#at least if they’re both in Hell then they have a chance to find each other

[sthilarions]

AU where Charles and Edwin are alive and in the same time but somehow Edwin is still wrongly assigned to Hell, and they both know this; they know where he’s going someday - hopefully not soon, but someday. This Charles doesn’t have a history of fighting supernatural threats, so it doesn’t occur to him that he could break Edwin out. But he won’t let Edwin be in Hell alone. He won’t.

So he sneaks off and seeks out a priest, asks for a list of things that will guarantee someone goes to Hell, and scans through it for options that won’t weigh on his conscience too much.

Because if Edwin’s going to Hell, then by God, so is he.

[honeybunhottie]

Oo headcanons for Chris or Josh crushing bad on Alt!reader? maybe like a gothic or metalhead style?

feel like both would be absolutely geeked about some scary looking women!!!

- 🦐

Omg I love this idea! Sorry in advance if this is totally off, I'm not super knowledgeable about the styles or culture but I tried my best! Please keep sending requests!!

Chris and Josh with an Alt! Reader

We’ll do this before the events of the game because I feel like they’d have too much going on otherwise.

Chris

This man LOVES alt baddies and I can say this for a fact

My source? I’ve never known a nerdy man who didn’t like an alt baddie

He and Josh are jokesters through and through. And also lowkey pervs

I can just imagine one day Josh is teasing him about never getting any

And then here walks by you, dressed head to toe in an outfit that’d probably make his mother scream

And he can’t take his eyes off of you.

Immediately his friends catch onto his (frankly, not subtle stare) and start teasing him

Eventually they have some pity and tell him your name at least.

This man makes it his mission to have an interaction with you

Spends at least a month stalking observing you in the hallways

What outfits you wear, what your friends wear, your fav eyeliner brand, how much you hate your lab partner, your plans after school, all of it

One time you bumped into each other and dropped your notebook

Papers flying everywhere and all

He helps you collect them all, and when your fingertips brush his hand feels like it’s evaporated. He didn’t know it was possible for appendages to feel like sparkling water, but here it was happening

When you say a simple “Thanks, Chris” he swears his heart stops

He kicks himself for the gaping stare he gave in response as he stuttered out something unintelligible. Like it seriously keeps him awake at night 

He knows he’s bordering on the weird line of things, but there’s literally no chance you guys would cross paths otherwise (in his mind at least)

Because little does he know, the was also a fact about alt baddies

I’ve never met one who didn’t VICERALLY NEED a nerdy man

Yep, you have noticed this blond nerd always around

Yes, you did think he was cute

And yes, your friends absolutely do notice

Eventually, they get tired of your mutual pining because it’s more than obvious that neither of you has enough balls to ask each other out. 

They set up a plan with the other squad to set you up, because everyone is tired of these two dorks fumbling around each other

They decide to pull the “make group plans but nobody shows up” card for the new movie coming out

Chris is chilling in the hallway on his phone,anxiously glancing at the door every other minute because why the hell aren’t they here yet?

He freaks out when he sees you walk in, dressed even cooler than usual, all by your lonesome. 

You seem lost, looking for something before checking your phone. You sport a flustered look afterwards.

At the same time, Chris feels his phone buzz with a text too

‘Have fun man!’

‘Good luck!!’

‘Take ‘em to the bone zone buddy!’

He rolls his eyes at the last one before realizing what they’re referring to

He looks up from his phone only to get jumpscared by you standing right next to him

“Looks like we’ve been set up”

He immediately starts apologizing before you put a finger to his lips to shush him’

“I’m kinda looking forward to this”

Lord help him

He’s still singing Josh’s praises years later though, so something worked out right!

Josh

I loveeeee Josh

And nothing about this man screams subtle to me

Will he immediately tell you to your face how hot he thinks you are?

Probably not

Will he find every opportunity to hang out and find things in common with you?

Yes, 100%

This man is around every corner, every turn with that bewitching stare and stupid laugh

I feel like he would love your alt style. I mean he’s super into horror movies and the darker side of things, I feel like he’d enjoy someone different.

Flirty jokes galore, he loves making them, he’s kinda weird like that

He loves it if you match his energy too

He’s always asking about what music you’re into, have you seen that new movie? There’s this new haunted house coming soon.

He loves quality time, and he wants to become friends before he makes a move or anything.

Once you guys are FRIENDS, then he starts making moves

This man is playing chess while we are playing checkers

I have a feeling that it’s not too noticeable at first

Lots of jokes still

Lots of “jk jk, unless…”

Nahhhh

Unless…

He’s always getting you the new album for your fav band, or buying you cool stuff when he gets dragged to the mall with his sisters.

Is a firm believer that it’ll happen if it happens

And is very content to just ride along with you.

Overall, 10/10 we love them both

[majosullivan]

Nevermore Dashboard Simulator

🌷 many-coloured-grass Follow

Can we all agree to stop making jokes about each other’s deaths? Making light of someone’s death even as a joke is really gross

🪦 deadgirlwalking Follow

No I was murdered so I can reclaim it

85,958 notes

⏳ dream-within-a-dream Follow

Okay but can someone tell me how posts here are getting so many notes? There’s like around 100 people at the academy and I’m frequently seeing posts with well over 1,000 notes. Like, it would be one thing if these posts were years old but some of them are from 2 days ago. Did I just miss the memo and everyone here has at least 10+ accounts, like WHERE are you guys coming from?

👻 hourofsecrecy Follow

Can the spirits not show their appreciation for people’s commentery? Can the creatures of the night not find humour in wits and gists of others? What is the difference from the newly departed and the Unseen Ones?

⏳ dream-within-a-dream Follow

Absolutely horrific answer, thank you for your time

26,496 notes

🪱 conqueror-of-worms Follow

Tell me why it’s around eight in the morning and the first thing I see while heading to the dining hall is Lenore PINING Annabel Lee AGAINST A WALL

☠️ spookyxskeletons Follow

🪱 conqueror-of-worms Follow

Care to clarify who the hell you were referring to in this post?

☠️ spookyxskeletons Follow

Yes

3,270 notes

🎈 floatinghoax Follow

After everything the afterlife could have been, you’re telling me that I have to go to SCHOOL and have CLASSES that start at 9AM? Truly tempted to walk straight into the wasteland, there’s only so much a second chance at life is worth

#not to mention with have fucking ROOMMATES #this academy is MASSIVE #you’re telling me there isn’t enough room for single rooms in this place?

7,984 notes

🥀 wilted-rose Follow

I’m curious, who do you guys think you could take in their spectre forms?

🥀 wilted-rose Follow

IN A FIGHT

69,285 notes

🎶 decomposingmusic Follow

You’re not about to manifest your spectre, you’re just dehydrated

🩰 ghosting-giselle Follow

out of the way gay boy i’m boutta separate myself from my remaining mortal ties and embrace the abilites of my spiritual form

🩰 ghosting-giselle Follow

nures rom

173,032 notes

🌙 voyage-to-the-moon Follow

do you think the Deans wake up every day, take one look at us before telling Ms. Poppet ‘PUT THOSE BEASTS IN SITUATIONS!’

2,396 notes

🌃 eveningstar Follow

Does anyone know if Duke and Pluto (the two boys friends with Lenore) are an item or not? Cause any time I’ve seen them interact, Duke has consistently referred to Pluto as Mon Minou (my kitten in french) and I’m not sure if the two of them are together or if they’re just…Like That

🌃 eveningstar Follow

UPDATE: SO IT TURNS OUT PLUTO DIDN’T KNOW WHAT MON MINOU MEANT AND FOUND OUT THROUGH MY POST. HIM AND DUKE HAVE BEEN BICKERING ABOUT IT ALL THE WAY BACK TO THE DORM ROOMS

🌃 eveningstar Follow

Despite what you would think would occur from this development, none of this has answered by original question

#I was just curious if these two were gay or just European #by all accounts they might be both

6,974 notes

🍋 gives-you-lemons Follow

I think I’m about half with through the manor right now? Honestly this lesson is going much better than I expected!

🍋 gives-you-lemons Follow

RATS RATS RATS RATS RATS RATS R&)26?83@/$

5,052 notes

☔️ dew-dropped-nights Follow

[about to be eaten by one of the monsters in the Teraphobia trial] okay but do you think I’m cute? Be honest

4,824 notes

🪐 eureka Follow

Do you think that Annabel Lee and Lenore have ever explored each others bodies

🌷 many-coloured-grass Follow

Can you fucking not do this? Not only are they real people, they’re our classmates and clearly can’t stand each other. Stuff like this is weird and gross

🔮 sorcery-sorcery-sorcery Follow

I bet they fucked nasty up at the widow’s watch

🥂 drinking-into-the-grave Follow

This is actually how Lenore won the Mystery Manor lesson

☠️ spookyxskeletons Follow

Sometimes that butch pussy gets you acting unwise

🏵️ pendulum-in-the-pit Follow

THAT

WHAT

🪦 deadgirlwalking Follow

What’s not clicking

29,496 notes

[lmskitty]

The JJk fandom has some INCREDIBLE writers and artists and I just felt like showing a bit of love so here are some of my fave Satosugu fics!!!

Audience by @c-valentino

"Three years after the KFC breakup, Satoru caves and visits his old friend late at night with a problem. They are far from what they used to be, but when he hopes they might get a second chance after all, assassins show up to hunt down Suguru."

As you like it by planetarypedxng

"Ieiri Shoko has laid down the law: the three of them will hereafter hang out only at Geto’s place, because Geto is the perfect host, and because Shoko refuses to clean up after anyone, least of all men, and because Gojo’s room always disgustingly reeks of sex.

Gojo had laughed at that, a little too loudly, perhaps, and curiously did not have a single comment about it. What can he say? The truth? That he was still a virgin?"

Falling in love is easy. Admitting it is not. By @ellionwrites

"At 20 years old - sharing an apartment and joint Jujutsu missions - Geto and Gojo are inseparable. But it takes Geto going on a first date for them to start to figure out their feelings."

Two sorcerers chillin' in a hot tub (five feet apart cause they’re not gay) by @hollow-lime-green

"Geto Suguru has almost two decades of practice pretending not to see things that are clearly there, and Gojo Satoru has a well-documented history of being the most socially-stunted motherfucker alive.

That’s how they got here.

Love is in the hands by @thequeenofsarcaasm

That’s also why neither of them know where the hell they’re going with this."

To be a woman by @sadgreekboys

"After getting kicked from his home for being queer, Geto Suguru comes across his old best friend/first love, in a gay bar. He finds a new home in him."

close your eyes (nothing changed at all) by themoonisdead

"Satoru is the strongest. She is a woman. She is not meant to be those two things at the same time.

VIRGIN GETS WRECKED BY BEST FRIEND [FREE PORN VIDS] (18++) WATCH NOW!!!!! By Daisy__dupes

"That day in xx village, suguru makes a call" -what if Suguru had called Satoru for help that day?

Over the Threshold by @fushiglow

(Satoru gets hit with a sex curse and asks Suguru to help him!!!)

4AM by damiselart

"Larger than life K-pop idol, Satoru, approaches introverted record producer, Getō Suguru, to collaborate on his debut Japanese-language studio album. They both get more out of the experience than expected — for better and for worse."

(Tattoo artist Geto and model Gojo. Hot as fuck.)

Post-It Notes by monochromevelyn

"Shoko was sick of watching her two best friends pining for each other. Don't worry, she had a plan to move things in the right direction."

The Two-Headed Calf by malneiro

"Gojo gets a knock on his door late at night: Getou is sick and Mimiko and Nanako don't know who else to turn to."

Vows to Amida Butsu -

" Gojo has a great idea. Geto thinks his classmate should at least ask him cutely instead of just announcing his intent. Consent is important, after all."

and Long Bitter Autumn - both by Daphnerunning and Galiko

"Five years after his best friend left Jujutsu High to become an evil overlord, Gojo Satoru can't sleep. And there's not THAT much difference between a butt dial and a booty call, semantically speaking."

There are so many amazing satosugu fics and most of the writers listed here have multiple incredible fics but these are just some of my absolute faves!!!

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

[winchesterszvonecek]

could i please request ‘sex in a pool/hot tub’ for rafael barba

fem!reader :)

Hot Tub - [ Rafael Barba ] 18+

Prompt: Sex in a pool/hot tub

Word Count: 2678

Warnings: female!reader, smut - [vaginal fingering, semi-public masturbation]

A/N: this is my first oneshot in a while so yk, be nice :) also it’s my first one for rafael too, both in general and with smut so yeah… i wasn’t even going to post it but i figured why not? it might not be that bad so maybe yall can still enjoy it

Masterlist | Rafael Masterlist

After a long day spent on the icy slopes of Switzerland’s most famous ski resort, you were in desperate need of relaxation. 

It wasn’t easy at times, keeping up with Rafael. Of chasing his constant need for adrenaline and following through on the utter thrill of hitting the ramps, landing with perfect grace in the thick snow each and every time. To be honest, it was rather frightening. You’d never skied before in your life and the entire time you were too afraid to hit any jumps that were higher than a foot or too. Most of the time you just sat there, making small snowmen in the snow as you waited for time to tick by.

Rafael didn’t mind though. He knew the only reason you’d come here was because of him, so he was more than happy to let you stay in your safety zone whilst he got the chance to show off around you — something you’d rolled your eyes at in the beginning but by the second or third day, had secretly grown to love. And he knew it. It’s why he kept going the rest of the day, gliding and zipping through the air like a damn expert and finding amusement in the way you’d dramatically roll your eyes each time he did. 

To tell the truth, you didn’t like skiing one bit. It was scary, and dangerous, and you, for some reason, kept imagining that the Abominable snowman from that one Scooby-Doo movie was going to rise from the ground and kidnap you. It made you shiver just thinking about it. About some giant snowman's hands picking you up and carrying you away. 

Terrifying, honestly. 

But really, the only true reason you kept shivering was merely because it was freezing. It was so utterly cold as the snow fell around you that your nose was always red, you couldn’t even feel your ears and most importantly your skin kept stinging even beneath your snowsuit. It was uncomfortable, to say the least, and all you ever wanted, from the moment you woke up, was for the day to be over so that you could finally get back to the cosiness of your cabin and slip into the blazing heat of the hot tub. 

It may have been outside as well, and it may have been rather chilly as you ran to it but once you slid into the bubbles, it was like ascending into heaven. Or hell, given that it was warm, but whatever. It was simply perfect, and even more so when Rafael’s arms wrapped tightly around you, allowing the two of you to do nothing but bask in the comforting heat of the bubbles as you relished in each and every touch he would grace you with. 

Only tonight, as you sunk happily into the cosy warmth of the water and felt the first sharp shiver of the goosebumps that riddled every inch of your skin at the sudden change in temperature, you got an idea. A far, far better idea of how to warm yourself up — Of how best to warm yourself up, and without the sole use of the jacuzzi’s bubbles… as by the time you’re done, they’re gonna be the very last thing present on your mind. 

“Mi cariño, what are you doing all the way over there?” Rafael asked, tilting his head curiously as he watched you settle yourself opposite him, which was unlike any other night before when you had practically placed yourself on his lap and sucked all the heat from beneath his skin.

“There’s better jets on this side,” You said plainly, biting down on your bottom lip as you spread your legs as wide as you could. 

He couldn’t see you clearly though, it was too dark. The bulb on the porch didn’t provide much actual, usable light but the two of you never really cared. You were always close enough for him to see, yet tonight he simply couldn’t see anything but the partially darkened shape of your figure sitting there quietly. He couldn’t see the small quirks of your mouth at the forceful brush of the jet against your sweet spot, the one that made you bite down hard on your lip in order to keep quiet. He couldn’t see the scheming glint that got lost in the lust that swallowed your eyes as you watched him, that one, small ray of light cascading over his face perfectly and allowing you to see the utter confusion that riddled his eyes.  

He hadn’t figured it out yet, that much you were certain of. He didn’t know what your agenda was. What you were planning. It was all completely unknown to him, and quite frankly it was completely unexpected too, given your job. You were a sex crimes detective. You were well aware of the consequences of public masturbation and public sex, and never once would Rafael have ever thought you would risk your career to simply try it. But if you were being honest, that innocence he thought you had… That shyness you gave off mixed with your secret rush for knowing what it would feel like to tick public sex off your bucket list only made you that much more hot under your metaphorical collar and you couldn’t stop yourself from expressing it.

You spread your legs further, allowing the brute force of the jet to hit so right… So toe curlingly perfect against your sensitive clit that you threw out your arms to grip behind you, splashing water over the edge of the hot tub as you leaned your head back, letting the sweetest, most breathy, most arousal inducing moan pass over your lips. 

Rafael was by your side in an instant, the water shifting so furiously around you that your body jerked back against the hard surface of the tub as settled himself down next to you. His eyes were wide from shock. From lust. From pure and utter deviance as he knew all too well what you were doing. He’d heard stories of women using water jets to get themselves off but he never so much as expected to hear you talk about doing it let alone actually see you. And in a public space such as this. 

“You’re taking a big risk, mi amor,” Rafael whispered, leaning in to brush his lips lightly over your neck as he delved his hand down into the water, running two fingers painfully slowly over the thin cover of your bikini and stopping the jet from reaching you. “Exposing yourself out here like this?” He shook his head and tutted. 

“It’ll be worth it,” You whispered, pushing his hand aside as you knew it would rile him up real good to see you get off on something other than his cock, his fingers or his mouth. And you were right, his eyes darkened the second you rocked your hips over the jet and as each sweet sounding whimper left your lips, his right eye would twitch in frustration. “Because God does this feel so, so good for me.” 

As the pleasure driven words left your lips and only added to Rafael’s ever growing desire for you, you reached behind your neck and undid your bikini top, allowing it to fall gracefully forwards and expose the soft mounds of your breasts. Rafael’s eyes fell to them instantly like a heat seeking missile, his pupils blown wide with hunger and his need for dominance as he watched you trail your fingertips slowly up the valley of them. 

You knew he always loved your breasts. Caressing them. Kissing them. Having them roll over his chest with every thrust of his cock inside you, anything he could do to simply feel them, he would, and you could tell by the way he clenched his teeth that it was driving him mad to see you be the one to touch them. To see you kneading them. To see you pinching and rolling those hardened buds between your fingers as you began to pant softly from the pure heat bubbling down around your pussy had him all but drooling with rage. 

“You better stop that,” He demanded, his tone ripped right out of the courtroom as though you were a simple perp he was trying to break. You did nothing but grin mischievously at him, a soft, throaty whimper leaving your parted lips that had him thrust one hand down through the surface of the water and go straight to his hardening cock, rubbing it through the thin lining of his shorts and thinking of all the things he could do to you tonight. “Mi amor… I’m warning you.” 

“You want me to stop?” You teased, mimicking his motions and happily going to touch yourself as even though the jet felt incredible, it wasn’t anywhere near what you needed tonight. You kept eye contact as you slid beneath your bottoms, the sloshing of the water slowly picking up around you as you drew faster and faster circles on your clit, making your own eyelids flutter in a way that drove Rafael crazy. “You're… Fuck… You’re gonna have to make me.” 

Lifting off his seat with such force that it sent a wave of water spilling over the edge of the hot tub, Rafael grabbed your body and lifted you effortlessly off your own, a rather surprised squeal leaving your lips at the sudden rush of anticipation that flew through your veins. He spun you around, falling back onto the very jet that you’d just been pleasuring yourself on as you straddled his strong thighs, his mouth already working its way along the length of your neck, leaving hot, fiery kisses the whole way down as he headed for the delicious sight of your inviting breasts. 

As his lips trailed down between the valley he shifted right, his tongue instantly swirling hot around your nipple as he got to work unravelling you. You gripped the back of his hair immediately, holding him closer to your chest as you tightened your legs around him, rolling your hips over his rock hard erection in a way that had him moan against your breast and take your nipple firmly between his teeth. 

The sound that left your lips as he tugged at it was indescribable, and he couldn’t take it anymore. He pulled back, taking your lips in his as the desperate urge to feel every single part of you he could at once washed over him. You hummed softly into his mouth as he began to gently caress your waist, grazing his soft palms so slowly across every inch of your skin before dipping his fingertips deep into the flesh of your hips as he tugged you forward, one hand slipping down as you moved and quickly making its way beneath your bikini. He spread you open in an instant, your soft gasps escaping into his mouth as he ghosted his fingertips across the throbbing bud of your clit, feeling as you ground down against him for some much needed stimulation.  

It was only then, when you whimpered out of dire need to have him inside you, did he plung himself right up and into you, his two thick fingers sliding so easily and so swiftly into your soaking pussy that you had to draw back. A long babble of swear words left your lips the second you did and he lingered inside you, his thumb teasing your aching clit before he curled his fingers ever so slightly and slowly began to pump them into you. 

Even submerged in the water he could feel how wet you were. The slight thickness to your arousal as it coated his fingers and spilled out over his knuckles each time he thrust hard into you was unmissable and every drop of it that landed on him made him twitch beneath his shorts. God, he simply couldn’t wait to feel it around his cock and so he picked up the pace, your breathy pants like music to his ears as he pressed his thumb even hard atop your clit, moving in such slow, teasing circles compared to his thrusts that he could already feel you clenching tightly around him. 

“Fuck… You’re even better than the jets,” You whimpered subconsciously, the mere sound of you alone, mixed with how truly senseless he was fucking you, making Rafael shudder fiercely as he leaned in to kiss you, wanting to taste the rest of the moans he was about to pull from you. Your hands slid up the length of his arms, clinging to his shoulders for much needed support as you moved your hips along with him, feeling as that pressure deep inside you quickly began to build at the new sensation of the ride.

“You think you can take a third, mijo?” Rafael whispered against your lips, yet he didn’t even wait for your desperation fuelled head nod before he slipped it snugly into you, having you cry out in sheer pleasure at the sudden way you stretched wider around him. 

You dropped your head forwards, pressing your face into the crook of his neck as he quickened his pace. You’d truly never felt anything like this before in your life, the way his fingers slid so quickly and so easily into you was sending you to further reaches that you’d ever felt before, and you knew it wouldn’t be long until toppled over.

And you were right, as after one last thrust of his fingers that he paired expertly with a perfectly pressured rub of your clit, he sent you hurtling over the edge into a pure and utter mind boggling pit of pleasure. 

Your hips stilled as you practically burst on top of him, your deep, breathy moans unfortunately muffled against the crook of his neck as he carried you through it, causing him to tilt it slightly in order to hear you. And once he did, his own eyes rolled back into his head as he continued to circle your throbbing clit, prolonging your orgasm as much as humanly possible so as to squeeze every ounce of pleasure out of you as he could.

As you slowly began to come down, your chest heaving rapidly against his own, Rafael finally stopped, having brought you to the very brink of overstimulation with only one perfect orgasm. He pulled his fingers from inside you, giving your clit one last gentle rub before his hand left the water, where unfortunately for him you already were washed off by the time he could get his fingers to his mouth. 

“Are you warm enough yet, darlin’?” Rafael asked, a slight smirk tugging on his lips as he watched you lift your head like it weighed a ton, which to you, it might as well have as your whole body felt twice as heavy as normal with the weight of pleasure that had just come crashing down atop you.

That didn’t mean you weren’t willing to play along with his cruel game, though, and so you smiled, leaning forward to press a sloppy, lopsided kiss to his lips before directing them towards his ear. 

“I’m freezing,” You whispered, feeling the way his hips jerked beneath you at the mere notion that he hadn’t warmed you up enough. You pulled back a touch, just to see every twitch of his lips as he slowly began to press his fingers, almost possessively, into your thighs again. “I think you might need to try again to help warm me up.” 

“Well in that case,” Rafael replied, a soft groan leaving his lips when you ground down against him. “I think we better take this inside. Because the things I’m about to do to you…” He sucked in a breath, drawing his tongue up the length of your neck and towards your ear in a way that had you quivering already. “There’s no doubt in my mind that they’ll land us both on the registry… for the very rest of our days.”

Like Rafael? Apply to his tag list here so you don’t miss out on his works!

Like my work? Consider buying me a coffee!

[billybob598]

Monster (Alessia Russo x Reader)

What's up my mammals? anyways, this was requested originally as an air ambulance reader but I decided to switch it up a bit, if that's ok. i was planning on doing the olga fic next but I really wanna do a kcc fic so I might work on both. enough of me, though. like always, any feedback good or bad is welcomed! Happy reading!

Word Count: 2k (I mean...COME ON MOTHERTRUCKERS)

Warnings: Swearing, a bit of violence, emotional crisis

“Ooh, how about this one?” Alessia says from above you while pointing at a picture in the magazine you were holding. 

“Mmm, no I don’t like that one,” you respond, shaking your head. Alessia pouts, begrudgingly flipping the page. The two of you were engaged to be married and were currently picking out tables for your reception. You continue to flip through the magazine pages as you lie between your fiancee’s legs. After a few more minutes of vetoing each other's choices, you both decided to take a break. You get up and start making some coffee while Alessia takes a little longer to get out of bed. Just as you’re pouring the coffee into your mugs, Alessia calls you to the bedroom,

“Y/N! Come here now!” Startled, you hastily head towards your shared room.

“Everything okay, love?” Peeking around the corner you find your girlfriend, white as a ghost, your phone a few inches away from her ear. Rushing over, you carefully remove the phone from her hand and put it beside your ear. “Who is this?” 

“Lieutenant Y/L/N, good to talk to you again,” the unmistakable deep voice says through the speaker. Unknowingly, you stand up straighter. Shoulders back, chest puffing out. 

“Sir,” you say, your voice miles different than the one you were just speaking to Alessia in.

“I’m going to get straight to the point, you’re being deployed. I’ll send you the details and your flight information. I’m not asking, soldier,” his tone left no room for arguing. You sigh, glancing over at Alessia who watched and listened to your conversation intently. 

“Sir, with all due respect, is there no one else that you could take?” You say exasperated.

“Are you saying you don’t want to serve your country, Lieutenant?” 

“No, no, not at all. But, you see I’m getting married in a few months here, sir.”

“Well, in a few months, you’ll be back. As I said, this isn’t a request.” With a sigh you nod and mutter out a “yes sir” before hanging up the phone and turning to look at the Arsenal striker.

“Less?” She doesn’t respond. She’s rooted to the spot. Her mind racing at a million miles an hour. They were going send you and hundreds of other British soldiers in there to fight a military that looked very far from surrendering. No. She couldn’t let you go like that. She was this close to finally being able to call you her wife. There was no chance in hell that she’d let you slip through her fingers like that. She’s broken out of her thoughts by your hand gently grasping hers. 

“Sorry, what?” She asks, meeting your eyes for the first time since receiving the phone call.

“Are you okay, Less?” You speak softly while slowly caressing the back of her hand. 

“Mhm, of course I am. Not like they’re deploying you into a country in absolute carnage or anything,” she mutters, her frustration getting the better of her.

“Baby, come on now. You know I can’t control this and it’s my job. It’s what I signed up for, it’s what you signed up for,” you reason.

“I know it’s what I signed up for, but what I didn’t sign up for is you leaving for duty with only a few months until we’re supposed to get married,” her voice stern. 

“Baby, I can’t say no, I’ll get dishonourably discharged. I’ll be fine Alessia, don’t worry,” you try to reason, getting a bit frustrated. Your girlfriend nods her head sadly. 

“Okay, okay. You’re right, you have to go. But, you have to call at least once a day, deal?”

A grin comes across your face as you pull her into a soft kiss, “Deal.”

A few weeks later, you’re tiredly peeling off your combat dress. Throwing the last few bits of armour onto the ground, you sigh and lie down on the bottom bunk. After a long day of bullets, bombs, and blood all you want to do is get just a few minutes of sleep before you’re put back on patrol duty. Just as your eyes begin to shut, your phone rings. The special ringtone you have set indicates who it is. 

“Hey, love!” Your favourite blonde’s cheery voice exclaims through the speakers.

“Hi Lessi,” you mumble out, tiredly. She frowns. 

“Everything okay, love?” 

You try to muster up a convincing smile, “Yeah, yeah everything’s fine, baby. Just tired is all.” Alessia isn’t convinced by your attempts, however.

“Tell me what’s wrong,” she says softly. 

“It’s okay, baby. How about you tell me about your day,” you sigh, obviously not wanting to talk. The striker nods and begins to talk in great detail about her day. You nod along and throw a question in every once and a while. After almost thirty minutes, you begin to yawn and your eyelids get heavier and heavier by the second. 

“How about you go to sleep now, honey,” Alessia’s soft, sweet voice whispers to you. 

“Mmm, okay. Don’t hang up, though,” you mumble sleepily. 

“Why not?”

“I don’t wanna be alone, please,” Alessia’s heart cracks slightly at how sad and scared you sound. 

“Of course, baby. I’ll be right here, you go to sleep now,” she coos. Within thirty seconds you’re out. Alessia laughs quietly and continues to get ready for training. She puts herself on mute as she goes about her day. While she was eating her breakfast with the team, she was teased relentlessly. It was fine by her though, she was just happy to see your face. And to see that you were finally resting. She knew that you weren’t exactly getting your 7-8 hours of sleep, so seeing you sleeping, if only for a bit, brought her some peace. 

As Alessia and Kyra Cooney-Cross were walking through the halls, on their way to the changeroom, a sudden and loud bang could be heard from your side. Startled, Alessia looks at her phone only to find you wide awake, eyes big. 

The striker unmutes herself, “Y/N, love, is everything okay?”

Your eyes widen even further when you hear her voice, “Err, yeah, everything’s good.” Alessia is not convinced at all.

Even less so when she hears a random voice yell through the night, “We’re under attack!” This springs you into action, you rush to put on your combat dress. Alessia is rooted to the spot. This couldn’t be happening, could it? Grabbing your phone, you sprint out of the barrack and towards the weaponry. Flinging the door open, you and a dozen other soldiers rush to grab rifles or pistols or anything really. 

“Less, I’ve got to go…” you say loudly, over the bullets and shouts.

“Y/N? Are you okay? What’s happ-” Alessia is cut short when you hang up. Tears are already filling her eyes as Kyra pulls her into a tight hug.

“I’m sure she’s gonna be okay,” Kyra says into her ear. 

Adrenaline coursing through your veins, you tuck your phone away.

“Y/L/N! Take a team. Try and see if you can get in behind them,” One of your superior officers tells you. Nodding, you pick seven other people and lead them into the darkness. Everyone was silent as you trekked through the desert. Every once and awhile someone would say something over the radio or there would a random burst of gunfire, making everyone’s head swivel. The tension was palpable. It felt that if anyone so much as breathed a hair too loudly, that you’d be discovered. In the distance you could see the tanks and soldiers going at it. The eight of you continued on, nerves only increasing the closer you got to the enemies camp. After twenty more minutes of walking, your little group was only a few hundred metres out from their first line of defence. Suddenly, there was a round of shots fired. Shit, they’d seen you. Everyone scattered as best they could. That was the downside of warfare in the desert, there was nowhere to hide. 

“This way! Come on, run!” You yell into the blackness, hoping someone had heard you. Loading your rifle, you turned and fired a few shots back, giving enough time for everyone else on your team to take cover behind a sand ridge. When the final person ran past you, you turned and sprinted up the massive hill. You were almost at the top when the guy in front of you hit the ground with a grunt. Blood almost immediately leaking through the back of his shirt. “Come on, come on, man.” You grabbed his arm roughly and dragged him behind you. Reaching the peak of the ridge, you pulled the two of you down the other side.

“Ahh, fuck,” he mutters out. Quickly, you and another soldier cover up his wound. 

“You’re gonna be fine, mate,” you say to him, “Keep applying pressure.” The other soldier nods and ensures that their hands are covering everything. “Alright guys, we have two options. One, we turn back, try to use this ridge as cover and try to make it back to base. Two, some of us stay here and try and snipe them. The others move in and try to take out their tanks. I saw them, they’re not very heavily guarded and I bet we could rush them and take out them out.”

Everyone looks around at each other. A few of them shrug non-chalantly. Finally, Colgate, a Second Liuetenant who had been given his nickname from the odd spelling of his last name, spoke up, “Let’s blow these motherfuckers.” Hearty laughs erupt from everyone.

Two people set up as snipers while the wounded guy also grabs his rifle to try and contribute. The restof you talk over the plan, deciding on two rushing to the left and taking out any guards covering the side and the rest go through the middle. 

“Okay, everyone ready?” You ask to the group. You get nods in response, “Let’s roll out then.” 

Stalking through the night, every footstep sounds painfully loud. The five of you successfully get to the tanks, two taking cover behind some storage container. The other three of you hide behind an abandoned car. Giving the go-ahead signal, everyone surges forward. Pressing down on the trigger of your gun, your arms shake from the recoil. You direct the bullets at the few guards standing around. If you weren’t able to see the bullets coming from beside you, you wouldn’t of known that anyone else was shooting. Everything seemed so distant, you could barely make out the sound of your own gun firing. As each one of the soldiers dropped, you rushed forward. Reaching into the backpack hanging off your back, you took out enough grenades to blow everything within their blast radius to bits. Placing them strategically around the tanks, you made sure everyone was ready to run before lighting the spark. Everyone started to sprint towards the snipers, who were covering you. As you began to run, you paused, looking down at the people you had just killed. A lump forms in your throat. You had killed them. You shot them with real bullets, not those Nerf darts you used against your siblings. They were dead. They were real people. Their families were going to get those letters, the same ones you swore you would never let Alessia get. 

“Jesus Christ, Y/N. Run!” A yell breaks you out of your thoughts. Remembering your current situation, you get going again, barely making it behind the sand ridge in time. The explosion rings through your ears, the sight of the fireball stretching upwards was spectacular. All eight of you let out a sigh of relief. You were safe, no one was going to find you, especially since they were all to preoccupied with checking on their tanks.

You sat down in the sand, putting your head in your hands. Tears slowly fall from your eyes. War had turned you into a monster. You killed without a second thought. You didn’t want to be here. The only place you wanted to be was in your Alessia’s arms. Preparing for your storybook wedding with the love of your life. Instead, here you were, in the middle of an all-out war, killing complete strangers for no apparent reason other than you were told to.

Monster.

[savannahsdeath]

hi Savannah!!! was thinking abt this idea for a while and thought that your amazing writing would so do it justice. maybe popular Ellie! x loser-ish s/o and they’re going to prom together. readers parents or Joel (whoever’s house they’re at) could be taking pictures and commenting on how cute they look together. after they end up going to prom and they’re so happy and cute with each other. maybe some angst where like someone’s makes fun of readers dress or something. they could be like jealous of reader since she’s kind of a loser and Ellie’s more on the popular side, idk. do whatever u want. bye!!!

POPULAR!ELLIE WILLIAMS X READER

warnings: none i think ?? just reader having a mean fake friend;(((

writers note: omg anon i love u !! you and your idea !! i had to stand up and start pacing around my room writing it cus ohmygod .

your dress hugged your figure, the fabric stretching with every movement, clinging to your curves. it shimmered as you walked, catching the light as a slight glimmer. it draped down to just above your ankles, a slit on the side accentuating your legs. you stood in front of a full-body mirror, trying to decide if you should keep your hair down or...

"come on, babe!" ellie shouted from the hallway, quickly making her way to you. "you ready?" she gave you a hug from behind, loosely wrapping her arms around your waist. you stared at her reflection. she, obviously, wasn't wearing a dress but a white, formal shirt decorated by a messily tied tie, probably stolen from joel. and somehow, she still looked so attractive.

she spun you around, pressing her lips to yours with a light hum. "i hate these little school parties." she admitted, still standing suspiciously close to you. "but at least i get to see you in pretty dresses."

you smiled, fixing her tie before tugging on it and turning around to walk away. she followed you everywhere like a puppy, tangling your fingers together anytime she had the chance to.

"i'd rather stay home." you agreed with a slight shrug.

she filled her glass with water, not letting go of your hand as she drank. "and what would we do?"

as she finished, you took the glass out of her hand and put it in the dishwasher, knowing she wouldn't do it herself. "i'm sure we'd come up with something."

you heard someone clearing their throat, making you slightly jump. it was joel, standing in the doorway, scanning both of you with his firm gaze.

"what do you think?" ellie proudly wrapped her hand around your waist, bringing you as close as possible.

he nodded with a barely noticeable smile. "she looks like a millionaire's wife." he pointed at you with his chin.

you looked down, trying to hide your flushed face.

"well, of course." ellie huffed, her hand stroking your side. "and i'm the millionaire."

"hell no." he immediately shook his head. "you're just a random homeless man." you giggled and she immediately gave you a disappointed look, as if to judge you for finding joel's taunting funny.

"homeless men have good style." she rolled her eyes, before adding a; "sometimes", and slowly guiding you to the living room.

"hey, kiddo, you know i'm kidding." joel's smile widened. "you both look great."

she mumbled a quiet; "whatever", though you could tell it reassured her, so you turned to joel and mouthed a silent thanks to him, knowing ellie would be in a bad mood for the next few hours if he wouldn't take his silly insult back.

joel wouldn't let go so easily, trailing after you with his phone covered in the, typical dad's, flip case. he raised it, telling you to pose.

"joeel—" ellie whined. "we had a deal, no pics."

you laughed, playfully nudging her. joel frowned, still focusing his camera on you. "your girlfriend's parents would definitely want to see how you look." he insisted, but she persistently shook her head. he managed to stealthily take a few photos of you both, smirking as if he just did the most illegal cheat ever.

"how do you feel now, ellie?" he asked, shooting a video.

"what do you mean?" she frowned, though it wasn't visible on the camera, since she didn't bother to turn around.

"you know, you're growing up." he shrugged. "you probably want to move out."

she was propping herself against the countertop, suddenly stopping doodling something in her diary. "what did you just say?" she turned around, seeing joel catching her reaction on the camera.

he laughed and stopped recording, sharing a chuckle with you. "just kidding, just kidding, no need to stress. it's not like i'm kicking you out."

"yeah, i fucking hope so." she muttered, looking away with an annoyed expression.

joel huffed, though the amusement was still palpable in his tone. "language." he warned with a toothy smile.

⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

"i'm not into girls, but jesus-" a voice from one of the bathroom cabins sighed. even though you couldn't tell who said it, you felt the admiration in the girl's voice.

you and ellie sat on the windowsill, listening to their conversation. overhearing wasn't fair, but how could you miss out on something like that? they were talking about your girlfriend, after all.

"and her girl—" someone added, but the previous girl mockingly laughed. "c'mon now. she's all right, but out of ellie's league." another mocking laugh. "and somehow, they're still together." "i dunno, maybe she's rich." rich? so people think ellie's with you because you pay her for affection? "i just don't believe in the good personality bullshit. and it definitely aren't the looks either." the voice continued.

you heard the sound of glasses hitting one another, as if raising a toast, though it was probably an accident. hiding in the bathroom to drink and talk shit, how mature.

"she's just as fine as ellie!" someone's annoyed voice rang out. "you're tasteless as fuck if you really believe what you're saying. now," another bang of bottles, "drink up." the voices took a break to down their glasses, before the argument continued. "okay, i admit, no one's better than williams, but still—" "no fucking way. m' not hearing you out!" another pause, way shorter this time. "oh, hey, sorry for talking like that about her. i forgot— you two are friends, aren't you?"

a third voice, one that stayed silent before, spoke up; "no, we're not." you quickly recognised the tone of your best friend, or at least a girl you thought is your best friend - layla. you opened your mouth to shout at her, but ellie brought you closer to her, gently covering your lips to keep you quiet. meanwhile, layla continued; "i don't know what ellie sees in her, either."

your eyes immediately watered up and your puffy lips trembled against your lover's hand. she pulled you closer to her, stroking your hair and planting little kisses on your forehead or nose. you sniffled, but the hiding girls didn't seem to hear it.

suddenly, one of them - the meanest one - started excitedly squealing; "look who texted me!! look, look!" you could see the dim light of phone screen from the gap above the floor. they packed their things, slowly spilling out of the cabin. and, well, when they finally noticed you and ellie, she had her lips persistently pressed against yours, making them freeze. she pulled away and stood up, giving them a nonchalant look. "hi, girls." she winked, extending her hand for you. you dragged her out of the bathroom, and when you were finally out of the girls' sight, you burst out laughing.

ellie smiled, though your sudden joy seemed weird to her, and her eyebrows knitted together in confusion. "what?"

without answering, you continued tugging on her hand, letting go only when you were at the dance floor. you wrapped your hands around her neck as she placed hers on your waist, still surprised by your actions.

you rocked back and forth to whatever song was playing now, thinking of how to explain your reaction to ellie.

eventually, you just softly chuckled again. "i love you, els."

her frown disappeared, replaced by a look of pure affection she felt towards you. "i love you too."

she brought you closer to her by the grip she had on your hips, and your arms slowly withdraw, stopping when your hands reached her cheeks, cupping her face. you shared a long, slow, passionate, but most importantly - real kiss. you forgot about all the people surrounding you and focused on her tongue, which softly lapped against yours.

[xcherricutie]

🥀 other friends 🥀

[Lucifer Morningstar x Reader]

[Part One] [Part Two] [Part Three] [Part Four]

[Word Count - 2.5k]

[Tags: Angst, songfic, canon typical violence]

[Notes: This was a bit more difficult to write than drift away, action scenes aren't really my forte. Also, there are mentions of Adam becoming a demon, its a bit of setup for a potential one shot relating to this series soon. I think it'd be fun to do a little series of Steven Universe song one shots within the canon these one shots have set up. Not promising anything, but it would be fun to try]

“The Hazbin Hotel is now officially open! Come stay with us for a chance to have your soul redeemed, and earn your place in Heaven!” 

The video flickered ever so slightly, the television displaying the image of Charlie Morningstar, princess of Hell, for both angels and demons alike to see. As the video played, Charlie giving more details about her hotel, a trio of angels looked on, the seraphims keeping their eyes glued on the ancient angel before them. You. 

Upon finding your near lifeless body standing in the abandoned Garden of Eden, Sera and Emily quickly took you into their care. You could hardly pay them any mind since Sera had told you of Lucifer’s fate, of the curse he had put on himself. He had become the Devil, the sin of pride. He had cheated on you and left you for Lilith, who he soon had a child with. The girl on the screen before you happened to be said child. The very personification of Lucifer’s betrayal. 

Your blood boiled at the sight. You had demanded information from Sera, someone you had once considered a friend. You knew she was innocent in all of this, but you could not help your anger at the fact that not only had she let Charlie into Heaven, but was working with her to redeem the sinners that Lucifer had been the cause of in the first place. He was the reason sin and chaos existed in humanity in the first place. You were mad that things had spiraled to this point, you were mad that this was apparently how the story ended. 

No. You wouldn’t have it this way. If you had known just how good Lucifer was having it now after what he did to you, you would have rather stayed ignorant of everything. Perhaps even rather let the garden claim your body, than be here, in this horrible reality. But you were here, and now, you were going to change the ending of this story. You intended to have your happy ending, at any price. 

A soft hum filled the long, glowing halls of the Hazbin Hotel, the sounds of shoes tapping with each step accompanying the hum. With a twirl of his staff, and an adjustment of his top hat, the man entered the grand entrance hall of the lobby, where everyone, including his daughter, waited. His heels clicking as he came to a stop, Lucifer stood atop the steps, looking down at everyone with a smile, his daughter catching his attention right away. 

“Dad! There you are!” Charlie exclaimed, running up the steps. Lucifer raised a brow in confusion, meeting her halfway as he walked down the steps. 

“Charlie? What’s the matter?” Lucifer asked, curious. Surely, their newest resident hadn’t already started causing trouble, right? Lucifer knew the man would be uncomfortable here, but surely Adam wasn’t jumping straight into causing chaos, hopefully. 

Charlie grabbed her father by the wrist, dragging him down the stairs, towards the small crowd of people standing in the doorway. Lucifer immediately noted the uncomfortable, even downright fearful look in their faces, even Adam seemingly upset, or at the very least, startled. His attention was whipped to whatever had caused their discomfort, his eyes widening at the sight. 

“Tears in the sky are appearing all over, and they’re clearly from Heaven,” Charlie spoke, pointing up at the rip that had begun to appear over the hotel, the golden outline of the tear drawing attention. More rips and tears dotted the skies of Hell, all across the pride ring. A soft, white light shone from inside, though nothing else seemed to come through. 

“I thought Heaven agreed to back off, I-I don’t understand,” Charlie grabbed her hair by the roots, pulling tightly. She felt the calming hand of her girlfriend, Vaggie, on her shoulder, but it did little to soothe her anxiety. 

Vaggie huffed, glaring up at the sky, clenching her angelic spear tightly in her other hand. “Well, you know how Heaven can be. They might’ve decided they’re too good for us.” 

But that didn’t seem right. Not to Lucifer at least. He knew Sera. Even if she had intended to betray them, she would’ve gone about it in a more subtle way. This seemed far more... personal. Almost as if they wanted to be seen, to catch the attention of something. Lucifer tried to piece together just what was going on, and just what he should do about it. 

His eyes widened as he noticed the rip just above the hotel widen, and something, someone, coming through. The hair on his neck suddenly stood on end, the light masking the angel, hiding their face and casting a large silhouette over the hotel. 

“Hey!” A loud, booming voice suddenly yelled, Lucifer nearly jumping in his skin. He could clearly see the ethereal glow of their eyes, and the snarl that pulled on their lips. “Are you Charlotte Morningstar?” 

“Um...” Charlie sweat nervously, putting on her best friendly smile, silently begging that maybe they were a friendly angel. But she knew that wasn’t the case, not if this was their entrance. “Yes?” 

Their lips curled upward into a smirk, grinning down at her. “Perfect.” 

Their wings curled into their back, disappearing in a burst of golden magic. Dropping to the ground, they landed just before the hotel with a loud thud, bright blue eyes turning up to look at them, crinkling at the edges as they grinned maniacally. You finally made it into Hell. 

Letting out a sinister chuckle, you stood up straight, nearly bursting at the seams with excitement. “Well, well, well, well, well! Let me get a look at the menagerie!” 

Your eyes, glowing almost ominously, roved over the group before you. Each and every person, you studied meticulously, you knew exactly which ones were of no concern, which one would stand up for the hotel, which ones you would kill. 

“You must Vaggie,” Your eyes landed on the fallen angel, watching as she visibly flinched at the sound of her name coming from your mouth. You moved onto the next one, smirking. “You must be Alastor,” 

Alastor’s eyes narrowed at you, curiosity and even a hint of worry eating at him. Something didn’t seem right about any of this. This wasn’t like the other angelic attacks, no, this seemed far more malicious. He didn’t fail to notice the horror written plainly across the Demon King’s face either, especially as your eyes finally landed on him. Lucifer. 

“And Lucifer, the King of Hell, wow! She keeps you here, isn’t that just swell?” You rolled your eyes in annoyance, your grin ever present as you tensed. You knew Lucifer was in and out of the hotel, but you had hoped to catch Charlie in a moment of vulnerability. Not that it mattered in the end, they were all going to suffer the same fate. You’d already decided how this would end. 

“I-It can’t be...” Lucifer stuttered, nearly stumbling backward, his heart thudding in his chest, drumming loudly in his ears. You let out a string of laughter, your eyes watering at the sight of his trembling frame. This was all so perfect. 

“Oh, but it can be. And it is!” You ran your fingers through your hair, watching as Lucifer’s fearful gaze was drawn to the charcoal color of your hands, as if you had been burnt, the off coloration seeping down your arms, into your skin. Purple lines streaked through your arms, your fingers more resembling claws than hands now. “I got a new style, and a few new toys that are gonna put an end to your happily ever after, once and for all!” 

“Woah, woah!” Charlie jumped to the front, holding her hands out defensively. “This has gotta be a misunderstanding! In case you haven’t heard, I’ve established peace with the Heavens—” 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, I’ve heard,” You snapped, glaring at Charlie, who flinched. You clenched your fist, raising it as you glanced at it, before smirking at Charlie. “I’ve had your little message to the Heavens, on loop!” 

A ball of light formed in your hand, your grin stretching across your face as you threw it Charlie. The demon’s eyes widened, letting out a startled cry as it hit her square in the chest, skidding across the grass, tripping on the steps of the hotel entrance. Lucifer was immediately at her side, checking her for injuries, shooting you a dark glare. You giggled, however, your grin leaning on maniacal as your eyes glowed. 

“I just love that part, where Lucifer spends the rest of his days in this nowhere realm, with a bunch of nobodies!” 

Something in you finally snapped, rushing at Charlie. She let out a startled scream as you grabbed her by her ankles, yanking her out of Lucifer’s caring hold, standing her up straight as you danced around with her, flinging her left and right. 

“That’s right, I heard the story over and over again,” You sung cheerfully, spinning Charlie out of your grip, turning your anger on Vaggie as she flew at you, spear pointed to your heart. 

Grabbing the spear handle, the tip just barely pressing into your chest, you flung Vaggie, giggling all the while. “Gee, it’s swell to finally meet his other friends!” 

You watched as the cat demon, Husk, tried to attack, a pitiful attempt in your opinion. You grabbed him by his wings, pulling him up and pulling his feet out from under him, dropping him on the ground. “That’s right, I heard the story, don’t really like how it ends!” 

A tall, spider-like demon, Angel Dust, rushed to Husk’s rescue, yelling as he barreled towards you. You grinned as you sidestepped him, watching as he tripped over Husk. “Gee, it’s swell to finally meet his other friends!” 

Your attention zoned back in on Charlie, who was still trying to gather her wits. Grabbing her by her wrists, your pair of wings flapped behind you as you flew into the air. Charlie cried out in alarm as you tossed her upward, grabbing her by her ankles and dangling her around. “What did he say about me, what did he say?” 

Dropping Charlie, she landed with a thud as you whipped over to Vaggie, grabbing her by her waist and spinning round and round. “What did you do without me, what did you do~?” 

Throwing Vaggie, you turned your attention to the demon who had been narrowly managing to avoid you, Alastor. You grabbed him just before he could melt into the shadows, pulling him up off the ground as you held him by his waist, looking up at him with big, deceivingly innocent eyes. “Did you play games without me? What did you play?” 

Releasing him just before he could retaliate, your wings flapped as you dodged each oncoming attack with ease, gliding towards your true victim. “Did you think all this time that I wouldn’t find out about you!?” 

Your wings spread out, your blue eyes glowing as you floated just before the Devil himself, grinning madly, as if excited. Lucifer flinched under your cold gaze, completely frozen in place. However, he found himself being ripped from his place as silky golden ribbons poured from your hands, wrapping around Lucifer, around each and every sinner and demon. With a flap of your wings, you yanked the ribbons, pulling them together as they smashed into one another. 

“Oh, that’s right I heard the story over and over again, gee it’s swell to finally meet his other friends...” You landed on the roof of the hotel entrance, giggling at the sight of the demons before you scrambling to get their bearings. 

“She’s running circles around us!” Husk hissed, clawed hand running through the fur on his head. Angel scoffed, sitting up as he rubbed his pained arms. 

“I’m rusty, give me a break!” He grumbled, pushing himself up. 

As everyone stood up, one demon remained, stuck on the ground. It felt as though the whole world was spinning, threatening to uproot everything good in his life. Karma certainly was a bitch. “I-It really is her. But she can’t be serious...” 

“You know her, dad!? Can you tell us who she is?” Charlie asked, looking to her father with worry. She had never seen him look so utterly terrified. 

Charlie’s words made the thin thread of patience within you snap. You grit your teeth, blood boiling, your skin burning, your hands aching, aching to squeeze the life out of them. “Who am I!? Who am I? What are you even saying!?” 

You stomped down toward the edge, your shadow casting over them in the glowing lights of the hotel. “I’m the loser of the game you didn’t know you were playing!” 

But this was different. This time, you wouldn’t lose. Your lips twitched, curling into a shaky smirk, nerves fried and emotions haywire. “Let’s play another game! This time, I’ve got to win!” 

A burst of light from your palm startled Lucifer, the light turning into a long staff, almost electrifying. A blade formed at the top in the shape of a scythe, the glow of your angelic power combined with the ominous glow of your eyes offputting. 

“Lives on the line, winner takes all, ready or not, let’s begin!” 

With a flap of your wings, you flew at the demons, watching as they jumped to dodge you. You let out a burst of laughter, slamming your foot into the gut of one of the demons, flinging them across the hotel yard. Another demon jumped at you, the handle of your scythe smashing into them, knocking them into the others. 

“Oh, that’s right, I heard the story over and over again, gee it’s swell to finally beat his other friends!” You sang happily, grabbing the arm of Vaggie and throwing her just before she could attempt an attack. Vaggie cried out as she crashed into the ground, battered and bruised. 

“Oh, that’s right, I heard the story, don’t really like how it ends!” 

You shoved demons aside, throwing them around, all the while Lucifer could only watch. He could only watch as you terrorized his friends, and you were reveling in it. The tables had finally turned, and now, he was playing your game. 

“Gee, it’s swell to finally beat his other,” You flew around, dodging demons, zoning in on one demon in particular. This was it. “Other...” 

“Other friends!” 

Your scythe sliced clean through Charlie’s waist, the angelic weapon leaving a trail of gold through her body. Charlie’s eyes widened, a silent scream stuck in her throat, her vision blotting and clouding. The last thing she saw was the horror in her father’s eyes as he stood before her, completely frozen, unable to move. 

Charlie collapsed to the ground, the golden trail healing like a scar, almost as if it hadn’t cut through her at all. You giggled as Vaggie rushed to Charlie’s side, the other demons shortly behind her as they checked to make sure she was still alive. Your eyes remained on Lucifer, his body deathly still, as if he weren’t even breathing. He wasn’t. Because he knew exactly what you’d done. 

“Don’t worry, Luci,” You called out, a wicked grin spread across your face, as if knowing exactly what was going through his mind. “I didn’t kill her. I simply hit her with my divine light. I do wonder what would happen to a half demon being filled with angelic light...” 

You had already won.

[stoutguts]

Autistic/neurodivergent 👻 (💀🧼 too bc why not/it's my comfort ship and I love them)

(chock full my own personal HCs and ideas, also mental health stuff/issues/problems heyo)

CW: brief mentions of s*icide/s*icidal ideation

I have a lot more to say about this freak, than pretty boy, ADHD brain rotted Johnny, so let’s get into it‼️‼️

Ghost is socially awkward as all hell with actual negative rizz, whether platonically or romantically. Most people write him off as weird, creepy, or scary, though that's also part of his charm and mystique for some reason.

Autistic, (and it's painfully obvious lmao). Special interests include Skyrim, DND, Bloodborne, Dark Souls, Elden Ring, The Witcher, etc. An absolute sweat, so it’s absurdly good at the games too. Also owns a ridiculous amount of merch pertaining to these games, from t-shirts to fucking coffee mugs. Their eyes will positively light up whenever they get the chance to geek out, and will talk your ear off about it. Soap always listening to it's nerdy rants, as he just loves to hear Simon talk no matter what it’s about. But, also because he’s always so eager to learn about what his partner likes or is interested in. Every now and then it'll get Johnny to join them for a round of DND or watch him play Skyrim or some other game, or even other members of the 1-4-1. And even though Soap and the others aren't nearly as experienced and well-versed in these games as Ghost is, they still both/all have a lot of fun. Outside of video games, they’re also obsessed with marine life and sea creatures. They're especially fond of sharks, he has a large collection of stuffed sharks/shark plushies in fact. Each with their own individual names that he loves dearly. Can't sleep without at least one plushie or shark, and sleeps with a different one each night, cycling through them. They also love to visit aquariums and the beach, and it has encyclopedic knowledge when it comes to most underwater creatures or marine mammals you can think of. He loves to show this off via party trick, or of course, just for the sake of rambling about it. It owns entire books on just sharks or marine life, and is obssessed with watching nature doctumentaries, whether it's on sea or land creatures.

Speaking of his fascination with marine life...He even keeps a few Ranchu goldfish as pets that it bought online from a breeder, (as Ranchu goldfish are one of it’s favorite fish/favorite breeds of goldfish). It thinks of them as it’s own children, and does it’s due diligence and research to provide them with the best care possible, (plus a beautifully decorated tank). Their names are Wotsit, Tangy, and Oswald. Wotsit and Oswald are males, Wotsit is red and black, and Oswald is a "calico" Ranchu. While, Tangy is female, and is orange and white.

At first, Johnny can't for the life of him understand what makes a goldfish, (fish being some of the most boring pets in the world in his humble opinion), so appealing as a pet. But he sees how happy the fish make Simon, so he doesn't really question it, just leaving it at "if they’re happy, than I guess that's all that really matters". Though the more Ghost talks about them with so much excitement and affection for it’s little fishy friends, the more Soap begins to appreciate them and kind of grow attached to them in his own way.

Simon stims by bouncing his legs, pacing, flapping their hands, or grinding his teeth (had to get braces and later a retainer to fix their teeth because of this). It used to mainly stim by rocking back and forth as a child, and he still does it from time to time to help calm himself, or for comfort when they need it. It also likes to walk on their tiptoes,—(he has exceptionally strong legs and calfs because of this habit),—especially when walking up or down stairs.

This detail is more just a general personality trait of his but whatever—

They are very expressive, (Johnny finds it absolutely adorable). Which is something not a lot of people know about him, as when the situation calls for it or when they need to get it together, he has excellent control over his emotions. A sensitive crybaby, and is a very emotional person. Quite literally can’t help it.

Ghost often has a hard time understanding other people or what they're feeling due to his autism. They're not heartless by any means, and it tries it's best to understand, but most times they unintentionally come off as insensitive or mean. He’s also brutally honest with people and never lies.

Simon needs constant reassurance due to their often low self-esteem, and Johnny is more than happy to provide that for him. Always praising them and telling them that he’s handsome, that he’s enough, that he’s perfect, and that he’s such a good boy.

(Speaking of Soap praising him, Ghost has a praise kink, to which Johnny is also more than happy to indulge. Though will occasionally use it’s kink against it, such as openly giving it praise during missions. Which Simon is always embarrassed, and seemingly hates it, but in actuality it’s the hottest thing ever).

That he loves them more than anything in the whole wide world, and would not trade him for anything. That he’d never lie, or cheat on him, (and he’s proven time and time again that he’s a man of his word). That it is his “forever” and nothing can change that.

The fact that Johnny is always so considerate of it’s needs touches Simon so deeply, as none of it’s past partners had ever been so respectful. Warming their heart, and it only continues to deepen the love he has for his partner. 💖

Ghost has a rescue German Shepherd named Riley. They love the dog to death, brings him everywhere with them. Simon especially likes to always take Riley with him when they go out jogging or for a run, or whenever they just feel like walking around the neighborhood to clear their head. The two are joined at the hip, not only because they’re incredibly attached to each other...But because Riley is trained as an emotional support animal for PTSD and anxiety-related reasons, and is also a medical alert service dog. Regarding not only some pretty nasty asthma, but he’s got some hereditary cardiovascular/heart issues that could prove to be a real problem.

Simon can't really live without him.

Riley is formerly both a fighting and military dog, they took him as their personal pooch, after no other handlers would work with him due to aggression issues. He has stunning green eyes and a beautiful black and tan coat. Though he's a bit mangy. With Ghost having handmade a leather spiked collar and a chain leash to match his overall ruggedness, though Riley's personality couldn't be farther from his tough exterior. Simon has re-trained and re-socialized him very well, and has helped him to unlearn his past temperament/behavior. Good with kids and other dogs and animals, loves people and attention. Though still has just enough bite left in him to be protective and to act as a guard dog for him and Johnny, always at the ready in case something happens. Which in Ghost's eyes is highly important and appreciated in a dog.

Riley's past history really tugged on Simon's heartstrings, so he has dedicated himself to pampering his dog. Getting him the best dog food money can buy, always looking out for a new toy for him when he goes to the store, etc. Riley often will sleep in between Ghost and Soap or at the foot of their bed.

Ghost struggles with PTSD and generalized anxiety disorder (GAD). His PTSD stems from his traumatic childhood. While his anxiety is mostly a by-product of his PTSD and trauma, as well as something born from the stress of being in the military, and learning to always be on the alert, never at ease. Though both seem to be somewhat tied to his autism as well.

They have panic attacks regularly, (which can be very dangerous because of his asthma, having to carry an inhaler on him at all times). (Plus, his heart condition is heavily affected by stress, which he’s treated/medicated for, but can still pose a risk). Flashbacks occur more often than not, (their flashbacks mostly happen in their sleep, as nightmares and night terrors).

Johnny is really the only one who knows of their past and mental health. (On all government mandated material, it’s intentionally left vague. The most it recognizes is that Ghost was born in Manchester, that his father's got a lengthy criminal record, and his capture and extensive torture by Roba).

As they don’t really talk about themselves that much, half because they’d rather not bring up such painful memories, and half for the fact he doesn’t really want other people knowing his business. Either that, or it's just that either no one ever really cared to know, or people weren't stubborn (or stupid) enough to press on it further, (apart from Johnny of course).

Soap is incredibly understanding and patient, therefore, it was very easy to open up to him. (Simon still finds that Johnny's the only person he's super comfortable opening up to, but also it opens up to and overshares with Roach every now and then). Johnny has a strange sort of calming effect on Ghost. Soap being an expert on how to get Simon to relax. Even when Ghost has a whole-ass service dog, (who also happens to be registered as an emotional support animal too), for this exact reason and purpose—But, Johnny frankly doesn't give a fuck. He wants it to know that he’s there for them, and that he cares deeply for him. Simon appreciating his fawning over him, and him taking care of them greatly.

Simon also has major depressive disorder (MDD), having struggled with such since childhood, and battles with suicidal ideation/thoughts on the daily.

They have actually even attempted quite a few times in the past. (Fun fact, the closest he’d ever come to successfully killing himself, was when Soap had gone into a months long coma after having been nearly killed by Makarov).

He’ll have depressive episodes that can last from days, to weeks, to months, sometimes being borderline debilitating and/or incapacitating. Soap tries to always be there for it during hard times, and this is no exception. He tries to provide him with what they may need, whether it’s a bit of humor to get it’s mind off things, or consolation after a long day, or maybe a hug, or one of their favorite snacks from the grocery store.—All Ghost has to do is ask, but usually Johnny always knows what he needs without a word being said between them.

Ghost goes to therapy regularly, and it does help a lot, (as they’ve got a fantastic therapist, having provided them with tools that have helped to save their skin on more than a few occasions). Though unfortunately despite this,—he’ll never be completely happy or stable. But that’s fine and is something it can live with, as long as he has Soap by their side and other people to support him. 💖

And last but not least…All members of the 1-4-1 having highly specific phobias? Yes please!

As for Ghost…

He is deathly afraid of thunderstorms/has major Astraphobia, as it triggers flashbacks regarding his father’s physical abuse. Simon is about the most vulnerable you’ll ever see him during a thunderstorm, they can’t do anything but curl up into a ball and sob and shake. He’s even pissed himself from fear on a few occasions after a particularly loud clap of thunder. Soap always tries to make sure he’s by their side when bad weather is soon to come, even planning his schedule around it (if he can), or rushes home to it in the event of a storm. If they end up having an accident he’ll help to clean them up. Cuddling with him, holding them and having Ghost clinging to him while they cry into his shoulder, attempting to soothe him with lovely words and a gentle touch.

They are also afraid of bugs/have major entomophobia, their entire squad teases and makes fun of them for it, (including Johnny lmao). Though it’s all in good fun, and if Simon ever encounters a single solitary insect…It’s got comfort in knowing their buddies and Soap are there for them, and will protect them. :3 (Idk, I just think it would be hilarious that this grim reaper looking ahh mf, 6’0 or taller brick shithouse of a man, is afraid of a fly getting too close to him).

I really need to gather up my hcs for Gaz and Price and write them down, I love those two as much as Ghost and Soap…I also wanna write shit about NikPrice, bc that’s like my favorite COD ship next to GhostSoap…hrmmm

[strawberrywinter4]

WIP - A Gentleman’s Shrine

Sneak peak #2 !

I know, I haven’t been active for a while, but this is what I’ve been working on! Some things may not make sense, obviously, but this is one of the scenes that will be in the halfway mark. So in honor of being halfway writing this, here you are! <3

——

“Captain Watson,” Sherlock murmurs in greeting.

“Mr. Holmes,” he says slowly. The name rolls of his tongue. Sherlock shivers. “I didn’t think this was your scenery.”

“It’s…not,” Sherlock answers. Suddenly, words are very hard. He practically blurts his next words out, “Are you going to tell my mother?”

To Sherlock’s surprise, Captain Watson’s eyebrows raise as if he hadn’t even thought of doing so. “No.” He huffs a laugh. “I’m sure she doesn’t wish for you to be out considering she hardly lets you out of the manor, but…you’re your own man. It isn’t any of my business.”

Sherlock exhales in relief. “That’s…good. Thank you.”

He hums. His eyes reach into Sherlock’s soul, seeing straight through him. Sherlock tries not to sweat.

“Is Ms. Bolton all right?” Captain Watson ends up asking.

Oh. Yes. Of course. That’s his main concern. “Uh–yes, I’m sorry. She–she said she had something to attend to.” It isn’t entirely a lie. She has her own fears to attend to about her ex lover having a chance to come back and make her life a living hell.

“I see,” he says, but his voice isn’t laced with disappointment like Sherlock thought it would be. More so, it’s of curiosity. Sherlock has found that the captain is a severely curious man. That can be both dangerous and enticing. “Do you know her?”

“Hm? Oh, no. I simply…erm…” Sherlock doesn’t know what to say. How does he explain his sudden need to speak with her if he doesn’t know her? Captain Watson doesn’t take his eyes off him. “She–I’m a fan of hers.”

Sherlock knows the captain doesn’t believe him. He can see it in the way he stares at Sherlock with strict eyes. Sherlock swallows.

“Right,” he finally says. “Well, I’m glad you could speak with her.”

Sherlock’s shoulders sag in the relief that, for now, Captain Watson won’t push on the matter further. “Yes.”

They stare at each other for a moment. A thought comes into Sherlock’s head that he can’t replace.

“Why are you here?” No. No, that sounds accusatory. “I mean–are you…is there a reason?”

Get a hold of yourself, damn you.

“I heard of this place and thought I would see what the fuss was about,” the captain says, voice smooth.

Admiration creeps through Sherlock. He wishes he could simply go wherever he pleases for the pleasure of it. He wishes he didn’t have to sneak out just to step out of the gates of his own home. Prison, more like.

Sherlock nods. “Good. That’s good.” They’re quiet for a moment. Maybe it’s best Sherlock stops the conversation here. “Um–I should be going–”

“So, Irene Adler.” The tenacity of Captain Watson’s voice makes Sherlock pause. “Congratulations. I had no idea you two were…involved.”

Sherlock’s eyebrows shoot up. That, he can confirm with confidence is untrue. “No,” he says, and this time his voice stays steady. “Absolutely not. I mean–no. She’s a friend of mine.”

Friend. A friend.

Sherlock’s never had a true friend before. At least, not one close to his age. Mrs. Hudson doesn’t count.

But considering someone a friend…it warms Sherlock’s chest before he can stop it.

Sherlock’s heart jumps when he sees something akin to relief wash over Captain Watson’s face. Why relief? Suddenly, his shoulders lose the tenseness it had before and his expression softens.

It’s such a rapid change, Sherlock is dumbfounded.

“I see,” says the captain. “I didn’t mean to misunderstand, erm–you two seemed so…” He cuts himself off, shaking his hand with a light laugh. “Never mind.”

They stare at each other for longer than necessary. Sherlock finds himself tranfixed. The heat of the moment becomes more than palpable, it becomes unavoidable.

Captain Watson clears his throat, looking away swiftly. Sherlock tries not to feel disappointed.

The former soldier waves over the bartender and pays for his drink. Sherlock senses their interaction coming to an end.

“I won’t keep you busy,” Sherlock says. “Good night, Captain Watson.”

However, just as Sherlock walks past him, a gentle grip on his arm stops him. Sherlock’s breath catches in his throat. They lock eyes, and usually, the captain would take away his hand and murmur apologies.

Now, he doesn’t so much as look away.

“Let me take you back to the estate,” Captain Watson says.

Sherlock feels his defenses return. “I’m perfectly capable of going back on my own.”

“Oh! Yes. Yes, of course you are. I meant no such thing.” He stands, and the heat of his body radiates toward Sherlock. “Just so you won’t be noticed or…I only want to bring you back safely.”

Sherlock huffs. “Captain–”

“Mr. Holmes.” Sherlock hopes he isn’t imagining the soothing stroke of his thumb. “This isn’t because I don’t think you can handle yourself. This is because I want to make sure you arrive home safely.”

Sherlock shifts where he stands. His mind is hardly functioning due to the touch. “All right,” he manages, his voice hoarse.

——

Tags: @a-victorian-girl @whatnext2020 @totallysilvergirl @thegildedbee @with-a-ghost-mr-holmes @jawnn-watson @blogstandbygo @lisbeth-kk @holmesianlove @7-percent @itsonlytext @chinike @peanitbear @helloliriels @keirgreeneyes @ghostofnuggetspast @dw91165 @jolieblack @gwendelaneyisjohnlocked @cortina @kettykika78 @johnlockbbc @dapetty @bs2sjh

(If you wish to be tagged, let me know. If you don’t wish to be tagged, let me know as well.)

So yes, I’ve been working very hard with this fic. My goal is to finish writing the whole fic, and then post the chapters! I’ve never worked that way before, but I’ve found that it’s a lot easier for me so I’m not rushing through the process to write and then get the next chapter out lol.

Thank you all <33

[yanderambling]

concept: Psychic Honor Student!Yandere(gn) x Transfer Student!Reader(gn)

words: ~1.1k

CW: 18+, yandere behavior, suggestive themes, stalking, stealing, mind-reading, severe invasions of privacy

Desta has been at the top of all their classes for as long as they can remember.

They’ve always been a loner, strange and intelligent and self-righteous as they are; it’s not exactly a mystery why they’re consistently ostracized by peers. Anyone who gave them a chance wouldn’t last a week before getting fed up with their off-kilter remarks and haughty demeanor.

They didn’t make it easy on themself, they know that, but they don’t mind anymore. In fact, they've come to appreciate their isolation; their peers just get duller and duller as the years go by, they couldn't imagine wasting their time on any such dimwits. Besides, their solitude makes it easier for them to focus on their studies, both in school and… other regards.

See, Desta’s mind was gifted with more than just intellect.

They first started hearing other people’s thoughts in preschool (it made learning the alphabet a living hell). Nobody believed them when they tried to get help, parents and teachers alike brushed it off as oversensitivity, so they were forced to manage it by themself.

And they did, expertly if they say so themself. As they have with everything else in their life.

By the time they could put it into words others could understand, there was really no need- getting others involved would’ve just made it more complicated, especially when they started gaining new abilities (most recently, they’ve begun manipulating objects with their mind; they can only imagine how much stricter their parents would become with that knowledge).

They still aren’t sure what the extent of their abilities is, or if it has anything to do with their academic performance, but they are certain that it’s a journey best taken solo.

At least, they were certain. Until they met you.

You’re… different. That much is apparent when they first look into your mind, initially an idle action borne from boredom and a vague curiosity about the midyear transfer.

What first struck them was your surprising sense of calm. Most new students’ minds are just oceans of anxiety, panic over the new school layout and the novel social hierarchies, but yours was just… still.

You were contemplating the architecture (predictably outdated, in keeping with the neighborhood, the bathrooms probably malfunction a lot), the student who was showing you around (boring haircut, kind voice, moves with vaguely irritating certainty), each thought so natural and straightforward- it was like a breath of fresh air after having their head stuck in the trash bag of this school’s social stratum.

You had no concern for the petty posturing and hierarchies, your mind was so active yet so clear, you were so confident in your every movement, every thought.

You’re the first person they can remember ever piquing their interest. It was an exciting feeling, frightening and new.

They needed more of it.

They began to find peace in listening to your thoughts. It’s a nice break from the unending cacophony, simply hearing you running through your daily tasks, making grocery lists, giving mental commentary on the world around you (they've nearly exposed themself by laughing at your silent quips on multiple occasions), even the verses of songs you only remember one part of looped over and over. They start to admire the way you view the world and the people in it, each peek into your mind only leaves them more fascinated.

You quickly become their favorite pastime.

They start relying on your little comments and musings to get them through the school days. You just have such a unique perspective, you’re so much purer than the minds they’re constantly surrounded by, you’re so real and genuine- you’re just not like the others. And they would know.

They soon become obsessed with being in your head.

They start to follow you around so they’re always close enough to hear you, memorizing your schedule as you’d mentally revise it each morning. Sometimes you swear you can feel eyes boring into your back, but the instinct alone lets them hide before you can even turn your head. They follow you further and further each day, until they've memorized at least three different routes to your house.

It's still not enough.

They sneak out to your place most nights, watching through your window as you unwind from your day (your mind is especially calm at these moments, they feel like they could float away on the gentle stream of your thoughts). When they get bold enough, they crack open your window after you fall asleep and look for a souvenir (something small, of course. something you won't miss, light enough for them to levitate, like a pencil or an article of clothing).

It still not enough.

It's not uncommon for them to tune in to the thoughts of those around you, friends or classmates or neighbors, just to get more of you. They get viscerally jealous when anyone so much as thinks a positive thought about you- nobody could possibly appreciate your beauty like Desta, their minds are all clouded by lust and material priority- but god help anyone who thinks badly of you (and god forbid they catch you thinking of somebody else; not for your sake, but for the poor bastard you've taken a liking to. they wouldn't have been good enough for you, anyway).

These days, they're in your head more often than their own. It's still not enough.

They start to do things to get you to notice them; start answering more questions in your shared classes, wearing bolder outfits and constantly checking to see if you notice.

They learn the things you like. They only wear your favorite colors, they exclusively listen to your favorite music, read your favorite books, watch your favorite movies- if they notice you have a preference for a certain hair color, they’re dyeing theirs that night. They know way too much about all of your hobbies and interests, just in case they ever work up the nerve to have a conversation with you. They haven't yet.

You’ve had a couple run-ins- brushed against them in the hallway, passed them a handout in class- and each one left them flushed and shaking, overwhelmed by your mere proximity.

It's all too much, but not nearly enough.

They know they can't approach you, they’ll make a fool of themself- even knowing what everyone is thinking isn’t enough for them to navigate most social situations, let alone with the added stress of simply being in your presence.

No, they’re not ready for your direct attention, not yet.

For now, they'll just have to satisfy themself with your thoughts (and your underwear).

thanks so much for reading! feel free to send a request <3

check my pinned post~

[bringthekaos]

Im not sure if you're still actively in the arcane fandom but I was wondering what type of things Jayce and viktor would argue about besides their opinions on hex tech/ war. Would they even argue a lot?

Kinda like normal couple things, like would Viktor get annoyed at Jayce for chewing with his mouth open or would Jayce get annoyed at Viktor for cleaning up his room for him? and etc.

Oh I very much am still here, just kinda getting steamrolled by life. But I’m still just as obsessed with JayVik as I was on day one!!

My headcanon for a recurring argument is organization—if you look at Jayce’s apartment, he is just… all over the place. Like… he made himself and Cait sandwiches and then left them on the table and fucked off to the Undercity for parts. I feel like he’s got a little of that ADHD; he starts a project, gets distracted by another, leaves shit lying around, repeat ad nauseum. I imagine his system for organizing is “I’ll remember where I had it last.” Which I can totally relate to, as I’m that way. It would be great if I could put things back where they go on a shelf or in a drawer, but for some reason I just “take a picture” with my mind, and I remember where things were last, even if that’s not where they go.

And Viktor is much more organized—a habit he’s trained himself into over time. He needs to know where things are when he needs them, and it’s important to him that he can find those things without wasting time searching for them. And I imagine he gets frustrated when he needs certain tools in the lab, and they’re supposed to be hanging above the workbench, but they’re not. So then he has to ask Jayce where they are, and of course Jayce knows, he remembers where he put it. But it gets frustrating for Viktor, having to ask every time. He’d prefer if it was just where it was supposed to be.

And of course this wouldn’t be a recurring thing if they would just explain to each other their rationale, but there’s a measure of self-consciousness involved—Jayce being insecure about his disorganization, and Viktor worrying he’s being too picky (even though it’s often not about being picky, it’s about saving himself the movement and the pain of having to go looking for something).

I imagine they disagree on many other things, obviously politics and economics, but those things I can see them more easily avoiding (at least in the early days). Kind of an “agree to disagree” situation. But as time goes on, I can see all of these small disagreements festering, and because they don’t really talk about them, what was once a minute crack in their relationship becomes a massive rift. That said though, I still think all of it could be mended if they would just talk to each other—level with the other, explain why they feel the way they do. I’m certain they’d both understand, and would compromise with each other in the interest of maintaining their relationship. They care deeply about one another, whether it’s platonic or romantic, and I believe they would put in the effort to mend that rift. But sadly, they don’t get that chance before it all goes to hell.

[komohine]

Do you think James dies a little on the inside every time Keith comes to visit the paladins?Namely having dinner in front of Allura’s statue.(Or at least I think thats on Earth)

Because he DOES have an attachment keeping him tied to Earth, James just isn’t that attachment.

Im p sure Allura’s statue is on New Altea. I think Keith visits earth though, whenever he gets the chance.

Also, i think of Keith and James’ relationship in pretty much the opposite way. James is Keith’s only attachment to earth. When Keith thinks about home he thinks of both the house he grew up in and of James. It’s just that Keith tends to prioritize the needs and wants of everyone else over his own.

In the episode where Pidge wanted to leave voltron to find her family, where Hunk and Lance wanted to go home, Keith also wanted so, so badly to go home to earth. To go home where James is, to forget about this war he didn’t even know existed until he was fighting in it. But with the way he left James, and how he didn’t send even a single text to let James know he was still alive and well, he felt he didn’t deserve to go home, let alone to verbalize his wishes.

And on top of that, he knows that if he were to leave Voltron, Earth would have no protector, and he’d be putting James’ life in jeopardy (along with everyone else on earth ofc).

Keith’s primary love language is acts of service. Back in the Garrison, he liked to peel James’ oranges for him. Both because James sucked at it and because it was something he could do for him.

Becoming a paladin of Voltron, staying in the fight no matter his own desires, was Keith’s greatest act of service to James.

Also, i dont hate myself or you guys that much so i tend to write them a happy ending

James is ofc devastated about keith leaving earth again to go continue his work in the blades and that he cant follow him. But in my heart Iverson saw this depressing as hell break up (like, Iverson watched them grow up and he saw what a mess James was when keith left the first time. Guys iverson is the real number one Jaith shipper) and decided to pull a few strings and arrange like joint missions between the Garrison and the Blades. Because it’s always better to have some backup fire anyways, 10k years of violent colonization isn’t going to disappear completely after a mere 6 years ykwim. They’re bound to visit dangerous zones and garrison backup could come in extremely handy when they do.

So Iverson sends James out to lead the Garrison portion of literally every single joint meeting, which is quite often. So James and Keith get to do work alongside each other. yay happy ending!!

[girldragongizzard]

Chapter 2: My people

Rhoda is sitting in her apartment, near the north facing window of her dining area, leaning on the table there and looking out at the courthouse, with its grandiose modern architecture and its halo of golden brown trees.

She’s thinking about last Thursday when her best friend just got her new name legally recognized, and the emotions that they both felt and shared that day.

She remembers that that was the day she first started revisiting the harder memories she has of her son. Her child. Memories she’d been avoiding for more than a decade. 

It’s been pretty rough since then, and this friend of hers is in the middle of the roughness. She wishes she had more friends. But what she has are countless acquaintances and contacts. People she could work at to become friends with, if she could trust them enough. Or had the energy to try.

Sometimes circumstances choose friendships for you.

And she did get to reminisce and vent all Sunday, and that was cathartic and something she’s been needing for a long time.

But then, the next day, she learned that her friend is something she can barely comprehend.

She knew she was a dragon. And she knew she was raised by white parents, and basically white herself. These were things that Rhoda had chosen to accept and work with for the sake of their growing companionship and mutual support. And that talk on Sunday had been so important to her.

But then Meghan Estragon Draconis goes and says that she’s more immortal than the immortals they both know that have been monkeying with human affairs.

And Rhoda’s brain has gone blank.

She’s seen the magic at work, since that first day. It’s easy to believe in. It’s nigh impossible not to. It’s as real as electricity.

And it feels like her new best friend has suddenly been replaced by the page of a book. An illustration with a caption underneath it on the top half, labeled with her friend’s name. And the bottom half with just a snippet of story. Hardly anything she can make sense of.

Is there a person there anymore?

Was there ever?

She didn’t go down to the shop today, because she needs this alone time to try to think about this.

“I don’t want to get caught up in nobody else’s myth,” her mouth says. And she half agrees with it.

If it were the right myth, and she had the right role, it feels like it would take her away from her pain, though. And that’s why she’d given Meghan the time of day in the first place, she realizes.

Maybe she should start going back to church. Not for the religion, of course. That’s already rejected her and her child, Jacob. But for the community. The chance of having some kind of family again.

She could maybe leave her truths here, in her apartment, for that.

It’s so fucking hard.

She and Meghan had been lonely together, and it was something, at least.

Her phone buzzes.

She pulls it out and sees a message from Meghan in her group chat, “All plans blown today. Met Säure at DMV. Want to eat him. Talking instead.”

—

Astraia’s oversized keyboard arrived yesterday, so today she and Caleb are trying it out.

Caleb works graveyard, so he’s effectively staying up late. But he says it’s worth it.

The livingroom of their apartment has become a hydra den, the white walls completely unadorned, and half the floor of the room covered with animal hides they’ve been trading and saving for. Astraia’s old wardrobe and some of the furniture went into the effort of acquiring them.

The other half has their computers hooked up to two medium sized TVs.

She can’t fit through the front door anymore, but the sliding glass door leading the concrete patio is still big enough. Another molt, and she might have to find a garage to move into.

But she’s not arguing with herselves about that right now. She’s almost all completely focused on playing Diablo 2: Resurrection with Caleb.

She’s hissing. He’s cussing. But occasionally they will each reach out and give the other an affectionate bump. They’re working together through the Kurrast swamps on Hell and they both have always hated this level. The shared hatred feels like a kind of love.

Fortuitously, right as she creates a town portal and steps through to the safety of the docks, there’s a loud ping from Discord.

Her rightmost head poinks at Caleb, and she switches over to see which server it’s coming from. Caleb nods and leans over to look at her screen.

Queen Meg’s, of course.

The general channel.

Meg wrote, “Säure is dragon. Can human. Talking right now. All day. Might eat him.”

She and Caleb exchange glances, then she types, “Save us eight bites.”

Caleb holds out a fist, and she bumps it with one of her noses.

They keep playing

—

Joel is enjoying his new favorite pastime of letting children play on him.

It is a weekday, and most kids are at school, and usually it would be just him and the seagulls unless he went to one of his other haunts to drink with the locals. But there’s this one family, and it’s clear that the two children need their dragon time while their mother talks with a friend about their troubles. He can’t talk, but he’ll be here for them whenever he can. Tuesdays are usually one of their days.

There isn’t much to it. He just lies there, and they climb all over him, ignoring the actual play toy in the playground. Occasionally, when they’re both far enough away from him for a moment, he’ll roll over and change his positioning. Always folding up his wings carefully, and tight, though, as out of the way as possible.

A few strategic groans, and the kids all learn pretty quickly where not to step, if they don’t figure it out themselves at first glance.

He’s now lying on his back in the grass with his head facing east, giving him an upside down view of the hill that Flounder Sound Brewpub is on, and the university behind that. And he can’t help yawning.

Later that night, he’ll do his rounds and swallow up the excess food that the restaurants have to throw out. He’s their new compost bin, and it’s a pretty good gig. Sometimes he gets some beer out of the deal, too.

He doesn’t have a tablet or a phone or anything like that that he can use to connect with the other dragons, but he feels like he’s starting to understand them as if they’re talking, even when they don’t utter a word. He wonders if that goes both ways. Sometimes it seems like Meghan understands him better than she should.

In any case, he doesn’t get the message from Meghan in any way.

Instead, what happens is that he feels her and another dragon enter his territory as if they were rolling onto one of his wings with a little toy car. It’s not a painful sensation at all, just a very clear and obvious one. And he recognizes her presence very clearly.

He’s always been able to do this, even before, though no one believed him about all the dragons.

He doesn’t recognize the other one, but he knows his nature. That’s a really fucking big dragon.

He groans and gives an affable yawp and starts to roll very slowly back onto his feet. The two kids both complain and whine, but dutifully and carefully get off.

Once everyone is situated in a standing position, he looks at them, bobs his head, and then yawps quietly again, as cheerfully as he can manage.

And then he starts galloping toward the brewpub where Meghan and her rival are clearly headed.

—

Wentin is standing precariously on the roof of the wooden observation tower on the hill in the Fairport Arboretum, facing north, its lionine form dwarfing the structure. Its head is turning ever so subtly as it tracks the movement of a speck of a car driving from Northside to the south end of Downtown Fairport. There are times when the car is not visible to it, hidden behind trees or buildings, but its gaze is unerringly accurate.

It’s not tracking by sight.

As the car approaches the brewpub that’s its destination, Wentin creaks, “Too soon. Much too soon.”

—

Chapman has an annoying little job today.

It’s a business card sie has to design from elements the client gave the shop.

The problem is that the chosen comp has been returned on the third revision with the note, “Can we make my logo bigger, pls.” This is the third time sie has seen that note on this job.

As always, if the logo were any bigger it would bleed off the edges of the card and be illegible.

It seems like, about four times a year, another client makes this same demand of a business card or a small ad or a brochure. There’s just a type of business owner that doesn’t seem to understand the concept of space or how to communicate what it is that they actually want, and they all use the same cut and paste note, complete with the abbreviated “pls”.

Talking to hir coworkers and boss about it only gets light commiseration and maybe a cussword or two, but no further understanding. Nobody has a clue why people do this.

It must be a neurotype. A percentage of the human population that just sees space differently somehow.

Chapman dearly wants to scan this client to find out what’s going on, but that goes against hir personal code of ethics.

The only thing sie can do design-wise is actually make the logo a tiny bit smaller, increasing the white space around it, and moving all the other elements just a tad further away from it, shrinking them.

Otherwise, sie can effectively fire the client as being too hard to work with. Hir boss will back hir up on that.

Sie decides to give her expert design decision a try, thinking about how sie really shouldn’t have to put this much thought into such a small, routine job. And sighs.

Hir phone buzzes.

Sie leans back in hir chair and picks it up from its face down space on hir desk to look at the message as briefly as possible.

It’s Meghan.

It’s Meghan with Säure.

Chapman touches the scanning tattoos on hir wrists together and focuses on Meghan’s patterns, knowing that Meghan will feel this, and perhaps Säure will too.

They’re headed to Flounder Sound Brewpub, in a car.

Chapman scans the whole city next and spends a moment thinking about the data sie received from it.

It’s not numbers. It’s not something you could plug into a computer.

This century, Chapman would choose to describe it as like strings of probability, all interwoven and passing waves of meaning to each other. And that looking at a portion of it can give you clues as to what’s happening in the greater universe and hints as to what’s happening to a tinier portion of it, but never anything definitive. But at the scale of pattern that you look at, if you squint, sometimes you can predict the future.

Kind of like predicting where a baseball will fly after a pitcher has thrown it. At a certain point, you’re trying to predict where it will go after the batter has swung, and that’s harder.

Chapman groans and presses the backs of hir wrists together, a different set of tattoos.

This time, all the power in the building goes out.

Chapman was saving this particular effect for an emergency like this.

The power won’t go on for the rest of the day, and everyone will have to go home, where they will be slightly safer.

Maybe that will have been unnecessary, but sie does care about them.

—

Kim and Kimberly both interrupt their tasks to pull their phones out of their pockets at the same time and look at them. Then they exchange uneasy looks.

“What just happened?” the nosiest customer they’ve either ever met asks them.

“Armageddon,” Kimberly says, shugging, and putting her phone back in her skirt pocket, and then turning to the espresso machine to prep it.

“Don’t worry, I’m sure it will be fine,” Kim says, waving her hand dismissively at the customer and going back to the POS to finish the order.

Later, Kim mumbles to Kimberly, “I’m sure the others will keep us informed.”

“Or we’ll hear about it with our own ears when the city explodes,” Kimberly responds.

“Please don’t talk like that.”

—

Since his last statement, I’ve been having trouble figuring out what to say to Säure, and the rest of the drive has been oppressively quiet.

It’s almost like he’s managed to paralyze me with just words.

It’s my C-PTSD, I know. Suddenly having a social demand placed on me by an authority figure sometimes does this to me, even if I don’t want to recognize them as an authority.

I’m painfully aware of the perceived power he has over me as someone in his socio-economic position, and the very possible real power he has that I just honestly don’t know about. I don’t know what he’s spent his money on. And he has a larger vocabulary than me while exhibiting at least one of my own special abilities.

His draconic prowess is a huge unknown.

But, you know? So is mine. I’ve only just started learning what I can really do. And I can feel I’m due for another molt, which means I’m growing. I think. I know I’m growing. Maybe molting happens regardless.

So now, I’m holding my tablet in my lap and staring at the road, ignoring the car around me, and thinking about just whether or not I can get the better of him and show my dominance, at all. Ever.

And then we get to our destination, and the lunch time rush has made it so there are no parking spots within a two block radius.

And I get the rare joy to see a genuine billionaire silently, stoically fuming as he drives in circles, looking for a place to park where he won’t have to walk very much.

The really weird part of this moment is when I realize that we’re both dragons who should not be doing this. We should have our teeth on each other’s necks, claws dug into each other’s sides, beating each other silly with our wings. We should be wreathed in fire.

—

Ptarmigan stands on the roof of the Magnolia apartments, keeping an eye on Meghan’s duffel bag, even though she never asked her to do that.

It just has old clothes of Chapman’s in it. And there’s nothing else special on the roof, besides a smattering of small polished river rocks and undigested compressed pellets full of beak, bone, and feather fragments.

But every now and then, Ptarmigan feels like it’s a good idea to be up here when Meghan isn’t, and to keep an eye on things. Especially when the police presence in the neighborhood picks up.

She’s not exactly worried about being caught up here.

It would be extremely inconvenient. But she’s taken precautions to make that improbable. While she’s present, anyone thinking about checking the roof, or glancing its way, will remember nightmares they had as a child that terrorized them, and stop thinking about it.

Meghan’s had enough bother from the human authorities. It’s time someone trained them to reflexively ignore her home.

Meghan has no idea that Ptarmigan is doing this, and that doesn’t really matter.

Ptarmigan’s phone buzzes and she looks at it.

“Yeah,” she says. Then she walks to the southeast corner of the building and looks out over the city toward one of the brewpubs. The one near the Farmer’s Market square.

She reaches up and grabs the toothpick that’s in her mouth and flicks it out toward the street. She doesn’t even watch it fall.

Sitting down on the edge of the building, legs dangling over the side, she pulls her little sketch-journal out and yanks the ballpoint pen out of its spine.

It’s time to do some real work.

—

Maybe I’ll hear about all these reactions my friends are having after the fact and include them in one of the books I’m writing. For now, I’m just speculating.

I know that I now plan on writing several. Without being able to talk as well as I used to, I have the urge to be at my computer as often as possible and just write. And I know that even if I just write about the first few weeks of this whole experience, I’m going to infodump about dragons and it’s going to get too long for one book. And a lot has happened. A lot keeps happening.

Or, maybe I’ll be messily killed and eaten, if not by Säure then by Wentin, and I’ll lose my memories of this life, and it will all be filled in by one of my friends, as they finish this chapter of my story.

I feel pretty comfortable with either outcome, honestly. Though I don’t look forward to the experience of being eaten. Or most of me doesn’t.

I haven’t quite yet figured out how it will all turn out, but at least I know what I am.

—

There’s a moment, at the stop sign right in front of the brewpub, where the incensed Säure stops and just breathes. He closes his eyes, hands at ten and two o’clock, relaxes his shoulders, and takes in a breath through his nose and lets it out through his teeth.

And then he watches as a family of four leave the restaurant section of the brewpub and start walking toward their van, which appears to be parked around the corner to the right of us.

A little earlier, I had felt shifts from Chapman and Ptarmigan, so I know I’m being looked after.

If Säure did anything, I didn’t feel it.

He didn’t use Artistry.

I know I don’t feel any sort of shift when Wentin does its weird shit. And I expect I won’t feel anything whenever Säure sheds his disguise.

I can speculate as to what this means. It seems pretty obvious, but sometimes I like to keep my reactions free of conclusions. I just note this right now.

Maybe Säure didn’t do anything but relax.

He smiles at me as the spot opens up and he pulls forward to turn and take it before anyone else can.

“It. Worked,” he says.

[sleepdeprivedsimp234]

Texas angst?

Why of course :)

Despite what he might tell you, his immune system is absolute sh*t and he gets sick a lot, though he usually works it off and there’s a 50/50 chance as to whether it gets better or worse.

^sorta related to the hc above: heat exhaustion. Yeah. He’s suffered from it on more than one occasion yet he still works outside when it’s boiling hot for WAY too long.

^oh yeah he also has asthma but refuses to use his inhaler cuz he’s afraid of being seen as week. Same goes for his iron supplements and meds that his therapist gave him.

If he gets into a serious fight that’s going too far, either the person he’s fighting has to give up, or someone has to separate them. There’s no other way for it to end. Texas is going to fight till his very last breath, and would rather die than accept defeat.

poor baby is insecure about the little bit of pudge on his lower belly 😔

(this is sorta happy but also sad-ish) whenever Texas is missing his mom, who’s name was Maria, he’ll go sit down on the beach and just stare out onto the ocean for hours since it reminds him of her (not to mention, the name "Maria" means "of the sea"). He also named his chihuahua Maria, after his mother.

He hates that he has to listen to what his government tells him to do, but if he doesn’t, his handlers will hurt them. One of the worst parts is, is that Texas thinks that they’re allowed to do this. The State Handlers are NOT, under ANY circumstances, allowed to harm the states. Texas doesn’t know this. Even if he did, he’s too scared to tell anyone.

Texas cannot handle seeing any animals die. He can’t. He will cry. Even if it’s a movie. Oklahoma tried teasing him about it and Louisiana nearly strangled him for it. Everyone needs a Loui in their life. (TW: s3lf h4rm and dr^g and 4lcoh0l mention under the cut, but I’m also gonna include some normal hc’s cuz why the hell not)

Texas does alot of stuff that he doesn’t know counts as self harm (ex: taking REALLY hot showers, biting himself, pulling at his hair, not eating for extended periods of time, etc…).

I’m not gonna say he smokes weed and cigarettes, but I’m not gonna say he doesn’t.

Yes he does in fact drink alcohol to numb the pain.

Normal-ish hc’s!

If you decide to ask what’s in his cup, prepare to be mildly horrified (or not). What’s in his cup? Well dear reader. Straight up whiskey, at least 10 shots of caffeine and espresso, a few red bulls and a C4 (the energy drink). This man is not okay (i promise) /ref

To the surprise of pretty much the whole statehouse, Texas does in fact listen to hyperpop, ESPECIALLY Odetari and 6arelyhuman (fun fact: they’re both from Texas. Yeah.). Sometimes you’ll hear him muttering under his breath: "hey scene sl*t we’re still cutting tonight, that’s why my wrists are so sore-". The only state that wasn’t surprised was surprisingly Louisiana. Cuz him and Texas make song recommendations to each other and they have the same music taste (except Loui doesn’t listen to country alot-).

Texas👏Does👏Trickriding👏. It👏Terrifies👏The👏Others👏.

He also makes knives and daggers out of random rocks his finds and he’s (not)surprisingly good at it.

^he makes slime too and you can pry that off my dead cold hands.

Me when,, me when I torture the blorbos,,, 👉👈 (I’m so notsorry):

[meguwumibear]

sfw 1k writing warm up; implied knives x reader, brief mentions of surgery and violecne

In a city, somewhere far, far away, there is a doctor who makes monsters.

You don’t know his name. You don’t know what he looks like. Hell, you don’t even know if he’s real.

You cling to the idea of him all the same.

Stories of him and his creations have been passed down for generations. At least in your village they have. Word has it, long ago your friend’s cousin’s great-great aunt (or whatever the fuck) came face to face with one of those mad scientist’s creations and nearly died.

The doctor and his monsters are a thing of nightmares. Your town elders tell stories of them to naughty children to keep them in line. Bad kids get sent to the doctor for reprogramming. Bad kids make good monsters.

The problem with all that is, you know monsters; you’ve met them. And each and every single monster you’ve met simply looks like a man. No horns. No fangs. No extra limbs. Just a human with a little too much time on their hands. Just a human with nothing to lose and everything to gain.

You weren’t born a monster, but you’re going to become one. The transformation will surely cost you; it’s a price you’re willing to pay.

Rumor has it the doctor is currently shacked up in a great city called JuLai. You’ve never been to a city before. The concept is foreign to you. All those ravenous mouths to feed. All those lights to keep on. Picturing a plant powerful enough to do all that is beyond the scope of your imagination.

You really only ever imagine one thing these days anyway.

Getting there is a fucking pain. There’s a brief period of time you’re not sure you’re gonna make it. Somewhere between sleeping around for lodging and stowing away on sandsteamer, you worry the hunger and dehydration will get to you.

The elders of your town also told stories of roaches. Horrible little critters capable of surviving anything. Small and fast with bodies not unlike the worms of this planet. Six scuttering legs and two long twitching antennae.

Your wonder if you’ll be reborn as one of those. You hope not. You don’t want to live forever, just long enough to take your revenge.

You do survive your journey, though it’s a mystery how. Perhaps years of starvation shrunk your stomach. Perhaps you’re just too stubborn to die. Maybe Gunsmoke understands it isn’t your time yet; there’s still a few people you need to kill.

The city folk think your chasing death. They’re not wrong. You want to die. Crave it, even. You’re just determine to take several people out with you. Anything after that is borrowed time.

Still, no one will tell you the whereabout of the mysterious doctor. They’re trying to protect you. They’re trying to protect themselves.

In the end it doesn’t matter; the doctor comes to you.

Both he and his benefactor find you amusing. It’s been a while since anyone came to them willingly. A man named Bluesummers became the first; Livio the second. The former ran from his fellow man, the second chased after one.

They ask you why you want them to operate on you; you’re honest with them. There’s a group of humans roaming around that need killing, and you plan to be the one to do it. Issue is, you’re unable to in your current state. You’re too weak, too tired. You need the strength and speed of a small army.

They agree to move forward with the procedure so long as you devote yourself to the leader. That’s fine with you. As far as you’re concerned, anyone capable of resurrecting you deserves to be worshiped.

There’s a chance the procedure may kill you, but you don’t really give a shit. Neither does the doctor really. He runs some preliminary exams and concludes that you’re S+ compatible, whatever the fuck that means. As long as it means he’s going to move forward with the operation, you don’t care to know the details.

The operation is painful. The doctor straps you down to a cross shaped table and shoots you up with who knows what. You’re awake for the entire transformation, listening to the sound of your bones snap, feeling your skin pulse and stretch. By the time your nerves begin to stitch themselves back together, you’ve sweat out every drop of liquid your body could produce.

And the strange thing is?

After all that, you still look exactly the same.

You don’t, however, feel the same, though the difference isn’t immediately made obvious. It takes a few sleepless nights for you to realize you no longer need it. It takes even longer for you to realize you no longer need food.

Complete cellular regeneration. At the molecular level.

The surgery is so successful the doctor almost doesn’t let you go. Apparently this, you, are exactly what he has been waiting for: a being capable of surviving without any external supports. It takes Knives direct intervention to sway him.

You’re surprised Knives agrees to fund your mission. He’s not even requiring you to take Bluesummers as a chaperone. Isn’t he worried you won’t come back? Given how powerful you’ve become, who could make you?

It takes months to track down the religious bandits that killed your family. Gunsmoke is a large planet filled with sand and rumors. Even aided by the vehicle Knives so generously provided you with, it takes time to pick up on and follow the trail.

You kill every last one of them when you find them. Not with a gun, but with a knife. The Eye offered you your choice of weapon, but you insisted on the simplicity of the blade.

“I wanna look them in the eye when I do it,” you told the doctor. “I don’t plan on shooting at them like a coward.”

They shoot at you like cowards, but your body can handle the wounds. The pain is sharp especially when they shoot you close range, but it’s of little consequence to you now. Even your blood replenishes. You won’t even have a scar.

You return to Knives caked in blood, only some of if your own. He doesn’t seem surprised to see you. There isn’t exactly anywhere else you can go. It isn’t that you need him—you don’t need anyone anymore—but, fuck it, a deal’s a deal. If he wants you, he can have you…if he can handle you that is.

Knives seems to like you. As much as he can a human anyway. Or maybe he likes you because he doesn’t consider you that anymore.

You look human, sure, but so does he, and everyone knows he is anything but.

Only, it isn’t you that Knives likes. Not really. It’s what you’ve become. He likes that you don’t need food or water. He likes that you don’t depend on plants.

And maybe, just maybe, when the rapture comes, he’ll spare you. He dreams of a new Eden, and what is such a garden without an Eve?