#but I forget to use it like 90% of the time anyway

[aching-joints]

building a queue sucks because there’s posts i always want to reblog now but i also would just like to have a queue of posts too and it’s like who do i reblog now and who do i queue???

[swiggity-swexual-i-am-asexual]

As per usual, it’s DP crossover with (probably) DC, although you could probably adjust it for other fandoms

ANYWAYS

A little kid and his mother are trick or treating in another city, perhaps at some kind of event rather than knocking on doors, and the kid is dressed as Phantom. It’s very adorable, with his little ghost-shaped bucket and clearly homemade and already stained costume—listen, white only works if you can just fly over street grime or phase it out of your clothes—and his slightly I’ll fitting wig. The kid is SO happy to be out and about dressed as his favorite, and maybe even showed it off to Phantom back in Amity Park before his family left.

The hero, insert whoever you wish here, is probably in civvies and just enjoying the event. The kid, meanwhile, is so glad when people ask who he is so he can explain, and so- the hero gets to hear ALL ABOUT the local town hero who is probably pretty small time despite the kid’s clearly exaggerated stories. The hero certainly never heard of him, but the kid’s mom confirms that Phantom really was the town hero, despite some mixed reviews of the poor guy.

“Did you manage to show him your costume?” the hero asks.

“Yeah! We went down to the cemetery to leave flowers and I got to show him my costume.”

Wait. Cemetery? Maybe it was part of theme, because Phantom had to be named that for a reason, but… it sounded like…

The kid ignores the suddenly VERY still hero and instead turns to his mom. “Momma, do you think we should bring him candy? He doesn’t get to trick or treat like we do, and I can work super hard to get him a bunch!”

The kid’s mom just smiles. “We could, but maybe we should bring him something homemade. I bet he’d like something more filling, teen boys like him have a hollow leg.”

The kid wrinkles his nose. “Like Vernie with the pizza bagels?”

“Like your cousin, yes. We can make some cinnamon rolls and take them to his memorial, maybe bring some of the apples from your grandpa’s garden…”

The hero is pretty much forgotten as the two-part family wanders off, not quite intentionally forgetting the hero is there so much as the hero somewhat accidentally ended the conversation when they just froze and didn’t ask anything further.

Not that the hero didn’t want to. But they’d learn something very serious.

One—there was a small town hero they’d never heard of. Two—that hero was apparently a teen. Third—most pressingly, the teen hero was both beloved enough to have kids dressing up as him and dead enough to have a grave.

This… might require some phone calls.

[iamthepulta]

i did it u_u

[deus-ex-mona]

merry crisis guys!!!!

[gender-euphowrya]

what's the point of the time limit on your battle chocobo like besides making me need to go and buy more greens so i can summon it again what does it add to the game

[desperatepleasures]

every time I give the crabs live mealworms the worms are GONE the next morning no matter how many I put in there...these little guys are PREDATORS...

[ningningkittie]

🦨💭

[demaparbat-hp]

Hiya!! 👋🏼😄 How's it going? Your fashion taste for Zuko in a Modern AU seems to be artsy, or maybe "formal" is the word. That shirt he wore when he gave Sokka romantic song advice looked Versace🧐. Anyway, I was wondering how you came up with it, he always struck me more as the type that didn´t care much about fashion, so I'm curious about other´s opinions and heacanons about it. And do you have any other fashion headcanons for the rest of the GAang? Also, their music tastes. How did you come up with them? Especially Katara's! 😍

Hello! As it happens, I have a lot of Thoughts and Feelings™ about this, so I'm leaving these over here, and the rest of my ramblings down below the cut!

Let us begin with the Gaang, shall we?

SUKI always struck me as that Pretty Girl from the Gym. She is so incredibly fit it isn't even funny. She could kick anyone's ass, and we'd all thank her. She has this casual gym style that somehow always looks glorious on her, as it should! Comfy yet fashionable clothes for a nice workout or a day in town.

Her music tastes are basically any and all power songs from the eighties and nineties. (Eye of the Tiger, anyone?) She also enjoys metal via Toph, and bands like BSB, NSYNC, or Boyz II Men with Katara. My girl has a very eclectic Playlist and we all love her for it.

SOKKA is That Guy™. Loose T-shirts and shorts everywhere he goes, no matter the weather. He's stupidly into fashion but it doesn't show! At all! And everyone teases him about it. His closet is about 90% Cactus Juice merchandise, hence the "it's the quenchiest!" shirt.

His fashion and music tastes are pretty much the same. He loves poetry but isn't really into lyrics. He'll misinterpret just about anything you place in front of him. His Playlist is mostly vibes and tiktok songs he kind of enjoys. He isn't really into music...at least not as much as his sister.

AANG owns exactly one hoodie, one pair of shorts, and one beanie (THE beanie). Oh, and the crocs—don't forget the crocs. Somehow, he's always wearing the exact same outfit. Every. Single. Day. Ancient Gaang lore suggests that the day Aang goes out without his beanie, it's the end of the world.

His Playlist is the poppiest, most bizarre thing ever. Every single song is Happy by Pharrell Williams levels of happy. Yet sometimes, among the bouncy dance-to songs, you'll find the strangest of things... (He does know what Good Day by Twenty One Pilots is about. That's the reason he likes it so much, actually. And it's so weird.)

KATARA is all about sundresses and loose pants. The epitome of comfortable loveliness. Light fabrics in blue shades, careful embroidery, delicate shoes, and little to no accessories—hers is a simple, yet quite adorable, style. She just needs to add more colors to her usual palette...

She is, first and foremost, a Florence + The Machine girl. It's the Dark Goddess of the Sea vibes, to be honest. Florence Welch is her idol and yes, she will fight you about lyrics interpretation, and win. It may not seem like it, but her music tastes are also very varied.

She draws a little from each member of the Gaang, so you'll hear her humming along to Gorillaz (where did you even find out about them, Aang?), The Weeknd (I...don't think this song means what you think it means, Sokka...), and Hozier (Zuko why did you dedicate Talk to me, Zuko WHAT DID YOU MEAN BY THAT).

TOPH...ah, lovely girl. I'll summarise everything about Toph’s fashion sense in two words: comfort and rebellion. Stuffy dresses forced on her by billionaire parents? No thank you! Give her tank tops with loose shirts and short pants. Bandaids shared with Aang, bracelets from Katara, and even piercings she got in tandem with Sokka. Shoes? What even is that?

Something I love about this fandom is our collective agreement that Toph is into the dirtiest, heaviest, most ear-splitting and soul-crushing death metal of all times. Her Playlist is full of the most obscure names to ever exist, and she can and will blast through your walls with the sheer volume of her speaker.

Zuko. ZUKO.

Even in a modern AU my boy must suffer. That being said, I envision Tales from the Couch as—well, exactly what it is: an ATLA modern AU. While there is not a war to fight, and a lot of plot lines are discarded or expanded upon, much about the core story remains the same.

This is my way of saying that Zuko still goes trough his redemption arc, and it reflects on his fashion choices.

The way you described it works perfectly because of one single reason: in this AU, Zuko is an artist. He had to suppress his love for writing and drawing because of his background and the expectations Ozai had for him (taking over the family company), and a very large part of his redemption arc directly affects his relationship with art.

In the Couch equivalent of S1, Zuko has fallen out of Ozai's graces, and is desperate to protect his place in the company and the Kasai household. He's pretending to be someone he isn't and trying to live up to his Father's image of a perfect heir while still being somewhat cut-off financially, and it shows.

He's all about imposing long coats and a semi-formal style, imitating what he knows Azula and Father would respect. He's striking and sharp and dark. But no matter how he dresses or carries himself (that air of cold superiority and arrogance)—it won't help him when he needs it the most.

In S2, Zuko has hit his lowest point. He's officially disinherited and tossed away by his father, and would be out in the streets if it wasn't for Uncle Iroh. He goes from sharp, high-tailored outfits to old second-hand clothes that hang loosely on his frame. He starts smoking and cuts his hair off, forgoing the undercut for the first time in years.

But then...Father accepts him back. When Zuko returns home, it's with respect to his name and a very high position in his father's company. He's finally the perfect Kasai heir, dressed in overly expensive suits and finery, even at home... But Father forbids him from wearing Lu Ten's earring, and Zuko can no longer recognize himself without the familiar glint of gold dancing on his peripheral vision.

When Zuko leaves the Kasai name behind him and goes back to living with Uncle Iroh...he's finally at peace with who he is, and what he wants in this life. The sharp edges aren't gone (they'll always be a part of him, after all), but now they're dulled by looser clothes and softer hairstyles.

He's an artist, and for once in his life, he is determined to pursue his own ambitions. Zuko's outfits may not be designer-made anymore, but he takes what he has and makes himself look like he wants to look, like the person he wants to be.

He doesn't read fashion magazines or keeps up to the latest trends like Azula does. He's just...Zuko. And his newfound confidence makes everything he wears look like it belongs on him.

As for music...well, Ursa raised a literature boy.

He loves lyric-heavy music and natural voices, be they soothing or powerful. Dissecting song meanings and possible interpretations with Katara is one of his favorite parts of the day. They're both very passionate and strong-minded individuals, so it stands to reason that their debates can get quite...heated.

Zuko's Playlist is both incredibly eclectic and somehow very...him. There's a common thread that binds together every song and artist he likes, and he's hilariously unaware of this. To take a look into his Playlist is a higher honor reserved only for those closest to him.

In the wide spectrum of things, it is no wonder that Zuko is, first and foremost, a Hozier man. But though Andrew is his God in all aspects of this life, there's someone else that has had a huge impact on him...

Two someones, actually.

Zuko refuses to tell anyone how he got into Twenty One Pilots, but it's kind of a moot point when the beginning of his obsession is nothing compared to everything that came after. They have just about the right amount of everything that makes Zuko...well, Zuko. The poetic lyrics, the soothing or raging music, the heavy, intensely resonant themes...

Up there, in the second artwork, I placed an album cover behind each period of Zuko's life. The election of these records is intentional, as I feel like their general themes work incredibly well with Zuko's arc and growth.

Blurryface in S1. For the demons within us. For giving a name to our fears and shame.

Trench in S2. For escaping the confined walls of a depression city, and fighting to understand the depths of the map of your mind.

Scaled and Icy in the first half of S3. For returning to places you had left behind. For convincing yourself and everyone around you that you're fine, that you're perfect, even though everything is crumbling inside...

Clancy in S3. For recognizing that you can backslide, that you can have fears and shame and pain—but you're shaping yourself with each step you take. For knowing that seeking help from others is okay. Nobody learns to walk on their own.

(And, in the end, you'll always be better than the person you were yesterday. If only because you're still here. You're still alive. You're still yourself.)

.

Overall, I rambled a bit too much, don't you think?

If you made it all the way down here—thank you so much for reaching out and being interested in this crazy AU! I hope you enjoy these ideas and tell me some of your own ❤️

[scariusaquarius]

coachable.

RE6! Leon Kennedy x Assistant! Fem! Reader

Summary: Leon Kennedy has been given an assistant that he didn't ask for at the DSO when he begins to fall behind on paperwork and reports. This assistant, however, doesn't seem too keen to be helping him with his mountains of paperwork. Leon reaches the final straw when she mouths off to him for the last time.

-

A/n: Nothing major, just some classic Leon Kennedy smut hehe. also, i kind of just let the words flow. I really like the agent x assistant dynamic, and I know the trope is overdone, but i will NEVER tire of 'tired old boss fucking bratty assistant'. ANYWAY here is a treat <3

-

Genre: Romance, Erotica Rated: Explicit Warning: Erotica, Porn w/Plot 18+, Angry/Hate Sex, Dirty Talk, Unprotected Sex, Slight Choking, Degradation, Oral Sex (male/female receiving), Use of Whore, Mean! Leon, Spit Play (leon spits in your mouth like once), CUM EATING, Power Play

-

Author: ScariusAquarius

-

Being a federal agent fighting against bioterrorism was a hard job; especially when it was a job he didn't even want in the first place.

When Leon escaped Raccoon City with Claire and Sherry, he envisioned his life becoming quiet. He'd move out of the city and into the country, away from people, and he could heal and focus on forgetting the horrors of that fateful night back in the 90s.

However, life and people had other plans, and Leon had never truly recovered nor healed properly from the traumas he had faced. When the incident at the White House, Tall Oaks, and Shang-Hai happened and he discovered that Sherry had also been forced to become an agent of the Department of Security Operations, Leon was fed up.

Was he going to continue to keep doing his job in hopes that this fight wasn't for nothing? Absolutely, but that didn't mean he was going to enjoy it. So, in tandem with his growing resentment, Leon's performance outside of missions began to dwindle.

Leon began to drink more heavily; his reports sitting unfinished on his desk as supervisors and higher-ups seethed, reprimanded, and threatened, because of the unfinished works. Leon had begun shutting his phone off after he left the DSO at the end of the day.

Even Hunnigan was starting to get onto him about his work and his performance, giving him small lectures that had him rolling his eyes and sighing and agreeing half-heartedly before he would walk off and toss the files on his desk to be forgotten for another day.

Finally, the DSO had enough of his slack and had hired an assistant for him to help him with his paperwork, and Leon was not having any of it. Like a personal vendetta, Leon made sure that he let the DSO know that he didn't appreciate being treated like a child who couldn't do his homework by making the assistant's lives a living hell.

Because of his actions, most of the assistants didn't last long. The longest assistant he had at one time was for about two months before they finally broke and left the job.

And then came you.

Leon just couldn't wrap his head around you; couldn't figure out what it was that made you tick and what made you stay for as long as you had. You were a no-nonsense woman like Hunnigan but with a much larger stick up your ass. You were efficient and aggressive, making sure that Leon knew that you weren't going to take his bullshit and get his reports done.

For the most part, Leon had adamantly refused; allowing the papers to stack for a while before you'd take some, complete them, and then come banging on his office door as more files were given to him.

You weren't so hard on him when he would be put onto missions; understanding that the job itself was more important than the papers, but you weren't about to get in trouble nor allow him any lenience since your job was heavily dependent on him.

Leon sat back in his office chair, his blue eyes staring you down from outside of his office as a pen was shaken back and forth between his fingers.

The paperwork in front of him had been long-forgotten; the words beginning to blur together and give him a headache (though it could have also been the whiskey he'd been sipping from that familiar black flask he'd gotten from the Eastern Slav Republic).

Instead, to pass the time, Leon had taken to watching you. He watched the way you stayed hyperfocus, barely giving any attention to anybody who passed by and tried to talk to you.

You were a hard worker; a meticulous being who took pride in her work, and though your bossiness could get under Leon's skin, Leon respected that you took your job seriously unlike a lot of the other office workers and agents within the DSO.

He just couldn't get past your disrespectful mouth.

"Mr. Kennedy, I'm not going to ask you again. Get the reports done, or I'm going to write a complaint to the director. Again."

You were suddenly standing in front of him, the man jolting slightly when you slapped a folder down in front of him. His blue eyes squinted at you slightly as you placed a hand on your hip, giving him a stern glare.

"Aw, you're gonna tell on me? That hurts my feelings, sweetheart."

His tone was sassy, and mocking, and it made the fire in your eyes blaze. Your nostrils flared, and Leon couldn't help but be amused by the effect his words had on you.

"Listen, I was nice enough to do most of it for you. All you have to do is fill in the blank like the child you are, and then the director won't be on either of our asses anymore. I'm not fucking around, agent."

Before he could retort, you spun around on your heel and marched out, swinging his door shut with a loud slam and causing the blinds to fly and crash against the door. A blade from the blinds broke, and Leon's eyebrow twitched.

Yes, you took your job seriously to the point it annoyed Leon, and he had half a mind to give you a piece of it; his muscles taut and trembling with anger. Who the hell did you think you were talking to him like that?

Gritting his teeth, Leon made sure you were watching him before he grabbed the file and promptly swung it into the trash before kicking his feet up on his desk to take a sip of his whiskey.

He took much pleasure in the way your body shot up from your desk and promptly walked to the break room, hips swinging the whole time.

Once the weekend had passed and Leon had come in, he could feel his body immediately dreading the workday when he noticed you were already at his desk and waiting for him.

Leon threw his bag down onto a chair opposite the desk, collapsing into his chair and sipping the coffee you had placed on his desk with a note that said 'fuck you:)' on it discreetly.

"Nice note, but you're not my type. What the hell do you want at 5am in the morning?"

You rolled your eyes at him before crossing your arms, stating.

"I just spent almost all of last night emailing our higher-ups and explaining to them that the reason their reports are late is because you're not being compliant and doing them, and you know who got yelled at?"

Leon stayed quiet, ignoring your presence as he logged onto his laptop, and he had to swing his hands back when you slammed his laptop shut, your eyes wide and lips curled back into a snarl.

"Leon, I'm not fucking around anymore!"

"Who the hell do you think you are, huh?"

Leon shot up from his chair, getting into your face as anger slipped into his hungover veins, his head beginning to hurt from the skyrocket of blood pressure.

"I'm your goddamn assistant! Your assistant, Leon, not the person doing your whole job for you!"

Leon didn't know what had happened. One minute, he was opening his mouth to yell at you, and the next second, he had your face in between his hands and was kissing you like his whole life depended on it.

You seemed to be shocked, unsure of what to do, and Leon couldn't help but growl when your tongue swiveled against his as he dominated your mouth, gripping your neck tightly within his grasp.

"You talk too goddamn much."

He hissed into your mouth before kissing you again, and your hands were yanking on his hair; the pain sending rivers of tingles down his spine as his cock jumped to life within his slacks.

He was just pent-up, his mind told him, this was just about relief and getting you off of his case. This was purely a dance of power and raw lust fueled by the need to be better, to be in control, to be right.

And however could he resist when you were wearing his cologne?

His nose was buried in your neck, smelling your sweet scent and biting down hard upon your skin, his hands all over your body and ripping and tearing at buttons and seams that were already fragile and frayed. Your nails were digging into his scalp, pulling and tearing and cutting until blood stained the tips of your fingers.

Leon pulled you desperately over his desk and into his lap, your skirt ripping at the sides as your legs wrapped around his waist, and his hands yanked your shirt out from beneath the waistband, his rough hands trailing up the soft skin of your spine.

"Why can't you just leave me the fuck alone, you brat."

"Shut the fuck up, Kennedy."

Your lips were on his, and Leon's hand swung down onto your ass as hard as he could, your body jolting and a shocked cry being swallowed down his throat before he gripped your ass hard through the ruined skirt.

"You don't tell me what to do."

His voice was rough, hoarse, and there was a distant thought of needing a drink to make his voice clear. However, that thought was dissipated when your clothed core rubbed against the bulge desperately pulsing within his pants; his body and mind becoming hooked on you.

He hated you. Leon hated you so much, he couldn't stand it. He couldn't stand being here with you like this, but his legs and arms and hands and mouth; gods, they wouldn't stop moving all over you. Leon couldn't stop devouring your skin and cries and biting and teething and gods, he was turning into a monster himself.

Leon picked you up to smack you down onto his desk, your legs spread, and his coffee went flying, spilling all over his desk and running down the sides into the carpet below.

"Jesus, Kennedy, can't even keep your space clean as usual."

You hissed out, and Leon snarled at you, the grip of his hands bruising and unforgiving as teeth and tongues clashed.

"Since you like to use that mouth so much, why don't you use it for something actually useful?"

There was a part of Leon that felt bad through the haze of his anger and lust as he forced you off the desk and onto your knees, but it quickly disappeared when he got a good look at you.

You were pretty, too pretty, while on your knees.

Eyelashes slightly wet from the tears that had gathered in your eyes from the harsh bite he had imprinted into your shoulder, breaths heavy from how much he was kissing you, and your lips were starting to become swollen.

"Open your fucking mouth."

Your lips formed a thin line as you kept them closed, and Leon sighed before grabbing your face and pressing down on your cheeks, hitting pressure points within the jaw to force your mouth open, and Leon hummed.

"You're so much more sufferable when you're on your knees."

Your eyes were dilated; watching his every move with a sneer though you never tried to pull back. In fact, this whole time, you never once pulled away from him.

Did you want him like that? Have you thought about him enough to the point that you, too, craved him? Did you want to put him in his place like he was doing to you? Leon smirked, his mouth filling with drool and saliva, and Leon leaned down and spat right into your mouth.

"Dirty whore. Anybody could walk in and see you, you know. Someone could walk right through that door and see you on your knees. Just what would they say?"

Your throat was undulating as you swallowed his saliva, and you mumbled back; the words jumbled and almost unintelligible with the way he was still holding your mouth open.

"Fuck you."

"You know what, I just might. Get my cock out."

You made a face at him, and he tugged unceremoniously on your face, making you wince slightly when he pressed his bulge against your face.

"You want this or not?"

You pushed away from him, Leon slacking a bit, and you were glaring at him the whole time you unbuckled his belt, unbuttoned his slacks, and pushed his briefs down to reveal his throbbing and engorged cock.

Precum was pearling at the tip already, a few veins that wrapped around the shaft pulsing slightly, and the head was a deep red from how hard Leon was. His balls were heavy and full, ready to be emptied into any of your holes, and you had to admit: even his cock was pretty.

Slipping your tongue out, you teasingly swiped at the tip, the salt taste of his precum making your nostrils flare, and Leon's eyes shut just the slightest. Then, you were slipping him into your mouth, and Leon's head fell back; eyes rolling.

How long had it been since he'd been intimate with someone? God, he was rusty. If just your mouth was enough to make his whole body freeze up, how was your pussy going to make him act? Leon needed to get a grip.

But you were sucking him so well, swallowing him down as much as you could as if you were trying to prove something, and Leon's hips stuttered. Your tongue was pressing against his shaft; wiggling and rolling, and Leon couldn't help but to moan languidly.

"Jesus Christ, princess. You must get around, huh?"

You looked offended, sliding off of his cock to berate and scold him, but Leon fucked his cock into your mouth, your eyes widening.

"Nu-uh. I don't want a hear a fucking word come out of your noisy mouth."

He was using you as a fleshlight, fucking his cock into your throat and grunting each time his balls slapped against your chin, and he was certain that his computer chair was going to break from how squeaky it was becoming.

He can just make you order a new one later...or have you use it so you could remember the way he shoved his cock down your throat. The thought made Leon's cock jump, and he was gonna cum if he wasn't careful. Slipping out of your mouth, you coughed slightly, inhaling and gulping deep breaths of air, and Leon pulled you up by your hair and bent you over the desk.

Ripping the remnants of your skirt a part, your panties and pantyhose were on display, a cute little thong with a pink bow in the back greeting him.

"Aw, you like bows, huh? Who would have thought? And look, you're so soaked for me. You like being put in your place, don't ya, sweetheart?"

"For a dog, all you do is bark."

Leon's eyes dilated, a chuckle coming from deep within him as he ripped your pantyhose open and slid your thong to the side.

"Then I'll show you just how hard this dog can bite."

Hanging heavy between his legs, his cock pulsed, ready to spear you open, and Leon guided himself between your wet lips, biting his lip. You were staring at him from over your shoulder, waiting to see what he would do, and Leon leaned forward and grabbed the back of your neck, hissing into your ear.

"Look at me. I want to see your face as I split your pussy open."

Leon hissed slightly through his teeth when he slipped his cock inside of you, and holy fuck, you were heavenly. Your eyes widened, mouth falling agape, and your fingers were clutching onto the edge of his desk as hard as they could.

You were so warm and tight, Leon wasn't sure if it was just because it'd been a while or if you were just made for him, but he was addicted. You were so goddamn wet, he could feel your slick against his pelvis, and Leon couldn't help but to start pounding.

You were biting your lip, trying to keep the moans from spilling out, and Leon couldn't help but to moan and rest his forehead against your shoulder. Quickly, that mean demeanor began to leave him with every thrust into your pussy; desperation for release clinging to him.

He needed this. He needed this relief; to vent out his frustrations in a way that left Leon feeling satisfied. Did he mean to do it this way? Probably not, and definitely not with you, but he had made his bed and he would lie in it.

Leon's hips were pounding into you as hard as they could, your whimpers and whines like music to his ears, and Leon was holding onto you tightly, wrapping his arms around you tightly and grunting.

"Fuck, fuck, you're so goddamn hot....feel so goddamn good."

You were whispering his name, afraid to be heard or seen, and Leon hissed into your ear.

"Say it louder. I want them to hear. I want everyone in the DSO to know that you're my cock-hungry little assistant who just can't help herself."

You squeezed your eyes shut, reaching back to grip at his hip, and you whined out.

"Leon! You're too deep. It...it hurts!"

Leon almost didn't listen to you, the smug feeling in his head clouding his judgement for a moment until he relented. Leon adjusted his position, asking you in a moment of sweetness that had your mind rolling.

"Fuck...fuck...are you alright?"

The kindness and worry that was in his voice made you confused for a moment; almost wondering if it was still Leon that was inside of you, and you nodded, panting as you took a breather.

"Yeah...shit...you're just...too damn big. No wonder you're such a dick."

Leon snorted, kissing your cheek and whispering into your ear.

"Don't worry, you'll get used to it."

Leon pulled back, hands on your hips, and he began to pound into you again. You gasped from the sensation, forehead on the wood of his desk, and Leon groaned.

"Goddamn, princess, you feel so damn good wrapped around me. Gonna fill you up...or maybe I'll cum on your tits...maybe your ass?"

Leon couldn't make up his mind. You couldn't respond, too enthralled by the feeling of his cock stretching you, and Leon moaned, his brows furrowing up. His cock was throbbing; a knot within his stomach forming, and he was aware that he was going to cum soon.

"Tell me where you want it, sweetheart."

You whined slightly before whispering to him.

"I don't fucking care."

He spanked your ass, making you yelp.

"I asked you a question. Answer me properly."

You bit your lip, and he slapped your other ass cheek, making you hiss and exclaim.

"Fuck, in me!"

"Where, baby girl, be specific."

You whined in frustration, exclaiming loudly.

"Cum in my pussy, goddammit!"

Leon moaned loudly, fucking into you faster and rougher until his thrusts became irregular, and he came deep inside of you, filling you up with his cum. Leon was panting, sweat rolling down his temple and neck, and you were in worse shape than he was.

Poor you, your whole outfit was completely ruined. Your makeup, your demeanor, you were completely wrecked and it was all because of him.

Leon pulled out, and he manhandled you to your back, making your eyes widen.

"What are you doing?"

"Shush."

Leon sat down on his chair, and he leaned down to comfortable start eating you out. Your eyes widened, and Leon moaned at the taste of your fucked-out pussy; his cum mixing with your taste and making his cock jump a bit in his hand.

Your hand was twisting within his hair, pulling, and Leon's tongue flattened against your clit. He suckled on you, suckling his cum out a bit, and you squirmed a bit beneath him.

"Leon..."

Leon opened his eyes to look up at you, and you were watching him with a soft yet embarrassed look on your face. Your bottom lip was bitten between your teeth, your chest heaving with every breath, and Leon moaned softly as he began to jerk his half-hard cock.

You were so goddamn sexy.

Leon closed his eyes again, shoving his tongue as deep into you as he could, moving his freehand up to thumb at your clit. You were moaning softly, head falling back, and Leon suckled on you again, suckling your clit into his mouth and flicking his tongue.

"God, you're so good with your mouth. You must get around, huh?"

Sassy jackass, Leon had to think. Leon groaned again, that familiar knot growing, and he could tell that you were getting close as well by the way your legs shook and tightened around his head. You laid back all the way onto his desk, shoving his face deeper and closer to your cunt, and Leon moaned gently.

He gulped noisily, swallowing his saliva and cum and your juices, and Leon looked at you as you moaned loudly, back arching slightly, and his eyes widened slightly when your legs closed around his head tightly, your hips jerking and bucking into his face as you bit your hand to keep your noises from getting too loud.

Leon drank your juices greedily, moaning as he came into his hand, catching as much of his cum as he could, and the two of you panted again. Leon leaned back, teasingly wiping his cum all over your pussy before he looked up at you as you spoke.

"So, you gonna do those reports now?"

Leon didn't know why, but for some reason, he couldn't help but to laugh at your words. Was it the absurdity? The randomness of your question? God only knew. Leon was only aware that you were giggling too, sitting up with a mischievous grin. Leon shrugged, a smirk on his wet lips.

"You got yourself a deal."

"What do you mean?"

Leon licked his fingers, your eyes watching with awe as he smirked at you.

"Every report you want me to do, I get to fuck that pretty pussy of yours."

You swallowed slightly, humming as you watched him lick his own cum off of his fingers.

"Every ten reports."

"Five."

You sighed and relented.

"Fine."

Leon smirked before he pulled his briefs and slacks up, buckling his belt and taking in your ripped clothing.

"I think I got a change of clothes in the locker-room at the training facility. Why don't you just sit all pretty for me and wait for me to get back? I'll make sure to lock the door."

You just made a face at him, and Leon gave you a look.

"You want the clothes or not?"

"Yeah, yeah, just...whatever."

You were shy, almost ashamed, but Leon didn't comment on it. The two of you could talk about it more when he got back and sat down and worked on the reports with you. With a new spring to his step, Leon locked the door to his office and watched as DSO agents and office workers alike began to file in. It was gonna be so fun to watch you try to explain why you were wearing his clothes if someone asked.

He'd make sure to tell Hunnigan to ask just so he could watch your face.

God, he loved his job.

END

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[adventures-in-mangaland]

Dead Boy Detectives Fic Recs Part 7

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6

So I hear there's been some fandom drama? Guess it's time for another fic rec list! This fandom is so lovely, so let's focus on the positive and give all the love to our writers and artists. You guys are so talented. ♥️

Work It Harder, Make it Better by dear_monday, two_ravens

Olympics AU! And kind of Sk8er Boi? Charles is an Olympic skateboarder at the end of his competitive career and Edwin is a rising star in the world of dressage. They fall in love at Paris 2024. Amazing writing, as always, and I also enjoyed Niko and Crystal as members of the skateboarding and equestrian teams having their own Olympics Romance and Jenny as Charles' world-weary coach.

Twin Flame by Leandra

Another "He was a punk, he did ballet" romance! This time, everyone is alive and the boys meet when Charles watches Edwin perform at his little sister's ballet recital. The romance and Charles as a big brother are very sweet, which is great as this fic also covers some heavy themes. It's set in the 90s so there's discussion of homophobia, the AIDs crisis and Charles' canon child abuse. Suffice to say, his bisexual awakening is quite fraught. Recommended!

Love for Hire by lucrow

Edwin hires Charles to freak out his parents with his obnoxious fake boyfriend. What could possible haaappeeen? And yes, it's a ballet/punk romance too. 😅 Anyway, it's giving fantastic banter, lots of emotions and great use of trope! I also enjoyed Edwin's relationship with his mum in this fic, excellent parental feels.

so I try to talk refined by shadowquill17

Charles finds out about the Cat King taking on his appearance and (somehow) arrives at the conclusion that Edwin isn't attracted to him. Charles having body image as well as chronic self-esteem issues was interesting but kind of heartbreaking. Read it for Edwin's agonised attempts to verbalise his sexual attraction to Charles without exploding. That's love right there.

A Royal Pain(e) (series) by handwrittenhello

Royalty AU! I love a bodyguard romance from time to time and this one is lovely. Lots of yearning.

Turnabout's Fair Play by LikeMmmCookies

Edwin enlists Niko and Crystal to teach him how to flirt with Charles. It starts off cute and awkward and ends up Master Of All He Surveys, which is very Edwin.

I will love you (I really love you) by ghostinthelibrary

Charles has a feelings realization and tries to confess to Edwin. Repeatedly. From a cock-blocking enchanted statue to a Hellhound, it's farcical and fun. This fic has been living in my head rent free for months.

seasons of mists by laiqualaurelote

Edwin hires Charles to be the barista in his book shop's cafe. Two cosy AUs in one! And it even comes (appropriately) with its own reading list and fanart! Very cute, excellent autumnal vibes and a superb imaginary book shop. I'm genuinely so devastated it's not a real place. 😭

Ariadne's Thread by hobbitsdoitbetter

In which Edwin is demisexual and trying to make it work with Charles. Love to see some ace spectrum representation!

you know the problem with history (it keeps coming back like weeds) by aletterinthenameofsanity

Amnesia AU! And kind of Secret Relationship? Edwin has Not So Temporary Amnesia that made him forget a whole romantic relationship with Charles early in their partnership. And Charles never told him... Surely this will have no impact on the events of canon?? 😬 I loved this twist on the trope!

scraped to the marrow by Anonymous

Edwin learned black magic in Hell and kind of went to the Dark Side. I love the trope of "Everyone thinks Character avoids violence because they're scared/weak/nice/bad at it, but actually they're a bit too good at it" and this fic does it well. I love regular Edwin, but Lord Bone was also pretty cool.

To Walk Back Into Hell by Asidian

Charles goes to Hell in Edwin's place, so naturally Edwin needs to find a way to rescue him! Interesting Hell lore and I loved all the Charles love in this.

It does not stop by williamvapespeare

Now he's safe from Hell, Edwin finally works through his PTSD. Emotional, but peak Emotional Support Charles for the win!

signed, sealed, delivered by sulfuric

Outsider PoV of the boys and the agency through the years from the perspective of the Ghost Postman. He's kind of underrated as a side character, but there are so many Implications about the Dead Letter Office, so I enjoyed the worldbuilding. And the supernatural community of London gossiping about/shipping the boys (they're just like us, for real). Love that trope.

not so secret by lola_prongs

Social Media/Celebrity AU! In which they're both actors and Charles relentlessly thirsts after Edwin on Twitter. Great use of social media/epistolary storytelling.

Like a record, baby by singtome

Another celebrity/social media AU, but this time Charles and Crystal are budding rock stars and Edwin is their manager. Also Edwin goes viral as the mysterious #HotGuyatUnity after his picture's taken at an event and Charles *tries* to set the record straight. This one's funny, generous with the yearning and UST and is part of a series that also touches on the darker side of the music industry/celebrity, which I appreciated. And it also has this excellent visual representation of the online drama.

@ghostinthelibrarywrites @tumblerislovetumblerislife @shadowquill17 @neurodivergent-fangirling @whatthehorsedoicallthisblog @shazziez @many-gay-magpies @extremely-eager-reader @atariakana @guardianspirits13 @colourmornings @herebehunters @avoiceofnerat @littlepocketuniverse @overlord-of-chaos @fairandfatalasfair @handwrittenhello @every-moment-a-different-sound @williamvapespeare @laiqualaurelote @dear-monday @dear-lucrow @aletterinthenameofsanity @likemmmcookies @bibliomancer7 @c-rowland @nobledragonflying @hobbitsdoitbetter

I've tagged some people again. Let me know if you'd like to be added to the tag list!

[chxrrysangel]

Thinking really hard about Mr. Logan Howlett this week. Haven’t even watched Deadpool & Wolverine yet but the Hugh Jackman renaissance is making me FERAL.

ANYWAYS

Logan has always been a hands on kind of guy. Always the “better to do it yourself than trust someone else” you know? So when your dear next neighbor has some car issues, he refuses to call up the local mechanic.

It’s summer, 90+ degrees outside and humid like a motherfucker. On what’s typically a quiet morning during days like this, too hot for even the local kids to venture outside, you hear some clinking and what sounds oddly enough like a drill. Peeking through the curtains, your eyes scan the mostly empty street to see Logan bent over the hood of his car.

And he’s shirtless.

Even from this distance, you can see his flushed skin glisten with sweat as he works. You fall into a daze, how could you not? It would take being blind to not notice how hot your neighbor was, and your brain never failed to forget it. His jeans hung somewhat low on his hips, hugging his strong thighs in a way that made anyone salivate with need. His back muscles were a sight to behold, straining and shifting as he worked.

He wiped the sweat off his brow, turning around to lean against the bumper. You panicked, ducking your head out of his sight. You angled yourself in a way that would hopefully obscure your compromising position, decreasing your chances of a potential complaint. From this new position, you found it even harder to move away from the window. He was perfect chiseled and toned, almost as if he was crafted by the gods themselves.

“Fucking hell,” you whispered.

The longer you stared was the more flushed you felt, unable to pull away as he moved to work under the car. The two of you hadn’t spoken more than a minute at a time, but his charming demeanor quickly enticed you. Just then, you got an idea.

Scrambling to the kitchen and almost slipping on the hardwood, you gathered your ingredients. By the looks of it, he’d be outside for quite a while. What kind of neighbor would you be if you didn’t offer him a drink?

A little bit later, you stood in front of the mirror trying to work up some courage. Giving yourself a little pep talk and a little minute shot of liquid courage, you ventured outside with a tray and the brightest smile you could muster. Upon hearing your footsteps and the soft clinks of ice, he turned around before you had the chance to call out.

And he smiled, canines on full display and cheekbones puffy with glee.

“Well aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?” Your cheeks heat up at his compliment, feeling bashful.

“Stop, you’re too kind.”

“Never that,” he retorted with a wink. He points to the strawberry printed tray in your arms.

“Some of that for me?”

“As a matter of fact, it is. Thought you could use a drink.” He gushed, taking the tall glass cup gratefully. You set down the pitcher and tray on his tool kit, planning to come back for it later.

“Well uh…call me if you need anything else yeah?”

He didn’t respond at first, choosing that moment to make your escape before you ran your mouth.

“Wait.” You paused mid-step, turning back to face him.

“I could use some company…if you don’t mind that is.”

“No, no. I’d like that,” you responded, stumbling over your words.

“Yeah?,” he said with a boyish surprise in his tone. You assured him with a nod and smile.

“Lemme get you a seat then. Be right back.” You watched as he wiped the grease off his hands, jogging past you to get a chair from inside. Even covered in sweat and grime, he was hottest man you’ve ever seen.

[lamiadrowned]

hi queen! i love ur page and i have a request! could you do headcannons for vi with an extremely honest yet clueless reader, i feel like that’d be so funny like “jinx is no longer my sister” “uhhh yes she is??” anyway that’s it, thank you !! <33

*:･ﾟ✧ vi with a (slightly) airheaded girlfriend

violet x fem!reader | sfw

this is a hilarious request ugh thank you anon

first of all, she finds you so funny. especially when you aren’t trying to be.

it always leaves you stumped when you’re trying to actually correct her on something, and she just bursts out laughing like you told the funniest joke she’d ever heard.

the biggest arguments you’ve gotten into with her happen when you incorrectly correct her grammar or use of a phrase, but neither of you really have a good enough education to tell who’s right and who’s wrong, so most of your spats remain unresolved.

after all, two people who need to be right all the time are bound to bicker.

a lot of your ‘arguments’ don’t contain much bickering, though.

they’re mostly just a back-and-forth dialogue that devolves into mutual confusion and total disarray. as hardheaded as she can be, she’s also the first to admit that she doesn’t know as much as she might have thought.

you’re like her own personal fact checker! (but the facts have no backing and she just has to kind of choose whether or not to believe you).

“any updates on your sister?” you’d ask her after another long day of your respective work pertaining to jinx.

she’d spent most of the day scouring the streets of zaun for any sign of her, while you stayed in your apartment trying to piece together documents and records to track her down.

vi takes off her jacket and hangs it on the back of a chair at the dining table, which is covered in papers and blurry pictures. “as far as i’m concerned, she sure as hell isn’t my sister.”

“what?” your eyebrows furrow in confusion. “i mean, you have the same parents. how could she not be your sister?”

she immediately recognizes your tone, knowing she’d accidentally dug herself into a hole with one sentence. “i… i meant it more as a metaphor, i guess. that’s the word, right?”

you stare at her in complete silence, recalling her words and wondering if the metaphor had completely flown over your head. eventually, you shake your head and try to ignore the knowing smile on her face. “i don’t think you know what a metaphor is, hun.”

“hold on, what even is a metaphor, then?” she asks, now seeming to be just as confused as you, that smug grin now replaced with a look of total dubiety.

you lean against the dining table. “a metaphor would be comparing two things that aren’t related.”

“oh. well, there you go. me and jinx aren’t related. it is a metaphor.” she shrugs.

“you are related, though. same parents, remember?” you tilt your head. “something about biology and all that dna shit.”

she positions herself in front of you and cups your jawline with her calloused hands, tilting your head to look up at her. “it’s adorable and aggravating that you take everything so literally, you know that?”

for a moment, you totally forget what the conversation was about, given the fact that just looking into her eyes is enough to turn your brain to mush.

that is, until it finally clicks.

“oh! you’re using a figure of speech,” you wrap your arms around her shoulders, “which is not the same as a metaphor.”

then, she snaps her fingers and points at you with, smile beaming with success. “yeah! yeah, that’s it. a figure of speech. thanks, babe.”

she’s also quick to realize that you do the same to pretty much everyone else, so at the very least, she knows it isn’t targeted.

if anything, it’s free entertainment.

watching proudly as you squabble with a bartender about how a non-alcoholic drink should be called just that, rather than a teetotaler’s drink, because “90% of zaun’s population probably couldn’t pronounce that word, nonetheless know what it means,” simply because you happened to be one of the 90% who could not pronounce it nor define it.

also, she backs you up like her life depends on it, even if she didn’t hear half of the conversation, or generally have no idea what the conversation was about.

after any of your feuds with someone other than her, she’ll make a point to go up to them and respectfully throw down some corny defenses like “the misses is always right, capiche?” or “can’t really argue with that, huh?”

[thestarfishface]

In fun life news I have recently learned that I am involved in a war. A war that has lasted for at least a few months, that I only just learned about in the last few weeks.

So between my Patreon mail club and my online store, I mail a lot of stuff (stickers, postcards) thru letter mail. Because of this I go through roughly 200+ stamps a month on average. And since a lot of my customers and mail club members live outside the US, I also go through a lot of international stamps.

(International stamps are like forever stamps, but for international postage. You CAN technically use 3 domestic stamps to accomplish basically the same thing, but because of the pricing you end up wasting like 90% of the value of the 3rd stamp, and international stamps cost the exact amount, so the latter is the better option)

The problem is, because the general populace doesn't use international stamps very much, my small town post office doesn't keep that many in stock. They usually only have about 30 in stock at any given time, and I use about 50 per month on average.

("Star, you can buy stamps online" I know this. I keep forgetting and buying them in person is easier since I'm in there all the time dropping stuff off.)

Anyway, since I use so many international stamps, I have to go into my post office roughly 1-2 times per month, look the cashiers square in the face, and say "give me all the international stamps you have", usually followed by the 3 clerks rustling through their desks to cobble together their entire stock of stamps for me.

This had been a routine for a while. I live in a small town, the post office workers all know me. They ask about the business sometimes. I gave one of them a copy of my book bc he said his daughter likes making comics. We have a rapport. But recently, the tides shifted. Something changed.

A few weeks ago I went in for the usual, pulled out the "sell me all the international stamps you have because I will use them up in a week's time" routine, and the clerk replied "Well, I'll give you a lot, but I can't give you all of them".

Shock. Confusion. I was being denied my beloved stamps. I asked why. His exact words:

"Well, we've got a gaggle of German grannies who come in here all the time, and they get mad when we're sold out of the international stamps. And they're pretty vicious."

So, apparently, at this small town Texas post office, I am now in a war with a gaggle of German grandmothers. Over stamps.

The last few times I've gone in they've held back a few of my precious international stamps so they don't get berated by the German Grandmother's Association, and then I have to go in the following week to buy more because I didn't have enough. Or, the worse alternative, I go in and they're completely out of stock, because the German grandmas beat me to their supply. Today I got lucky and my usual clerk wasn't there, and the guy I talked to instead agreed to sell me All The International Stamps They Had, which should hopefully last me a few weeks. But then I'll have to go back and do it again.

The war rages on. Small Town Texas Stamp War, yeehaw.

[sugar-grigri]

Fujimoto has never talked so much about love as in this chapter 

This chapter is incredible, not only for the multitude of answers it offers but also for the beauty of its writing on first reading alone. 

It opens with a man who appeared in chapter 101 of CSM, as passers-by passively walked past him, this stranger was actually right: humans, one of whose major causes of death are demons, are leading to a cold war (ironic to talk about a Cold War for a manga set in the 90s)

But it's as if the whole of society refuses to notice, that everyone hides behind Chainsaw Man and consumes all these derivative products like lucky charms. Chainsaw Man embodies a demonic anomaly, a demon at the service of the people who make them forget this war. 

And that's exactly why Yoru has a grudge against him. Chainsaw Man is an instrument of peace, wielded in times of peace and sacrificed in times of war. Chainsaw Man is there to make us forget the conflicts or become the scapegoat, in either case, he is there to make us forget the war in which humanity is trapped.

A machine into which all hopes are projected, cries of suffering directed, whose childlike quality is seen only by the predators who exploit him constantly. 

What we need to see in this dialogue between Nayuta and Fumiko is a struggle for domination. As we have seen, Fumiko is someone who, despite her aggressions, drowns them in a constantly contradictory protection: she wants to protect a child, but moleste Denji, plays a game in which she places him as older in order to hide her predation, and has saviour syndrome.

Fumiko thinks she's easily understood the nature of weapons, she's sensitive to Quanxi's bodily sacrifices and only repeats to the one she's abusing like an unrestrained fan of a child. Fumiko is the symbol that even when she belongs to the same camp as those she intends to protect, she still can't understand them.

She thinks it's either Nayuta who finds humans weak, or the fact that Barem supports Denji's demonic quality, that they are threats to his well-being when they are the ones who know him best. This is normal, because the strategy of public hunters is to bank on Denji's human side, but this strategy is not enough.

In chapters 136 and 137, Denji is mistreated when he's playing as a human being, getting into fights at school, being treated badly by his teachers, molested when he was thinking about a date at the cinema, and the closer he gets to normality, the more he suffers.

She symbolises not only Denji's sexual trauma, but also the paradox of the hunter system: a system that intends to offer Denji a family framework, but which is not only failing but also traumatising.

Nayuta says she wouldn't kill humans because they're weak compared to demons anyway. It would be as boring as killing ants! It's a continuation of Makima's point that the demon of control isn't interested in things that can be mobilised or easily controlled, it's powerful demons like Pochita that she wouldn't be able to control. Because the only way to establish a link for this demon is to find a demon as powerful as her, of her rank. Nayuta's superiority complex is always balanced against Denji's inferiority complex.

While the demon of control is only interested in demons, the demon who was martyred by humans cannot conceive of himself without them, but we'll come back to that later. 

I just want to point something out: isn't it paradoxical to reproach Denji for the education he gives Nayuta when Fumiko is supposed to regard him, as she claims, as a child? Once again, Fumiko is in constant contradiction, protecting by controlling and attacking, conceiving of a child as an adult, she is the hold over a child she can't help but see as a weapon while vouching for his condition. 

What's more, Fumiko's thinking is purely human, not universal like Denji and Nayuta. For them, feeding the dogs and their cat is a mission of the utmost necessity, it's like acting to protect one's family, whereas Fumiko refutes this.

Denji has been considered a dog for part of his life, and has bonded and merged with a demon in the shape of a dog, which is the first form of love he received: it was not humans who first gave Denji love, but animals. In the same way, the demon of control likes to form a relationship with dogs who take pleasure in their domestication, either as a form of denunciation or as a clearly established hierarchy. 

Fumiko proves that human sensitivity only stops at their peers, while the rarer demonic sensitivity is more universal and intense, whether it's treating animals as precious beings or forgiving unforgivable acts like Denji's continued love for Makima.

The fact that Denji and Nayuta appear to have no moral barriers is what allows them not to be prisoners of their own, and to conceive of love more extensively, whether it be harmful or inter-species. 

All this just goes to prove Barem's point that, as a weapon, he has a very good understanding of the different species and what they have in common: death is what binds us together.

When humans no longer find interest in a figure, it is destruction that attracts them. In other words, it's intrinsic to them. Even when they have been spared the demon of fire, they intend to spread it. Isn't it ironic, then, that Fumiko intends to protect two demons at the expense of their animals? Humans only see the world in terms of hierarchy, whereas demons and animals recognise that there is more to it than just a food chain. 

Nayuta's emphasis on the exhilaration that comes from abusing and killing demons is spot on. In chapter 137, Denji had fun beating up all those men, even concluding that "this" normal life wasn't so bad. Why was that? Because it's the daily life of a demon.

Denji, who belongs to both camps, has human needs just as much as he has demonic needs, so Nayuta has a point. But just as living solely as a human doesn't satisfy Denji, acting solely as a demon doesn't work any better. 

Denji works through the concrete, through sensations, and what he materialises through his senses, the fact being that he's had at least one kiss without any major damage with a human his own age.

Just a harmless touch is what allows Denji to connect with humanity as a whole, to be sensitive to their plight, even though he has no morals and takes pleasure in human suffering.

It wasn't until Denji struck up a relationship with Aki and Power for the first time that he was able to feel human and stop feeling like an animal. We are empathetic to the fate of those who resemble us, Denji is a universal being, animal, human and demon, he is the one who brings these different worlds together. Barem is right: death is what binds species together. But Pochita and Denji are the symbol that love can also be a common denominator. 

The fact that he thinks of Asa is symbolic because, without knowing it, she is the one who understood the plurality of species in Denji. She began by dehumanising him, Denji's animal phase, placing him below the cat (proof that she too places animals before men), then she had budding feelings for Denji before being disturbed by Chainsaw Man. 

That's why Chapter 101 is so important to understanding this chapter: because in it, Asa makes friends with both humans and demons, getting to know Yuko just as she does Yoru. She is not outraged by the idea of killing, as Yoru asks her to do, having put aside her human nature and accepted the world as it is, which is ruled by death.

But she is no fatalist, and in the face of a demon, she protects Yuko, continuing to love despite her mistakes "as long as her heart is in the right place". What matters is not so much our actions as the cursor through which we place ourselves to apprehend the world. 

Relationships are full of mistakes, imperfections, misunderstandings and a game of dominance. Denji doesn't realise it, but the one who kissed him wasn't Asa but Yoru, and it was for a bad purpose: to turn him into a weapon. Paradoxically, in wanting to make Denji a weapon, Yoru conceived him as he was, a hybrid being, a weapon. It was the first kiss in which he was seen for what he was.

But not only that, just as Asa loves the different natures of the multi-species being that is Denji, so Denji loves Asa's dual nature, what holds him together is as much the memory of the human in the aquarium as the physical contact with the demon inside her.

While Asa, in her desire to protect Denji, was distancing herself from him, hurting him and making him doubt himself, it was paradoxically the demon, with evil intentions, who gave him some peace of mind.

The chapter is called Devil's choice, an expression which means that we only have two choices, that we can't have everything. In this case, that would mean choosing a species, a side. But what Asa and Denji still represent in this Shakespearean symbolism is not belonging to any side, but loving in a universal way.

The rejection of men has opened up other perspectives for both of them, be it the animal or the demonic connection. 

Once again, the answer lies in plurality, in what begins with two: Asa and Denji decide, on the contrary, to have it all, there is no Devil's choice. 

By deciding to bond with animals rather than humans when they lost their parents, Asa and Denji forged a destiny guided by love without barriers.

Their bad experiences - sexual harassment for Denji and bullying at school for Asa - at the hands of adults have naturally created a distrust of humanity that is rekindled by contact between the two of them. It's when Denji and Asa come together that they regain hope, because they are the definition of loving each other fully.

Those who stand in the way of this universal love are the public hunters who avoid this natural crossing.

The public hunters are there precisely to fuel the fight against humans and demons, the link they carry is not love but the other common denominator, death, destruction. Even if it means crossing the moral barrier to exploit children with Yoshida by forcing them to harm other children like Asa, Fumiko being once again the symbol of this danger.

Denji has both human and demonic needs, so he's destined to love Asa because she's both human and harbours a demon with a thirst for violence. Chainsaw Man was used to make us forget the war, but by loving the demon of war, they both unravel.

Only Chainsaw Man and the demon of war can conquer death, because love is the second common denominator that links the species. Why? Because everyone has a heart. Even demons. Who not only have one, but become one.

[6ix9inewiturmom]

Nightmare- Matthew Sturniolo

Summary: You and Matt ended up sleeping in the same bed when you stayed at their house and Matt has a nightmare and cuddles you on accident.

Warnings: Cursing, use of Y/N, Platonic Matt X Reader, fluff.

A/N: THANK YOU TO MY BAE @cosmicmistake42069 FOR REQUESTING THIS! I loved writing this so much!

PSA: THIS WORK BELONGS TO ME MYSELF AND I! DO NOT COPY MY WORK! GET CREATIVE!

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

The triplets and I met last year at a party. We all clicked instantly. Matt wasn't a yapper till he came around me then he ‘couldn't shut the fuck up’ according to Nick. Our friendship got to the point where I came over 1-4 times through the week, and on the days I wasn't at their house or they weren't at mine, or when we wouldn't see each other, we would be on Facetime or in our group chat yapping.

“Holy shit it's almost 3 in the morning” I laugh out looking at my phone and noticing how long I've been at the triplets house.

“Girl why don't you just stay here tonight, I don't want you driving this late at night” Nick suggests.

“I have no clothes but I can't just sleep on the couch” I shrugged, I've never stayed over at their house and vice versa.

“Yeah no, you can sleep in some of my clothes, i would not torture someone by sleeping in jeans, and skinny jeans at that point” Chris emphasizes and points at my jeans laughing.

“And you can sleep with me, if you're okay with that obviously, not in a weird or relationship type of way” Matt's attempt to defend himself makes a smile appear on my face, and the way his hands fiddle within themselves.

“Matt we are all way past the awkward stage in our friendship” I laugh out

“Considering Y/N asks my advice for how her boobs look in 90% of her outfits I think we’re all WAY past that stage,” Nick says while laughing.

“What!” Chris and Matt say in unison as their heads jerked towards me.

“Oh please it's not like I'm asking his advice on how to take nudes” I flick my hand up and down in defense laughing.

“I am always here for that if you need that sort of thing” Nick smirks at me.

“WHAT,” They say again in unison.

“Why don't you ever ask for my opinion on how your knockers look in tops,” Chris says acting as if he was hurt.

“Okay knockers is CRAZY” nick and I laugh together.

“I'm only kidding” Chris throws his hands up in defense “I'll go get you some sweats and a hoodie” he laughs walking down the hallway to his room.

“Are you sure you're okay sleeping in my room in the bed with me?” Matt asks as his voice is husk almost in a whisper.

“I'm good Matt, plus I only sleep in one position the whole night” I laugh softly.

“Here are your clothes” Chris comes running around the corner plopping a set of brown and pink fresh love sweatsuits down next to me. “As a matter of fact, keep that set, I mainly wear the blue one anyway” he continues.

“Thank you, Chris, I'm gonna get changed in Matt's room then head to bed, thank you, guys, for letting me crash here for the night” I smile at the boys and walk down the hallway into Matt's room to get changed.

I've seen Matt's room on Facetime before but never in person, it's very him, he's got a couple of pictures on the wall, brown silk sheets, and a small stuffed animal on the bed.

After changing into fresh clothes, I meticulously folded my original outfit and placed it near the door to ensure I wouldn't forget it the next day. As I settled into Matts room, I heard a gentle knock on the door. Upon opening it, I was greeted by the sight of Matt, who was wearing a soft, reassuring smile.

“You look mad comfortable” Matt laughed softly.

“You got silk sheets yes I'm hella comfortable” i laugh snuggling myself under the comforter.

“Sill sheets are the way to go” He flashes a warm smile, slips under the covers, and takes a seat beside me.

I let out a soft yawn shimmying my way down and turning around to my back facing him. “Goodnight Matt”

“Goodnight Y/N” he laughs softly before he turns around where his back faces mine.

𝜗𝜚 A Few Hours Later 𝜗𝜚

I woke up in the same position in which I had fallen asleep, but I was surprised to feel a pair of arms wrapped around my waist.

“No” Matt mutters under his breath tightening his grip on my waist.

“Matt?” i whispered turning towards him.

“Stop- no” he again whispers shaking his head.

“Matt” I turned my body over shaking his shoulder lightly enough to wake him up.

“Fuck” he jumped up with wide eyes looking at me out of breath.

“A-are you okay?” I say rubbing his shoulder in soft circles.

“Yeah” he starts running his fingers through his hair “I had a nightmare and I should have warned you because I've been dealing with like restless nights for like a week now” he laughs softly.

“Its okay matt really, I just didn't know you were a cuddler in your sleep” a soft giggle escaped my lips causing Matt's lips to shift upward.

“I didn't- I just- fuck I'm sorry this is probably awkward now I mean if this is too awkward for you uh you can sleep on the couch or something I mean I'm not forcing you out just I don't want to make you uncomfortable” he babbled getting anxious.

“No matt its okay I'm fine, plus its 4 in the morning I'm okay, we all get nightmares” i comfortably smile at him.

“A-are you sure this isn't awkward? I mean I know it's just cuddling but just I don't wanna ruin anything” he hands his head low fiddling with his fingers.

“Matt it's fine,” I laugh softly “It's not like you were having a wet dream about me”

“God that would have been awkward” he nervously laughs.

“This may be weird but do you think we could uhm cuddle again? You don't have to say yes but maybe it could help you sleep better?” I ask sending him a soft smile.

“I don't mind” he smiles laying on his back and opening his arms out i shake my head playfully and smile laying my head on his chest and my leg intertwined with his.

“Thank you Y/N” he mutters out softly.

“Mhm” I mumble drifting off to sleep.

Matt gazes down at me as I begin to drift off into a deep slumber, a gentle smile gracing his face before he, too, succumbs to sleep.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

A/N pt 2: AHH TY AGAIN FOR REQUESTING THIS I HAD A LOT OF FUN WRITING IT! I hope you guys are having a beautiful morning/ afternoon/ evening/ night!! I love you guys and THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR ALL THE LOVE AND SUPPORT! 🩷🩷

[emo-batboy]

Trick or treat!

Hello :D Here's your treat

Battinson and Cars

He is a car guy. He loves his car. It is his baby. He can fill his car with gas, yes. That is a thing he can do on his own in his own garage with his own gas.

But he does not know how to operate a gas pump. (New Jerseyans are crying in solidarity.)

Bruce gets into so many car accidents.

Like yeah, he's Batman. But he's also that kind of driver who is perfectly okay when he's on autopilot, but the MOMENT he remembers he's driving a death machine on wheels next to other people driving death machines on wheels, and if you accidentally cut them off or forget to use your turn signal, they will rear end you?! He gets a little antsy :/

The second he overthinks it, he's making mistake after mistake. What are you gonna do? ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

But when he's in his tricked-out batmobile engaging in a high-speed chase while narrowly avoiding death at every turn? A vigilante with no regard for the rules of the road other than "Do Not Hit People?" He’s suddenly a professional stunt driver! Fuck it!

That’s one of the reasons no one could possibly believe he’s Batman

"Bruce Wayne Reverses into Bush at Local Wawa, Cries as He Calls the Cops on Himself"

Then four hours later...

"The Batman Performs INCREDIBLE STUNT on Garden State Parkway, Saves Lives and Kitten Stuck in Tree"

You think these are the same person? Please be serious.

Anyway-

He is the only person in the JL who can reliably parallel park.

He's also a fucking speed demon. (This is Jersey. The Norm is going 90 in a 55. And back to the "autopilot" point) if he's lost in thought, he's definitely breaking the law. And overtaking like five cars a minute.

Alfred taught him to drive (and is lowkey the one that gave him driving anxiety. He is a very strict teacher.) Because of this, his first car was manual :) Now, he prefers it because it feels cool and action-y when he changes gears on the highway.

Bruce got into his first car chase when he was 15. (Baby's First Car Chase <3) Don't ask me how.  Don't ask why. Just know he does. (I mean, I do have an answer but I'm not giving it to you.) This also means he did it without a license because he was too young to even have a permit at the time.

He has a hatred for literally anyone with Pennsylvania or New York plates. Why? Because they’re slow as fuck and try to turn left at the intersection when there is clearly a jughandle??

(Homework for everyone that doesn't live in NJ: Look up "jughandle" or "jersey left" and tell me your thoughts.)

He was so pissed at the amount of potholes in Gotham that he personally filled them as Batman in the middle of the night. (Wtf are his billions of tax dollars going to?)

Once Bruce was muttering curses at the idiot in front of him with NY plates only to see Clark fucking Kent exit the car. Superman could not understand why Batman kept glaring at him for a week.

I did not spell-check this. Happy Halloween :)