#and now he can't even be practically dead in peace what the HELL is the point

[tiredassmage]

I think one of my grandest little amusements from your first chat with Valkorian on Zakuul is he leads by trying to pretend he’s not exactly who you were looking for, that he has no idea what a Vitiate even is and then...

Promptly just. Doesn’t follow through with the act. Whether it’s ego or overconfidence, whatever, I’m not here to write an analysis post, I’m just here to giggle about it, tbh. It could definitely be that deep, but that’s for another post. He toys like a tiny bit about it with Marr and then as soon as that’s done amusing him he’s like ‘lol so what’s up we powerful as FUCK join me.’

Anyway, then he spends the rest of the chapter and Dream of Empire on a power trip trying to butter you up as something more than his favorite insignificant little pest from Ziost and it’s all just a little bit amusing, tbh.

[songmingisthighs]

Wanbelyn

introduction pt. i | pt. ii | pt. iii

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ch. lxxx - broken face

neurosurgeon!hongjoong × reader

genre : dad!au

rating : mature; crude jokes and filthy language

wc : 2.3 k

buy me coffee ?

where love and peace is held, i never expected for this to happen. i planned and i planned, i expected, and i hoped, but it was never you. you held what i wanted hostage to make room for you, the thing that i needed but has no means of acceptance. deny me, live your best life.

To say that you rushed into the gym was an understatement because you practically flew through the door, almost breaking it in the process. You even ignored San who was beaming when he saw you, trying to go in for a hug only for you to push past him whilst yelling 'SORRY, MY BABY NEEDS ME MORE'. Hell, you didn't even take notice of Yeosang who had to console San for being ignored by you.

When you got to the classroom, your eyes zeroed in on the very familiar tuft of hair and not because of the fact that he was the only one there.

In a flash, you dropped to your knees and cupped Kijoong's face who was surprised when he was suddenly spun around. "Kijoong, are you okay?" you asked worriedly, the first aid kit you had hauled with you left on the floor as you tried to look for signs that his face was, as San said, broken, "Did you fight with someone?" you asked, still looking for signs of injury.

Now fully realizing that you were there with him. Kijoong grinned widely and jumped into your arms, wrapping his own shorter ones around your neck and trying to climb you like a tree. It was then that you realized that Kijoong was perfectly fine and perhaps you had fallen so absolutely stupidly to San's words. You risked getting a speeding ticket only to see that Kijoong was perfectly fine and that confused you more than anything. "Kijoong, did you get hurt?" you asked again, still wanting to make sure as it would greatly affect how dead Choi San would be. Instead of telling you if he was okay, Kijoong proceeded to tell you about what he had been learning in school and in class with San.

In a state of confusion, the door opened and at first you thought that it was San which would have been nice since that would mean that you could spare his staff from seeing the strangling of a lifetime. So it took you by surprise when you saw Hongjoong standing there, looking as surprised as you.

"(y/n)?" God, it had been a while since you heard him call your name, "What are you doing here?" he asked, confused but slightly hopeful for some reason. "I- San told me Kijoong got hurt and I got here as fast as I could. What are you doing here?" "Picking Kijoong up?" that was stupid of you to ask and you really wanted to kick yourself for that. "But also, San told me Kijoong got in a fight with a kid and I needed to sign an incident report? I just saw him outside, he told me to get the story from Kijoong first so I came here." As if on cue, after Hongjoong was done explaining his being there, the door suddenly closed and locked, surprising you and Hongjoong yet again.

Just as you rushed to try to open the door, Yeosang's head popped up from the small window with San above him. "Kang Yeosang, what the hell do you think you're doing?" you hissed, trying to open the door which of course didn't happen as it was locked. "I did nothing, San was the one who locked you in," he smiled innocently only to receive a smack on the shoulder from San. You turned your attention to San and glared at him, "You have exactly 5 seconds to open this door, Choi San, I'm not kidding I will whoop you," you threatened, oblivious that Hongjoong was looking at you with amusement and affection, as if you were the most adorable being on earth and it didn't go unnoticed by your two friends outside. "You can't scare me (y/n)," San was lying straight out of his ass but he had to keep the facade to ensure that the plan would work, "You two need to talk things out and reverse the divorce because Yeosang and I have created a gaming group chat with Yunho and Mingi and I'm not about to give that up especially since we're going into a competition soon and we want you both to be there!" "Bye (y/n)! Have a good talk!" and with that, both Yeosang and San walked away, leaving you in a room with the guy whom you harboured feelings for but unfortunately had to repress for the sake of his son.

"So..." Hongjoong started, clearing his throat, "Seems like we were lied to, huh?" he stated the obvious. Sighing, you turned around to look at Hongjoong but kept your distance by leaning against the door, "Yeah, seems like it and I have a feeling those two were not the only ones in on this," you huffed. Hongjoong only chuckled as he managed to put two and two together rather quickly.

"How have you been though?" he asked. You didn't know how to answer that because from professional aspect, you were finally getting back on track and you were happy with that. But emotional-wise? You've been repressing everything to the point that you were functioning like a robot in real life, using work as a distraction. Little did you know, Hongjoong wasn't faring any better but he had to kept things going for him as best as he could because Kijoong was depending on him to be okay. You were about to answer when he interjected, "Because I haven't been fine since you left." It genuinely surprised you that Hongjoong was the one to reveal his feelings first. From your experience, something dramatic had to happen between the two of you first before he came clean about how he was actually feeling. The honesty felt refreshing.

"Neither have I," you answered, sending him a sad smile.

Though it was a sad realization for the two of you, Hongjoong couldn't help but feel butterflies in his stomach when he found out that you were as much as not okay as he had been.

"I missed you. Home is not home when you're not there," Hongjoong confessed, voice slightly shaky as he was trying his hard to not be too emotional. Your shoulders slumped hearing that, feeling bad that Hongjoong felt like that and thought it wasn't your fault exactly, you still feel somewhat at fault.

The two of you were so focused on each other that you completely missed the way Kijoong was staring at the two of you with furrowed eyebrows and a displeased expression. You only took notice of him again when he ran up to you and hit you on the hip with a balled fist. "No!" He exclaimed loudly, surprising both you and Hongjoong who immediately chastised him. "Kijoong!" he called out but Kijoong went for another hit and that was when Hongjoong swooped down to hold Kijoong back but Kijoong was straining against him, trying to get another hit on you. "Hey, no!" Hongjoong tried his best to keep Kijoong from trying to hurt you again but the boy was still going wild in his arms. "No!" Kijoong screamed again, louder this time as he tried his best to get his fists to reach you.

After coddling him due to your own self-blaming, you decided to step in and get to the bottom of the issue. You joined in and crouched in front of Kijoong, holding both of his hands in your own. "Use your words," you stated, looking straight into Kijoong's eyes. Kijoong noticed the serious tone in your voice and he felt something in him, something that didn't make him feel good. He managed to slip one hand out of your grasp and swung, successfully hitting you in the head much to Hongjoong's horror. As the parent, Hongjoong was about to haul Kijoong up and out one way or another so he wouldn't hurt you anymore but you didn't falter. Instead, you simply grabbed his loose hand and held it at the front. "Use your words Kim Kijoong, you know you can," you stressed, maintaining eye contact with him.

Kijoong's chest began heaving and you thought he was about to scream at you but the first thing he did was burst into tears. The sound of his son bawling made Hongjoong let go in worry, wanting to immediately calm him down but he was stopped from taking action when Kijoong spoke up, "Why you left? You left and you made daddy sad," he cried out while trying to get you to let go of his hands but you kept them firm, "Kijoong, what did you mean by that?" you asked, your voice sounding less harsh but it still had an element of seriousness to it. Through tears and sobs, Kijoong looked to you and then to his dad, and then to you again before attempting to speak even though it looked like he was struggling, "Y-you said you leave when I don't need you a-and you ma-de daddy sad," he told you.

Though his words were simple and rather vague, you immediately realize what he was trying to tell you. You did tell him that you would only leave when he no longer needed you and you did tell him that you cared for him and his dad. So obviously in his simple mind, when you did leave when he still needed you and when Hongjoong had to deal with the absence of you, he blamed you. It didn't help that you already blamed yourself for Kijoong's episodes and the decision to leave them, hearing what Kijoong had to say made your heart break.

You were about to apologize and acknowledge that you messed up when Hongjoong grabbed Kijoong and turned around to face him, "Hey, you can't blame (y/n) like that, Kijoong. (y/n) didn't leave us, she was giving us time because she was scared that you'd get sick again, remember? Remember when you had another episode and then again?" Kijoong nodded, remembering both times he had an episode around you, "You remember what you told Uncle Mingi? You remember telling him you didn't want (y/n) to be your mommy because then she'd leave me?" again, Kijoong nodded, his mind clearing up as his sobs died down slowly. "(y/n) is not like your mom, Kijoong. Your mom... She was sick so she decided to go, she couldn't be anyone's mommy and yes, that made me sad but I'm no longer sad about mommy being gone because I had (y/n)." Though Hongjoong was talking to his son, you couldn't help but think that he was probably also talking to you, telling you how he felt about you and how serious he was about his feelings. "I was happy when she was around but then you got sick so we agreed that you should get better first and yes, that made me sad, but that was not (y/n)'s fault, that was my fault too. I'd rather be sad for a long time than to see you sick again and (y/n) also thinks the same way. We didn't want to be apart but we thought we had to."

Hongjoong didn't realize that he was starting to cry too until Kijoon reached up to wipe the tears off of his face. "I'm sorry daddy, sorry for being sick," he sniffled, now thinking that his dad was sad partially because of him. But Hongjoong immediately shook his head and pulled Kijoong into a tight embrace, "You silly little monkey, you don't ever apologize for being sick, okay? You can't help being sick, you have no say in that," then he pulled away, "But you have a say in letting people into your, into our lives, you hear me?"

It was then that Hongjoong turned his attention to you, seeing you looking at him so sadly. A small smile appeared on Hongjoong's face as he reached a hand to softly take yours, immediately rubbing his thumb gently on the back of your hand. "And I want you in our lives (y/n). The distance between us confirmed my feelings that it was never the proximity that affected my feelings for you, it was never the fact that we were simply in each other's lives. I didn't choose to have feelings for you but I was gifted the ability to develop feelings for you because it was you, it had to be you. I don't want to force you nor do I want to pressure you, but I really want you back in my life. You heard what Kijoong sad, I was sad without you," You couldn't help but chuckle and tried to look away when you felt a tear fell from your eye from being reunited with the father and son duo once again, remembering how much you silently miss them but not being able to know if you should approach them again only to know that both of them were missing you too. Seeing the tear, Kijoong reached out again and this time, he wiped the tear off of your face. It may seem stupid, but that moment made you feel like it was proof that Kijoong didn't have anything against you, not anymore at least and you didn't know how to feel about that.

"So, can you find it in yourself to come back to us?" Hongjoong asked, hopeful but he was still allowing you to make a decision.

Your shoulders slumped and you let out an exhale. You took a moment to look at Hongjoong and then at Kijoong, remembering all the good times with them and then also the bad times. The bad times that brought so many emotions and even some trauma back. As much as you were reluctant to give an answer right then and there, you knew you had to because if not then, then you would just postpone and risk ruining things further.

This is going to seem mean, but...

network :

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[angularbean]

Cupid's Chokehold [Adam x Fallen Angel! Reader]

"My bitch's hotter than yours."

Word spreads around heaven like wildfire, it doesn't help how big mouthed Adam is. Which he argues is one of his best qualities, among varies of other things; he would say with a wink.

The winners couldn't help but be baffled how Adam managed to snag a pretty thing like you. You were practically the epitome of an angel. He was just, well, Adam.

Ethereal and graceful. Almost always perfect. Almost.

To him, Adam loved you most when you weren't. He loved when strands of hair are out of place. He'd purposely rustle your hair to fuck with you. Not because it reminded him of certain activities; yeah that's exactly why and he knew it.

You always remained calm and collected, but the few times you let your emotions go haywire, Adam reveled in it. Ooh, especially when you got mad. He loved to rile you up. Always purposely trying to upset you, though never serious, he couldn't help it. The way your brows furrowed, eyes glaring, jaw clenched, wings fluffed up... it was always a looong night when you fought.

He especially loved how you looked when you woke up.

So disheveled, imperfect.

Hair frizzed and tussled. Your eyes clouded with sleep. The pretty, little night gown you would wear to sleep falling off your shoulders. He was no better than a sinner.

"Your tits look amazing, babe."

Adam wiggled his brows which earned a soft smack to his shoulder.

Oddly enough, the two of you were almost polar opposites. You were a free thinker; often challenging Heaven's morals. Adam, the commander of the well hidden Exorcists, liked the way Heaven ran.

When Adam's loose lips revealed the extermination plot and you were furious. Much to the dismay to Adam, but doing wonders for his hormones.

You challenged Sera. Heaven is supposed to be peaceful and pure. What they were doing to those poor sinners was wrong. The rest of Heaven should be made aware of this ploy. You threaten Sera; to blow her little operation wide open.

"Do you wish to be cast out just as Lucifer?"

Sera challenged, her voice calm, but the anger in her eyes apparent. Nothing more was said. You wouldn't accept this.

You made your way to the little home you and Adam shared. He had been carelessly lounging on the couch when you announced withdrawal from Heaven.

Adam quickly sat up, spitting out whatever he had been drinking.

"What the fuck? Do you have shit for brains, babe?”

He grabbed your hand leading you to his lap, motioning for you to sit. Which you hesitantly did.

"I know you don't like this, sugar tits, but you don't have to like it. You just have to let it happen. Just stay here with me."

He moved to press a kiss to your cheek. His lips met your hand instead.

"I can't stand by this, Adam. It's not right."

You stood, turning away from him. "I have to leave."

But that was eons ago.

You still loved Adam, and he you. Despite your differences, your love still managed to bloom. He'd visit you in Hell as much as possible, especially on the eve of the exterminations.

The angel missed you, more than he would ever admit. He wished you would just come back to Heaven with him, but he respected your wishes; much to his dismay. That's what he loved about you. How strong-willed you are, always standing for what you believe is right.

Adam always tried to make it up to you. Even though he was more than trilled to execute extermination day; he hated the way they made you feel. Muttering "I'm sorry"'s as he peppered kisses on your skin.

He usually never laid hands on a sinner if it was possible, he even lowered the death quotas.

"It wouldn't be fun with them all dead, now would it? Dumbass."

Up in Heaven, the winners were absolutely baffled at yours and Adam's relationship. Opposites attract, I guess. But it was still a little fucking weird. The chokehold you had on that angel was insane; and he didn't want to be let go.

While away, Adam always had an excuse to bring you up. You were his precious little "angel" after all. He even carried a provocative polaroid of you in his wallet. Adam had absolutely no need for one, he could get whatever he wanted for no price. The wallet carried nothing but a picture of you.

Mid conversation, he'd pull out his wallet and whip out the photo of you.

"Hot as fuck right? Can't wait to tap that later."

⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆

my first adam fic, hope y'all enjoyed! sorry if it's bit ooc(,:

[rainforestakiie]

Adamsapple Month Harvest

Sweaters~

@adamsappleweek

this will have a part 2 much later! i ran out of time and need to get going! i thought i could get it done in time, but nope! i might be able to write a little during my vacation but can't promise anything! i will be back sometime around the 8th of October!

thank you everyone and hope you like what i have written for harvest so far!

Part 01 - Part 02

Adam would never admit it to a living soul—hell, not even a dead one. Never. But he had a peculiar talent, a secret skill woven into the fibres of his very being. He could knit. Stitch. Weave. It wasn’t just something he did for his children and grandchildren back on Earth; no, even in Heaven, where time was endless, he found his hands restless, creating. Scarves, mittens, sweaters, coats—each one a masterpiece crafted in the shadows. He loved it, revelled in seeing what his fingers could create, but it was a skill he buried deep, wrapped in shame. It wasn’t manly, not for the first man, the father of humanity, to be doing something so... soft. So, he hid it, tucked it away like a forbidden treasure. No one could ever see. Adam’s hands might have shaped the destiny of mankind, but they would never be seen knitting by the fireside in public.

But then Hell happened.

After the battle, everything shifted. He woke, gasping for air, his body weak, his vision clouded like a newborn fumbling through its first moments of life. The taste of dirt and blood clung to his tongue as he clawed his way out of the grave he'd been tossed into, scrambling like a beast toward the faint outline of a dumpster. Hell's atmosphere—thick, stifling, and bitter—pressed down on him, and when his golden eyes finally adjusted, he realized just how far he had fallen.

The Hazbin Hotel loomed in the distance; its massive red eye glaring down at him like some twisted sentinel of judgment. His wings—once radiant gold and silver—hung limp at his sides, dull, useless. Panic wrapped its icy fingers around his chest, his heart thudding painfully against his ribs. He wasn’t just Adam, the first man anymore. He was a Sinner. One of them. A walking target, prey for the vile creatures who hunted for sport in this wretched pit. His skin tingled with the rawness of fear, a sensation he hadn’t felt since Eden. He was the first man, but now... now he was nothing more than a hunted thing.

Crawling, desperate, he dragged himself toward the gates of the hotel. It wasn’t like he had a choice. There was nowhere else to go, no one else to turn to. That bizarre rainbow-haired girl and the smug bastard who ran the place—they’d help him, wouldn’t they? They had to. After all, wasn’t their whole pathetic mission about redeeming Sinners? Forgiveness and second chances, all that righteous crap? His trembling hands gripped the iron bars of the gate as he hauled himself up, eyes wide and staring at the tower before him.

But then he hesitated, his heart skipping a beat. Something... felt wrong. A cold shiver danced up his spine, his instincts screaming at him to stop. Think, his mind whispered. He could seek refuge here, but that smug, pompous devil—Lucifer—would take great pleasure in seeing him suffer. Adam could practically see that sharp, wicked grin, those cruel eyes glinting with amusement as he tortured him, making him grovel, forcing him to bow at his feet like a broken dog. The mere thought made Adam’s stomach churn. His hands tightened around the bars, knuckles whitening as a bitter frown twisted his face.

Lucifer had already taken everything from him once—his paradise, his peace—and now, he would undoubtedly come for his soul, trapping him in some wretched contract like a puppet on strings. Adam could feel it, deep in his bones, and it made his skin crawl. He wasn’t about to let that smug bastard have the satisfaction. Not again. He was done being a pawn, done letting others dictate his fate.

Blinking, his golden eyes fixed once more on the hotel. No. He wouldn’t grovel. He wouldn’t beg for their scraps of mercy. He didn’t need them. He didn’t need anyone. He would carve his own path, as he had done before, back when he was cast out of Eden. He’d find his way here, too, in this infernal nightmare. Hell couldn’t be worse than the world above had been, could it? He was Adam, the first man—he could survive anything. He would survive this.

His stomach twisted with unease as he stepped away from the gate, his gaze turning toward the sprawling hellscape of Pentagram City. The air was thick, smoky, suffocating, but he breathed it in deeply. He could do this. He had to. He had already been damned once, and he'd survived. He’d make something of this new life, something that was his and his alone. No contracts, no deals, no bending to anyone’s will. He wouldn’t sink to the level of the others down here, the Overlords and Sinners who bartered for souls like they were currency.

A sharp nod to himself, Adam set his jaw, determination burning in his veins as he began to walk away from the looming shadow of Hazbin Hotel. He didn’t care anymore about Heaven, or redemption, or even humanity. He was done with it all. Now, it was about him. About finding some sliver of happiness in this forsaken pit. And maybe... just maybe... he’d finally be able to do the things he’d always been too ashamed to do.

Like knitting.

~#~

It was… maybe too easy. A bit unsettling, really, how quickly Adam had carved out a little space for himself. Almost as if Hell wasn’t paying attention. He’d learned fast—keep out of the sleazy, grimy parts of Pentagram City and no one gave a damn about him. No leering stares, no whispers behind his back. But the moment he stepped into a bar or a nightclub, the Sinners’ eyes would snap to him like sharks catching the scent of blood. If he kept to the cleaner side of the city, though? It was like he was invisible. It was weird. It was wrong. Adam could smell the bullshit from a mile away, like the sulfur in the air.

Still, he wandered the streets, lost in thought. Knitting, weaving, stitching—it had always come naturally to him, almost as if it was stitched into his soul. He enjoyed it, truly. The quiet, the focus, the satisfaction of seeing something beautiful emerge from nothing but thread. It was one of the few things he had ever really loved doing, but shame had buried that love deep inside him. Now, though, he wanted to take that passion, that secret talent, and make something of it. Here, in Hell, where shame was a joke and sins were currency, maybe he could finally embrace what he'd always been too afraid to show.

He didn’t want to deal with anyone anymore. Not Sera, not Lute, not Emily. Certainly not Lucifer. And Charlie? Hell, no. Lilith could rot. Eve… Eve was nothing but a distant memory, a ghost from another life. And God? Adam laughed bitterly to himself. No, he didn’t need any of them. Not their pity, their help, their judgment. He could be alone. He wanted to be alone, free from all the burdens they had piled onto him for centuries. He’d done it on Earth, hadn’t he? Found a way to survive, to make something out of nothing. He could do it again, here, in this damned city of the damned. He didn’t need anyone’s help. He could make a life on his own terms.

His feet carried him down the pink and red pavement as his golden eyes swept across the streets, taking in the sights of Hell’s vibrant monotony. The same damn colour everywhere. Red. So much red. It was as if Hell itself only had one brushstroke, painting everything in that bloody hue. He sighed, the weight of it all pressing down on him. Why the hell did everything have to look like it had been dunked in a bucket of crimson paint?

It didn’t matter. He’d adapt. He always had. Adam’s steps slowed as he mulled over his next move, the tension in his body easing as resolve crept back in. He’d find his start, his beginning. He could do this. He didn’t need them. Any of them. Not anymore.

As Adam wandered deeper into the heart of Pentagram City, he stumbled upon a curious scene unfolding in a clearing, just past a dilapidated building that once held the promise of pastries and warmth. Now, it stood in ruin, the faded sign hanging askew—a ghost of a bakery, a relic of a more innocent time. Around it, a handful of Sinners had gathered, their voices a chaotic symphony of bravado and greed.

An auction was taking place.

The atmosphere crackled with tension, thick enough to slice with a blade. Adam hovered at the edge of the gathering, watching with a mixture of intrigue and apprehension. The bidders, an eclectic mix of ragged figures, eyed one another with a blend of disdain and desperation. One particularly burly Sinner, his tattoos snaking up his neck, slammed his fist against a nearby crate, bellowing as he lost his temper at a rival. The ensuing scuffle sent a ripple of excitement through the crowd, laughter mingling with shouts as the tension escalated into chaos. Adam's heart raced—he felt the pulse of this world around him, dark and twisted.

After a few moments of escalating voices and clashing bodies, the auctioneer—a wiry figure with a crooked grin—called for silence. With a sharp snap of his fingers, he brought order back to the scene. The building had found a new owner amidst the din, and the crowd began to disperse like smoke in the wind. Adam seized his chance, stepping forward as the last few Sinners left, lingering in the space between them and the auctioneer.

“Hey!” he called, his voice cutting through the air, low and steady. “I need a house. A small one—like a box.”

The auctioneer regarded him coolly, his brow arching in amusement.

“Should’ve bidded then,” he replied, a teasing lilt in his voice. “You’re shit outta luck, buddy.”

Adam’s fists clenched at his sides, frustration boiling beneath his skin. He had no money, no resources, and yet the ache for a home—a space to call his own—gnawed at him. As the auctioneer turned to leave, Adam stepped into his path, determination lighting his golden eyes.

 “I’m a new Sinner,” he said, words tumbling out in a rush. “I don’t know how to get money, but there has to be something else I can offer.”

The auctioneer opened his mouth to respond, but Adam cut him off, a sneer curling his lips. “And I swear to whatever hell you believe in; it won’t involve my body.”

The Sinner threw back his head and laughed, revealing a mouth full of sharp teeth that gleamed in the muted light. He shrugged, throwing his hands up in mock surrender. “Alright, then! What do you think you’ve got that’s valuable?”

Adam paused, the weight of the question pressing down on him. His mind raced, and then, like a spark igniting in the darkness, an idea bloomed.

“My feathers,” he said, voice steady but laced with uncertainty.

The auctioneer stared for a moment, eyebrows climbing higher with each passing second.  

“Why the hell would I want your feathers?” he asked, scepticism lacing his tone.

Without hesitation, Adam reached into his wing and plucked a feather free. He hissed softly, the pain sharp but fleeting, and twirled the feather between his fingers. It shimmered, a dazzling blend of gold and silver, glinting like precious metal caught in the light. Holding it close, he leaned in slightly. “Have you ever seen a Sinner with gold and silver wings?”

The auctioneer’s expression shifted, curiosity igniting in his eyes. He squinted, inspecting the feather as if it held the secrets of the universe. Adam leaned into the moment, his heart pounding in anticipation. “I know for a fact that golden feathers are rare. Not even the archangels of Heaven have them. And let’s be real—the King of Hell doesn’t have gold wings, either.”

The Sinner was quiet, mulling over”the ’mplications as Adam's words hung in the air. Finally, he nodded slowly. “Alright, I’ll look at it. Let me see how much it’s worth.”

With a gesture of his hand, he signalled that he’d return. Adam nodded, feeling a spark of hope igniting within him as he handed the feather over.

As the auctioneer scrambled off to his partners, Adam watched, his heart racing. The feather changed hands, passing through the fingers of curious Sinners, each one muttering and gasping with delight at the shimmering prize. One of them pulled out a small box, carefully placing the feather inside. The murmurs of excitement and intrigue crescendo, each Sinner leaning in closer as if it held the power to change their fates.

Moments later, the auctioneer returned, his grin wider than before.

“Good news, kid,” he said, eyes gleaming with a mix of greed and exhilaration. “We can get you a house by the end of the day! But here’s the catch—you’ll pay rent in feathers.”

Adam’s brows knitted together, scepticism flaring. “I’ll pay five feathers a month,” he countered, crossing his arms defiantly.

The auctioneer scoffed, laughter bubbling from his lips. “Fifteen.”

“Ten,” Adam shot back, unwavering.

The auctioneer paused, weighing the offer, then relented with a chuckle. “Fine. Ten it is.” They shook hands, the pact sealing Adam’s fate, his heart racing at the thought of finally having a place to call home.

And just like that, Adam had secured a small house, a box of his own amidst the chaos of Hell. As he walked away, a small smile crept across his face. His feathers would grow back quickly, after all, and now he had a fresh start, a chance to build a life. No longer just a fallen angel, he could finally pursue the craft he loved without fear or shame. It was a new beginning, and Adam felt the stirring of hope within him, mingling with the tension of uncertainty that came with each step into this strange, vibrant world.

~#~

The process of settling into his new life was achingly slow at first. The small building he’d secured was a peculiar gem, nestled in a perfect location within the chaotic sprawl of Pentagram City, yet also the worst spot imaginable. From his windows, he had a direct view of the damn Hazbin Hotel, looming like a twisted monolith against the horizon. Its presence gnawed at him, a constant reminder of the world he was trying to escape. He hated it—hated the way the hotel shimmered under the infernal light, casting eerie shadows that danced like specters across the pavement. To distract himself, Adam busied his hands with the colorful threads, trying to forget the sight.

But to truly establish his business, he needed to make connections—forge deals that didn’t involve his soul, but rather his precious feathers. What he didn’t realize was how incredibly valuable those feathers were in Hell’s economy. He felt a nagging sense of unease, grateful that no Sinner had yet attempted to cut them off or kidnap him. He had made friends, or at least acquaintances, with the Sinners who came through his door, and astonishingly, they genuinely liked him. Perhaps they sensed that he was, despite the darkness surrounding them, a decent guy just trying to find his way.

Adam had acquired everything he needed: electricity, gas, materials, the works. The day he opened his small shop was a whirlwind of excitement. His heart pounded like a drum as he turned the sign from “Closed” to “Open.”

To his surprise, no Sinner made a mocking comment about a man who knitted; instead, they rushed in like starving creatures drawn to a feast. Requests poured in like rain: scarves with intricate designs, mittens, boots, sweaters. Adam was stunned. By the end of his first month, the influx of Hell-bucks was overwhelming—more than he ever imagined he could earn in this twisted paradise.

Regulars appeared almost immediately, one standing out from the rest. Rosie, a vibrant Sinner from the cannibal town, caught his attention. She came in daily, placing orders or purchasing whatever items were on display. Her enthusiasm was infectious, her laughter a bright spot in the otherwise grim world. Conversations with her felt like sunlight breaking through the eternal gloom, and Adam found himself looking forward to her visits.

As the weeks rolled by, Adam observed something peculiar: none of the Sinners had access to the kind of clothing he provided. They dove in and out of his shop, marvelling at the sweaters and scarves as if they were precious artifacts. Adam initially guessed it was because Hell was often too hot for such things, but the freezing cold nights quickly dispelled that notion. It turned out Hell’s nightlife was a vibrant affair, with many Sinners active after sundown, desperately in need of warmth. It worked out well for him, and he relished the bustling atmosphere, but a creeping sense of foreboding lingered just beneath the surface.

One fateful day, about a month after his arrival, an order popped up on his computer screen that sent shivers down his spine. Adam blinked in disbelief, his eyebrows shooting up as he processed the words. His mouth went dry, and a shudder ran through him, his wings flapping in displeasure. At first, he tried to ignore it, burying himself in the avalanche of new customers who flooded in daily. But no matter how hard he worked, that order nagged at him like an itch he couldn’t scratch.

He grimaced deeply as he finally surrendered to the truth. The day came to a close, and after locking the door and flipping the sign to “Closed,” he straightened his black and gold sweater, a piece he had crafted himself.

He felt a pang of pride, tugging at the hem before wiggling his feet into his Ugg boots. With a deep groan, he turned back to the computer, running his hands down his face in frustration. Maybe it was within his rights to reject the order? After all, it was a little too much. So, he decided to do just that. He cancelled it and thought that would be the end of it.

But the next day, the order reappeared—this time with a higher sum of money offered. Adam practically screamed when it flashed back onto the screen. Why was this happening? He had fought so hard to create a small life for himself, one without anyone poking their fat noses into his business. This wasn’t supposed to be complicated! Sure, he could just fill the order, pocket the money, and wash his hands of the whole ordeal.

As he rubbed his chin thoughtfully and leaned closer to the screen, curiosity gnawed at him. He blinked in surprise when he saw who the order was for: seven sweaters, each adorned with specific patterns and colours that made his stomach twist in a way he didn’t want to acknowledge. He swallowed thickly, dread pooling in his gut. He knew who the fucking duck sweaters were meant for. Ugh! He didn’t want to do this—didn’t want to bend to their whims ever again!

With a deep breath, he braced himself against the inevitable frustration rising in his chest. Maybe I can just ignore it, brush it off like the rest of the bullshit that comes with this hellhole, he thought.

But even as he willed himself to dismiss the order, the familiar flutter of his wings reminded him of the delicate balance he had to maintain in this world. In a place as treacherous as Hell, ignoring a royal request might not just be a mistake—it could lead to consequences he wasn’t prepared to face.

Tension clung to him like a cloak as he weighed his options, the prospect of wrestling with fate hanging heavy in the air. He was determined to forge his own path, but the thought of crossing the Princess of Hell felt like tempting fate itself. His fingers twitched over the keyboard, caught between the urge to fill the order and the yearning to reclaim his autonomy. Whatever the outcome, he knew one thing for sure: this battle wasn’t over yet.

After eight long, agonizing days, Adam finally completed the order, boxing it up with meticulous care. Each sweater was a labor of love, infused with his creativity and skill, every stitch carefully crafted despite the tempest of his emotions. As tempting as it was to cut corners—maybe even slip something in, a little surprise or a bit of sabotage—he refrained. No, he had to prove himself, show that he was worthy of respect in this twisted underworld. He wrapped each piece in delicate, shimmering tissue paper and nestled a small card inside that thanked them for ordering from his store. It felt almost absurd, like he was playing house in a world that didn’t care about pleasantries.

The day dragged on like molasses, and he found himself fidgeting with anticipation, glancing at the door every few minutes for the delivery Sinner. Time slipped away, however, and as the sun began to sink into a blood-red horizon, he received the news that the Sinner was sick. A deep groan escaped him. Now he had to deliver it himself.

Adam lifted the box with a resigned sigh, stepping outside onto the pavement. Locking the door behind him, he shot a venomous glare at the Hazbin Hotel in the distance. Maybe he could just drop it off and vanish before anyone noticed him. He had no desire to engage with any of those insufferable Sinners, especially not today. But a nagging thought reminded him that he needed someone to sign for the parcel—proof that he had fulfilled the order. It wasn’t worth the risk to his hard-earned reputation, even if Charlie wouldn’t screw him over.

With that determination steeling his resolve, he made the tedious trek through Pentagram City toward the hotel. His golden eyes remained downcast, his thoughts a swirling mess, feet dragging against the pavement. As he approached the gates, a familiar wave of anxiety washed over him. Adam halted, memories flooding back to a year ago, standing before these very gates, teetering on the edge of seeking help. He snorted at his past self; relief coursed through him that he hadn’t walked through those doors back then. Look at him now—his own small business thriving, creating the very things he loved without a shred of shame. Sure, some orders were challenging, but he relished the test.

But as he pushed the iron black gates open, the pounding of his heart began to echo in his ears, anxious and insistent. The moment he stepped inside, dread coiled tightly in his chest. Adam forced himself to move past the grotesque golden statue of the goat monster and shuffled his feet to the doors, his entire body trembling as the air thickened around him. It felt as if the hotel itself were alive, watching him, waiting for him to make a mistake. Panic gripped him, his breath hitching in his throat. He took a step back, ready to bolt, when suddenly the doors swung open with a creak that echoed like thunder.

Charlie stood there, mid-conversation, her radiant grin momentarily frozen as her eyes landed on him.

“Adam?” she squealed, shock painting her features. It was like the world around them fell silent, and all the eyes in the hotel seemed to turn toward him.

His skin prickled under the weight of their stares, and he squirmed, feeling exposed. Vaggie appeared next to Charlie, her arms crossed, and her expression pinched, as if she’d just bitten into something sour.

“You’re back as a Sinner now?” she scoffed, disbelief dripping from her words.

Charlie’s expression shifted from surprise to concern, her eyes wide with worry.

“Why are you here?” she asked, her voice trembling slightly, as if she feared the answer.

Adam could sense her apprehension; she was worried he might have come to the hotel seeking refuge, like he once had. A small part of him wished he could lay that burden down, but that wasn’t why he stood there now. It was a good thing, too, considering he didn’t need their help anymore.

Before he could gather his thoughts and respond, Vaggie huffed, shaking her head in exasperation.

 “Unbelievable! You think just because you’re a Sinner now, you can waltz in here and demand our help?” The accusation stung, a jagged edge to her tone that made him want to shrink back into the shadows.

Charlie stepped forward, her face reddening as she tried to smooth the tension.

“Vaggie, please—” she began, but the weight of her words hung in the air, heavy and taut. Charlie clearly didn’t want to turn anyone away, even if it was Adam. “I can’t just close the door on anyone, even if it’s... Adam.”

Vaggie shot him a disbelieving glare, her expression twisted with suspicion. “You think we can just trust him now?”

Adam opened his mouth to speak, to set the record straight, but the weight of the moment crashed down on him. The tension crackled in the air, heavy with unspoken words and old wounds. The hotel felt like a cage, closing in around him, and he fought the urge to flee. All those eyes—those judgmental, curious eyes—made his skin crawl, and the box in his hands felt like a ticking time bomb.

Adam’s heart raced, his breath catching in his throat as he fought to find the words.

“No, I’m not here to stay,” he started, determination hardening his voice. “I just wanted to—”

But he was abruptly cut off by a voice that slithered into his thoughts like poison.

“Why, if it isn’t the first man!” The tone was dripping with mockery, and Adam felt his skin crawl in disbelief. Lucifer stepped into view, stepping around Charlie and Vaggie as they instinctively moved aside, like planets yielding to a sun. The King of Hell’s smug expression was a sight Adam had dreaded. The gleam in Lucifer’s eyes, the sharp-toothed smirk curling at his lips—it was all too familiar.

“Look how far you’ve fallen, Adam,” Lucifer continued, taking a step forward, the corners of his mouth twitching as if he were relishing the moment. “You’ve become a Sinner! Shocking!”

Adam felt his grip tighten around the box, the sharp edge digging into his chest like a brand. He pressed his lips into a thin line, fury bubbling beneath the surface.

“What do you want, Lucifer?” he shot back, trying to inject his voice with some semblance of strength, but it trembled slightly.

Lucifer straightened, crossing his arms and leaning against the doorframe, radiating a confidence that made Adam’s stomach churn. “Let me guess—you’ve come here for protection? For help? Because now you’re scared and alone in this hellhole?” He laughed, a cruel sound that echoed through the air. “That’s rich! You’re one of the things you despised the most!”

Adam opened his mouth to snap back, to assert that he didn’t need their help, but once again, Lucifer cut him off.

“Why should we help you?” he taunted, his voice dripping with disdain. “Why should we let you in?”

Behind Lucifer, a few Sinners peeked out, their curious faces illuminated by the dim light of the hotel. Adam’s eyes darted to them, feeling like a specimen under a microscope, as his fingers dug deeper into the box, desperately trying to maintain his composure.

Lucifer, seeing the discomfort etched on Adam’s face, grinned wider. “Alright, I’ll tell you what. We’ll help you. We’ll even let you stay with us. But first, you need to get on your knees and beg.”

“Fuck you!” Adam hissed, his anger flaring like a wildfire.

“Beg like the dog you are,” Lucifer continued, ignoring Adam’s outburst.

Charlie gasped, her eyes wide with shock as she interjected, “Adam doesn’t need to do that!”

Lucifer shook his head, a playful disapproval dancing in his features. Vaggie’s expression brightened, clearly enjoying this spectacle. “No, no! He needs to do that and more! Otherwise, we’ll just close the door in his face.”

Adam’s heart raced, relief washing over him for the choices he’d made months prior. The prospect of having to bow before Lucifer was beyond humiliating.

“Fuck this,” he muttered under his breath, meeting Charlie’s bewildered gaze. “Sorry, Charlie.”

“Wait—” Charlie began, confusion flickering in her eyes.

“That’s a start!” Lucifer interjected, his smirk widening.

But Adam was done. He raised his chin defiantly, cutting Lucifer off mid-sentence. “Sorry, Charlie. I think I’m going to need to cancel your order.”

“I’ll refund you when I get back to my shop.” He spun on his heels, striding toward the exit, fuelled by a mix of anger and resolve.

“Adam, please!” Charlie called after him, her voice tinged with desperation. “I don’t understand!”

“I thought I could take your order,” he shouted back, “but I clearly can’t! It was a bad idea to accept it after the first time I cancelled!” He paused to glance back at them, his heart hammering in his chest. “I can’t accept any of your orders in the future. I apologize for that.”

With that, he continued toward the gates, head held high, ignoring the stunned stares and heavy silence that followed him. But just as he reached the exit, a rough hand clamped around his elbow, pulling him back with a jolt.

“Stop fucking around and just get inside the hotel,” Lucifer growled, his grip fierce and unyielding. “Before I change my mind.”

Adam yelped, yanking his arm away, his heart pounding with indignation. “I would never come to this hotel looking for help, I especially would not come looking for protection and help from you—the guy who ruined my life! I woke up as a Sinner more than nine months ago, and I’ve been doing fine without Lucifer fucking Morningstar!”

Lucifer blinked, taken aback. “Are you serious? You’ve survived a whole year without me? Fine?”

“Of course! What, did you think I couldn’t last a single day without your special help?” Adam laughed bitterly; each syllable laced with defiance. “I’m not as stupid as everyone thinks I am! I’m doing just fine with my business!”

The King of Hell’s eyes widened, disbelief etched on his face. “What business? What sketchy, fucked-up shit are you doing?”

That question ignited a fire within Adam. He slammed the box into Lucifer’s chest, pushing the King of Hell back with surprising force. “Why don’t you look and find out?” he hissed, adrenaline coursing through his veins.

With that, Adam stormed away, a wave of liberation washing over him as he made his way out of the damned Hazbin Hotel. He could almost taste freedom, the sweet air of possibility waiting for him beyond those iron gates.

“Fuck Lucifer and all his assholeness!” he thought, heart racing with a mix of triumph and exhilaration.

As he stepped through the gates and back into the chaotic streets of Pentagram City, he felt a weight lift off his shoulders, the shadows of the hotel fading behind him. This was his life now, and he would not let anyone—especially not Lucifer—dictate how he lived it.

[tupznum]

Senses

Arthur Morgan X male reader

《○○○○○○○○♡○○○○○○○○》

Warning: violence, injury, not proofread

I cannot see, but I can hear.

I hear the sound of footsteps on an old creaky wooden floor and distant voices outside the room. I can hear a person sitting in front of me sharpening their knife, and another to my left cleaning the barrel of a gun. I hear the whistle of the wind billowing through the cracks of the walls.

I cannot see, but I can feel.

I feel the blindfold around my eyes and the ropes that bind my wrists and ankles. I feel the rope that is wrapped around my neck, keeping me on my knees. I feel the splintered wood digging into my bruised and tattered knees. I feel pain, blood running down my face, and the warmth of another on my back. I feel fingers interlock with mine, and I feel their bindings pushing against mine.

I cannot see, but I can smell.

I can smell the fire that blazed in the other room. I can smell the distinct iron smell of blood. I can smell the aroma of gunpowder and cigarettes emanating from the person whose back is flush against mine.

The sudden sound of a door being slammed open fills my ears.

"All right, who do we got here?" a brassy voice speaks rhythmically.

"This here is Arthur Morgan and (M/N) (L/N), boss," a voice that is surprisingly high-pitched but masculine in nature speaks up.

The sound of footsteps circles around us, and I hear the sound of paper crumpling.

"They got a mighty fine bounty, enough to get us to Canada," a deeper voice speaks up, judging by the accent, a Colombian man.

"Give me that," the brassy-sounding boss snaps, the sound of paper being snatched followed.

"Holy shit... Arthur Morgan's bounty $5000, (M/N) (L/N) $4000, both wanted dead or alive. Ain't that convenient?" The room fills with conniving laughter.

"Seems all I have to do is put a bullet through your sorry heads and drag your pathetic corpses to the nearest law and claim my money." I feel the air shift as he walks by, and I dare not say a word.

"If you kill us, I assure you that y'all will never feel another day of peace in your lives," I feel Arthur squeeze my clammy hand in comfort.

"And why is that?" the brassy-voiced man sneers.

"Our boys will come looking for us, and when they find y'all, they'll kill yah even if it's the last thing they do," Arthur replies calmly, and I can feel his thumb caressing my hand.

"They probably noticed our absence by now," I finally speak up.

"Really now? Where are they then, huh?" The high-pitched man says mockingly.

The room goes silent; no one speaks. Only then do the three men realize how eerily quiet it is outside.

I couldn't help but smirk. "Maybe one of your men outside knows."

"Shut up!" he hisses, sending a harsh kick to my stomach. I feel pain erupt throughout my abdomen, making me topple over, but that is only met with the tightening of the rope around my neck, forcing me to straighten up to avoid asphyxiation.

"You two, get your fucking asses out there and see what the hell's going on," the man practically barks orders at the two. Although I cannot see, I can hear them pick up their weapons and slowly exit the room. The room is quiet for a moment, but the subtle sound of something blunt and heavy hitting the floor radiates throughout the room. This seems to have scared the boss of our kidnappers, as I can feel and hear him scurry across the room only to return to my side. I feel the rope around my neck being tugged back and forth as if the rope is being cut. Suddenly, the rope is tugged sideways, dragging me across the room by my neck. I can't help but choke. A loose nail hooking onto my arm restraints only choking me further as he yanked harder

"Hey. Get your fucking hands off him!" Arthur's raspy voice can be heard, slight panic emanating from it. I can hear him struggling to get something.

I am suddenly brought to my feet, and not even seconds later, I feel the cold metal pressed against my neck. "You think you can outsmart me?" He speaks, the smell of whiskey and moonshine emanating from his breath it tickles the side of my face. Suddenly, a hand collides with my face, dragging the blindfold off in one swoop. The room was quite dark so my eyes adjusted immediately though the site in front of me was quite unsatisfactory.

Similar to the way I was restrained Arthur sat in the middle of the room blindfold half off his face, his hands tied behind his back with a rope rap around his neck keeping him on his knees connected to what seemed to be a pig's hook hanging from the ceiling. With further inspection I was quick to realize that we were being held inside of a butchering room whether or not the blood on the ground belong to a pig or a human I cannot tell.

suddenly a hand grabbed onto my chin roughly, my head was yanked to the side the man's face in my peripherals.

"Quit looking around you fucking cunt" the man spat at me quite literally I had to resist the urge to bring my hands up to wipe the saliva off my face.

"Don't be Hasty now" I laugh nervously.

"I'm sure we can come up with an agreement our life for yours, How does that sound?" I tried to reason. But the man's judgment seem to be clogged with fear so instead of bargaining he brought the barrel of his gun to my temple.

"I'm not a fucking idiot you'll kill me anyhow" he practically growled like an animal.

So he was listening I thought

I can't talk my way out of this and the boys outside aren't doing anything they probably know that I'll be shot if they try and Arthur is rendered useless at the moment.

The man currently holding me hostage started walking backward into a corner seemingly planning to use me as a human shield if gunfire were to erupt. With his hands away from my chin this gave me a moment to look around again, I looked at Arthur, and with the new angle I realize he'd undone his hand restraints. we made eye contact, he moved his eyes over to the gun and back to me. I could only hope that we were thinking the same thing as I got ready to execute the plan we seem to have telepathically decided on.

I tap my fingers around the ropes around my wrist to feel any weak spots and there was, the Rope was frayed barely a thread holding on. it must have been when it caught on a nail on the floor. One hard tug could do the trick in Breaking the Rope but it was a Gamble.

"Where are those fuckers" I heard the man grumble to himself

I closed my eyes and thought about the likelihood of this plan working the man was drunk which made him sloppy but he was on high alert and Afraid which would make him Trigger Happy. I can only hope that the effects of the alcohol on his brain worked faster than his trigger finger.

I look back at Arthur and slowly blinked at him hoping he'll get the message that I'm about to execute the plan that I hope we're both on board with. He seemed to have got the message as he slowly blinked black.

I tense my arms up slightly and brought them together as I took a deep breath I leaned my head forward it got ready. In one Swift motion I pulled my arms apart breaking the rope and brought my head back as hard as possible right into the man's nose. with the pain in his nose and the effect of the alcohol he couldn't register what happened fast enough before I brought my arm up and slap the revolver as hard as I possibly can towards Arthur. while that was going down Arthur was quick too take the Rope off from around his neck and reached out for the revolver. The gun slide across the floor right between his fingers and passed him he quickly flung himself backwards and gripped on to the barrel of the gun and turn back around onto his back and pointed the gun at the man's head. The man had put me into a headlock slowly choking me, I could feel my Airways being pinched and see my vision going black suddenly a very sharp pain erupted from my side, the bastard stabbed me, I know that pain too well. I suddenly heard the firing of the revolver and soon followed the feeling of steaming hot blood splattering across my face soaking my clothing. The man slumped down to the ground and as a result the handle of the knife was dragged down and the tip was dragged up only deepening and worsening the wound I soon collapse face first into the ground next to the body with a grown.

"M/N!" Arthur Yelled haphazardly

I couldn't see but I could hear the sound of Arthur's footsteps hurrying towards me and the sound of the door smashed open.

"Finally decided to make your entry" I joked to the Gang.

"Someone give me something to cover this damn wound" Arthur said to no one in particular

I roll over to my back holding back a grown

"Dumbass looks fine to me" John commented

Having no energy to talk anymore or to deal with this bullshit I flipped him off.

After rummaging in his bag Bill walked over and handed Arthur a tourniquet looking piece of cloth, he wrapped around my waist and around my wound I let out on a unnatural sounding noise as he tightened it full force.

"Sorry" I heard him whisper.

Seeing as I was being taken care of the rest of the gang walked out of the room probably looting the place.

"Think you can walk" Arthur asked.

"Fuck no, I feel like I'm about to pass out from pain just laying here" I replied with a grunt.

All right was all he said as he put one of my arms over his shoulder bringing one of his arms my knees and another on my back he hoisted me up.

"You got him there Arthur?" Dutch asked from the doorway.

"Yeah I got him" he said.

He walked out of the butchering room and into the main area making his way to the front door and stopped he turned towards Dutch

"I'm going to go ahead of you guys and bring him to Camp so the ladies can Pat him up before he bleeds to death" Arthur informed Dutch.

Dutch nodded towards Arthur and said "all right"

Arthur walked out the front door and into the snowy landscape he stopped a good distance for the door and whistled. A few moments later his horse emerged from the Bush. I sat quietly with my head against his chest as he walked over to his horse.

"I'm going to set you up here hold on all right" he said gently

He brought my legs upwards towards the back of the horse and I helped by swinging my legs over he then brought my back upwards this left me in a sideways sitting position on the arss of the horse with my legs together I slowly and painfully lifted my left leg up and over the horse to properly set all the while Arthur held onto my waist at least the part that wasn't damaged.

Once I was sat properly on the horse Arthur hoisted himself onto the horse reaching back and grabbing my arms and wrapping them around his waist.

"This is going to be a painful and bumpy ride so don't be afraid to Lean on me if you feel like passing out" he said calmly rubbing his finger on my knuckles.

"This ain't my first rodeo Arthur I'll be fine" I said with a careful laugh.

Him humd in response.

We start to move forward and I quickly found out that this wound was a lot more painful than the ones I'm used to so I quickly ended up doubling over onto Arthur's back in pain. The feeling of the disconnected flesh rubbing together was definitely no joy.

"I thought this wasn't your first rodeo l/n?" He laughed

I slapped him on the arm and response

"shut your ass up and don't start with the last name bullshit again we're past that already" I groaned.

The winter air mixed with the blood loss sent shivers down my spine so despite the pain I scooted myself further up against Arthur and held on tighter to him and hoped to Rob some of his body heat, he didn't seem to care thankfully.

The pain started to get more intense and I became light-headed Arthur must have noticed as he came to a stop and turned to look at me.

"Do you want to take a break?" he asked

"No keep going," I said tiredly

"I think you'll pass out if we do," he said with concern.

"Exactly, keep going I'll pass out eventually and I won't feel anything" I half-joked.

He didn't say anything but he turned his head back to the pathway and kept moving forward.

Just as I predicted I start to feel lightheaded and my vision start to go black from the pain. I soon Slipped Away into the darkness. The feeling of pain but also the feeling of Arthur's callused hands holding onto my wrists was the last thing I felt "I'll see you when you wake up" was the last thing I heard

[llostwriter]

The Husky And The White Cat Shizun With Their Baobei | 2HA Fanfic

Chapter 2

It's so dark...

You groaned out in pain; everywhere in your body was hurting. You could hear the desperation in Chu Wanning's voice. He seemed worried for you. You wish that you could stay by his side, but now that you're dead, you can't. He could only face the remaining moment of suffering at the hands of Taxian-Jun, alone by himself. Would Taxian-Jun punish him for trying to escape the second time? You should have waited a few more days and made better plans; if only then, you could have successfully saved Chu Wanning. God, you felt like an idiot. But there's nothing you can do about it after you're dead. Your soul is probably wandering somewhere else in the abyss.

You could have abandoned Chu Wanning and run away yourself. But where could you have run? Taxian-Jun basically has control of the entire cultivation world; even the cultivation sects are afraid to rebel against him. Sooner or later, he'll find a way to ruin your life, even if you never truly did anything bad to him.

What the hell is the problem with him?

You calmed yourself by reminding him that it wasn't Mo Ran's fault. It was the mastermind. Shi Mei, or, should you say, Hua Binan, was behind all of this.

Curses to both Mo Ran and Hua Binan'! Fuck them both!! They are surely a chaotic duo when it comes to ruining people’s lives!

But at the same time, if only you had kept an eye on Mo Ran more often, his affection rate with Shi Mei wouldn't have risen to the point that Mo Ran would basically confuse gratitude with love. Your former self thought that it should be fine since, in the second timeline, Mo Ran later on didn't do all those horrible things to Chu Wanning like in the first timeline. But you should have checked for signs of the 1st timeline and the 2nd timeline instead of immediately assuming that it's the 2nd timeline.

While you were ranting and cursing at the unfortunate fate of you and the characters, you noticed that Chu Wanning's voices were fainting away. Did Taxian-Jun drag him away from your dead corpse? You know it was irrational to blame Taxian-Jun for your death; after all, there wasn't enough proof of him actually being your murderer. Still. He is the most suspected. Adding to the fact that he did threaten to kill you last time,.

Somehow, even though you can't hear Chu Wanning's voice again, you can still hear the sound of the rustling leaves and the bird chirping around. It would be quite peaceful if you weren't worried sick about Chu Wanning. You can't even remember how Chu Wanning died in his first life; you regret not immediately writing it down in the first place. Was it by Taxian-Jun? Probably. You opened your eyes, and after a few failed attempts, you were back in the forest that you first started in.

You got up and checked your body; there were no injuries. You were completely fine. The pain that was previously there also disappeared. Chu Wanning was also nowhere to be found. You were reborn! You weren't sure if it was reborn in the second timeline or the first timeline. But regardless, you're determined to save Chu Wanning this time.

You followed the familiar routes back to the village, and you saw the familiar faces of the villagers. It's been awhile since you visited the village. The playful, youthful kids are running and playing with each other without a single care in the world.

Ever since you left the village, you never decided to come back to visit since you had to practice for the upcoming disciple selection ceremony. And after you became a disciple of Sisheng Peak under Chu Wanning, you ended up focusing on strengthening your spiritual core. After all, only with a strong spiritual core could the other process of using stronger spiritual power be achieved. With the remaining time hanging around Chu Wanning or the other disciples. Your spiritual power wasn't improving much, even despite all the practices.

One thing you learned from those reincarnation novels is to at least make friends with the main characters, which you succeed with a few difficulties. Mo Ran was somewhat easier to approach due to his usual outgoing personality. For Chu Wanning, it was about patience and care; it was best to not rush things with Chu Wanning.

"孙女! I was looking for you. How many herbs have you collected? Did you get injured?"

That was Ying Qin, your current body's grandmother. She died a couple of months after you left the village. You remember the day that you got the news from the news sender? You did have guilt for not spending more time with her; even though she isn't your real grandmother, she still treated you with care. She didn't even hesitate to believe you when you lied to her about losing your memories.

"I'm alright, 奶奶." You took out a stack of herbs that the original Y/N had previously collected and handed them to Ying Qin. The familiar-looking, simple, loose-fitting, earthy-toned garments made of cheap natural fabrics that you have seen since you first met her. It has been quite a while, but there are some details you still remember. Ying Qin's wrinkled and weathered skin reflected a lifetime of experience with her hunched posture from all the hard work, but even despite that, she still held a genuine smile while greeting you.

The following days, you spend more time with Ying Qin, just like you used to in your second past life. One difference between this life and the past is that in this life, you choose not to mention anything about memory loss.

You remember that in your first past life, your grandmother died before you were even born. You never have the chance to meet your grandma; you only meet your grandmother on your mother's side. However, you also noticed that there aren't many facial similarities between you and Ying Qin. Even though she was slightly wrinkled, you still didn't spot any similar facial features. Perhaps it's that the genes from the mother side are more dominant; maybe that's why?

In this life, you depend on your memories of the method of cultivation to regain your spiritual core and essence. Meaning that you don't have to wait for the group of Sisheng Sect disciples to arrive. Even despite that, you still need to wait up to a year and a half.

It could have taken longer, but thanks to previous life experiences, you were able to find some herbs that're essential to boosting one's cultivation. If it weren't for those herbs, you were sure that it would take up to 3 years, even despite the earlier process.

You cursed at yourself for being reincarnated into such a weak body once again.

Something that you will never understand is that since you can sense that you have more than one spiritual essence, shouldn't you be as powerful as the other cultivators, or maybe even more powerful? Yet, your cultivation was not even better than that of Shi Mei. Shi Mei specializes in healing! He's better at healing than you are at your own cultivation. That was the reason why it was so difficult for you to successfully help Chu Wanning escape from your past life.

You suppose that fate simply likes to play a cruel joke on you.

One day, as you watched from afar as the crowd gathered around a merchant stand, you already had a feeling for what this could be about.

"Selling cultivation materials, including the books for boosting one's cultivation!" The materials were made from plastic, but the villagers didn't know that, other than the merchant and yourself. The so-called cultivation books were just writings about cultivation methods that rumors say work but actually don't. How did you know that? In your previous life, you watched the scene of a woman exposing the scammer after buying tons of the scammer's products for them to not even work at all. The scammer attempted to accuse the purchaser, saying that they probably purchased those products from elsewhere. Just when you thought that the scammer might win this case, another person said that they had seen the same exact woman purchasing those products from the stand.

In order to escape this situation, the scammer tells the crowd that he doesn't have enough money to make a refund right now, but he'll come back the next day. The villagers didn't believe him, and in the end, the scammer left his stand and ran away without giving the woman any refund.

Even with his stand on fake materials and fake books, the woman still ended up suffering a huge loss after all the prices were expensive since almost everyone got fooled into thinking it was real materials.

You looked at a similar situation in your second life.

It was once again that scummy marketing strategy, done by the same exact male merchant from last time. You remembered it in your past life; you ignored it after all; it's not your business. You heard a kid urging their mother to purchase them the materials and books. You took one step in their direction in hopes of convincing them not to make the purchases. Before backing off, upon realizing that the mother of the kid was the same exact woman that would later expose the scammer,.

Balancing the pros and cons, even if you attempt to stop them, there is no guarantee that they will listen to you. So you decided not to make a scene.

——-

One thing that you learned from your past life was to never overestimate your ability.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

   

[newtonsheffield]

If you can excuse my vitriol, I would like to humble myself before you and request a Lavender Haze Spicy Sunday 🌶

Sooooooo when is spicy sunday happening mollyyyyyyyyy!! I need some viscount daddy in my life

Ahh alright, let's give him a chance.

If Kate thought about it, she could only remember waking before Anthony once in their entire relationship. It was the first morning she'd woken in his bed and panic had flickered in her chest as she'd looked at his watch on his wrist.

"Oh fuck!" She'd crawled out from under his sleeping form, covering her like a blanket, casting around for her clothes before she snatched up Anthony's shirt off the ground instead.

"Is everything okay?"

Kate nodded, leaning down to kiss him quickly, "I just- I have a client in an hour and I have to go home and let Newton out and I can't really go to work in that dress, so-" She cut herself off. "I had a really nice time but I'll see you at your next appointment."

Anthony's hand caught her wrist as she turned to leave, "I don't want to wait for that."

She'd chuckled, tapping him on the end of the nose, "Okay, well, you can call me like a respectable gentleman."

Anthony left out a playful growl, grinning up at her. "Come back here when you finish work."

Kate felt her eyebrows shoot up, "I have Newton."

"And I have plenty of space for a dog. Come back here, I'll make you dinner, I'll make you breakfast. Stay with me."

His eyes were so wide, so earnest, so different from how they'd been last night when his hands had roamed over her and his teeth left bruises on her neck. And she wanted what he was offering her.

"Yeah, okay." Her teeth bit into her lips as he grinned, holding her hand in his for a moment longer before he let it go, sliding his watch off his wrist and fastening it around her own.

"Now you have to come back."

"You're stupid." She'd chuckled before she bent again, ruffling his hair.

"You seduced this stupid man."

"You're damn right I did."

She'd gone to work with Anthony's shirt on, and jeans she'd tugged from the back of her wardrobe. She'd ignored Sophie little sigh Oh, hello pot, it's kettle calling. She'd gone about her day, ignoring the fact that her client said, You've got lipstick on your collar, remembering how warm and peaceful it had felt with Anthony's arms around her, and her muscles aching a little deliciously even as she left, and then she'd had to stop dead at the door of her flat, Newton straining on his leash and harness, desperate to get wherever he was going.

"Hey, are you close?"

Kate blinked at the sound of Anthony's voice, "I'd like to be. Only I've just realised I have no fucking idea where you live."

His laughter had burst through the phone and somehow that had felt just as warm.

They lived together, in that house now. Hell, she'd practically moved in with him that first weekend until he burst through the door of her shop and slapped a key down on the desk. Move in with me! And Anthony always woke first. Whether it was to make breakfast, or because his workday started hours before hers did. She always felt him stirring behind her and sometimes, when she did wake early, she pretended to be asleep.

Anthony's arms were always warm around her as he stirred, and his lips brushed her cheek before he tucked her hair neatly back behind her ear. His footsteps were light when he made his way downstairs and she heard him in the kitchen, and still she didn't stir when he dropped a mug of coffee on the nightstand followed by a plate of breakfast. And his voice was warm and rough when he kissed her on the forehead Love you, Katie.

It had nearly brought tears to her eyes the first time it had happened, it still did as he slipped into the shower now and steam filled the air around them.

He slipped out of the bathroom with a towel tied low around his hips, water still dripping down her chest and she sighed at the way her stomach still dropped at the sight of him. He had more ink now, curling around his chest, laid in by her own hand, including the one just over his heart, a black diamond ring with the words Lady Kate written underneath and the sight of it on his pale skin made something smug and satisfied flicker in her chest.

Anthony picked his way into the wardrobe, carefully assessing his suits, smoothing back his hair, his chest rippling.

"Grey suit today."

Kate's voice was rough from sleep and Anthony didn't startle but she saw his lips curve in a smirk as he took out a dark grey suit, holding it up against himself. "Is this to your satisfaction?"

"With the navy shirt." Kate sighed, "Navy tie as well."

Anthony raised his eyebrow, holding it up against himself, "Yes?"

Kate narrowed her eyes, pretending to think, "I might have made a mistake."

"Did you?"

"Yeah I think you'll look better with nothing on at all."

She saw Anthony's eyes darken, and the muscle at the corner of his jaw clench and his voice was rough again when he spoke, "That was smooth."

Kate tossed her hair, pulling back the covers delighting a little in the way he bit back a groan at the sight of her, and his eyes darkened again. "Are you going to do something about it?"

Anthony walked forward until he was right in front of her, his broad chest looming over her. "Spread your legs, Sweetheart."

Kate didn't even bother to bite back the whine that escaped her and she felt her legs fall open for him, aching already and he hadn't even touched her yet. Anthony's smile was a dangerous thing as placed his knee on the mattress right at the apex of her thighs. He let out a gruff noise at the feel of her against his skin and tilted her chin until her eyes were staring directly into his. He took her hand slowly, the one with his ring on it and curved her fingers around the towel.

She tugged and the soft fabric came free under her hands while his hands tilted her hips up until they were grinding against his knee.

He was so warm, Anthony was always so warm. From the way he treated people right down to the fact his body always seemed like a furnace and she felt his heat now, flickering to life in her. A moan fell from her lips already as she slid against his skin, still damp from the shower.

Anthony leaned over her until their chest were flush together and she felt the friction of their bodies every time she moved. His voice was rough and his tongue marked her skin when he spoke, "Be a good girl for me. Come for me just like this."

Kate could feel her fingernails biting into his shoulders, tugging him closer as the heat built and built and she could feel release just on the other side, desperate to increase the pace and she let out a frustrated whine as he shook his head and his hands kept the pace steady.

"Anthony, please."

He shook his head again before he ducked it moving his knee to rest more firmly against her. "I said no Kate. Like this."

His lips started trailing slowly down her neck, down her collarbone, down her chest, his teeth nipped her skin softly and his tongue laved over her and she was almost-

"Come, Kate."

His firm voice pushed her over the edge with a sharp cry as the air left her lungs and she gripped him tighter but Anthony didn't let her fall all the way back down.

He spread her legs wider with a devilish smile, sent straight from hell to ruin her, and his knee disappeared and her hands pulled his hips closer, hers rocking against them. She saw his throat bob and a muffled curse left his lips at the feel of her.

Oh Fuck, Kate.

At the first thrust of his hips Kate was lost to it. Anthony;s eyes rolled back in his head and his hair fell over his forehead and the headboard hit lightly against the wall and she couldn't take her eyes off him. There wasn't anything in the entire world but him, but them and the rhythm their bodies made. Anthony's muscles strained as he kept himself suspended above her and one hand fell to her chest as though he was desperate to feel more of her.

I love you, fuck I love you, Kate

There was no way she could doubt it, not with the way he focused on her, not with the way he made her feel and the way his lips brushed hers and his hips sent her soaring forward. Kate could feel her shoulders heaving as she fought for breath and the sheets burned against her skin with the friction of their bodies and his name fell from her lips again and again and again until she couldn't breathe at all. Until there was nothing but their gasps and moans bouncing off the walls and the rhythmic snap of the headboard, fast fast slow slow.

And suddenly there was nothing she could do to stop herself from falling again. She let out a sharp cry and Anthony's hips snapped out of rhythm with a sharp shout of her name and he shuddered against her.

"You have to go to work." Kate groaned after several minutes, her hands running through his hair gently as he lay against her chest.

Anthony groaned, unable to lift his head. "I can't."

"You were literally just about to."

"I don't have anything important on today." He scoffed, "I think I should just go to work with you and we count how many times we can sneak away without Sophie noticing."

"Fine," Kate laughed, "But if she gives you another you and your sex addiction pamphlet I'm on her side."

[owmyeyeballs]

Get to Know my Tav!

Doing @sporeservant 's ask game for another Tav, because hey, why not!

Cyrill | Gnome | He/Him

What is your Tav’s…

favorite weapon: His quick wits! Little guy is used to quickly thinking his way out of uncomfortable situations, and it turns out that translates rather well to adventuring.

style of combat: Panicked improvisation. He stays back and supports the heavy hitters with inspiration and magic and healing, all while muttering "Oh Gods, Oh Gods, Oh Gods..." under his breath. He really doesn't like to fight!

most prized possession: His violin. He plays a lot of instruments, but his violin is special. It was left to him by his first music teacher after he died, and losing it would be like losing a friend.

deepest desire: A return to peace and quiet and order and cleanliness, and just leaving all this trekking about in the wilderness behind! Although, if he could see that all these rather intimidating new friends are safe and well... He'd like that very much too...

guilty pleasure: Romance novels. Cyrill tries to keep his reading to more serious topics, but every now and then, he likes to snuggle up somewhere cozy and read some sappy love story. He's pretty sure he's never going to find someone special himself (surely his increasingly massive crush on Gale won't be reciprocated...), but it's nice to imagine.

best-kept secret: He doesn't have many secrets, really, but the biggest one at the moment is the fact that he's rapidly falling head over heels in love with a certain wizard. He hangs on Gale's every word, and delights in chatting with him about magic, music, poetry... He's absolutely certain he can't possibly be loved back, and doesn't know why he keeps hurting himself by imagining... But it's a nice kind of hurt.

greatest strength: Loyalty. Few people get close enough to timid little Cyrill to know it, but once he cares for someone? He'd sooner die than let them down. He'll follow them to the Hells and back, even if he's on the verge of a panic attack the whole way.

fatal flaw: The man just cannot voice his boundaries or discomforts if he thinks it might offend or upset someone. He's the sort to die of thirst rather than trouble someone for a glass of water, and it always goes terribly. Too nervous to tell the vampire that, hey, that's probably enough blood he's had now? Welp, now he's stuck in camp while his anaemic ass recovers. Can't tell his sweet druid friend that he's allergic to her cat form? Oops, just burst out sneezing during a stealth mission and now we're rolling initiative. Can't turn that sweet old lady down when she insists he come to her teahouse even though his gut tells him something's off? Oops, we're fighting a hag now!

favorite smell: Old books. Little man could spend the rest of his days quite happily in a library.

favorite spell or cantrip: Goes against his generally sweet nature, but Vicious Mockery. Sometimes all that pent up stress comes out in battle, because how dare that goblin hurt his new friend, and... oh, goblin is dead now. Did he do that?

pet peeve: Mud. Blood. Germs. The general grossness of adventuring. Makes his skin crawl. When Gale tells him he likes his musk he practically runs to the nearest body of water to try to clean himself.

bad habit: Being a doormat. Little guy really, really needs to learn to say no! Pretty much everything in his life has happened because he has such trouble telling people, no, actually, he'd really rather not.

hidden talent: Improv. Party needs a distraction? He can come up with songs on the fly with remarkable skill. He's going to really upset Raphael by turning his big bad villain song back at him!

leisure activity: Reading, and playing his various instruments. Maybe even a leisurely stroll if he's feeling adventurous! He... likes the quiet life.

favorite drink: A nice soothing cup of tea. Maybe a glass of sweet wine now and then, although he has no head for alcohol

comfort food: Buttered crumpets.

favorite person: From prior to the game, his old friend Sylvie, a fellow student from the bardic college he attended. She's very respectful of his timid nature, and knows not to pressure him. And now Gale, who as far as Cyrill is concerned, is just... magical.

favored display of affection (platonic and/or romantic): He's not huge on physical displays of affection (especially with larger folks... He's just a little guy!). Instead shows of affection tend to come in the form of offering a cup of tea, or listening to people as they vent. He's a very good listener. Also, taking song requests.

fondest childhood memory: He had a terrible stutter when he was younger, and it's why he first took singing lessons, since he didn't stutter when he sang. Finally having a way to express himself without feeling ridiculous was life-changing for him, and he looks back fondly on those first lessons.

Is there anything else you'd like to share? (feel free to include art or a screenshot of your Tav if available!): Cyrill was initially a little bit of a joke character, because I wanted a soft little guy to balance out my badass traumatized ladies, but I very quickly became genuinely fond of him. He's a sweet, special little guy <3

[not-so-lost-after-all]

She thought she knew what she was doing, that they can make a deal with the devil and win again against all odds.

Those spawns deserved some peace. Were too dangerous. Dead for so long. Astarion could have had it all - his pain, weakness, humiliation and guilt wiped away in one moment.

Even after he carved the runes into Cazador's flesh, their minds remained connected. So she felt it when it happened a few moments later and it was like some dark cold twisted tenticles spreading through his mind. Then he pushed her out of his head so aggressively her nose started bleeding in the red dim light. It took her a few words with him to realize what a fool she was...

---

He offered to turn her almost right away, to her surprise. After all, what difference does it make after everything she's done for him? She frowned, she's not going to be anyone's puppet.

“But this would be different. I love you, isn't that what you wanted to hear?”

(“Everyone's favorite. I love you.”

“Having fun, aren't you?”)

She sighed and took a few steps to kiss him. Astarion started caressing the back of her neck, practiced touches as she's fully aware but she lets him. Then the grasp around her throat tightens a bit and he punctures her lower lip with one fang. She suddenly felt especially dirty and pushed him away. There's an icy numbness around her chest now because yes, this felt exactly as wrong as she expected.

“Isn't it a little late to be peevish, pet?” he chuckled.

---

There weren't many times they spoke to each other but many times it came down to her decission to remain “pathetic”, “human” or  “unpolished”. He insisted on her being his spawn, she admited to herself resignedly.

He told her once that he should have turned her in her sleep, that would teach her a lesson. He noticed her widened eyes and drank the pain. Then she returned fire with fire. That night she cried in her bed for the first time in a decade, she didn't even know if it's more out of self pity or a gnawing guilt over what she's done to him.

---

“There's no use in us fighting any longer.” He said that with more frustration than sadness. Her temples throbed, slowly processing what he's saying. “It is for the best.”

“I suppose you can say so when I've done terrible things for you with nothing to show for it,” she couldn't resist but her tone was still as calm as she could manage.

That awful chuckle of his again. “The man of your dreams, the hope of him, is your own worst enemy. The greatest crimes in this world are commited for love,” he almost vomited the last word.

No, that's not it but he never understood that's not what she wanted and she failed to really show him.

(“I can't be what you want to see in me.”

“You already are what I want to see in you.”)

He waved his hand like a magician which she would find amusing any other time. “I know how to play with it and I can't resist playing the hand I know.”

She was stunned for a moment - gods, she knew so well he has sharp tongue but even for him, this was a low blow. It was pointless to tell him she'd go back in time if she could but she sure as hell won't give him another satisfaction.

“Well then,” she cracked a smile, “I hope you'll be happy in your twisted way. Don't think of me when you sink your teeth into someone else's neck.”

“Thank you for everything, darling, and don't think of me when you scratch someone else's back.”

(“Stop it, you don't have to say such things,” she started a bit haughtily but quickly mellowed down. “I already said I'm going to help you. And I know I'm far from being your usual first choice. It's allright, I've never been anyone's first choice.”)

---

She was already drunk from four cups of wine when Karlach joined her at the table at the inn.

“One more cup with me and then we'll call it a night, what do you say?”

She grinned at the tiefling and sighed grumpily. “I suppose the last weeks took a toll on me, that's all. Your glorious leader,” she pointed out bitterly, “will be good to go in the morning.”

“Bullshit. Of course it's him. We can leave without him if you want.”

She shook her head. “No, I can deal with him and we need all the help we can gather. He's going to help, even if for his own gain.”

“Then you're stronger than I would be,” Karlach murmured.

“Not really but for now... lets pretend it doesn't hurt at all.”

She emptied the fifth cup to be sure she will blissfully forget what she lost and what she's done, even for the night.

[mindsafe]

zeke will emerge as the holy ambassador of marley. his languor will introduce him as the monkey to which ymir had inquired previously. she had asked politely, stripped of four limbs & passing time as a product of hard exchanges. bertolt had exchanged glances with reiner who ( in turn ) pledged uncertainty. so . . . they claimed that zeke was a stranger.

but zeke will emerge as the holy ambassador of marley. he will summon the warship & then pack away jaws ( ymir ) into confinement so that her stolen power might be controlled again.

bertolt feels no allegiance to her. he feels allegiance to marcel ( dead now ) but his allegiances feel arbitrary. they’re based on strength.

bertolt is not strongest. he is the most devastating.

zeke has not emerged yet. but he comes soon. in the mean time, they dangle their feet off the side of the wall. bertolt pretends that losing ymir doesn’t mean losing an asset, losing more than asset.

into the air between them bertolt confesses ‘ i don’t know how you decided to surrender like this - ‘

@pontevoix || ANSWERED

disproportionately small limbs attached to a broad torso. coarse, matted hair covering everything but the face && chest.

A BEAST.

when ymir asked the boys about the ❛ monkey ❜ on their asses, they feigned ignorance: bertolt doesn't know how to tell a lie that hadn't been rehearsed in a bathroom mirror; && reiner is a tapestry coming apart at the seams. sheesh, she's as good as dead already; there's no point in keeping secrets now, is there?

they wait at the edge of the world, for a ferryman in a warship who would take her soul across the sea. the ‘ hostage ’ warms the living walls with her body ( forever a martyr ). stone sings to her. ymir offers open palms to an inviting sky. the stars are beautiful tonight; flowers of white, yellow && blue, blooming in a garden of darkness. she has made peace with her fate. there are worse things than dying. .

bertolt doesn't understand why she stays. ymir can't blame him; if their roles were reversed, chances are she wouldn't understand either. hell, if she truly practiced what she preached, she definitely wouldn't understand.

❝ --that's easy; this isn't surrender. like you said, if i wanted to run, now would be the time to do it. i could save my skin, && throw you to the wolves. maybe you even deserve it. but i doubt the survey corps would take me back now. ❞ she laughs. it's easier that way.

❝ not many people are given the privilege of a second chance. you gave me the opportunity to live a life i could be proud of; but it was borrowed time ― i'm just paying back an expensive debt. . . for what it's worth, i'm sorry about your friend. ❞

[lostusagis]

Namida

@jiraipink

 It was a pretty calm day. Odd Jobs didn't have any clients, so no work. Kagura was sitting on the couch next to Gintoki leaning her head against his arm while they watched anime together. Every so often they would both make comments making fun of one of the characters, which is something Kagura immensely enjoyed.

 However, the peace was interrupted by the sound of the sliding door to the apartment being torn from the hinges and tossed across the hallway.

 Kagura didn't even have to look to know who it was. Gintoki however, did look with a mix of annoyance and surprise.

“Why the hell can't anyone in your family be normal?!” He'd say with exasperation, since he was the one that had to pay for a new door.

Kagura didn't say anything to that, and just sighed. “Kamui, I thought you were going to be with Namida today.” She paused the anime, and checked through her phone.

 Kamui had walked inside, then tossed Gintoki off the sofa like a ragdoll before replacing his spot. The samurai mumbled something angrily under his breath before leaving.

“Just shut up, alright? What are we watching? Jojo? Huh…. Haven't seen that in awhile.” He reached for the remote, but Kagura quickly snatched it before he could get it.

“No, no.” She side eyed him, “What happened? You're obviously really upset, and you said you'd talk to me more when you're upset like that.”

Kamui clicked his tongue and turned away, leaning his cheek into his hand while leaning on the sofa’s armrest. “I said I'd try, I don't feel like trying today and it doesn't matter. I'm fine.”

“No you're not.”

“Yes I am.”

“I can tell when you're lying dumbass, wait-” Kagura paused, realizing why Kamui came here.

“Ohhhh…. Namida’s with one of her clients right now.” Given that when Kagura said this, she noticed Kamui getting more pissed off she knew she was right on the mark.

“Awww, you're upset you can't be with her? Upset she's on a date with a-” Kamui tried punching her but she expected it and immediately dodged it.

Kagura rolled her eyes, “You're so easy to read.”

“I'm NOT upset.” Kamui was clearly trying his hardest to deny all the accusations.

“Look, it's fine if you are. It sucks when plans don't work out.” She shrugged, “Although, she seems the type that she wouldn't cancel out on any plans she has with you. Did something happen?”

 Kagura looked over at her brother who was still turned away, though noticed the stupid pouty expression he had on his face.

“I… didn't actually plan anything….” He practically forces out, 

“Then it's your own fault. She's not going to be available 24/7, she has work you know.”

He'd huff childishly, “Her job is stupid anyway. I hope she quits one day.”

Kagura quirks a brow and looked at him confused, “......Why?”

“Going on dates with a bunch of different guys that don't even deserve to look at her, or even breathe the same air as her. I bet a lot of them are just worthless nobodies who deserve to drop dead. I'd love to kill them personally.”

 YIKES. This again. Her brother was giving off very scary yandere energy. Concerning for Namida. Hopefully this doesn't lead to any issues later down the line because he seemed like he genuinely loved her. The first time she's ever seen him interested in anyone romantically actually. Even though he's too stupid to realize he loves her. It seems to be mutual from what she's seen at least.

“I'm sure Namida has her own reasons for working as a rental girlfriend. You don't really have any right to complain. It's not like you're her boyfriend.” It's not a job Kagura would do herself, but if Namida had no issues with it then what was there to complain about?

“I'm her best friend though….” Kamui looked like a kicked puppy when saying that, as if being her best friend was a rank above being her boyfriend.

“Wow, you're really stupid.” She'd look at him with absolute disbelief over his idiocy.

“How…?” Kamui asks when looking over at her, confused.

“Nevermind. I have been meaning to ask you though….. when the hell did you two start becoming friends? I remember you two really disliking each other. So much so, Namida joined that club with me.” Kamui didn't normally open up to others, so she wanted to know what happened that made them so close with each other.

 Kamui didn't answer, and instead looked down shamefully while his face steadily became red. This…. was not a side she expected to ever see of him.

“Kamui? What happened?” She'd ask again, staring at him intently.

 He sighs out, “One of her co-workers had pissed me off and I threatened to hurt her, which made Namida really upset…” Kamui didn't like thinking of her being upset with him, so it took him a bit to continue and Kagura waited and listened quietly.

 “She started avoiding me so whenever I went to bother her at work, she was never there. I didn't encounter her until I saw a group of samurai hurting her and possibly trying to kill her.” Anxiety filled his features when thinking back to that day.

Kagura was starting to see where this was going.

“I lost control of my Yato blood, and ended up killing all of them. Namida kept trying to stop me though…..” His cheeks felt so warm, feeling the embarrassment when speaking about something that meant a lot to him.

“Instead of getting scared and running off, she was persistent in stopping me. Even hugged me which eventually got me to come to my senses. And.. we talked about stuff. I might've disliked her at first but I think I started liking her over time, I just didn't want to admit it.”

Oh, a yandere AND a tsundere. Her brother was major cringe, and an unexpected character type. But this did sound sweet. She was about to speak but he kept talking.

“What made me REALLY like her though was… well… I went to bother her after we had visited mom…” Kamui awkwardly rubbed the back of his head, since this was something he was especially ashamed over. 

“She caught me crying in her office, and… she dropped everything so she could spend time comforting me. I tried really hard to push her away, but even when I hurt her she for some reason didn't want to give up. Shes seen me at my worse and didn't turn away from that despite how I get when I'm upset…” He felt himself getting emotional, even sniffling a bit. This wasn't something he'd tell just anyone.

“Her words and comforting touch made me feel… really warm. Like how it felt with mom…” fists clenched tightly over his pant legs, frowning.

“Over time we just kept getting closer and closer. I think about her all the time now.”

Kagura looks at him curiously, “Why do you look so sad over that though? She seems to really like you too.”

“I keep doing things that hurt her and make her cry…. The same way I hate seeing you cry is the same way I hate seeing her cry. It makes me feel worthless. It makes me wanna die.” A hand threads through his hair, his features filled with despair.

“But sometimes things slip out, sometimes I forget not everyone can handle how blunt I tend to be. How insensitive I am. But I wanna be nice for her…. I wanna be someone that makes her happy. I want her to smile everyday, she sometimes has this sad look in her eyes and I want to help her with that. But I can't do anything right.” He buried his face into his bandage covered hands, as the sniffles only ensued. Kagura couldn't help but feel for him. From what she's seen, he's always been closed off. The closest relationship he had before Namida was Abuto, but Kamui seemed to be close with him only to a certain extent. Since again, he keeps himself closed off. His heart is fragile and he keeps barbed wire over it to protect himself. She's pretty sure if Namida ever broke off their “friendship”, it was going to be horrendous. Kamui tended to criticize people that fall in love, saying such feelings were worthless. Yet, became this obsessive idiot the minute HE began to feel those kind of emotions. What a mess.

“You know…. All friends argue. Sometimes feelings get hurt, but as long as you apologize and try to be better then I don't see a reason to feel bad.” Kagura gently placed a hand on his back,

“I've had arguments with all my friends. Gin-chan, Shinpachi, Soyo-chan, yeah. Its normal. You're not really good with feelings and I'm sure Namida gets that. I'm sure she also gets that you're trying hard to be a good friend too. I'm also sure she wouldn't like you saying those harsh things about yourself.” Hell, Kagura didn't like hearing it. She never did, so she could only imagine how Namida would feel.

 Kamui would lift his face from his hands, his eyes were red. He'd sniffle when staring at the ground.

“You know… when I'm with her I don't get any of those negative thoughts. I only think about what's happening in the moment, about how happy being around her makes me. I feel like everything is okay. Which makes upsetting her even worse.”

 Hearing the way Kamui talked about Namida was so surprising. The love he had for her, in a way, seemed really pure despite the obsession. Maybe it was the fact that Kamui was awful at handling feelings, and from what she's seen he feels everything intensely. Maybe at a certain point, the obsession will become less intense once he processes his feelings correctly. He didn't even know he loved her after all.

It wasn't her place to try talking to him about that either, him and Namida had to figure that out. Because Kagura knew damn well Namida was in love with him too. The yearning looks, the flustered expressions, the fact that she almost always saw them holding hands…

They were so CRINGE because they claimed all of this was friendship. Friends didn't talk about each other the way Kamui spoke about Namida.

 Kagura pulled him into a hug, which Kamui immediately collapsed into it, hugging her back tightly. 

“Are you scared of her hating you?” She'd ask softly with a sympathetic frown. Kamui nodded. Kagura rubbed up and down his back soothingly.

“Have you really come to like her that much?”  Kamui nodded again to her question.

“I don't think I can handle ever losing her…” The way he said those words made him sound so broken. Even if he wasn't right to be so pissy over her having a client, it made sense WHY. He found solace in their time together. Although, being so reliant on Namida like that did cause concern. Kamui wasn't exactly the most sane of individuals. It made sense for a normal human to fear him, especially because of how he constantly let his Yato side influence his choices. He was violent. Dangerous. The likelihood of a human wanting to be around that was really little, Kagura's been on earth long enough to conclude that much.

 She wouldn't fault Namida for one day deciding she didn't want to deal with that. Even if it did seem like she really loved Kamui. She's mainly seen the good sides of him. 

“Hmmm, my brother actually getting this attached to an earth woman? Never thought I'd see the day. Would've expected it to at least be someone you could fight.” Kagura lightly teased Kamui while still comforting him. Moments of vulnerability like this, she usually holds back on the usual insults.

“Be quiet. You wouldn't get it.” He mumbles from where his face was buried into her shoulder.

“Nah, I get it pretty well. Didn't say there was anything wrong with that though.” This could be good for him if he learned how to properly process his emotions. Otherwise, Namida will have a hard time.. Kagura couldn't help the increasing worry after this conversation, for Namida. She was just a human. An innocent human. Kamui had so many issues.

“Maybe as long as you're completely honest and open with her, things will be alright.” When Kagura says that, Kamui pulled from the hug to look at her. Eyes red, puffy and all.

“....I'm always honest with her though.” Kamui would say but Kagura looked at him skeptically, which made him avert his gaze from hers.

“I just prefer to keep my negative feelings hidden, so I won't ruin the time we spend with each other.”

His words make her sigh tiredly, “Have you seen her upset before?”

“Yeah.”

“How did you respond to that?”

“I comforted her, and tried to help her feel better.”

“But YOU don't want to be upset around her, and only want to be cheerful when you two are together.”

“Yeah.”

“Fucksakes….” She mumbles under her breath. “Kamui you're basically lying to her, if you two are good friends I think she'd prefer you don't do that.”

“It'll just be me acting stupid and whiny, there's no point.” This is exactly what Kagura meant, he has so many issues.

“Is that what you think when she's upset?” 

Kamui looked like he got worked up over that, “No? Why would I be? I wanna support her whenever I can after all.”

“Do you not hear yourself? Kamui, Namida isn't going to think you're stupid and whiny for showing your true feelings. People who care about you won't attack you for having bad days. Please stop thinking that. You literally came here because you're comfortable enough showing me how upset you are. Am I making fun of you for it? No. Namida won't either. If she comforted you before, it means she'll probably do it again if you let her.” Why were men so intent on hiding their feelings? Idiots. All of them.

“I just want her to be happy, I don't want her to deal with how much of a disaster I am….” He sounded ashamed. Kagura knew well he hated how emotional he really was.

‘I emptied myself’ her ass. He's so frustrating. Not only is he emotionally dependent on her, but he feels the need to put up a front still, despite Namida clearly not minding seeing him during his more vulnerable moments.

Kagura didn't know what to say anymore, her head hurt. All she could hope for was that things worked out for both of them. Hopefully Kamui doesn't become problematic with his obsession. Hopefully Namida doesn't end up hurt. Hopefully all three of them can still be close. She really likes Namida….

Admittedly, Namida chose the absolute worst guy. People don't really choose who they fall for though, it just happens. Or something like that.

 She runs a hand down her face. She'll slightly root for them.

 There was a deep inhale and exhale, “How about we watch some anime until Namida is free? Getting your mind off it for a while might help.” Kamui would nod to her suggestion so Kagura went ahead and restarted the episode.

 While the opening played, Kamui mumbled “Thanks…. Kagura. Talking to you really helps, but I'm sorry I'm always so frustrating.” He forced a smile.

“If you're grateful don't use that fake ass smile with me. But yeah, no problem. Like I told you, I'll support you through anything.”

Even this mess he currently had going on with Namida. Which would hopefully end happily for them.

[diluclover300]

Just One Week (2)

Gojo Satoru x Female Reader

Also posted on my ao3 account: diluclover300

CHAPTER INDEX:

I H8 U

My Kinda Fun

Balance

{S] Awake

Eggs and Rice

Wait, but I'm broke

Couple's Discount

CHAPTER 2: My Kinda Fun

Damn it. When you said you wanted to fight him, you didn't think he'd actually say yes. You didn't think he'd take you seriously! 

Now you're shaking like a cat who's just been thrown into a very unnecessary, cold bathtub, shoving your reading glasses into your now discarded backpack on the floor. Except that bathtub was a random rooftop he's managed to transport you to. So you shiver as the breeze hits your bare legs, crossing your arms so tight that your blood circulation has gone out the window. 

"So? What now?" You say through clattering teeth, squeezing yourself together as your hair blows in the direction of your face. Every now and then you see Gojo in front of you, like a game of hide and seek but with your own hair. 

Your audacity has only gotten worse with time, Satoru thinks. You're the one who asked to fight in the first place, why were you trembling like a little mouse? It's laughable. 

He shrugs. "Dunno. Hurry up and land a punch before I do it first."

He moves, rotating his arm in a steady circle, as if he's winding up the air against his muscles. In reality, he's combining his fingers together into a fist, one that aims at you. 

"W-wait!" You clear you throat, sounding like a shrill little girl with a small, little voice. 

"What?"

He pulls off his sunglasses, white hair blowing along the wind as his eyes glint against the night sky. A threat is what that stern look is, the drop of those glasses following. 

It's not an romantic reaction when your heart skips a beat. That twinge in your heart is one of utter fear. 

God. You're dead if he uses those eyes of his. 

A losing battle is what it is. You sure as hell don't want to fight if there's nothing in it to win other than your already-bruised ego. Which you don't need to resurrect by any means, but what you do need is for Gojo Satoru to be gone, for peace to re-enter your miserable life. 

"If I win, then, will you–"

"Fine."

"I didn't even–"

"You're losing anyways."

"Why you–"

"If I win, you'll grant me three wishes. Sounds like a deal, doesn't it?"

"I never said yes." You brace for impact, bent at the knees as you ground your rather wobbly feet against the cold rooftop. Geez, you can see the entirety of Japan from this building. 

"It's called a mutual agreement." 

"Whatever." 

The breeze almost sways you, almost. You try to squeeze your focus into your arms. Knowing that you've been on your feet all day was your biggest disadvantage against Gojo Satoru, who had the strength of the Gods. Figuratively, of course. 

He doesn't do anything, he just folds his legs until he's sitting on the floor, feet crossed together. 

"What're you–"

"Come and get me." 

Fine. You will. You're no pussy. 

A long sigh draws out of you before you charge at him, coursing cursed energy through your left arm. 

"Predictable." Gojo clicks his tongue, unimpressed as you swing with all your might. "You need more practice."

Of course, it doesn't land. He has that stupid limitless thing, a barrier which you can't predict. He's gotten stronger, just as Gojo Satoru does. 

"I fucking hate you." You heave, so badly out of shape. Fuck, you need to hit the gym someday. "It's not fair, you have that stupid... that stupid limitless thing!"

Satoru looks up at you. It's admirable to see how weak someone so strong has gotten over the years. How the cold air puffs in and out through your lips. 

It's what a office job does to a person, huh? He thinks. 

"You whine too much for a jujutsu sorcerer." He groans as he gets up from the ground. "Is this how you intend to win? Against me?"

Ha. Even he knows he's not some ordinary Joe. It makes your blood curdle as you wipe off your sweaty palms against your knees. 

"Cocky bastard."

You begin to back up as he walks towards you, each stride slower than the last. 

"Am I? You know, I could beat you without that limitless thing." His eyebrows furrow, frustrated at your puny little attempts of putting up a fight. 

"As if." You stumble over your steps and you swear that he's trying to kill you. That looks in his eyes is nothing but sinister. 

"Don't believe me?" He laughs, sending a slight chill down your spine. "Try it."

Humiliating, you believe this to be. He's baby-proofing this fight for you, making things easy for you. Though you've sworn off your pride, it swells up in your heart.

You won't have any of this. 

"Fine then. I'm not using my technique either." You step back until you're finally cornered, back straightening up against the cold, gray walls. 

"Okay." He looms over you, hands stuffed in his pocket. "I'd win either way."

Your back compresses even further against the small entrance to the rooftop, breath caught up in your chest. 

Okay, you think. There's no technique involved whatsoever. You can either land punches or kicks with cursed energy. Nothing more than that. 

"I'm waiting." He looks down at you, with such intensity that you're turning into goo, a bag of nerves. 

"Okay. I get it. Give me a second to think."

You blink, looking up at him. 

You're going to lose, you're well aware he has a better sense for... well, everything. He's better than you, which was one reason why you quit, but you didn't want to do a deep dive into that right now. Not when you've got a once in a lifetime reward on the line. 

Whatever. You were going to give it your all. 

SMACK. 

You slap him. Once. The satisfaction, the hopeless toss of his head as you do this feels great. You feel alive as the cells of your palm lightly tingle against each other. Nice. 

SMACK. 

Twice. You don't even let him recover. He's silent, that pale skin of his cheek reddening. 

SMACK! 

Three times a charm. His eyes go wide like a fish as he winces, rubbing his cheek.

"Ow." You frown, looking at your brightening skin. It burns. "That hurt."

It's quiet for a good moment as you contemplate your next move, the metallic taste of adrenaline staining the roof of your mouth and tongue. You haven't felt this in five years. It's so familiar, yet so foreign that it becomes difficult to deal with, to process as millions of thoughts and strategies run in circles around your mind. Gojo's small pants and breaths are the last thing on your mind as your eyes dart around the rooftop. 

Now what? You ask yourself, watching as he slowly re-composes himself, stretching back up. There are so many possibilities, however, they're all quick to flee the confinement of your mind when your eyes meet with his trembling ones. 

"You're done having fun?" He breathes, looking back at you with a wide smile and a bruised cheek. "Already?"

Oh. If you weren't in trouble before, then you were really in trouble now. He's got you right where he wants you, cornered, trapped against a wall, saving up his energy for something more. That smile of his stretches throughout his face, teeth almost grinding together, akin to a predator eyeing it's prey. Eventually, that disturbing stretch reaches his eyes as your legs practically turn into jelly, slightly jittering as he laughs to himself, the sound echoing and dissipating into the cold, frigid air. 

Run. You must run. 

"Uh.. uh.." You sputter, eyes darting from him to the rest of the rooftop. "I..."

You slap him again, wincing as you run for your life. Your hand burns. It burns so bad that you're dreaming of the damn ice pack the school nurse would give you for your weekly tummy aches. You try to push further, the muscles of your legs straining and squeezing every bit of energy left in you.

Unfortunately, a forty hour work week exhausts you, wrings you dry of any sort of life. Your feet begin to drag against the concrete floors of the rooftop, as if the Gods already decided on your eventual demise days ago. Your steps and strides fight with the air instead of working with it, the ice-cold air entering and exiting the burn of your throat at an unusual pace.  

"Hey. Where are you going?" His voice is low, predatory, awfully close. Your lungs clench for any source of oxygen, and your physical incompetence – if it wasn't before – finally catches up to you now. 

Your hair sticks to the sweaty mess that is your forehead, strands slapping against your stinging face, chest crying as it rises and falls. Knees cracking as they bend, every inch of you pulsating along with your feverous heartbeat. 

You have no clue where Gojo is, and a string of spit escapes your lips as you pant like a dog, weakly wiping off the filth. 

"Come on now. We were just getting started on the fun."

"You sick freak, none of this is fucking fun, you–"

You hiss, teeth clenching together.

You feel a tug at your lower half, and then it only grows harsher from there on out. 

"Hey, you–" You huff, voice cracking when you lose your balance. 

He's underneath you, twisting and turning your ankles. It's impossible to stand still, each twist and turn more violent than the last.

You shriek. 

Maybe, maybe that was the most blood curdling scream of your life as his fingers clasp around your bones, twisting and turning them like some sort of bop-it toy. Relentless as he lets out a psychotic laugh. 

"What's wrong, huh? You were so confident earlier, weren't you?" Another yank, one that throws you off your feet and knocks the air out of you. If you ever had any to begin with. 

Then you fall back, keeling over on the rooftop, curling in on yourself as the pain continues. The adrenaline wears off as your shoulders thud against the floor.  

"P-please.." You gasp, feeling a force tighten around your skin. He crouches before you, lightly turning your jaw as he examines the sheer agony he's caused. 

You're weaker than he's remembered. 

"Don't worry, they'll work just fine– your feet and legs, I mean." 

"That's not what I–"

You let out another airy gasp, tears welling in your eye sockets. It hurts. You cry like a baby waiting on it's mother.

"Ah, ah!" You roll around on the ground, bringing your knees up to your chest. "S-satoru, I'm sorry. I lost, I– Fuck!"

He slides his glasses back on with a tut, frowning at the sight. He almost feels sorry for you. Then he remembers that you've brought this upon yourself. Poor you. Boo hoo. Cry him a river. 

"That's right." He hums along to your cries, poking a finger into the heart of your forehead with each word. "You lost, which means..."

You feel the inside of your brain crack, it's so terrifying that you cry out, you wail out the answer. 

"Fuck, fuck, the wishes!" You roll around, rock around the ground as if you're being sung a lullaby. "I'll do anything, so just– shit, just..."

He wastes no time, straightening his back as he gets up. You look more pathetic from a broader point of view, he decides. 

"Alright." He sighs, as if winning was some sort of chore for him. 

He'll try his best to be gentle with you from now on. 

You're so weak. 

"Number one, you'll show me around here. I gave up my vacation days to be here for one week, work free. Don't waste my precious time, got it?"

"Wait, but I don't have the money for that. No! I can't, I–"

He presses the toe of his shoe against your forehead and you sputter into another gasp, breath hitching as your eyes roll back.

"I'll wire you the reimbursement."

You brain, if you even had one to begin with because what idiot would willingly lose to Gojo Satoru, has completely shattered into a million pieces.

"O-okay.." Your voice breaks as you hold your knees tighter. "Satoru!"

Hm. You only want to say his name when you're crumbling beneath his feet. How funny.

"Two, you'll provide me with housing."

"No. I refuse–"

You gasp like a fish out of water. 

"O-okay! Fuck, shit, fine! Fine! I will! Live with me, please!" You can't believe the sheer amount of nonsense that just pours out of you. 

"Good."

He doesn't mention the third wish. However, you don't have the brain capacity for it to hold any significance as you rock and roll against the ground, choking on your own spit as you holler like the cat from Tom and Jerry. 

"Satoru," You whine, a pitiful one that rings and disperses into the air. "S-satoru."

"What?" 

"It hurts."

You turn over, and he's almost jilted. The sight of your tears is something he doesn't expect as they stain your cheeks, hot and thick as they land. 

For a moment, the word "sorry" ghosts over his lips. He refrains, the words "I hate you," tickling the rims of his eardrums. 

Instead, he goes down to you, raising up a finger as you scramble across the ground in fear. You scoot back with your legs, kicking against the ground like a helpless puppy. 

"N-no, Satoru, I said, I said... I.. sorry–"

He flicks his nails against the heart of your forehead. 

"Calm down. You'll be fine."

The last thing you see as your eyes slowly blink is the image of Gojo Satoru towering over you, removing his jacket. You think about tripping him, but your body fails you. As it always has.

"I hate you." You croak as possibly your last words escape your lips. 

Then you knock out, cold as you lie against the ground. 

...

[a-christmas-carol-from-hr]

The Anna Karenina Principle

AN: All happy couples are alike. All unhappy couples are unhappy in their own way.

Marley Lives AU.

The second Ellen stepped into the hospital room, she knew she was in for a fight.

"S-s-so you dec-c-cided to come crawling b-back."

Even as fried as he was, the glare Marley gave her was one of his best. He glowered at her from his hospital bed, the intensity of his anger not dampened by oxygen tubes and IVs. If anything, the things around him only made his fury more intimidating. Were Ellen anyone else, she'd have been turned to stone right then and there.

But she wasn't anyone else.

She moved in, closing the door behind her. Her coat was slung over her arm. "Hello, Jacob. I told you I'd be back."

His eyes narrowed at her, in no mood for dancing around the point. "Battle dress." He said flatly.

He was right. She'd put on the dress she wore to corporate bloodbaths. Her 'battle dress'. He'd called it that first. It was a sensible black frock with a dark red collar that draped over her shoulders. Why she'd felt drawn to it, she wasn't sure. Maybe she wanted some of the strength it gave.

"Come to sack me too?" He asked brightly.

Things had been boiling under the surface. She knew they had. Marley was a fiercely independent man, and he did not take slights easily. The slight of his own body trying to kill him was not something his pride could easily excuse. And the more she'd visited, the more she'd helped him, the more the doctors had studied him and had warned him and had forbidden him, the angrier he had become.

Things had boiled over. He'd screamed at her to get out. She'd screamed back. She'd been nearly banned from the hospital the night before. It'd be sensible of Scrooge to just leave him to his brooding. It'd be practical, even. It'd certainly save her petrol money.

But she couldn't.

She just couldn't.

And wasn't that pathetic.

"I've come to do nothing of the kind. I've come to visit."

"Go a-a-away. I d-don't want you here."

She couldn't let him know how badly that hurt. She couldn't. "I plan to do nothing of the kind." 

"I'll scream," He threatened. "I-I-I'll raise such Hell, woman."

"You do that then. It doesn't phase me."

"I'm n-not one of your underlings."

"Then behave like it!" She snapped back. "You're acting like a child. Although I suppose that's better than acting like a dead man."

"Y-y-you're the one always u-unhappy with liars!" His heartrate was visibly going up as they fought. "I-I was truthful and now I'm be-being punished for it."

"You were not truthful."

"I'm dead, Ellen." He roared, with a force that shocked her. He shouldn't be able to fight like this in his condition. But Jacob Marley was the Wolf for a reason. "Even if I don't k-k-know it yet. J-j-just because you w-won't face the f-facts doesn't mean I can't."

She was prepared to shriek something back when a very angry nurse came barreling into the room. Both of them grew silent under her glare, and an uneasy peace was earned for the five minutes she scolded him about over-exerting himself.

The smile he gave Ellen when the nurse was gone made her sick. "Y-y-you must have enjoyed that."

"I did not." She said. Her nerve was beginning to fail. Marley liked a good fight. But this was not a good fight. This was venom.

"Don't l-l-lie, it's n-n-not attractive." He flopped back against the pillow. "Go away, Scrooge."

"Fine." She said. She'd not even sat down. "I'll go. But there's something I want to say first."

She couldn't meet his eyes. They were too angry. Instead she looked down at her shoes. She'd been thinking of this for days. Perhaps she'd always been thinking of it. But here, at the potential end of all things, if she didn't say it, she knew she never would.

And she was selfish enough to want to do it, no matter what happened.

"I have known you for the past sixteen years. I have been your partner for sixteen years. In that time, we have done a great number of things that were terrible, and very few that were good. Perhaps it would have been for the best had we never met. It certainly would have saved the pair of us several instances of pain, with this latest data point being the worse. I know you think I should find another partner. A partnership with another might be more productive. Perhaps it might even work better than ours. But despite everything, the only man I have ever loved is you."

For a very long moment, they said nothing.

Marley stared at her, eyes wide, face fixed in the look of disdain he’d worn when she’d confessed her love. But he was utterly still. It was as if her love had been liquid nitrogen. It had frozen him solid. He sat there, a pillar of salt and ice just looking at her.

Ellen stood as still as he. Despite the way her voice had wavered, she kept herself as firm as moonrock. The two partners watched each other with perfectly still eyes. It was a miracle the floor didn’t freeze under them.

Ellen nodded to herself, as if satisfied. This was how it would always end. This was how things like this always ended. With awkward silence, and somebody leaving her.

At least this time she could leave under her own power.

“Good evening, Mr. Marley.” She said calmly. And she turned to go.

The moment one of her feet was over the doorway, Marley’s heart monitor let out a screech.

Ellen turned in shock as a number of medical alarms began wailing like banshees. But the noise was quickly forgotten as she saw Marley lying on the floor, evidently having bodily thrown himself from the bed. He was shambling over to her, still moving even as IVs had ripped out and sensors had been pulled free. Ellen let out a shriek of shocked worry as she rushed over, pride forgotten in an instant.

“What the fuck are you doing?!” She gasped, kneeling at his side.

He gripped her shoulder with all the passion of a martyr. When he spoke his voice was a low rasp. ”Say it again.”

"What?" Scrooge asked in blank confusion. Perhaps if she had her wits about her, she would have realized what he meant. But her wits were currently addled by the scream of the heart monitor.

"Say it again!" He demanded. "For fuck's sake, say it again, woman!"

"I love you." It tumbled out of her mouth before she could stop it.

Marley's laugh was half-insane.

"Again."

"I love you." Despite herself she smiled when she said it, and she hated herself for it.

"Again." He rasped. "Say it again."

"I love so much you stupid, stupid man that I hardly know what to do with myself." She laughed. God help her, she laughed. Maybe she was only laughing because she was also going mad. "I love you you stupid, horrible, pathetic, terrible man."

Marley let out a twisted cry of pain and joy. How awful they must be, Ellen thought, that the confession of love could cause such agony. How undeserving they must be that joy was an unexpected luxury.

"I love you," He breathed. "I'm sorry."

"It's alright."

"N-no." He said. "Nothing is alright." He didn't just mean his body. He meant their souls, and she knew it.

"No." She agreed. "Nothing is alright."

"I love you." He replied. It was all one could say to something like that. Nothing was alright. Nothing may ever be alright again. Nothing would ever be sensible and practical, at least, again. It couldn't be, not when there was love.

Love. That feasting parasite they'd tried so hard to keep out. It had wormed its way in, gnawing at their very bones. It wasn't economical. It wasn't thrifty. It was terrible and awful, just as they were.

And yet, here they still stood. Still alive to begin with.

His mouth pressed against hers with the passion of sixteen years of semi-repression.

Even when it was cut short by a furious nurse, it was the best kiss of her life.

[maoam]

if you ever get the time, i highly recommend that you go through the official naruto fanbooks since ive heard that they have many cool sasunaru easter eggs which arent really discussed much among the sns community, my japanese isnt as good so if you ever find something cool please share on your page as well alright?

you can see their japanese scans here (scroll to the bottom of the page)

https://narutoversity.wordpress.com/databooks-and-fanbooks/

I don't know if I care about the fanbooks, considering they aren't comparable to the manga, also their creators make many silly claims like this one:

"First-rate chakra control and brainpower!! Braver than any man, charming as a maiden!!

As a ninja, she still doesn’t have any remarkable feats under her belt, but even Kakashi acknowledges her latent ability. Chakra control, Genjutsu, her display of knowledge during the Chuunin Exams: she’s shown shining potential in a fairly wide array of competences. Should she develop them, she might become a threat even to the great Sasuke! She’s also the one in Kakashi’s team who reins in the two hot-headed types that are Sasuke and Naruto, like an older sister looking after a mischievous little boy."

As me and sneezemonster15 have talked about, Sakura is all book smarts and can't put any of that information into practice. And Kishi wrote her that way. Brainpower? Wish she could use some common sense sometimes. And since when does she reign Sasuke and Naruto in? Sasuke is the one who is constantly roasting her for being lazy and not learning jutsus. And she pipes down for any negative comment from him.

"A woman’s hair is her life. Yet she cuts her hair off in order to change herself!!"

Now this is just stupid and sexist.

"She probably exemplifies what an ideal young woman would be like."

I hope the hell not that Sakura isn't what an ideal young woman is like. Shallow, self-sentered and cruel?

"Sasuke dead…?! Her heart was torn between her shinobi’s duties and pure love."

Lol I remember SS claimed Kishi called Sakura's love "pure" because of this line written by the book creators. Except Kishi called Sakura's love selfish in one of the manga entries. 自分勝手な 恋な, (jibungattena koina) which means selfish/self centered/egoistic love. It’s a negative word.

"Sakura herself doesn’t really know how she feels about Naruto. Her great love is Sasuke, but it should be noticed she also looks Naruto’s way… We can’t talk about love for the moment, but who knows?! It might happen."

Shipping bait that made narusakus think their ship had a chance.

"Hinata’s fighting ability was found lacking by the Hyuuga Clan. But her latent potential is quite conspicuous, so development is to be expected in the future."

🤣🤣🤣

"To find that Itachi is interested only in Naruto surprises Sasuke. This seems to state that the value of his existence falls below Naruto’s. Thoughts of denial give birth to jealousy."

What's funny though is that even these books acknowledge Sasuke was feeling angry due to Itachi when he challenged Naruto, not because he was jealous of Sakura lol. But of course SS pick and choose what they like about these books.

Also all those stats... no way Sakura has higher intelligence than some other characters. She always makes the dumbest decisions during battle.

"She tries to get involved but there is no room for her. In front of their heated glares, she does not exist."

Finally some good line hahaha.

"Sasuke left Konohagakure. Sakura’s heart did not reach him. Naturally lonely and peace loving, for Sakura, the loss of one teammate causes her great pain.

Thus, if that person is someone she loves, the pain is greater. So she shouts out her love which goes unheeded, squeezing the words out of her throat. It’s as if this is her imprisoning destiny."

Something that SS also love to ignore when referring to their precious fanbooks.

A lot of these lines in the book just seem like them writing whatever that sounds nice, and would make fans buy the books. Like the line how no one who confronts Sasuke has a chance of living, despite us knowing it's not true lol

[yamatossideboob]

One Piece 1108 Spoilers!!

This week's intellectual musings:

GOOD COVER SPREAD ALL DE GIRLIES!! Tashigi may not have a Devil Fruit but somethings getting awakened for deffo here hehehe

Good mag cover art too, I love seeing Oda's colours a bit more closely

Okay yeah as *everyone* speculated, Caribou is gonna fill BB in on the Ancient Weapons :s I do wonder if he'll get some details wrong and this is a gag being set up, but unfortunately this just feels like the reason BB & co will finally upgraded to Big Bads™️ rough times ahead

For now though it's neat to see Vice Admirals scrapping, but alas! our giant pals are making shite of them

I saw someone point out last week how Dorry and Brogy might not recognise Franky bc his face isn't on his bounty poster and they FUCKING CALLED IT what a small but very good thing lmao

god OP giants are so good, ilysm lads

ahem anyway as soon as i saw scholar mentioned so significantly I got wondering, and after several microseconds realised they surely meant SAUL!! ofc this is practically confirmed on the nest page but how intriguing! how hype!!

also I love Doll even if she is a marine. I am a simple woman. I wonder will she get to meet Saul again later...

Bluegrass is so good, I love her design and power in tandem, she's so fun

I just had a thought.... the idea of self-destruct functions has been sown previously in Kuma's flashback... what if, as a way to help guarantee his personal safety prior to this arc... Vegapunk has one in HIMSELF? I can imagine it: Saturn, defeated and having let the Strawhats escape with Bonney and the giants, succumbs to blind rage and wants to deal the finishing blow to VP, who "fsr" stayed behind. However, either he or VP himself activates the self-destruct, and with Saturn reaping his own demise, VP manages to square with the devil he made deals with, and make peace with his red hands... idk. This idea just came to me, I am not much of a speculator lmao

AHEM anywayyy Saturn is fucking scary, I wonder since he's clearly losing his rag with this shower of upstarts, is his Zoan(?) fruit going apeshit?

ough yes like the lake hydra in dark souls 1, i see i see

Vegapunk for an old and mortally wounded man you're sure chatty

Okay. hear me out. I know the 'Traitor Kizaru' theory is dead in the water at this point. But... why would he hyper beam Vegapunk right through what looks like the same wound Saturn gave VP earlier? In the panel right after it looks like smoke is rising from the new wound... what if Kizaru cauterised it? Can Vegapunk survive a little longer thanks to this? I'm going cracked over here!!!

OKAY LUFFY IS GETTING SERIOUS!! BY WHICH I MEAN SILLAY!! Ohhhhhhhhhh god lads next week is going to be good

AND IT'LL BE EVEN BETTER BE WHAT THE HOLY HELL IS VEGAPUNK UP TO NOW?! HE'S GONNA DO A WHITEBEARD AND COAX THE WG INTO A SNAFU. GOOD GOD Y'ALL!!!

Next week can't come soon enough!! We might even see that giant robo again! maybe it'll be brushing its teeth! til then! 💪✖️

[liamgallaghermpreg]

happy wincest wednesday!! what's the best and worst season for sam to knock up his sister?

happy wincest wednesday vicky!!!! omg thank you for this extremely tailored-to-me ask. i've only seen 1-6, so i can only answer for those.

i love all interpretations of when sam & dean(na) give into their feelings for each other, but i'm personally a post-in my time of dying truther, and think they had sex for the first time in wake of john's death.

oh, my god, this got long:

best season: i'll go with season 2 despite the eventual devastation. because lets face it, their lives are always a mess. but in s2, sam's grief over jess has lessened, and i think he'd finally be ready to reconcile his feelings for his sister. almost losing her in the truck accident and losing john is a lot for him to handle – and we know sam is an internalizer; despite deanna's unwillingness to discuss things, she certainly wears her heart on her sleeve – but sex is something that can happen without words.

i think the conception sex happens after 2x04 children shouldnt play with dead things. deanna finally admits she's having trouble dealing with john's death – that she feels it's her fault, even – and apologizes for her recent behavior. and then follows it up with:

[...]You're the most important people in my life. And now … I never should've come back, Sam. It wasn't natural. And now look what's come of it. I was dead. And I should have stayed dead. You wanted to know how I was feeling. Well, that's it. So tell me. What could you possibly say to make that all right?

oh boy that is a prime lead-in to some in the backseat of the impala lovemaking. no time to bother with a condom. they want to feel each other. a couple months later, it's obvious that deanna's pregnant. and tbh, i think her first instinct would be to get rid of it. (side note: it is my personal hc that john and/or others have knocked her up in the past, and she's gotten rid of it every time. it's the most practical thing to do for a hunter. otherwise you end up with situations like john's or the harvelles). but this is sam's baby. and sam's having visions. deanna's rattling around john's "save sam or kill him" instructions in her brain. playthings happens, and deanna is more sure of her brother being it for her than ever (side note – every ask if they're a couple this season gets even better with dee's pregnant belly in the way).

and sam...sam quietly doesn't argue when deanna wants to keep it, because he's scared of what's to come, and wants deanna to have a peace of him when he's gone.

(another side note: what is and what never should be fully includes a domestic fantasy for deanna in this 'verse).

ahbl is devastating of course, but oh god the wack morality of deanna deciding the deal is worth it because now sam will have a peace of deanna with him when she goes to hell. she convinces herself she's doing it for them both.

them having a child would have s3 play out totally differently, imo. sam wouldn't trust ruby so blindly (possibly going so far as to kill her, become king of hell to save deanna and their child). not that sam doesn't fiercely care for dean in canon, as that's his driving force for his actions in s3, but with a kid on the line? they can't do anything for themselves and they need their mom!! sam's mother is his biggest blank in his life, and he doesn't want [child] to have that too. especially because they both would have died to a deal to save their loved one (not that sam knows that yet).

worse: obvious answer is halfway through s3, because the child would not survive the season finale, and lilith would fully taunt sam over this, driving sam even deeper into his demon blood revenge mission. the wedge in the beginning of s5 drives even deeper because they have this unspoken thing between them, and deanna can't hide her emotions but neither will talk about them.

BUT! i think s6 provides another interesting answer. soulless sam knocking up his sister? he has no qualms about fucking raw, and she can just abort it if she gets pregnant! oh, she wants to keep it? fine, her prerogative. he has other things to take care of. this, i think, is devastating for deanna. and OH GOD, when sam comes back. sam's lack of autonomy is already a very sad and very fascinating theme throughout spn, and look what his body did without his knowledge. he's overjoyed for a child with deanna i think, but constantly grappling with the implications.

thanks for the ask!!!!