.

He hears Steve fucking Harrington's voice say, "Uh, 'scuse me, just need to grab this," and a hand - one veiny, hairy hand - reaches by him to grab one of the bottles of lube he just placed on the shelf.

Eddie looks over his shoulder and - god, Steve is just as devastating now as he was in high school, his hair tousled and perfect, his pretty face dotted with moles that Eddie wants to map out with his tongue.

Steve smiles and nods at him in acknowledgment and moves along to whatever his next item is, leaving Eddie to spiral in his thoughts as he moves to the cash register to ready himself for whatever items Stevie-boy brings up to the counter.

In his many, many fantasies about him, he never really struck Eddie as someone who bought or used sex toys.

The rumors in high school would have him believe Steve's a god in bed without the assistance of toys anyway. It's been years since they graduated, so maybe he's expanded his horizons or his girlfriend is into them or something.

Or maybe he's delving into kink the way straight boys sometimes do. Walking into a sex shop like they own it, thinking that buying a pair of fuzzy handcuffs and a bullet vibrator makes them the pinnacle of BDSM, a dom who doesn't even know what half the letters in that acronym stand for.

He's going through what Steve could be looking at based on where he sees him in the store on the antiquated security cam feed on the computer. He doesn't seem to be looking at the wall of BDSM for dummies in any case.

He got the lube Eddie was shelving- a water based one. And he's in the anal toys corner of the store.

Well, he'll be damned. Either Steve has a girlfriend who wants to try anal and he's looking for a beginning plug set to help her along or he wants to try anal.

Interesting.

The Steve Harrington of Hawkins High in Bumfuck, Indiana probably wouldn't have been caught dead in a sex shop and here he is, some odd years later, looking at butt plugs and flared vibrating dildos from what Eddie can tell from the grainy video feed.

He almost wants to go over and see if he can help him, learn more about what he's looking for, but hearing what his old crush gets up to in bed might spark a whole new set of fantasies for Eddie to revisit and can't put himself through that.

Especially with this new image of Steve he has in his head - the same lips he's fantasized about kissing a million times before, but on a face that's only gotten better with age. He's lost some of the softness in his face, his jaw strong and still so pretty to look at.

He was magnetic in high school, drawing Eddie's eye every time he walked into a room, his embarrassing crush making him glare at him more than anything, but now? Looking the way he looks now? He's a goddamn force of gravity and Eddie wants to get pulled into his orbit.

He wants to strike up a conversation, wants to talk to him, but he doesn't think he could handle walking up to Steve and learning what he likes in bed, so he just waits for him to get done shopping and watches him walk up to the counter.

Steve sets the items down on the counter and Eddie looks down at them, feeling a flare of heat spread through his body at the items before him.

"Hey, I know you from high school. Munson, right?" Steve asks, pulling Eddie out of his stupor.

"Yeah, uh, hey. Steve. I- Eddie," he says intelligently.

"Right," Steve says, pushing the lube forward trying to prompt Eddie into action.

He grabs the lube and can't seem to help himself when he says, "You know, this dildo isn't really for beginners. Unless you know what you're doing and have a ton of patience and, well- you are buying lube, so that's good-"

"I'm. Not a beginner," Steve says, interrupting Eddie's spiel.

"You- what?" Eddie asks, his brain still a little fried from seeing Steve fuckin' Harrington walk up to the counter with two bottles of lube - he went back for a second - and an anal dildo with a girth that's not dissimilar to Eddie's fucking fist.

"I'm definitely not a beginner. That's kind of a rude assumption, don't you think? Aren't you supposed to be impartial to what customers buy?" Steve asks, the grin on his face betraying the words coming out of his mouth.

"Uh, fuck. Fuck. I'm so sorry. I really shouldn't have said anything," Eddie says, cringing at himself. He normally wouldn't have said anything, but then again, he normally isn't face to face with the guy he's had more fantasies about than he can count.

"It's fine. I mean, you knew me in high school and that guy wouldn't have any clue what to do with this," Steve says, gesturing to the box with the dildo in it on the counter. "Luckily I'm not that guy anymore."

"Yeah, lucky," Eddie says wearily, grabbing the box and scanning it.

He wants to ask, 'So you know what to do with it now?' and then 'would you want to show me?' But both of those things would be wholly inappropriate to ask a customer so he clamps his mouth firmly shut, rolling his lips between his teeth.

The look on Steve's face says he knows what Eddie's thinking even without him saying it - the small smirk on his lips when Eddie looks up after finishing ringing him up is annoyingly attractive.

He tells him his total, running on autopilot and trying so hard not to think about Steve straddling the dildo he's bagging up for him and sinking down on it, eyes rolling back at the stretch. Fuck.

Steve hands him his card and Eddie swipes it and waits for the receipt to print before he hands it back to him along with his receipt.

Eddie's opening his mouth and putting his foot directly in it again when he says, "Good luck with your, uh. Jesus christ - please ignore me. I seem to have forgotten my brain to mouth filter at home today."

Steve laughs and asks, "Do you have a pen?"

"Uh, yeah," Eddie says, fumbling with the pen beside the register before holding it out for Steve. Their fingers brush as Steve takes it from him.

He turns the receipt over and writes something down on the back of it. He slides both the receipt and the pen back across the counter.

He says, "You seem like you might need some lessons in keeping quiet instead of running your mouth. I have a few gags that you might like. If you're interested."

Eddie's mouth drops open and Steve smirks at him. He grabs his bag from the counter and taps his knuckles against the counter.

"See you around, Eddie Munson," he says, walking away. He turns around when he gets to the door and finds Eddie still gawking at him. He waves at him and Eddie, in his stupor, manages to wave back.

Steve pushes the door open and leaves, the bell dinging again.

Eddie wheezes out the breath he was holding. He looks down at the receipt and finds a number scrawled on it.

He scrambles to pull his phone out and enters the number into his contacts.

He texts the contact saved as STEVE FUCKEN HARRINGTON 🍆🥵🔥 immediately, not giving a damn about how down bad that might make him look.

[eldritch-spouse]

Next part to [this series]

[Minors DNI][Fem reader][Interactive poll!]

TW: Kidnapping; Descriptions of gore.

He watches you put the cup back down.

It had been a bad decision to give you a taste of such. Hudsyn can admit that much.

Could he be blamed however, in his want to make you appreciate your time with him more? An angel's tears- The delicacy of times forgotten, something both holy and blasphemous, rich spoils only he can gift you. Can you even comprehend the magnitude of what he's offered you?

The two of you, enjoying a priceless commodity, one which no other common mortals in this world can even conceive of in this day and age. It's poetic, it signifies your importance, your achievements to come- It's romantic, dare Hudd say.

And yet, it was also a mistake. More and more, he gets painfully reminded of the risks of romanticism, of letting that little spark of pride in him -What's left of it- Blind him to reality, sideline his goals. Hudsyn's never wanted to impress someone as badly as he does you and it shows. Perhaps to you it doesn't, but to the few who know him, it'd be the most glaringly obvious slap to the face.

Point being, that drink had its uses. It was meant to keep you lulled, susceptible, easy to grasp his meanings and emotions. He didn't plan for the possibility of him being unable to keep his feelings in check, which, to be fair, isn't something Hudd often has to worry about to begin with. They bled into you, some less pretty things dancing around his excited mind… Put you on edge, overwhelmed you. Whatever channel was formed between you two was interrupted by something else at the end, something Hudd desperately hopes he can keep at bay now that you've obediently placed the cup down.

Dangerous. Dangerous unknowable variables. Thorns.

That cup. He wanted to blurt out the oh so riveting references it possessed instantly, but far be it of the demonoid to prematurely ruin a surprise. The feathers, the eye, the celestial tears- Oh, it's in moments like this that he can't help sing his own praises. He's charming. He's clever.

Hudsyn admits he's been stalling.

Not that it's detrimental to his goal, he was entirely honest when he told you that you still had a nick of time to converse before things got serious. And it's only natural he'd want to take advantage of every second he so graciously granted the two of you to ground himself, to calm down, to focus. Because, as he said, you're about to do something very very special together. It's a tricky situation, but if it all goes swimmingly, you'll be the ones to fix Hell's murky history, to finally glimpse into the world before monsters, before abandonment, before sin. Translating it into scripture.

The one true scripture of the world that formed Perdition.

Just thinking about it has Hudd a little emotional. Okay, very emotional.

Can he cry? These eyes, the way they work… Hudd has wept enough. Perhaps angels can weep in his stead now.

To think that you'll do this with him, for him, his darling precious mentee- There for him always, understanding, empathetic, a breath of much needed fresh air for his starved lungs and unfortunately also the bane of his loins. It's been too long since the demonoid was this consistently aroused. A state that should disgust him, yet the images conjured in his mind never seem to let him get rightfully upset. Oh, you and him will be beautiful. You will make everyone proud. Hudd only wishes he could make you see that now, take away the little seed of doubt he sometimes sees in your eyes. You need never doubt him, he knows best, and you've been aware of such up until now too.

" Mentee. " He starts, after a pause. " We ought to get to work. "

There. Focus. Good.

When you look at him, hues betraying an inner battle, hesitant yet curious, he really cannot fault you. For as much as Hudd has spent small eternities planning this day from start to finish, he alone cannot guarantee its success. You play too large a part to do so, without you, without your cooperation, everything will be so needlessly hard.

And yet… In the time he's come to know you, Hudd’s sixth sense hasn't technically failed him. You fit the profile of someone he needs for this kind of thing. Why, at times, you even revealed yourself as knowing more than any ordinary human should.

You wouldn't just walk out. Wouldn't get in his way.

You're better than that. You're intelligent enough to understand, you will know to make the correct choices when the time comes.

He trusts you with the most important moment of his life.

And the realization sends a rattling shiver down his spine.

When he stands up, so do you.

This has been scaring you a little.

Hudd was never someone you'd consider easy to read, not exactly an open book, even if he seemed to want to be transparent at times. Intriguing, cultured, fascinating and… Unsafe. Frantic. Invasive.

Hudd is a man on a mission, that much has been clear from day one.

And the depths of his dedication are something you're only truly grasping now, after being… Kidnapped, into this location. After becoming a part of his project.

The historian had yet to lay a hand on you. There's no immediate danger, only tension, unease- And that ever present morbid curiosity that begs you to discard any crumb of self-preservation you have.

What were the images you saw in his mind? Why did you see those things?

Who talked to you?

Help. Who asked for your help?

" What are we doing? " Something you feel the need to ask again. Maybe this time you'll get an answer.

The demonoid pauses, a hint of irritation flashing there for a moment. " Follow me, if you will, there are some things you need to see to understand, and I do not enjoy wasting breath. "

That robe-clad form turns towards that hall again. The voice… It came from there. No, you heard it in your mind, but the fact that it beckoned you to glance that way... Does something loom there? Hidden in that thick blanket of darkness that threatens to swallow the rest of the room? Whatever it is, if it is there at all, sounded small. Helpless. Corralled.

Desperation, but entirely unlike the one you felt in Hudsyn.

" My, are you really that tired? I need you to make an effort to keep up with me here, Mentee. This is important. “ The demon tuts again, coming closer to you. It's odd, you've never really paid that much attention to the difference in heights between yourself and the historian up until now.

He's taller than you. Not by that much. If you had to guess, around the six foot mark, six foot something. But those horns, the way they curve over his head like great symmetrical arches, the pitch black canvas of his face and the mystery of what lies beneath, what he tries to cover thoroughly enough to never wear anything other than those plain robes. Hudd is a tad creepy.

“ You won't forgive yourself if you falter during this. “ He warns, stern.

There's a gulp, you don't like the way he's talking. It's very clear you'll be doing something risky eventually, and you don't particularly want to chance being harmed. The fear has to be evident in your face, because he continues.

“ I have mulled over this for more years than you have been alive, protégé… So long as you follow my instructions, everything will go perfectly, and we'll emerge with the answers we need. “

A pallid palm extends in your direction, fingers curling slightly and claws glinting. “ I chose you because I know you are capable of doing this with me. Come. “

And, maybe because you can’t control your rabid curiosity anymore, maybe just because he believes in you so much, you take that hand in yours.

It feels like the seal of a promise, a contract officialized in impulsive compassion.

What would happen if you denied him now anyway? You haven’t the faintest idea where you are, bereft of any personal belongings except the very pajamas you went to bed with. Could you find a way out of his home if things went south? Could you find help in time? Would Hudd hurt you? Or… Would he simply drop you back home?

No, this is too important to him, you’re not willing to believe breaking the perception he has of your “potential” is something the demonoid would take very well.

He smiles, nodding.

Pulled along by said hand, its hold more of a periodic squeeze than anything, you’re guided into that hall. And, as soon as you set foot in said ambiguous darkness, the shabby lamp that furnishes the wall at its very edge crackles loudly, the bulb within it giving its last few sparks of light before becoming utterly useless. In that moment, you truly become submerged in a sea of blackness, unable to pinpoint where you're going at all. Hudd, on the other hand, seems hardly bothered by the change. Perks of being a demon, you presume…

When you step over something that creaks, your hand instinctively tightens around the historian's, causing him to audibly halt.

“ Oh… “ He starts, a giddy hint lying there. “ You can't see very well, can you? “

" No. "

“ Forgive the lapse, this house… It's been a while since I did maintenance checks on it. Here, I will guide you, mentee. “

A warmth envelops your side, one of Hudd's hands presumably sets on your right shoulder and the other balances your front. The sensation of those pointed claws poking through your pajamas is mildly stressing. If he were to put the smallest amount of pressure on them, he could probably draw blood.

The demonoid's closeness is a tad confusing, the only thing audible now being soft footfalls and his slightly uneven breathing. Why not just get a flashlight? Does he seriously not have any?

A sudden intake of air has the hairs on your back rising. You'd rather stumble through the dark than feel this stifling hold upon your form. Hudd hasn't said a word but he feels and sounds even more excited than before. Like this, you are once more reminded of your short-comings as a human, and how every one of them is against you if you were to attempt to flee.

“ There's a staircase ahead, you should… Grab onto me. “

Ah, that makes a little more sense.

He wasn’t lying, because sure enough, you feel the first step, as well as his hands tightening around your body. Although your arms spread in an attempt to perhaps find a wall or a handrail, you’re unable to, having to pace yourself and take Hudd’s advice instead.

“ I won’t lie, sometimes I do forget how fragile humans are. Just look at you, blind like a bat, a fall from this staircase would probably break more than a few bones. Hm… Now that I think about it, you could die, if you fell just the wrong way. “

What the Hell is his problem right now…

“ Ah, I didn’t mean to alarm you. “ He has the nerve to say, helping you down yet another step. “ Besides, I’m here, I would never let that happen to you. “

Reassuring. Totally.

Just how many steps does this staircase have? Maybe having no vision alters your perception of time, or maybe he's descending at a snail's pace, but it feels as if you've been going down for too long. You're antsy.

“ In any case, it's rather convenient the lights aren't working very well in this next area. A different kind of lighting is necessary for it all to work. “

It all… You still don't know what he's on about.

When it feels as though you two have finally reached another division, a pause unfolds. Instead of letting you go, you feel him move to stand behind you, silently. Both of his arms shift to now hold you against him by the waist. Sensory experiences heightened by the lack of visual input, the soft rise and fall of his chest is felt clearly, as is the shape of a rather thin build behind those deceitful robes.

Seconds pass in this stillness. Part of you is hoping he'll reach for some kind of light switch on the wall or continue to guide you somewhere else, but all the demon seems content to do is stand there. If you didn't know better, you'd say he's lost too, or falling asleep.

" ... Hudd? "

No response.

" What's happening now...? "

For a few more moments, he doesn't make a peep. The very second you're considering ripping yourself free of his grasp, the monster finally speaks.

" I've been waiting for this long enough that it almost feels like a dream, you know? "

" H- Huh? "

" Shh... "

A palm slithers up your front, a finger tapping at your chin before softly resting on bottom lip.

" Ever since that night, actually. "

You figure he's going to enter another one of his long-winded speeches, so it's better to just let it happen.

" At the time, fool that I was, my act of theft was done out of spite. I wanted to save my dignity, to lash out in the only real way I could before disappearing... " He sighs. " Turns out what I unknowingly got my hands on was the very key to my success. To proving everyone wrong. To be more than any of those worthless, cowardly animals ever could amount to- "

His tone dips to a growl so bitter it drips poison.

" For decades, I have been putting everything together, down to the last detail. Mentee, I've translated ancient infernal enough times that it could be my mother tongue by now... "

There's shifting, warmth reaches the side of your face. When he opens his mouth again, a dialect you can't make heads or tails of is whispered into your ears. It's harsh and grating, aggressive, filthy. It makes you want to scratch your face.

" There was a time when things were so different. It's almost hard to conceive of now... I ventured into a place I should never have, according to them, but it opened my eyes. Perhaps I didn't leave unscathed, but it gave me the courage to do what I'm doing now, to do everything that has lead up to this. And even, to seek you out. "

" I persevered. I didn't let them dictate what I should do, I didn't let them define my actions or even continue to punish me for daring to make a breakthrough! "

His hands move again, this time to grab yours and place them on your front, wrapped by his.

" Perhaps it doesn't matter to you, but I want you to know that I've lost a lot in this search, and you can't fathom how much getting this far means to me. "

" I know you're scared. In the past, I would also see this as something frightening. But both our fates will rely on one thing alone today, your ability to listen to me. "

" O- Okay. "

You're not sure what to say to that, or even if you should pry into what little of his past this demon has let slip.

" Are you ready, protégé? "

What use is there stalling anymore? You can't even go back up the stairs alone. " ... Yes. "

" Very well. Then, I ask you to remain calm. "

Finally, almost begrudgingly even, Hudd detaches from you, moving fluidly in the darkness, the sound of a match being lit resounding across the walls. Little by little, candle flames soar, you can see the silhouette of his horns as the historian moves to quickly create a dimly lit atmosphere in the room.

The sight that greets you is more than a little disconcerting.

This room, or basement rather, is in disrepair. Wherein the living room you had been conversing with Hudd looked rather spacious and and well put together, even comforting- This division barely has any kind of furniture in it aside from shelves and work benches currently drowning in ambiguous paraphernalia. The walls themselves are badly chipped and cracked, no semblance of paint to cover what you really hope aren't splashes of long-dried blood. Some long gashes running their length can only be the result of claw marks. Scuffles. Papers litter the place. Some printed, others harshly scribbled, pages ripped from books, hurriedly pinned or glued to walls, combed over so many times that their edges start to crinkle and yellow, text fading. Pens and markers in various states scatter on the ground.

This... This is like a madman's playground.

Not that you ever though Hudd was very down to Earth.

It feels as if just stepping into this room has drained some of your very sanity. You can picture him clear as day, bent over these tables, scribbling frantically, pinning things together, wrangling someone or something into this location to do who knows what with. The more time you spend around this demonoid, the less you seem to know him.

Opting to say nothing regarding this mess of a room, you focus instead on the larger illustrations half-covered in illegible text. It only takes you a few seconds to realize how similar in nature they are to the ones you spotted upstairs, on his wall. Granted, those were a little too far away for you to actually discern what contents they displayed. But the one he specifically showed you, the one with the angel, is similar to these.

Truth be told, you don't want to believe Hudd. When you looked at that creature he had drawn, many things came to mind but an angel was your last ditch answer. And yet, he eagerly confirmed it. Told you there were more even, here on Earth. Madness, maybe he really is starting to see things, maybe he's ill. Perhaps all this time you've been humoring the drivel of a demonoid entirely disconnected from reality. Well, either way, it doesn't really matter, you just have to make it through whatever this is, right?

He's been... Nice to you, so far. Kind of? You're pretty sure he likes you. Yes, that's a point in your favor.

The illustrations on these walls depict the same being, different parts of their body in more detail. It's a fascinating thing to look at, several notes and underlined information accompany these decent sketches of the lifeform itself, the angel.

What did Hudd say it was again, a guardian?

You confess you don't really understand why this entity looks the way it does or why the demon is so obsessed with it. Might as well ask.

" Hey Hu- "

" Ah, don't mind those. " He starts, close enough to your figure that the skin nearly leaps off your body. " We don't have time to comb over my documents, as rich in knowledge as they are, yes, you will listen and learn as we go along, yes? "

" ... Uhuh. "

" I will ask you, once more, to remain calm. "

It's hard to do so when he keeps reminding you of such. Paranoia dances just beneath your skin as you attempt to nod slowly.

It seems to be confirmation enough, the demon only hesitating for a couple of silent seconds before moving further, into a section of the room you hadn't even cast thought towards. How could you, when everything else was so jarring? The obscured right edge, kept dark on purpose you can only imagine...

A final, tall candle is lit when Hudd stretches, and something likes beneath it, obscured by an inconveniently placed desk, revealing a smooth expanse of what you can only call a head. Immediately, you take a few steps to the left, forward.

The blood in your vessels stutters.

You had expected, unfortunately, to find someone else in there. Some poor soul who, like you, had gotten the bizarre demon's attention and, unlike you, didn't learn to manage his eccentricities well enough.

Little did you think reality could be worse than that already glum possibility.

Because, there, on the cold and harsh ground, shackled to the wall with rusted chains and scribbled magic engravings around them, is what can only be an angel.

The angel.

The one Hudd showed to you only mere moments ago! The one in these pictures, these sketches, detailed from head to toe like some kind of laboratory experiment, some rat.

They seem unconscious, huddled into as small of a ball as they can be, leathered wings frozen in an uncomfortable shape, like the crooked legs of a dead insect. Something mars their pale hide, a series of unknowable symbols expanding into every limb, looping around their torso, probably following into the expanse of their back and even reaching those... Odd tentacles on their lower-half. You're smart enough to understand this isn't simply a tattooed angel, how ludicrous, these scripts are magical in nature, and they've been inflicted upon the holy being. Every now and then, the darkened marks pulse a faint reddish light, and it takes you a moment to understand that the pace is akin to a heartbeat. Their heartbeat.

This lifeform is being kept in a stasis, an unpleasant one if you had to guess.

The crease on that thin abdomen you couldn't quite understand opens the slightest amount, revealing what must be a beautifully colored eye for a sliver of a second.

You can almost begin to imagine what they might look like, without those sigils, without the chains holding their wrists up to the wall...

Yes, beautiful in its own right.

Not your first idea of what an angel might be, but simply gazing upon them brings you an intense sensation of awareness. Instinctually, it's as if you recognize you're in the presence of someone that begets authority and safety.

Never have you felt something similar to this. Perhaps when you were but a youngling, feeling content in the arms of your parents as they pulled you out of a troublesome situation.

You want to get closer to this creature.

" ... please. you came! "

This time, the voice startles you. Because it sounds that much closer, that much desperate, as if a force were shaking you from top to bottom, begging, crying, do something-

" Mentee! "

The noise that leaves you is akin to a goat's bleating. Hudd blinks.

" You've been standing there like a donkey this whole time! "

You frown. " Hudd... That's- That- "

The demonoid huffs, combing over the scripts on the floor and hurriedly testing the sturdiness of the chains holding the angel's wrists. With their head bent at such an angle, you can see the cloth covering it droop, but there's no visible seam between it and the angel's skin. Whatever could be beneath it?

" The specimen I showed you, yes. That's it. Did you listen to a single thing I said just now? "

It.

The demonoid scratches his way back up to a rapid stand and approaches you with a look so dead serious that it deeply unsettles you. " I have come too far. You are not allowed to freak out on me! "

Yes. For your own good, you shouldn't freak out at all.

" But Hudd... Why is he chained to a wall? What- What are you doing to him? " It's impossible to mask the growing distrust, the anxiety, you have no idea what to think of this monster.

Clearly he's not well, and possibly, he's not sane either. But this franticness, as if he's on the clock for something incredibly important, what is driving him to be this unhinged?

The demon shakes his head like you're not quite all there mentally. " Do you sincerely think an angel would willingly converse with me, mentee? I hold no ill-will towards these beings, but all of them would have me set aflame in celestial fires! It's not as if I could merely ask one to clarify a few things... "

Point taken.

" I had... Well, I'm not happy about current circumstances, I know I must look like a mindless torturer to you, but to do this safely, I could only think to remove this guardian from his flock. Not an easy task, mind you. "

This is insane. A flock? Meaning there are possibly more angels out there looking for this one. How does he plan to evade them? Has he thought that far ahead? You hope, against all odds, that Hudd bothered with that. He tends to be thorough, maybe he does know exactly every single risk he's taking right now.

" Pay close attention. " He says, handing you a thoroughly yellowed scroll. The paper feels odd. Where had he been hiding that? " He's currently dormant, and I'm going to wake him up. "

" You're insane. " It escapes you before you can halt it.

Hudsyn very visibly fumes, growling and tugging at a horn. A tone you've yet to hear from the monster rips from his ribcage. " Will you just fucking listen! "

Alright. Okay. Sure.

Your silence calms him. " There's absolutely no reason to fear, I have him entirely under control, all you have to do is follow my instructions if I tell you to do something, it won't be too complex. "

The silence from your part continues as you merely nod, ever confounded and doubtful of where any of this is going. That's a common thing here, isn't it? No matter how much Hudd insists you're vital to this, no matter how eager he is to have you involved and to ramble, you never understood a single thing about his goals, about his methods. A historian, he calls himself, scorned, interested in mapping out the "true" history of Hell and its Rings. But how does a captured angel feature into this?

Hudd sees the annoyance written plainly on your face.

" Please protégé. I know this doesn't look right to you, I'm not dumb. And if we had more time on our hands, if- If I had structured things better, taking into account your- " He sighs, turning away like he just tasted something horrid. " I wish I could have explained things to you better. Talked to you better. But... "

There's a forced cough. " I haven't talked properly to anyone in years, honestly. Maybe, lost in the grander scheme of things, I forgot how to along the way. "

Something heavy starts hanging in the air, the atmosphere drips with sudden awkwardness. No normal demon of his kin would say such a thing if they weren't grasping at straws, if they weren't at the limits of their mind, fraying their nerve endings.

Maybe it's pity, maybe it's sympathy, but you can't help wonder why Hudd is the way that he is, if all this time he's just been calling out for help or acting out to process something he's yet to reveal. Truth is that, unhinged or not, the demon sees in you someone he can trust with what he considers to be the culmination of his life's work and his sole goal moving forward. You are, effectively, his only anchor.

One doesn't need to be a rocket scientist to understand abandoning the demon in this moment would cause him to break down spectacularly. Putting aside what might happen to you as well.

" So... " Breaking a tense silence has never really been your forte. " How do we wake him up? "

Hudd's head snaps your way, and like a switch, he dons the most excited grin. " Easy, mentee! See those symbols on the guardian's chest? I just have to smudge one away, but only one! " His finger raises humorously to emphasize. " We want him conscious, not alert and energized. "

" Is it... " You watch as Hudd shoves important items into desk shelves and arranges a wide radius around the chained angel. He seems to be thinking of any last minute adjustments before going through with this event. It's making your skin crawl. " Is it safe? "

Crouched next to the angel, Hudd gestures for you to get closer, which you tentatively do. Pallid hands grab onto one of yours. " Trust me. I have planned every detail of this. "

The very moment your anxiety starts to die down a little, Hudsyn lets go of your hand to reach under his robes and place, on the ground, a blade.

And his gesture becomes moot.

The entire thing is black, patterns of what you'd guess is gold lining the sleek segments. It looks incredibly sharp and emanates warmth, you'd be a fool to think of it as an ordinary knife.

" Alright, get ready. "

Trying to distract yourself from the nerves steadily climbing back up your spine, you instead inspect the scroll previously handed to you. Predictably, it's not in a language you recognize. It's definitely not infernal, in fact, this feels like a mixture of different foreign alphabets jumbled in a pattern that seems random, but you're sure must hold meaning, if Hudd is holding onto it. It feels old enough that it might disintegrate into ashes on your fingers.

" ... Hey, what does it say in he- "

A flap startles you, scroll clutched tight to your chest as the captured lifeform, the angel, starts stirring. Those leathery looking wings flap harshly a couple of times and his neck twists in a jolt of desperation to stretch, to rise, before the air escapes his chest and the entity sags, wilting to the side soundlessly.

Oh God. It's awake. The guardian is awake, it's alive!

You glance at its chest again, past the light blue cloth, seeing where Hudd wiped the sigil. He's just as still as you are, frozen, evaluating. You notice his claws hovering next to the blade.

In spite of being well awake, the angel doesn't do much of anything, limiting himself to breathing as well as he can in this position. Although his mouth is uncovered, he doesn't say a single thing. The eye on its stomach opens once more, this time fully, and you can hardly believe how beautiful it is. Looking into it, a swirl of warm hues welcomes you, this gentle warmth spreading across your whole figure the longer you stare into it. Hudd doesn't seem to feel any of this, unfazed.

Much to your surprise, that isn't the only eye that reveals itself, because the odd fissures in the angel's immobilized hands part, and from them, two smaller versions of his biggest eyeball are unveiled.

Woah, you've never seen that before...

The guardian looks around. Although, nothing about him betrays fear, sadness or even anger, he's just appraising his surroundings, as if relieved.

" Guardian. " Hudd begins, tone authoritative when he sits and crosses his legs. You don't quite know what to do, so you sit next to him wordlessly.

The angel senses your movement, three eyes focused solely on you for a couple of tense seconds. You've been trying to ignore it, but deep down, you know this is the voice that has been calling out to you this whole time.

" Demon. " He replies, calmly, with no real animosity or much of any inflection honestly. One of his eyes remains glued to you, the others disperse to the infernal monster. Yes, that voice, unmistakable...

" You have been transported here for one reason and one reason alone. "

Hudsyn looks serious in a way you've never seen him before. And you suppose that's warranted, this moment is crucially important to him. You can imagine all the nerves brewing under that impeccably collected act he's putting on. He even seems to think of his body language, keeping it entirely neutral, surveilling the angel with the eyes of a hawk. Even then, can those eyes compare to those of a holy creature?

Is Hudd not playing with something far too complex and foreign to be manipulated?

" I have something of great importance in my possession, and I only crave one thing, to understand it. " There's a measured pause. To the demon's credit, his captive does look engaged. " But see, for me to achieve such, I first need to understand something a lot more complex, something my kind wasn't made to grasp. "

The scroll is taken from your grasp, bounced onto his.

" The languages of siadar. "

It's a term not too well-known to you. Although you have a vague idea of what highers are, and recognize the names of the two apparently said to be on Earth at this moment, Hudsyn is a lot more well-versed in all of this than you ever will be, in all honesty.

The angel becomes, somehow, even more motionless at the mention of siadar. Like stone, really, unblinking, judgmental stone blazing into the demon beside you. It feels like a piercing gaze, a forceful stab into one's deepest wants. Whatever the guardian sees there, he doesn't approve of it.

" I would advise you not to meddle with what does not concern you, Hudsyn. " He starts, slow, tentative, trying to pass some sense into a monster that never had any to begin with.

" Spare me the moralizing, the lot of you are mere cattle. " Hudd huffs.

The angel tilts his head slightly, as much as he can. " Cattle... You find it demeaning that we have a purpose? That we exist to be extensions of our Mothers and Fathers? There is dignity in service. "

The demon looks ready to belt out a couple of retorts, yet holds his tongue at the last second, eyes narrowing in realization. The two are playing a game you're not fully aware of.

" I have no time to entertain this type of debate. " Clawed hands wave the topic away. " And I'm no fool either, I know every each one of you can read the scripts of your Lords, you will read one for me. "

Hudsyn caresses the scroll previously in your hold as if it were a newborn, fragile and immeasurably precious.

" Those scripts are incoherent to you for a reason. They are not meant to be interpreted by anyone other than celestials and siadar. " The other cautions once more.

" Bah-! That's for me to decide! " A growl rises in his throat, yet fails to instill the terror it should've.

" You judge yourself a lord of this world's balance? Delusion favors you greatly. "

You blink.

" Balance?! You call this putrid stagnation balance? If no one else will, then I must set the records straight, whether you like it or not. Balance... " Hudd huffs. " I don't care for it. "

" ... I see. " There's a long pause as the guardian takes that reply in, it appears to have revealed something to him. Eventually, that eyeless veil shifts in your direction, sending a paralyzing jolt right through your core. " And you? Do you value balance? "

You cannot answer. The words are stuck to the roof of your mouth, which seems to dry and burn whenever you so much as try to make a sound. Holding eye contact with him is not an option, for a mere glimpse of those hues fills you with too much emotion at once.

A snarl resounds. " Quiet! This encounter is between you and I only. "

" And yet she is here. " The other retorts easily. " Am I wrong to assume you value this lesser's input? "

" My mentee and I are on the same page, you won't bother her. "

Another pause. The guardian painfully rolls his head back in Hudd's direction. You wonder why he does that, when his eyes aren't there.

" Very well. "

Hudsyn unfurls the scroll, confirming to himself that this is, in fact, the correct one. Part of you is too scared to guess how many cursed scrolls he could have lying around.

" Protégé. "

You jolt.

" Grab a paper and a pen, you'll find some around. "

It's a while before you do, admittedly. Not only are you shaky with anticipation, this room is a complete mess. Eventually, you come across a crumpled stack of blank paper and a pen that has seen much better days. That'll do.

You're about to take your seat back when one long sleeved arm rises.

" No. Take a few steps back. " He waits until you comply. " Sit there. I don't want you looking at him no matter what, you hear me? "

" Y- " Your own saliva chokes you. " Yes. "

" Good. "

And just like that, the scene closes between Hudd and the captured guardian.

Hudd combs his fingers over the aged paper again, before holding it up to the guardian's main eye in complete silence for a couple of seconds. You don't know if the ensuing pause is born out of the angel's reluctance to translate or if he's simply processing the document. Hudd breaks it anyway.

" Now, I may not understand much of this language, but it doesn't take a genius to understand that these- " He points at a section. " Are supposed to be numbers. And these- " Another point. " Are axis indicators. "

That large celestial eye drifts from the paper, towards Hudsyn.

" These are coordinates. You'll translate them to me. " Seemingly getting excited by his own ingenious set up, Hudd has the nerve to tap a claw against the angel's veiled head. " Remember that you taint yourself everytime you lie to me, bahah... "

You have no idea whether the runes applied to the guardian's body actually hurt him whenever he attempts to deceive someone, or if Hudd is just being theatrical about the purity of angels as a whole.

The guardian doesn't find this nearly as humorous as Hudd does. " You know not what you ask me to do, demon. "

And, like a switch, the demonoid gets serious too. " Oh, but I do. Start talking. "

The aged paper is brought closer to the angel's main eye, not that you think a 'celestial' would have sight issues. Yet, perhaps in an effort to stall, or simply because he can't quite believe what he's reading, the guardian refuses to utter a single word. Tension wordlessly rises between the two monsters, thick enough to choke your own cool. Fortunately, or unfortunately, one of them is vastly immobile. The large orb on the angel's abdomen shifts and blinks, he's very clearly able to understand what's written in at least some of it.

It makes you wonder.

Is it just that an angel is prohibited from disclosing the nature of any higher documentation without explicit permission, or is it that the information contained in this specific one is of such abnormal sensitivity that he'd rather remain locked in a mad man's possession than reveal it?

Hudd's shoulders quake, you assume he's overwhelmed with rage until short, raspy chuckling rings.

" I don't think you quite understand that you have no choice. "

Anxious, you begin quietly tapping the pen on an empty page, soothing growing nerves. The guardian offers no direct response, silently and slowly turning his face away. Similarly, his hues point to any target but the scroll's contents.

" Very well... And I had been so clear about it too. "

When Hudsyn sets the scroll down neatly, his freed hands gravitate towards the blade and a lump forms in your throat.

Angels... Elusive creatures. For all his often concerning raving, the demon has been consistently right on one thing. We no longer know how they function, that information has been degenerated and lost. It's impossible to know what truly harms an angel. How to effectively kill one. Some records claim that an angel can and will heal from all bodily damage inflicted upon them, that one can only ever slow them down. Others say that no earthly weapon can even nick them. What of fiendish weapons? What of their own weapons? Has an angel ever pointed its tool at another and sought to harm them? How did the first angels and the first demons fight?

More importantly, what does Hudd think he's going to achieve with that blade?

The angel doesn't budge at the sound of its' sharpness grinding across the floor. Hudd rises, you can't even see his face from this angle, but you understand that he's staring the celestial being down, giving them a few seconds to reconsider, to lose bravado. They don't.

You expected many things.

Perhaps that Hudd would hold the blade to the other's neck, slice across their forearm, even jab that knife into those bizarre tendrils. But then, it's foolish to try and predict the moves of a monster so desperate to achieve their self-proclaimed life's goal.

A flash of movement unfolds, the candles around the room flicker, and a horrid wail pierces into your ears.

It's not the scream of someone who's been stabbed, it's a harmonious, broken screech of a creature that never knew real pain. More than suffering, it's a cry of pure shock and fear.

As soon as the lighting stabilizes, you disobey the demonoid's wishes and crane your neck to see Hudd tightly gripping the angel's right wrist. The blade has pierced through their palm, through the eye that was supposed to be there. A sizzling noise stands out amidst the angel's shrieking, the rainbow-like hue of colors that ooze from the wound rapidly burning into a tar-like void. The blade... Scorched him? You don't understand.

All you know is that his cries are making your hairs stand, and that Hudd just stabbed someone. " Stop- Stop it! " You choke out.

It's only a few spine-chilling moments after your call that Hudd stops grinding the sharp object, yanking it right out and shaking the contaminated blood away before taking a step back. The guardian trembles, agony wracks him, the two remaining eyes shedding large, shining tears while the fingers of his mangled hand twist like the legs of a dying insect. He seems befuddled, staring at Hudd and the stained blade as if what just transpired couldn't be possible.

" That eye's not coming back- " Hudsyn snorts. " Believe me. "

Consistent in his madness, the demonoid clumsily wipes the knife on his robes, before making a much more shallow cut across his own palm. You hear the sound of his skin zipping apart, blinking when he quickly holds the dripping appendage over the angel's ruined socket.

All it takes is one drop of his blood.

The guardian grits his teeth, a sound not too different from the choked groans of someone who's bit their own tongue, before managing to throw his head back hard enough to make a gruesome thud against a now dented wall.

" GODDESS- "

It's a plea. Just the mingling of Hudd's blood with his own makes the celestial cry for their salvation, like a lost cub echoing calls for its' mother.

In the middle of the dread consuming you, it's impossible not to spot the veins of black spreading on his arm now, making small blisters on pale skin. An allergic reaction? Is his body trying to expel it in pockets? It looks incredibly inflamed and uncomfortable.

Finally, after allowing the angel's frightened sobs die down minimally, Hudd appears to be done with his torment. It's incredibly unnerving how he just... Sits back down, as if nothing had transpired.

" Are we ready to read now? "

" Stop this... Stop. "

The angel murmurs, voice small, a trembling whisper cradled in pure terror.

" I'll stop. I will, trust me, I'm not here to torture you- " Hudd laughs, as if the notion were ludicrous, as if he didn't just deliberately heighten the guardian's pain only moments ago. " Just read for me. "

The scroll is once more brought close to the angel's largest eye. Hudsyn looks serious, unrelenting. You can picture those pinprick white eyes blazing eerily at the celestial, the same way they once did when he showed up at your home. Unannounced, uninvited, with dubious-intent.

Imagine what he might have done to you then, if he felt like it. This demonoid has an angel subdued and wounded right now, a human is hardly an opponent. You picture yourself in the guardian's place, getting a knife drilled through your socket, a visceral chill shakes you.

" Read, angel. Or I'll scoop the other one. " Hudd turns back to you for a second. " Mentee, would you like a little souvenir from this adventure? Perhaps a resin paper weight with a guardian's eye? "

You don't answer. He's not looking for an answer anyway.

The guardian in question takes a few moments to deliberate on something. Probably the consequences of doing this, of providing a demon with information it most definitely is not meant to have. You have a feeling there's too much in that head for you to even begin to grasp.

More stiflingly silent seconds pass before his voice finally rings again.

" From the depths of our glorious Perdition, I pen these words with naught but ultimate scorn and haste, for my own existence is far from secured. Even now, I hear it all, above. Defeat, disorder, panic. I sense an age of calamity and ruination will befall this annex, His Kingdom, His chosen. "

The guardian pauses, likely to translate what must be entirely alien vocabulary into something tangible. Hudd fists the ground, not merely jolting you into action, but also reminding you to jot this down.

" Eden sings today, frivolous, mocking choirs in our skies, for their brutish extermination was successful, and they think themselves supreme. We know better, we are better, us the ones who were always loyal. He holds nothing from us, and this is not the end. May the Curator be as good as blind, for what he received was the mere flicker of Him. "

Hudd tugs at one of his horns, wheezing breathlessly.

" He remains with us, always. I do not weep, because the one who finds this finds Him. I will make sure of it. Welcome Him. Cherish Him. Make Him proud. Be more than us. Be worthy. "

" The great silence chases after me, these moments are my last, these breaths are my last. I beg you to seek Him, when the time is right, when the Dust has settled. Below lie the... "

The angel's voice dims into a whisper, then nothing at all. Your hand shakes over the paper.

" The coordinates! " Hudsyn all but shrieks, nearly ripping the scroll from how tightly he holds it. " Read them!! "

Silent and motionless, the celestial begins crying again. He knows what this will achieve already, he knows he can't lie. You have an inkling of what this scroll is conveying, and if it's enough to make an angel cry... If it's real...

" FUCKING TELL ME- "

The demonoid is hysterical. Understandably so, this is the very plateau of all he's worked for, and he's being unceremoniously edged along. You suppose you'd be half as mad as him too.

Patience eroded, nerves frayed, Hudd spares no mercy for the angel's continued stalling, picking the bloodied knife back up.

Quiet sobs turn into screams of desperation, distressing pleas for him to wait please wait don't please don't stop please-

You know what he's going to do, the second eye on the angel's unblemished palm will be destroyed, just as promised.

Time seems to slow down as your heartrate quickens. You ponder what to do. There's a heavy-looking vintage lamp beside you. It's not being used, of course, but it's there nonetheless, collecting dust. Quietly, you set the papers aside, rising to a squat and stretching just enough to grab it, the cord dragging along. The metal is cold and dense in your hands. It provides a sense of safety.

Do you trust the demonoid the same way he claims to trust you? Do you want to see where this goes? Is letting him achieve this the safest option? Do you share affections for this monster, in spite of his erratic nature?

Or... Is the angel, the voice in your mind, a way to avoid something catastrophic? A way to free yourself?

Hudsyn hunches over the wounded, begging guardian.

[contraryclock]

stupid ass Don Quixote ramblings

hi this is my first tumblr post but i really wanted a good place to put this

spoilers for all of current limbus company, including Murder on the warp Express, the Don Quixote book (( kinda )), and a musical (( i'll get there ))

please humor this deranged rant about a character i havent read the source book of

so basically ive had a theory since Don was even teased that she's less so based on book Don Quixote and moreso based on the Man of La Mancha musical which is. an insane thing to suggest but hear me out here (( ive since changed how i word my stance to the much more mild "it will most likely delve into the themes of both works and reference both" because suggesting they would discount the book entirely is TRUE insanity ))

her quote (( from teaser tweets that i cannot find anymore? they seem like they were deleted which sucks )) was "To reach the unreachable star!" or something which is notably not a quote from the original book ((as far as im aware at least?)), and suggests. a lot i think!

One of the most notable differences between Man of La Mancha and the original Don Quixote is their tone and attitude towards Quixote. In the original text, he's shown to be a fool who is ignorant to the vastly more interesting world around him, and prefers to instead sink deeper into his delusions of reality equating to chivalric literature. This makes sense as Don Quixote was written as a parody and mockery of the genre

La Mancha is, notably, much more forgiving on Quixote's character, showing that while still a fool, and his insanity often detrimental to those around him, he is still a good person at heart and that he truly wishes to pursue this justice he posits

I usually say it as "Don Quixote is about how reality is beautiful, and La Mancha is about how sometimes one should strive to make reality a little more fantastical" although i dont know if that. is the most accurate comparison. both Don Quixote and La Mancha have a lot of themes and stuff going on

one of the things that made me scream was learning about "Miguel" being written on don's LCB combat spritesheet instead of her listed name

which if you've seen or read a summary of la mancha is a huge alarm bell

In La Mancha, the whole thing is shown as a Play within a Play

Miguel de Cerventes is sent to prison, awaiting trial by the inquisition, and is tasked with defending himself in a mock trial with the other prisoners so they dont take his belongings. His defense is Don Quixote, Man of La Mancha! With the prisoners acting out the various roles he assigns them, and him acting as the leading man, Don Quixote himself!

that was most of the things that made me think "Oh, maybe it'll be La Mancha!" and then this happened

and i sort of lost my god damned mind

because like what if this is miguel... what if shes simultaneously playing out her life as don quixote as a her delusion, and as her dream, but also as a statement...

idk but this isnt JUST about Man of La Mancha bc i think this has a few implications for how don's canto is going to go

In both don quixote and la mancha, they send someone to cure quixote of his delusions

The final thing they try is setting up an act where a "Knight of Mirrors" duels with Quixote, which ends up working.

The Knight forces Quixote to see how he is perceived by others, to see the truth that he is no knight.

ignoring the stuff with vampires and mirrors for a second, i feel like this could be more mirror world shenanigans, where either the knight IS a mirror world don quixote, or is someone who will show her mirror worlds. Whatever that will imply!!! i dont know its exciting!!!!!

Her being absurdly old and powerful, plus bloodfiends having a whole familial adjacent hierarchy makes me think theres a LOT of bloodfiends out there that would want her back

I dunno!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

im insane!!!! AAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!! i just wanted to get my thoughts out before her canto actually happened so i can say that i did indeed have an opinion on this

-limbus assets taken form Lunartique's asset google drive go look at it -text written by me and not proofread

ok thanks bye dont follow me byeee byeeeeee

[kachowden]

How did Jessie’s infatuation with his darling start?

Ohoho this is a fun ask! Thank you anon

To be honest Jessie and your meeting wasn’t all that magical. You didn’t help him gain sentience. He had that long before meeting you. And you weren’t the first person to treat him like he was “human” either.

In fact, you two had worked together for a while before his obsession started, and he knew for fact that you were not a fan of androids.

But you were never outwardly rude to him or any of the bots in the work place. Whether because they were above you on the social pyramid, or because you just couldn’t be bothered, he wasn’t sure. (It was the last one btw)

He liked to believe that you were simply too morally upright. You couldn’t find it in yourself to treat anything poorly even if it was something simply made of code. Except for your stress ball maybe. He’d seen crumpling buildings in better shape.

Jessie knew you weren’t a bad person, despite your…biases.

He liked that about you.

But he didn’t love you. Not yet anyway. He just admired you.

To be honest that’s how his feelings started out, and still very much are. Admiration.

You were one of the best human workers he’d ever met.

Hardworking, determined

Even at times going out of your way to help out your coworkers, or stay late to cover for them.

(Admittedly you were just doing it for the bonus but he didn’t need to know that.)

His admiration just kind of grew from there, into a bit of a puppy crush. He still admired you greatly, but he couldn’t really help but get a little more nervous around your presence now.

His eyes would wander to you randomly during meetings. He’d notice small habits of yours. Sometimes when booting up, one of his first thoughts would be whether you were coming in that day.

Occasionally when reviewing the workloads he’d pause on your name, and maybe zone out for about 5 minutes before getting back to work. (Then maybe go back again to look at your file)

Sometimes he’d bring you coffee, only getting the order wrong once before it never happened again.

He’d be a bit more lenient with your work, or schedule, or holidays. Simple stuff like that.

It reached its peak though, during a very simple moment. That realistically could’ve been avoided.

He tripped. How’d he trip? His shoelace was untied. How was a supposedly flawless being able to have an untied shoelace? Simple. He was thinking about you and forgot to tie it that morning.

And while granted had he fallen, he would’ve been fine. Maybe a wire knocked loose or a scuff on his silicone skin, but nothing detrimental.

But, of course, you deciding you didn’t want to deal with the possibility of any extra paperwork, swooped in.

You caught him. Literally. You caught him.

That was it. That was the big “Bang” moment.

Jessie officially fell in love with you because you caught him.

Call him delusional but he believed it was because you cared about him. At least a little. Not to mention your arms were very comfortable and very strong because he’s made almost entirely out of metal and that’s not light at all and you were also very hot and omgyouwerelookingathimandyoupickedhim up and-

He pretty much short circuited after you put your hand on his shoulder and asked if he was okay.

So you had to file paperwork anyway.

And suddenly deal with your boss becoming 10x clingier than before seemingly out of nowhere.

Not that you cared too much given the nice fat bonus you ended up receiving.

[sunsetsover]

i saw something that had me thinking about the different relationships fadel and kant both have with their baby brothers and i genuinely can't stop thinking about it. especially when you look at how similar their experiences really are. like they're not just big brothers, but they're care givers too. guardians. obviously we don't know anything about anyone's upbringing rn, but given the little we know about lilly i doubt she was a hands on mother figure to those boys. i'm willing to bet they were housed and fed, but other than that they were just kind of left to fend for themselves, and it's likely that fadel, seeing bison - who is younger than him, smaller than him, more overtly emotional and in an environment that was so volatile and likely violent- immediately took responsibility of him and his well being. there's no doubt he took care of bison - he's bison's big brother. bison obviously loves and respects him. but one of the first things we learn about their relationship is that fadel also took on the role of a pseudo-parent when the role of actual parent was absent - are you my brother or my father, fadel?

it's an honourable thing to do, something that comes from a place of love and care. but in the process fadel has sacrificed having a brotherly relationship with bison. i mean jesus christ, bison doesn't even know what fadel's likes and hobbies are. he literally locks his bedroom door when he's not inside. and i've seen multiple blaming bison for that, like he doesn't even care about fadel and who he is deep down, but at the end of the day how is bison supposed to know what fadel doesn't tell him? bison is so open and honest with fadel - he tells him what he wants to do, who he wants to be, how he wants to live. as far as he's concerned there are no secrets between them. he's open about his budding relationship with kant and the fact that he doesn't want to have to lie to him. i'm sure he thinks, maybe naively, that fadel would just offer him the same kind of openness if he wanted to, but that he just doesn't want to. bison clearly doesn't like the fact that fadel is so cold and clinical, esp with him. i bet he doesn't even really understand why fadel is the way he is. but that was the point. that openness and that hope is something i bet fadel has worked so fucking hard to keep alive in bison even to his own detriment. but at the same time he's closed himself off so tightly from bison - the only person he seems to have in his life rn - that bison barely knows who he is. like how the fuck is bison supposed to know that fadel has a heart when bison is never allowed to see it?

like you know how for a lot of people there comes a point as you get older where you stop seeing your parents as parents and start seeing them as people with with wants and desires and lives outside of being a Parent? well bison hasn't reached that point yet. he still sees fadel as Big Brother, who doesn't let him go out or have friends or date people. who walks in when he's in the middle of hooking up with a guy and doesn't even have decency to turn away and let them make themselves decent. who makes bison do chores in order to be allowed out, like he's a teenager and not a grown man in his 20s. like tbh can you blame bison for being a little harsh on fadel sometimes, really? fadel treats him like a child. and so bison acts like one. that's their dynamic: like father and son, not brothers. and that means there are walls between them that are in many ways one sided. a son should be able to tell a father anything, but a father will always have parts of himself hidden away from his son.

compare that to kant and babe's relationship. we don't know exactly when kant and babe's parents passed and how long kant has been acting as babe's guardian, but i'm willing to bet it hasn't been very long. why? because kant still treats babe as his brother first, guardian second. kant obviously still takes the role of babe's guardian seriously - he is literally putting his life on the line in order not only to keep babe safe, but to make sure he has a good life. i'm sure the car thieving had something to with babe as well. in that way he's very much like fadel. but at the same time he hasn't put the walls up between himself and his brother that fadel has. even from the little we've seen of their relationship they feel like brothers - they bicker and they tease and they both laugh about it. fadel and bison bicker and it often feels like a parent chastising a child. kant expresses concern and sets some boundaries - don't be home too late - but he's not on babe's ass the way fadel is on bison's. there are open lines of communication between babe and kant - babe tells kant about his books and his desire to see a shakespeare play in the uk, kant seeks babe's advice when he's not sure how to move his relationship with bison along. and sure kant still holds things back and there is a little bit of distance there because he is still babe's guardian and babe's still a kid. but even with all that, the walls that exist between fadel and bison just don't really exist babe and kant.

of course there's nuance to all of this. bison and fadel's upbringing and lifestyle necessitates a caution that kant and babe's just doesn't. fadel has likely been acting as guardian for longer than kant has, and so has grown into - and probably grown up with - the role in ways kant hasn't. fadel very well may have been looking after bison since he was a child, even as a child himself, and that of course requires something different and changes the dynamics of a relationship in ways that taking in your teenage brother as a 20-something year old man just doesn't. babe seems pretty well behaved, where bison is a bit of a loose canon and trusts a little too easily and their mother is fucking scary - to a certain degree bison probably needs a leash on him, and fadel needs to keep him safe. but at the same time, how is bison to realise all of that when fadel has clearly gone above and beyond to shield bison from harm and from the realities of their lifestyle and maybe even who their mother is and what she's capable of? again, bison can't know what no one tells him.

and the thing is i think bison knows he's being kept in the dark and held at arms length, even if it's just subconscious. fadel locks him out. he's cold and harsh and we the audience know (or can assume) why, but bison doesn't. all he knows is that his brother has him practically under house arrest and doesn't trust him in his bedroom and is trying to ruin his new relationship. as i've said before, it's probably why he's so desperate for the affection and attention kant's giving him - where else is he getting it? and then it goes back to control: fadel has so much, bison has none. of course he's going to fight for whatever little scrap of it he can get, even if he has to behave brattish in the process.

this just turned into me rambling about fadel and bison's relationship at some point but i just think it's interesting how similar kant and fadel are in their motives - to protect their baby brothers - and yet how different their behavior and therefore their relationships with their brothers are in contrast.

[crazilust]

Revati, Pisces, water, losses

Just watched a youtube video (creator: luna giiselle) about water signs and how because of the nature of water, they tend to get completely strayed away sometimes because they absorb others’ energies even at their own detriment.

Pisces being the one with the the most tendency to lose themselves in others and to become whatever someone projects onto them.

I always hated my pisces placement in my Tropical chart (being in mercury) but when I learned that I was a whole Pisces sun (Revati nak) in Vedic, at first I was completely devasted honestly lol.

I used to hate the part of me who would adapt to anyone, and become their most fulfilling fantasy because I hated how empty I became afterwards. A vessel. A vessel for them.

I’m not sure yet how I can even channel this as a strength. I mean, it must be, right? But I don’t know what to do with this energy.

When I was younger, it used to manifest as me being friends with any types of people. Up to sketchy people who’d commit petty fraud to uptight church going people. And I would just adapt my attitude, language, jokes to whoever I was talking to. I used to refer to myself as a chameleon alot.

Until I realized, when I grew up, that it wasn’t that much of a good thing, especially when it came to getting to know who I really was at my core.

Even today, as I reminisce on my last toxic relationship, I can’t stop judging myself for all the times I became someone else for him.

I met him when I was at my lowest (isn’t it always the case?), and I had to take a break from my own life. And then, there he was, just like a damn wolf ready to sink his teeth into me the moment I was weak enough. He projected everything he couldn’t be onto me.

If I have to be completely honest, for a brief moment, it felt freeing. To be someone else while my life was going to shit. To be this ideal that only existed for him.

Luna mentioned this in her video, how Pisces will kind of enjoy (more so than other water signs) the transmutation. And I did. Until I lost myself. Until when I wanted to come back to myself (or the person I thought I was), he criticized me to no end.

I’m so mad at myself for not putting up enough boundaries, for letting myself being totally consumed and immersed in his energy, who was literal poison for me.

I’m trying to work on it, but I don’t want to work on it from a place of hate, I want to work on it from a place of understanding and compassion.

I used to hate Pisces because it reflects the part of myself that has been the most abused.

I have to heal that part of myself and love it, and recognize its strengths. I’m not sure how yet, I don’t even know if it’ll happen, but I just want to try.

[glader13]

Chasing Memories of You (pt. 4)

Miguel O’Hara x Reader

Chasing Memories of You

Chasing Memories of You (pt.2)

Chasing Memories of You (pt.3)

Miguel had a new pep in his step as if a fresh wind had blown over him, and perhaps one did, but no one knew what it was. It unsettled the other Spiders who were used to Miguel’s stoic nature, how willing he was to pop a smile. His change of attitude warmed Jess’ and Peter B’s hearts to see their friend finally moving on, but what caused his change of heart, they did not know. Miguel could feel it, he could sense that they were itching to know, always asking the question “How are you doing” in the hopes that he would spill. But, he doesn’t, not wanting to sound crazy in front of the few people that he trusts. Each night that he settles in his living room or his area at HQ, watching you live your life blissfully, but achingly to him, unaware of his eyes on you. He thinks about telling your parents that he found you, but the same fear holds him back, that he would seem crazy, detrimentally desperate. They wouldn’t understand, no one would. If he was going mad, well he can thank it, appreciate it. In his madness, he found the perfect version of you.

He still couldn’t believe that he found it, the place where you are alive and healthy. The earth where you have a normal life, not burdened by your powers. Through the screens, Miguel saw how happy you were, and how at peace you were. It made his pain all the greater, so unbearable that he would have to tear himself away from the screens to catch his breath. But, he wouldn’t, he couldn’t stay away for long, because he was missing precious moments of you. It started innocently, watching the live feed of you would only be in his spare time that slowly slipped into a pastime. A distraction would be an understatement, his mind was consumed by you, and all he could think of was how you were alive, breathing. He didn’t have to imagine you, what you would be doing when he could just view you.

The anticipation of doing that left his mind scattered, especially during missions. He’s slower, not picking up on things that he usually would. But the wounds from his absentmindedness sting less when he cleans them as a feed of you is playing in the background, filling the void that you created. He could care less, about everything, every word sounds like chalk grating against a board, as he is briefed about different realities, but it’s all the same. If it’s not Green Goblin, then it’s Venom, and if it’s not them, or whatever, then it’s some villain of the week. It’s all the same, it’s mundane. His mind brimming with a mixture of numbness, and past moments of when you would sit across from him, encouraging him with smiles. Then, he couldn’t wait for the meeting to be over, to debrief after the debrief, the casual conversation turning into something intimate as he pulled you into him. Now, it’s much the same thing, he waiting for the meeting to end, but instead of holding you, he’s watching you. Watching you live the life that he has wanted, that he has wanted for you. Something simple, something safe.

Miguel watches the footage of you and Gabi, he nearly wept when he saw his daughter for the first time, religiously, mentally placing himself in your space. He would replay your conversations, and then talk back in the quietness of his room. Always talking at you, but it makes him feel whole. It only took him three days worth of watching you to know where you lived, to know your weekly routine. You get up at 7, waking up Gabi to get her ready for school. As you do that, you’re also simultaneously getting ready for work. The whole process takes you around half an hour, you then drop her off and you work in your office, but sometimes at home, as a journalist. Around 12, you go to the same cafe and have lunch, often working on your article, or editing other people’s work. You pick up Gabi at three and five, drop her off at soccer practice, and pick her up at seven.

Your routine is so easy, that Miguel drops by in your universe. He sometimes sits in the same cafe as you, as you eat blissfully unaware of him. It takes everything in him to not run over and hold, or kiss you. His enhanced hearing allows him to enjoy your voice, it sounds so sweet, so addicting. He sends you flowers, signed with his name, seeing that there is no harm from it, after all, it is him. Sometimes he watches Gabi practice, either from afar or “close”. Close as in he “exercises” around the track as Gabi’s team uses the field. His heart swells with an old pride seeing her out-compete her teammates, she is his soccer star. This relationship sustains him, despite being para-social.

Obsession is what comes to mind, when he has his out-of-body moment, when reality hits cold and hard as he hides his face in his hands. Would you want this for him, for him to be this pitiful? So lost in his grief that he has resulted in stalking. He would’ve laughed, never allowing himself to stoop this low, but he feels you in his mind, where he runs away with you. You’re his collar, taking away the air that he knows he needs. He can never sleep with another, given his love to another. He would die a thousand times just to see you smile. He swore that he wouldn’t peak into your personal life, that he would turn off the feed when you would enter your home, locking him out once again. He couldn’t let you go, you sustain him. After all, you’re his destiny.

Your routine is perfect for him to slip into, he can easily have the two of you back. He can have his life back. Waking up to you every morning, giving Gabi a good morning kiss, he would be complete again. Perhaps then, the man he was before he lost the two of you would come back, stronger than ever. It would have been perfect, but you weren’t alone in this world. You had him. You had your Miguel, and he does nothing but love you. And it pisses Miguel off, if the situation wasn’t so dire, he would laugh. To be jealous of yourself. Miguel has to retract his claws each time he sees you being touched by Miguel, how his lips personally know your body. Miguel gets up an hour before you, starting each morning with a kiss, he then gets some breakfast ready for you and Gabi. He’s a scientist, and he tries his best to match his work schedule with yours, which complicates Miguel’s plans.

There are days when Miguel visits, watching you eat lunch as he builds the courage to go talk to you, shamelessly impersonating your Miguel. He imagined, no, planned, how it would be. He would bring you flowers, sneaking up from behind you. You would laugh, pulling him into a kiss that would surely melt him, causing him to fall to his knees. He wouldn’t even speak, he would just listen to you talk, recording the whole date so it could be later saved as a file. If your schedule allows it, you would walk downtown together, hand in hand. He just wants to be loved again, but Miguel keeps that from happening. He’s the one that gets you to switch your lunch schedule, often taking you to random places. It makes him sick, seeing you lean all over Miguel, watch him playfully feed you. And when he can’t meet you, you would meet him. You would bring him lunch to his office and would greet him with a kiss. He would show you around his lab, describing his latest experiment on DNA splicing. But despite his love, he always falls short.

“Another late night,” Miguel watched you sigh as you sat at the kitchen table with Gabi was consumed by her game. Miguel’s plate sat untouched across from you.

“I’m sorry querido, but they’re up my ass about this genetic code,” Miguel says, taking off his glasses to rub his eyes, “Hopefully we find what we’re looking for.”

“But baby, you come home late, you don’t even eat,” you say, “And you’re starting to miss Gabi’s weekday games.”

“It’s fine,” Gabi chimed in, causing both Miguels to smile sadly, “The important ones are on the weekends.”

“All games are important,” Miguel gently told her, “But I’ll try to be home at a reasonable time-“

You slightly scoffed, and Miguel looked away, his mouth slightly open before closing again. Miguel watched it all, the sadness creeping on the edges of your beautiful face. But just as quickly as it appeared, it was gone, erased by another easy smile. He just knew that if he was there, a frown would never grace your face.

“Just remember what we’re trying to do,” you smiled, “Love you, okay.”

“Love you too,” he smiled, “I’ll make it up to you.”

He was a stain in Miguel’s plans, like blood upon the snow. He had to move carefully, his visits to see you were infrequent, and the courage to talk to you would dissipate when Miguel would hurriedly rush in to your table. Moving cautiously didn’t mean that he had to stop seeing you smile, it was a drug, and he was addicted to being the cause of it. He would linger longer after paying for your meals, watching your eyes squint in confusion and slow recognition. The flowers signed with his name, along with paying for your meals were a point of tension, with your Miguel denying all of those things as you would try to convince him that he did those things. It made Miguel smile, gaining a secret victory that proved he was the better lover.

You have a stalker, that’s what Miguel told you, as he watched through the screens, seeing you frown, draining the color from your face as your hand instinctively went to your stomach. He became your protector of sorts, altering his schedule to completely match yours, and when you’re off before him, he’ll take a break just to make sure you and Gabi are home safe. He even created a pepper spray of sorts that wouldn’t cause you to have any problems when it was sprayed.

Miguel has thought of it, getting rid of your Miguel, after all, he has the capabilities. He has played with the idea in his head, of how to kill that Miguel without raising an alarm. He would spend hours analyzing himself and an image of your Miguel, trying to find any slight difference in appearance. He studied him, his movements, and how he interacts with you and Gabi in case he decides to go through with his plan. The idea unsettled him, but means would justify the end because it’s you.

“Miguel,” you whisper, moving your head from his shoulder. He didn’t move, and you shook him again, causing him to stir. He looked at you, his words slightly slurring together as he asked you if everything was okay. You nodded moving stray hair from his face, an action that caused another painful and yearning sensation in Miguel as he watched the feed from his home.

Miguel took your hand, kissing it as he asked what was going on in your pretty mind. You turn down your living room TV, changing your position on the couch, “What if something happens,” you say, “What if the pepper spray and you being here isn’t … enough? We’re just now starting a family, and I just want everything to be okay.”

“It will be,” he kissed you, “I promise you. As long as I’m alive, no harm will come near you, mi vida.”

Unknowing to Miguel he cursed himself with those words.

~

It was raining when Miguel tuned in on himself racing home. Miguel’s eyes kept flashing to the time as he hurriedly told Lyla to place an order for flowers. Why was he in a rush, Miguel didn’t know, but he found it amusing. Miguel cursed the weather quietly as he complained about the lack of visibility, wherever he was going he was running late. Even his hover vehicle seemed to be against him as it began to sputter, a steady beeping coming from inside the vehicle, causing the vehicle to slowly begin to descend. Miguel played with buttons in his vehicle, trying to see if he could at least make it back to his home, but everything refused to work.

“Shock me,” he grumbled, looking into the rain. He squinted into the grainy darkness, trying to figure out if the bar was open, failing to notice the shifting shadows hiding along its wall. Miguel, from his room, noticed it. Zooming in on the feed to see them lurking, watching him as if he were their next victim. Miguel could’ve stopped them, could’ve warned himself, but he watched, hoping for something that he could never stomach to do.

Miguel never made it to the bar, he didn’t even have a chance.

Miguel could have stopped them, he could have saved himself. Instead, he watched himself get pummeled, ignoring the pitiful cries for help, the pleas to stop the beating. Miguel felt something in him break, or possibly resolve, when he heard himself trying to reason with the thugs, telling them that he has a family. They didn’t stop beating him and he … he felt satisfaction. He turned off the footage seeing one pull out a gun. He gleefully pulled out the matching outfit that he was wearing, feeling as if Christmas arrived early. He turned on the screen seeing himself surrounded by a pool of blood, the rain slowly making it disappear. Once again, Miguel could have stepped in, and given him the medical help, but he stood by and watched almost sadistically. He couldn’t help that his lips quirked into the smallest of smiles as he felt the ghost of your lips.

Miguel was greeted by the rain, and then his dying body. He heard himself struggle to breathe, as he tried to make his way back to the front of the bar. Miguel followed him nonchalantly, thinking of his first moments with you and Gabi. Yes, he could have saved himself, but the urge to be loved was much stronger, it suffocated him. Infiltrating his mind, your love made him its slave. He heard him weakly call for help, and Miguel had to tell himself to be patient. He lost his strength before he made it out of the alley, falling onto his back with a soft plopping. Miguel walked up to him, taking pleasure again in seeing the scared look on his face. Miguel kept him down with his foot, silencing him.

“They’ll be safe with me,” Miguel smiles, “After all, they belong with me. They’re my family, my destiny.”

“Stay away from them,” he coughed up blood, “Lyla-“

“No need to call her, I disabled her,” Miguel said in a bored voice, “You can rest now.”

“Who … who are you?”

“You,” was the last thing that your Miguel had heard.

Miguel quickly disposed of himself by throwing him into a river. He watched himself sink, letting nature have its way. He watched himself sink to a place that only he and the waters that buried him would know. He quickly looked around making sure that no one was watching before he quickly left the scene. In his haste, he didn’t notice how the water quickly flashed neon colors of green, and pink, like a glitched screen on a broken television.

Tags:

@cecilliaz272

@honey-bee2002

@montyrokz

@vampiredp94

@mmhcs

[bullet-prooflove]

Home: Terry Silver x Reader

Tagging: @volumesofforgottenlore@kmc1989@somethingdarkside17@noonee333

The house where Terry lives changes subtly throughout his relationship with you. The dark, masculine paintings he used to favour are put into storage one by one, replaced with artwork that you’ve chosen together. Brighter pieces, with vibrancy and colour. A warm plush blanket appears on the back of his couch because you get a little cold in the evenings. His wine cellar begins to feature rosé, when it’s only hosted reds and whites.

He spends Sunday mornings at the farmer’s market where he buys seasonal wild flowers. He sets them in a vase he’s never owned until recently, placing them in the centre of the dining table where the two of you eat because he knows you like how pretty they are.

He starts to cook again. Once a week he sends his personal chef home and the two of you spend the evening cooking together. It gets a little messy but it’s a lot of fun, he loves the domesticity of washing the dishes in the aftermath. He can’t keep his eyes off you as you raise up on tiptoes to put things away.

Photographs begin to appear on the fridge, polaroids you’ve taken throughout the course of your relationship. You’d been thrilled to find the camera when Terry was making some space his closet. It’s an original from the 80s. He’d spent the evening cleaning it up for you, showing you the intricacies of it.

“You should keep a few things here.” He had said as he shifted around his clothes and a couple shoe boxes. “It’ll save you coming and going so much between here and Silver Lake.”

He’d stayed at your apartment a couple of times in the beginning. It’s tiny, although bright and airy. The whole place could fit within the confines of his living room. You’d been embarrassed but it had felt more like home than anywhere he’s ever lived. The only problem was the bed, he’s over six four, he doesn’t quite fit, which is part of the reason you spend most of your time at his place.

That night you’re curled up on the couch together, your head resting on his shoulder as you read the latest Karin Slaughter book. He’s flicking through Casino Royale by Ian Fleming, it’s one of his favourite books. He has the whole collection of first editions on his bookcase in the study.

“You are going to give yourself nightmares, reading that this late.” He reminds you with an amused tone in his voice. It’s happened before, if you read something too spooky or violent before bed. You have a vast imagination, one that he envies but sometimes it can work to your detriment.

“I know but it’s too compelling.” You tell him, closing the book and setting it down on the coffee table before you tuck yourself in against him. Terry sighs contently as he sets his own book down, his cheek coming to rest upon the top of your head.

“I’ve been thinking that maybe you should stay.” He says quietly as his fingertips doodle light patterns over your bare arm.

“I am.” You remind him, your palm coming to rest on the space where his heart resides. “You have me until tomorrow morning.”

“No my love.” He whispers as he tips your chin up so he can meet your gaze. “I mean you should come live here, with me.”

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[blacklegsanjiii]

If you had to give sanji a random devilfruit, which would you go for and what kinda story would you have around it 🤔

So kind of fucked up but my first thought was the calm-calm fruit. It'd probably be in the bag of food Zeff tossed him on the rock. Do I think he would use it in a healthy way? No. Would it be even more detrimental to his mental health? Yep. Does he use it to perv? No.

He would use it to hide his panic and his nightmares and everything 'not useful' despite what Zeff and the others keep telling him. It's a safety net so he doesn't bother people with his problems, with what's happened to him. He uses it for others as well, providing quiet spaces for those who need it. Sanji is incredibly selfless when it comes to others problems but you know he would encase his room in a calm bubble so the others wouldn't hear him in the night.

When he joins the crew he uses it less, not to hide it but more so he doesn't become overly reliant on it. The crew would know about it, I think after Arlong Park Nami asks him to use it on her so she can have some cathartic screaming without disturbing the crew and he obliges with a knowing and sad smile. He shows it to Vivi and Chopper and Ace who all find it rather interesting, he doesn't know if the Marines know because it's not listed on his poster after Alabasta. Robin finds it interesting that the man who hides has such a fruit, not that she says this of course, it's not her business to share. I think it would FUCK with Thriller Bark if Sanji used it to take the place of Zoro. He doesn't let Zoro hear what he says to Kuma and doesn't tell Zoro to give his regards to the crew, just watches Zoro collapse again before he takes it.

Zoro is pissed at him when he wakes up so he uses his fruit to let Zoro be angry at him without the others hearing. Sanji doesn't argue with him and just takes his anger. It is well deserved after all, but he tells the mosshead to be quiet for a bit, he doesn't tell Zoro why he did it, but Zoro knows, he knows the cook too well.

When the crew comes back together, after the loss of Ace Sanji offers his powers to his captain. Luffy uses it sometimes, usually after he wakes up from an awful nightmare. Things go as canon, Sanji is just sneakier than before. In punk hazard Nami has to figure out Sanji's fruit for a minute before they're all switched again. It doesn't work but imagine what finding out Sanji has Cora's fruit does to him?

Sanji offers the use of his fruit for some peace and quiet because he knows Law is stressed out and Law is staring at him in shock and bewilderment. It feels like a prank on the man as the man who looks like a smaller Cora almost has his fruit. They have a lot of the same mannerisms too so it's gotta hurt a bit. Law agrees and Sanji silences the galley for them as he cooks. Just lets the warlord sit as the rhythmic chopping and bubbling of the kitchen soothe.

In WCI, because I think it would be funny if the world still didn't know he had a fruit - like it's not public knowledge, so if it wasn't for the cuffs and Zeff, Sanji would have snuck back. I think it would be hilarious if he uses his fruit to sneak around, no one notices him come or go. So during the escape when he silences the whole ship everyone is shocked that it goes completely quiet as they sail away and realize someone on the boat has a fruit the world is unaware of.

In Wano it allows him to sneak away from the group and sneak around more than the others. Get more information and meet Yamato sooner and they relate heavily. He shows Yamato his fruit and Yamato is pleased by it because he would be. During the raid he uses it against Queen when he starts spouting shit about and copying his raid suits powers. Queen would flip about his fruit as Sanji smiles and finishes the fight.