#but also he's pretty certain he's gonna go to hell when he dies for his inaction and compliance

[carbonateddelusion]

herm.

eddie.....

[sunderwight]

Shen Yuan who glitches in his transmigration, but the original Shen Qingqiu still dies of a qi deviation.

So the System still needs someone with narrative relevance to throw Luo Binghe into the Abyss. In a fit of desperation, it contrives circumstances after Shen Qingqiu's death to move Luo Binghe to An Ding Peak (not that difficult), and then the System makes Shang Qinghua be Luo Binghe's new scum master who casts him down.

Airplane's thrilled, really. Cultivators aren't supposed to get ulcers but damned if he doesn't come close to one anyway. Between Shen Qingqiu and then just a while later Liu Qingge both dying from qi deviations, and Shang Qinghua looking like a stiff breeze could take him out any day now, poor Mu Qingfang is also just about at his wits' end.

But it's not all bad news! On An Ding Peak, Luo Binghe actually finds himself surrounded by the kinds of people who are accustomed to being bullied by the rest of the sect. So they're pretty sympathetic to him, and it's easier for someone with basic laboring skills to advance on that peak too. His chores don't decrease too much, but he actually gets rewarded for doing them well, and no one tries to kick him out of the dorms or anything. Shang Qinghua doesn't either go out of his way to bully or praise Luo Binghe, correctly reasoning that his best shot at not getting a gruesome death is to just be a more forgettable bad guy than an abusive dirtbag or a heart-wrenching betrayal. He doesn't sabotage Luo Binghe's cultivation (no point, and it would just farm resentment later) but he also doesn't go out of his way to help him improve (not gonna arm his inevitable maybe-probably-murderer with better weapons!), so Luo Binghe's situation sees an overall improvement but not the zero-to-hero treatment he'd have got with Shen Yuan either.

When Shang Qinghua shoves Luo Binghe into the Abyss (he just full on picks him up and tosses him like a sack of beans, better to rip it off quick like a bandage), LBH is upset, but he's not especially surprised or dismayed about Shang Qinghua's part in it. Later on he'll be kind of confused, because he just assumed that of course the righteous sect cultivator would abhor the demon, but it turns out Shang Qinghua has been working for a demon since before Luo Binghe even came to the sect? But then it still kind of makes sense because a Heavenly Demon would definitely pose a risk to Mobei Jun and to Mobei Jun's rule. Shang Qinghua, he supposes, is just really loyal to his specific demon.

Luo Binghe's subsequent revenge quest is also somewhat mitigated by the Abyss actually not being that bad.

The Abyss is not actually that bad thanks to the glitched out Shen Yuan having been camping there for several years now.

So when Shen Yuan's transmigration failed it failed because he "woke up" during the process, realized where the System intended to put him, was like no way in goddamn hell am I being that guy about it, and actually kind of won the ensuing tug-of-war. The System couldn't put him in Shen Qingqiu but Shen Yuan didn't want to go back to his dead body either, so he ended up stuck in the nearest available space for lost interdimensional beings. Which was the Endless Abyss.

Luckily Shen Yuan's quasi-transmigrated imparted an equivalent cultivation level as Shen Jiu's to him, and the glitch made him able to sense and manipulate certain extra-dimensional energies, so he manifested as this weird godlike being able to manipulate and control aspects of the Abyss. So he set about transforming Airplane's Torment Nexus into a viable ecosystem (the current version would not be anything approaching sustainable were it not for divine/narrative intervention, and is constantly on the verge of destabilizing into unlivable ruin that would only be fit for some particularly hardy microorganisms).

It's still like, a monster land full of demonic creatures and terrifying phenomenon, but with Shen Yuan's assistance it becomes something more like a demonic wildlife reserve than a dimensional horror plane. Though it is still a dimensional horror plane, and Shen Yuan is its chief dimensional horror. He treats it sort of like those dungeon building or wildlife park sims, figuring out how to keep everything in balance while still preserving all the interesting parts. A lot of the extreme survival issues of the Abyss are more of a result of it being environmentally unstable than a result of its actual denizens, and once he smooths out a lot of the messy dimensional edges and creates stable vents for the fluctuating energy run-off, the demonic inhabits start behaving less like horror movie monsters and more like animals. They're still wild and dangerous and prone to killing one another, but also more cautious, and able to access enough stable resources that they can even start to be picky about what they pursue.

Turns out that a lot of creatures in the Abyss actually don't like fighting and dying and being brutally injured on a regular basis, even if they can heal from it!

Shen Yuan has even discovered that some like chin scritches (he's not terribly worried about habituating them to people, given how rarely any people actually access the Abyss, but also because he's not really all that people-ish himself these days).

This means that one of Luo Binghe's first encounters with the horrible creatures of the Abyss, is in fact a pack of wolf-like monsters thoroughly avoiding an actual fight with him. In fact most of the denizens of the Abyss just avoid him. They can smell the Heavenly Demon energy rolling off of him, and given the current abundance of alternatives to dealing with that, virtually none of the monsters actually choose to challenge him. There are still a few that will go after anything that's bleeding, but that problem stops once Luo Binghe's physiology heals his wounds, which takes like... a couple hours, max.

Despite the stories he's heard, Luo Binghe is relieved to find that the Abyss is not quite so terrible as all that. Normal survival skills suffice for seeing him through much of it. He's able to hunt for food, scavenge for tools, and even finds potable water fairly easily. After a few weeks, he also comes across a ruin which seems to be inhabited.

The being inhabiting it is plainly a god, although he demurs and refutes such assertions whenever Binghe is too frank. He's a strange being, at turns looking like some queer approximation of a human, at other times blinking and winking in and out of existence, in patterns of strange lights and oddly geometrical fire. But he's surprisingly not hostile, letting Binghe rest in his residence, and even directing him towards points of interest. Accompanying him, too, though he seems to think that Binghe doesn't notice the odd almost spiderweb-like patterns that appear on things which he's influencing. The god calls himself The Peerless One, or at least that's what Luo Binghe infers from some writings on the ruin. The Peerless One offers instruction, seemingly without thinking about it, and gets flustered at being addressed by title, so Binghe also begins to refer to him as Shizun after a while.

[that-ineffable-devil]

Long post incoming, but I've been on and off it for days so you're gonna see it.

On Charles and Love

I think there's a lot more to Charles' reaction to Edwin's confession than what we may first assume.

Charles loves harder than anyone, but I don't think he even knows what it means or feels like to be IN love--or to be loved back. This isn't a dig at Edwin, so don't @ me. This has to do with Charles' past.

When Edwin first confesses on the steps of Hell, Charles doesn't even hesitate with his response: "Great, love you too, can we go now?" He does love Edwin, one way or another. He hasn't needed to examine that love any further. He doesn't think Edwin could mean it that way, because Edwin probably has never given any indication of feeling that for anyone. Perhaps he didn't think Edwin capable of love in that way. Perhaps it's his own repressed sexuality. Perhaps it's the feeling that he is inherently unlovable. Perhaps it's a combination of things.

On Edwin's and Charles' Repression

Look, Edwin is clearly autistic and heavily emotionally repressed--he's British, from 1916, and male. That's the perfect storm of emotional repression. But he clearly feels and feels deeply--he just doesn't always let on about it. (Which is such a nice thing to see for autistic representation, the "unfeeling alien" trope ain't it.)

And even though they've been together for 30 years, they clearly do not talk about deep emotions much, because it makes Edwin uncomfortable and Charles probably wouldn't manage to get much out before cracking a joke instead--it's his defense mechanism.

As for his own repression, Charles grew up in the 80s as a biracial kid with an abusive father. He was also at least questionably queer while alive: he was part of an alt crowd, wore eyeliner, and wore a single dangly earring. Now that doesn't mean for certain he's queer or questioning, but it IS a pretty common code in media and storytelling. And I imagine no small part of his father's excuses for abusing Charles had to do with "beating the queer out of him." Of COURSE that led to repression--how could it not?

On Feeling Unlovable

And the feeling that he's inherently unlovable? Does he really feel that way? I think so.

He wants it. He wants to be loved so badly. And because of that, he tries so hard. He tries to stay light and happy and kind, even when he's suffering underneath--he has his own flavor of emotional repression. Because if he can't be loved, he can at least be liked.

And he doesn't just want people to like him, he needs them to like him, because he needs to know he's likable. Because there's safety in being likable. There's safety in being funny and friendly and "a good sort of chap." It's proof he's not the monster his father was--the monsters his friends were. It's his shield. The shield he uses to protect himself from the world, yes, but also to protect the world from him. Or at least, who he thinks he is, deep down.

It's also, in his mind, his only chance at being loved. His only chance at staying loved. Because love is earned. Because love is the reward for good behavior. At least, that's how it was as a kid, right? And that's all he knows. He died before he could experience any other kind of love--besides the love between himself and Edwin, which is its own complicated matter.

The other difficult aspect of growing up in a household where love and affection were weaponized and where violence is an acceptable reaction to anger, is how it radically alters your perception of love and family.

You crave the love and validation you never received, but you also fear it and don't believe it's real when it comes without strings.

You struggle to identify love in healthy relationships because if it doesn't hurt, then is it really love?

And even though you crave it more than anything, you're afraid of it. You're afraid for things to get real, because real love--or your understanding of it--is dangerous.

Because love is a weapon and you can't bear for anyone to use it against you again.

Hurt People Hurt People...Sometimes

Trauma manifests differently in each person. There are some commonalities, but it's never exactly the same. I know the saying is "hurt people hurt people" and that's not entirely wrong. But sometimes, hurt people heal people--or at least try to. Charles is in the second group.

Charles never, ever wants anyone to feel the kind of love he knew while he was alive. So he paradoxically loves openly while remaining guarded. His loyalty and devotion are unmatched. He went to Hell for Edwin. But he also never told Edwin the truth about his father until essentially forced to. Because that involves vulnerability. It involves, in his eyes, weakness. And what did vulnerability and "weakness" get him in life? Well...dead.

But he craves reciprocation. He needs to feel like he can be vulnerable, safely. I don't think that Edwin has done anything to make him feel unsafe, but being that they're both emotionally surpressed boys killed by other boys for perceived weaknesses at 16 and the lack of a ghost therapist...it's not all that surprising they haven't dealt with their issues in 30 years.

I think this is why he latches onto Crystal so quickly and easily. Firstly, she's alive: he can at least pretend to ignore his own death for a bit. Secondly, she's his age (sort of) and can see him, which is an uncommon experience at best. Thirdly, again--she's alive, so it can never last--never be real. Either she'll age beyond him, or she'll die and likely be taken to her afterlife. Which he'll happily ignore for the first two reasons.

On Types of Love

I won't get too into this, because I'm in no way an expert in the wide variety of emotions attributed to love. But I will say this: Charles died at 16.

If we set aside the possibility of him being aromantic for now (which he absolutely could be), he may never have had the chance to fall in love while he was alive. If he could even recognize it for what it was. I mean, I'm in my 30s, been married and divorced twice, and I'm still not sure I've ever been in love. At 16, you're drowning in hormones and it can be hard to decipher feelings.

On Arrested Development

If you think about it, his death and subsequent ghostly afterlife are a supernatural version of the arrested development a lot of child abuse survivors experience. But his development arrested literally--he literally CAN'T grow up. At least, not physically.

He may have had 30 years to address his issues, but why would he have thought to? He doesn't have the same responsibilities or needs as a living adult. He's constantly on the job or on the run from Death, he's living with Emotional Repression the Person (my beloved), and frankly...it hurts to examine those problems. How many adults are actively avoiding their own issues?

On the Confession

Edwin, with the most heartwrenching tone of voice since David "I would like to spend" Tennant, makes clear that he's IN love with Charles. And for a moment Charles looks like he's been walloped in the gut with an iron bar, trying to process. But then the trauma-brain kicks in.

He finds the first "logical" explanation to someone (Edwin) telling him they love him: it's a literary reference, and Edwin is...maybe not "messing" with him, but maybe being extra dramatic about this? It can't be real.

But then Edwin gets upset--he's serious about this. And Charles sort of...short-circuits. He can't process this right now, not when they're running for their afterlives. Not when the Night Mother is waiting to split them up. Not when he's barely even begun to process his trauma. So he does everything he can to make sure Edwin knows that, no matter what, he loves him. Maybe not in the same way, but with the same depth.

Because they'll have time. They'll have all the time in the world to figure out what this means. Because they certainly don't right now, and everything Edwin is saying flies directly in the face of every opinion Charles has ever held about himself.

And what the hell is he supposed to do with that?

[polarisbibliotheque]

Can You Hear The Rumble? - Vergil x Reader

Music Inspired Fics (Devil May Music) - Cirice, by Ghost

Pairing: Vergil x Reader

Summary: Everyone knew the kind of demon a hunter should be wary about is the one who plays with their victim's minds. You and Vergil were very proud on the outside - but how would it be when having to save each other on the inside for the first time?

TRIGGER WARNING: A lot of blood, cuts, bruises, scars and suffering on both Vergil and the reader's sides. The reader also struggles with perfection and self-loathing - in a "I'm never going to be a good person" kind of way, because I needed to get more intimate on the reader's part as well - and there are scenes with the reader covered in cuts and bleeding, though not self-imposed, it could be read like that. Those scenes are the reader's and Vergil's internal images of themselves. Reader and Vergil meet each other on their imperfections and the darkest parts of their souls, so BE WARNED. This might not be everyone's cup of tea and there are lots of potential triggers.

Author's Note: @tokkis-shelf asked me if Vergil's part of the Halloween special was inspired by Cirice, and here we are now. It is what kickstarted the song-fic requests! As with a lot of people, I think, Cirice is pretty personal to me.

In the video, it was so comforting to me seeing the black sheep being represented hahahaha and I guess that's why people love it so much. The part where they hold hands? I died, I'd never let go, I cry my soul out upon watching. (I did a very similar drawing to that scene when I was in school around 15 years ago, so it drop-kicked me out of my body xD)

Now, when writing this, I kept in mind that this song has a double meaning and can be quite comforting and quite manipulative at the same time - hence why I use the "can't you see that you're lost without me?" in two different situations, 'cause I think Cirice can be interpreted in so many ways and each person takes what they need from this song. I hope you guys like it!!

Plus, the song the reader and Dante sing at the end is The Power of Love, by Huey Lewis and The News

Cirice, by Ghost

“Can’t you see that you’re lost…?”

It happened every time Vergil walked in the darkness.

That voice in the back of his head, silently taunting him, the hiss of a quiet viper in the hopes of taking him back to the darkest parts of his soul. Quiet, lurking, whispering… Mundus always there, somewhere in the folds of his consciousness, guiding him back into the void – luring Vergil back into his shackles.

“Can’t you see that you’re lost without me?”

As if Vergil couldn’t belong anywhere else, as if his place was in Hell. After all he had been through, after all the sins he perpetrated, he believed wholeheartedly there was no hope for him at all – only a fool’s hope; only a glimmer of a wish he wasn’t as tainted as he was… A desire to not be such a monster as he was.

Pacing quietly through the empty cathedral, Vergil had already learned not to give in to those thoughts – to keep them at bay, as only a whisper in the darkness, of trickster voices that would always remind him of how inhuman he was.

It was times like this Vergil longed for the faint glimmer of the moon, or the warm ghostly light of a candle. It was easy to get lost in the dark, but a single ray of light could help through the direst of situations. That night, though, it seemed like the moon had fallen asleep behind the curtains of the clouds – Selene hiding her tears for her earthly lover in his eternal sleep.

None of you knew what that night entailed – you weren’t even certain what you were dealing with. That was the reason why Lady strutted in the Devil May Cry, not too fond of taking a job she didn’t know if it was up to her abilities.

“Well, looks like I have a new one for you to pay your debt, big guy!” Her singsong voice interrupted the ambience of the jukebox; Lady entering the shop with Kalina Ann and all.

“Eh, I’m never gonna be free of my debt, Lady, let’s be honest.” Dante sighed, putting his feet down and throwing his magazine across the table, shooting her a serious glare. “But things have been borin’ lately, so one of your odd jobs’ not gonna hurt. Whaddya have for me?”

“You talk as if I never help you enough to maintain this place.” She lifted one eyebrow, approaching the big desk at the middle of the shop.

“Gotta give the woman credit, Dante. Last month’s bills were on her.” You shrugged as you had finally come out of your shower, happy to see Lady around, still drying your hair with the towel as you went down the stairs.

“See? Someone who has a bit of common sense.” Her smile was nothing short of devilish as she gestured towards you.

“You know where you are, Lady. ‘Common sense’ isn’t much of a thing in this household.” You greeted her by quickly blowing her a kiss while passing by, making your way towards the couch where Vergil was quietly reading.

“Ey, you’re hurtin’ my feelings like that.” Dante put one of his hands over his heart, laughing alongside you as you kept on your way. “But fine. I’ll give ya that, Lady. So, what’s up? What job do you wanna throw at me this time?”

“I am not throwing it at you.” And there it was: you could always see when Dante stroke a nerve when Lady got defensive and with that fiery stare on her multicolored eyes. “If you wanna do it, great, if you don’t, I can deal with it myself just fine. I’m here to be a good friend since you can barely afford all that pizza you keep stuffing yourself with!”

As you sat by Vergil’s side, you both exchanged a telling glare. Just like you, Vergil was used to observing people. Granted, he didn’t know Lady as much as Dante or even you, but he did know her since he was very young. That fiery, easy-to-anger personality had been there since they first met at the Temen-ni-gru – and Vergil argued it was one of Lady’s traits that would never change.

Something he was quite pleased with, if he had to be honest with himself. It was a good trait for a human demon hunter like her. Dante always praised human’s hearts and particularly their love and empathy – Vergil praised their burning anger that made them unconquerable in the direst of circumstances.

“Jeez, alright, alright, don’t shoot me!” Dante raised his hands as if he was at gunpoint, making you wheeze quietly. Vergil side-eyed you for a while – half judging, half holding his own laugh. “It’s not like I have much of a choice, do I?”

“Humpf.” Lady rolled her eyes and took a slice of pizza from the box resting on the desk, pointing at Dante with it right after. “You know I wouldn’t bring you something if it wasn’t important.”

“Actually, you would.” With those words, Dante rested his arms crossed on the table – all the while, you and Vergil watched it all as if it was a show. Who needed a TV when you had those two? “But you’re bein’ too dodgy ‘bout it, babe. What’s goin’ on?”

“I got a call from a priest in a city nearby.” Lady’s answer was uncharacteristically quiet, followed by a bite from the pizza while she seemed pensive and in any hurry to chew it. “I’ve done some jobs there, know the guy, he’s nice. All the times he called me, it was always a quick, good-paying job. He said some weird things have been happening at the cathedral for the last couple of weeks.”

“Not to sound mean, but there’s always somethin’ strange happenin’ at churches.” Dante’s eyes carried a bit of skepticism: ‘weird things’ didn’t always entail a job for the Devil May Cry – and it usually ended with all of you hunting a rogue raccoon or something.

“I know. But this guy, he doesn’t get scared easy, ok? He’s one of those types of priests who’ll try to shoot down a couple of demons with a shotgun and, if that doesn’t work, he gives me a call.” Those words, though, made you and the Spardas raise your eyebrows. Indeed, it was a rare type of priest, but a good one to keep as acquaintance. “He said the cathedral is increasingly quiet, even from noises outside, with occasional distant noises that are not done by any of those who live there. After it all started, the other priests reported having weird nightmares, of being chased by something in the dark, inside the cathedral – this thing whispering things they can’t understand. Alright if it happened to one or two, but soon all of them started waking up in the middle of the night with similar nightmares – and, catch this, the higher ups of the clergy didn’t tell the common priests about it, but they all reported the very same dream.” Those words caught everyone’s attention. Vergil finally closed his book and leaned forward, paying attention to Lady’s retelling of the priest’s misfortunes. “The priest has been trying to figure out what’s going on, but some old books appear to go missing from the library, only to re-appear as if nothing has happened. Some books are missing pages, something that never happened before. He also said the inside of the cathedral has been getting darker and darker as the weeks go by. As if something is approaching – his words, not mine.”

Vergil immediately furrowed his brows and seemed to turn into an ice sculpture right by your side. You risked a glance, finding him with his usual dark aura – pensive, somber and quiet; hunter’s eyes showing themselves in a matter of seconds.

“Rare are the creatures in Hell in search for knowledge…” He muttered loud enough for his brother and Lady to turn their attention to him. “But those who do, are usually among the worst. Haunting noises, torn books, nightmares, dead silence and total darkness…”

“What? You think those Hell Piranhas came out of their pit?” Dante’s question had a bit of fun in the words, but his eyes were serious and he didn’t allow his lips to smile.

“Could be. Could also be a demon trying to mimic them to hide something else.”

“Hell Piranhas?” You and Lady didn’t need a cue to ask at the very same time. Neither of you had ever heard of that – and both of you had heard of a lot.

“This is not their name, but it is how Dante calls them since we were kids.” Vergil almost sighed in response.

“How we both called ‘em. Mister smart-pants over here isn’t that much better than lil’ ol’ me.” Dante winked at both of you, making you giggle quietly in return. “They’re kinda like illusion demons, but they like stayin’ in the darkness and gatherin’ knowledge. Usually work for someone bigger, though.”

“And even if they don’t, they swallow up all their knowledge and that is dangerous in itself. Afterwards, they feed from the victims they have been toying for so long.” Vergil continued Dante’s thought, ignoring his brother’s previous words. The more you didn’t think about what Dante had said about him, the better – for Vergil couldn’t deny it. “They hunt in packs, and the more victims, the more powerful they become. Some call them the Pit Deceivers, others call them the Lie Weavers…”

“You call them Hell Piranhas.” You concluded bluntly, making Vergil stare at the horizon with emptiness in his eyes – he could say all he wanted, flex all his demonic knowledge, you heard the Piranhas and now you’d never forget it.

“I never heard of them.” Lady had her eyebrows furrowed, searching her memory for some story like that.

“They either don’t leave the pit that much or not many humans survive to tell the story. That’s why.” Dante pointed at a great, old book Vergil had left on one of the tables a long time ago and now it was its official resting place. “You can find it only in the likes of the Codex Daemonica.”

“So either we have them around, or it’s something else. Something bigger. Right?” As you asked, Vergil only agreed with his head as the attentions turned to you. “Or something mimicking the Piranhas.” And Vergil had to sigh at your addition. He would never have peace again. “The mimic or the master, what kind of demon would the Piranhas answer to? If they are that obscure, I take it their existence is more of a niche knowledge in Hell rather than a common information.”

“On that, you are correct…” Vergil murmured in response, falling back into his pensive demeanor. You knew he would be lost for a while.

“See? Good thing I brought this for you, then.” Lady waved dismissively at Dante, but you could sense a little edge in her playful voice. Dealing with big things was fine, same as dealing with cruel demons and the ones that played the big-scary-one persona. Unknown demons were another kind of monster – one only Dante and Vergil used to deal with. “Plus, they always pay well.”

“Eh, I won’t be seein’ much of that money, if I know ya well.” Dante scoffed, having a small smile hidden in the corner of his lips; his tone and demeanor, though, were quite somber and you knew the red devil was taking it seriously.

“If you don’t mind, Dante, I would like to take over this one.” Vergil finally declared while getting up from the couch. “I know some of the hellish creatures who might make use of the Weavers or mimic them.”

“Fine for me, I’m needin’ some time to rest.” Dante sighed, but looked right back at you while Vergil rested his book on the big Devil May Cry desk. “But I’m gonna feel a lot better with someone around to keep an eye on ‘im, pretty thing.”

“Well, I didn’t intend on letting you guys deal with this all by yourselves anyway.” You got up from the couch, immediately receiving a glare from Vergil. “I’m going, blue devil, whether you want it or not. I want to get acquainted with these Piranhas.”

Vergil only closed his eyes, letting out the longest and most regretful sigh you ever heard in your life.

And there you were – although Vergil lost track of you quite a while ago. He knew the stirrings rippling through his heart when you were in danger; and being the fierce human you were, Vergil wasn’t worried about having you search for the demons in the cathedral.

There was, though, a slight uneasiness. That voice echoing in the darkest parts of his soul, it always came as an omen – causing nothing but destruction, inside or outside of himself. Vergil never could really say which one would be, but both were devastating.

“Veeeeergil…”

His steps came to a dry halt in the middle of the cathedral. The night outside the colorful stained-glass windows was pitch black, robbing the colors of their warmth and light – the fire on the candles, long dead in that cold night. The whisper that crept to his ears, like stark chalk on a chalkboard, dragged itself through the marble floor and took a hold of his soul in its clutches.

It was a different kind of sound – different from the ones inside himself, calling him to the darkness. It was from the outside… The Lie Weavers. Slowly coming up, finding him as their next victim. He was close to one of the places they were certainly lurking in the shadows, patiently waiting for someone they could consume.

Vergil never feared the darkness. Tightening his grip around Yamato, his steps resumed his way, approaching the places in the cathedral the faint light of the night could barely touch. Those demons should have known their end was near, and he was the harbinger of their demise – he expected all kinds of trickery, of resistance, of fight from them.

He did not expect to hear a familiar voice, filled with uncertainty.

“Vergil…?”

Halting his steps once more, this time his silvery eyes lost their predatorial gaze as his heart jumped in his chest – even if for a slight second.

“Mother?”

His answer was but a whisper before he was swallowed by darkness.

*

When engaging with illusion demons, one should be aware of not falling into their element: when engulfed by it, those demons were more powerful than expected, able to subdue even the strongest of foes. Breaking from their control required mental and emotional discipline rather than brute force.

It was a slight second – a foolish slip from his human soul, disarmed by the trickery of Eva’s voice – and Vergil was surrounded by a sea of darkness and turmoil. His heart stirred with anger towards himself for being such a child, a vulnerable stupid child, tricked by a puppet of something his heart missed so much.

Eva was long dead. There was no demon able to bring her back. And he would never see her again. All that logic was tossed aside in a spark of a second by his stupid human heart, trembling upon hearing her speak his name again. Granted, Vergil only heard his mother in his dreams, barely remembering how her voice sounded in reality, and this time he heard outside himself – but he should have seen it coming. Illusion demons, trickster demons, cruel demons… They all relied on the barely closed scars inside his damned human soul.

Vergil could always count on them to re-open those wounds, making him bleed as much as he did on the floor of that cursed cemetery so many years ago – and he was a fool to fall for it after he had been through so much.

“Vergil… Can you hear me…?”

“I can, you damned deceiver. You can stop these theatrics – mimicking my dead mother will not affect me.” His voice cut through the dark like the sharpest of ice, his predatorial gaze back into his silver eyes.

“I… Don’t understand you, son. I cannot find you.” Her voice had a tinge of sorrow and desperation – but it was exactly like Eva’s voice. Vergil remembered it with a tinge of gold, probably a result of the haze of nostalgia, but today it was grounded and melancholic – perhaps, that was how Eva had always sounded… He just didn’t remember it. “I can’t find you. You aren’t home.”

“I haven’t been home for a long while.” Vergil didn’t even try to hide the growl that raised from his chest as he argued with that creature. He was used to having a puppet of his mother parading in front of him to hurt his human soul even more, but that was already getting on his nerves. Taunting him about the fact his mother ran to find him that fateful night wasn’t part of the usual games those filthy demons played – and to say they were honing his wrath was an understatement. “And I will never be back.”

“I… I cannot see you, Vergil. Where are you…? Why…?” He could hear the weeping in her voice, faint sobbing while the desperation made her words tremble. Vergil raised his head in the darkness, holding his own heart not to quiver: she wasn’t real and it was all a gimmick to affect him. He would not be affected. He was stronger than that. “Why couldn’t I save you? Those demons they… They hurt you, didn’t they? Oh, my child! My son! They hurt you and I could do nothing! I couldn’t be your mother!”

“Enough with this, filthy, hellish creature!” His voice finally exploded from his chest, roaring in the dark and echoing through the void, finding only silence. “You have no right to desecrate my mother’s memory like this! Shut your putrid mouth and stop with your rancid lies!”

The glint of the Yamato being unsheathed made the darkness recoil for a split second, only to envelop the Dark Slayer once more. His grip was tight, his eyes fiercely looking for his first opponent to direct a very well-placed judgement cut that could end all those creatures with just one swing of his hand. Vergil had enough and all the patience he carried in his being wouldn’t be enough to stop him from overkilling those demons – he just had to know where to direct his wrath.

“Don’t say those words, Vergil… You are not… Not like this.” Her voice still trembled, and his hand was still certain around Yamato. Vergil knew quite well at that state he was a weapon of mass destruction, he just had to find his opponent. His soul was screaming for him to do that, to put a stop to all that mockery. “You are good… You are my son.”

Vergil would have sliced that demon into a thousand million pieces without flinching, even if it took the form of his mother – but his eyes widened as a soft, warm hand touched his face. In all those years being taunted by demons, being tricked and mocked, seeing so many puppets of Eva, Sparda and Dante, none of them had touched him… And none of them genuinely felt like them.

It had been so many lost years he hadn’t felt his mother’s touch – last time, she could cup his entire face, thumb lovingly caressing his innocent eyebrows, but now her thumb could only reach his cheekbones. Nevertheless, it felt like her: not like a golden, nostalgic lost memory of how she felt, but exactly like Eva’s hands, even with the slight roughness of her continuous gardening.

“It took me so long to find you… I am so sorry.”

“You are not my mother.”

“Don’t say that.” Her answer was a sorrowful whisper, her thumb now carefully caressing his sharp cheekbone. Vergil closed his eyes, unable to move, convincing himself all of that wasn’t real and not allowing his heart to sway – forcing his arms to remain frozen by his side, fighting the urge to embrace her. Reminding himself: his mother was dead, killed while trying to save him, a long time ago, and nothing could bring her back. “Your heart hasn’t hardened as much as not to recognize me. You…” Her voice once more became soft, as if trying to do the same with his soul. “You are not a monster… You are my son, my Vergil.”

With those words, Eva’s hand was finally met with a tear – melting the ice from those silvery eyes.

*

There was an impending storm rumbling inside your chest.

Whenever that turmoil took ahold of your heart, you knew Vergil was in trouble. You had just finished checking your side of the cathedral, finding some things out of the ordinary but no demons, when the waves became aggressive in your chest. Your steps were already taking you to meet him, but you found yourself walking even hastier – the sound, though, eaten by the shadows that seemed to only grow around you.

Neither of you had calm seas of feelings: they usually raged like a maelstrom of emotions you could barely get through without some destruction – be it internal or external. But there was a certain note of melancholy and desperation in your heart at that moment that made you know Vergil was hurting – and that hurting, you knew quite well.

It was almost ironic how you apparently despised each other at the beginning, but after a while you came to understand; that aversion was there because you, in a certain way, were a mirror of each other. You could see in him the traits in your soul you disliked the most, and Vergil did see in you the same thing – those traits, however, were the same ones that brought you together, and made both you and Vergil feel seen and understood for the first time in your lives.

He didn’t judge your sins, as you didn’t judge his. To your eyes, he was never a monster, and to his, you could never be as crooked as you thought you were. You found each other in imperfection and, in that, you managed to talk and feel on the same level – after that, every feeling of admiration, care and love was easy to blossom.

You understood that storm, that thunder rumbling inside your chest at that very moment. You could feel it exactly the way he felt – and you knew Vergil needed help… Even if he would never say so himself.

You couldn’t hear or see him, though. You found yourself exactly at his area of patrol in the cathedral, but there was no clue as where your blue devil had gone – and for him to completely disappear, imposing presence and all, was quite an achievement in itself. The air was stiff, heavy as if the windows had never been opened, eating up any sound from the inside and the outside. The darkness was heavier than the one you had previously patrolled, shadows allowing only a few glimpses of the opulent decoration and the path in front of you – although, you couldn’t see more than a few meters beyond your feet.

If you couldn’t trust your sight or your hearing to find him, you could trust your heart: the storm would guide you. Closing your eyes, you allowed your feelings to take over, following with your footsteps in the direction you could hear his soul calling.

Those shadow creatures wouldn’t be able to hide him from you: no matter what happened or where you found yourselves, you would always be able to feel Vergil’s presence and find him in the darkest of hours.

And as the thunder in your chest cracked violently, your feet came to a halt and you opened your eyes.

Right in front of you, there was only darkness. Not like in the shadows that took the cathedral little by little, but pitch-black darkness, that no light could cast aside. To enter it would mean to be completely bare: vulnerable, lost, without guidance, naked – but the screaming in your soul made it very clear Vergil was in there.

Contrary to your lover, you were afraid of the dark. You always preferred to have a little light by your side, for you never knew what could be lurking alongside you, ready to pounce and drag you to certain suffering and death. You protected yourself by being forever vigilant, as you always did – a trait that exhausted you, yes, but luckily, in the last few years, you had Vergil around to keep a light by you when your body started giving out.

For that reason, you would never fear entering the darkness for him.

And with a deep breath, your bold steps took you inside the dark.

*

Your feet were cold, bare, stumbling over a sticky floor. Even if your eyes could see only darkness, you felt the freezing air of that night slicing your skin: you were shirtless and something was hurting… Oozing. The cold wind mixed with a faint warmness that leaked from the open wounds on your skin.

Blood. You were bleeding.

Your arms immediately wrapped around you – those scars, they were showing. They never showed before.

Running your hands quickly over your body, you could feel the warm blood slipping through your fingers; some wounds barely holding themselves closed while others still poured as in the day they were created.

That was the version of yourself you used to fiercely hide. None of those wounds were physical, none of them could be seen… But whenever you looked in the mirror, you saw them there, under your skin, under your soul, quietly resting until you couldn’t hide them anymore.

“You are lost…”

It was always the same voice, of something dark, something inside you that could break your soul if you didn’t shove it back into the darkness like you always did. That was why you were afraid; that was why Vergil always kept a faint glow by your side whenever you couldn’t hold yourself together. The dark was dangerous to you – to both of you.

“You are lost without me…”

“I can survive quite well without you…!” You growled to the darkness, keeping that part of yourself at bay. The part that gave in to the pain, that bathed in the blood and didn’t want to get up… And the part that would bathe and rise in rage, making you survive at great cost to those around you.

You were past that. And you didn’t need that to survive. You didn’t have to survive, you could live.

“Can’t you see that you’re lost…?”

“Vergil!” Your scream was a roar in the dark, looking for the one you plunged into the darkness to find. You wouldn’t give in to the trickery of those Piranhas – and you would get Vergil out of there.

They would learn they shouldn’t fear only the son of Sparda: they should also fear you.

“You think you can find him…?” After the mischievous ethereal voice questioned, you heard a giggle rippling around your feet as you stumbled on the sticky floor to find your lover. “You think you are that good? You think you aren’t a monster?”

You furrowed your brows, doing your best to ignore the voices. You knew it was that part inside of you that always taunted how broken you were, how imperfect your soul was. For the longest time you believed there was nothing good in you, nothing to save you from a life of loneliness, until you crossed paths with Vergil.

He was broken too – and he would never judge the things you did to survive your lethal wounds.

“Vergil! Can you hear me?! I’m here to find you!”

“How chivalrous, how heroic! What are you trying to accomplish?” The giggles pooled around your feet, threatening to drag you inside that pool of viscous darkness. “Trying to prove yourself? You’re never going to be perfect. You’re a black sheep, an outcast, remember? The likes of you aren’t heroes.”

“Oh, I’m no hero…” You growled back, fighting against the things trying to pull you back; fighting against the pain of the freezing cold and warmness of blood. “I’m a fucking fighter. You’re messing with the wrong kind of monster, fucking Hell Piranhas.”

“Piranhas…?” A faint whisper in the dark broke whatever control those things were trying to have over your body, starting at your feet. It was Vergil’s whisper – followed by a louder speaking tone. “Y/n! I can feel you, where are you?!”

“Trying to find you!” You screamed back, immediately dragging your feet towards Vergil. You couldn’t see him, but you could feel where he was – and there was nothing those demons could do against that.

The darkness seemed to shift for a couple of seconds. You couldn’t understand what was happening, but you saw a faint, ghostly pale glow in the dark – almost imperceptible, but your heart knew, you could finally see Vergil.

And, in return, he could see you. Moving his feet, Vergil dragged heavy shackles through the floor, screeching in a horrid, soul scratching sound as he willed his body to move towards you. You could hear him grunting with the effort, another set of chains being dragged as Vergil moved his arms – slowly, but surely, wearing all of his strength to get to you.

You felt the viscous ripples of the floor creeping up your legs, almost on your knees, doing their best to pull you away – back into the darkness, back to the taunting voices, to the doubt, the hurt, the self-loathing.

“Vergil! Let me hear your voice! You’re still there, right?!”

“Yes. I am always here.” His answer came with grunts of effort, barely above the noise of the chains screeching around him.

The darkness shifted again, and his form became even more visible, as yours did to him – followed by a scream that rumbled in his chest, Vergil managed to get even closer. That made something spark inside yourself, that thundering storm breaking in your soul cracking in a scream that broke the insidious tentacles holding you back and making you lunge forward.

Once again, the glow you diffused only to each other seemed to get stronger as the darkness wavered.

“Y/n…” He growled once more, the shackles screaming on the floor as he reached out to you.

“Vergil…!” You reached out in return, barely making out the form of his fingers in the dark.

As you were almost touching each other’s hands, the heavy, muffling darkness faltered once more. You could finally see one another, as you were in that godforsaken place.

Vergil was shirtless, his body covered in wounds – new and old – bleeding profusely. His silvery eyes were red, sunken in deep shadow, surrounded by a deep purple mist on his dry skin. You could see his bones under his pale skin covered in so many lacerations you wouldn’t even know where to start healing him. His knuckles were battered, showing the flesh underneath, as well as his wrists covered by heavy iron shackles – wounds from fighting against them for so long. His hands were still long and elegant, but bony and covered in bruises.

You had never seen Vergil so hurt, so broken, so… Vulnerable.

In return, his eyes took in shock the vision of you: as shirtless as him, as battered and wounded as he was. Even if not locked in the shackles he wore for so long in Hell, you walked barefoot leaving a trail of blood behind you. Those scars, those wounds, those bruises… He knew they were there, but he had never seen those. You looked weak and tired, bloodshot eyes under dry skin, as if you hadn’t slept in ages… And those things you fought so much to conceal, now crystal clear in front of him.

Those were the scars you carried inside yourselves. The wounds you had to fight against every day – that you had to try to heal, even if sometimes it seemed impossible. The things you would never show, but, somehow, you managed to sense it in each other… Now you could see it, clear as a bright night.

And, even if you wouldn’t admit to yourselves, those were the very same breaking thunders that would keep you moving – fiercely fighting, fiercely surviving.

As you took in each other’s internal selves, Vergil’s silvery eyes finally found yours.

A loud thundering noise shook the floor underneath your feet twice, as your hearts rumbled alongside the devastating sound. You lunged forward, holding Vergil’s hand as if your life depended on it. Never breaking your eye contact, Vergil held your hand with the strength you would expect of the legendary Dark Slayer. You made each other stronger, and there was nothing that could come between you now.

His shackles immediately screeched back, pulling Vergil violently away from you. At the same time, you were grabbed by the viscous darkness – your knees, your legs, your abdomen, your arms. It pulled you back with vicious strength, doing its best to drag you away from him – back into the darkness.

“Don’t let me go!” You screamed back, tightening your grip around his bony hand.

“I will never let go!” He growled, doing the same, trying to drag his body forward – failing to notice you willed yourself towards him as he pulled you into his arms. Those silvery eyes never moved away from yours.

“You are lost…! Lost…!”

The voices chanted and screeched around you, doing their best to drag you apart. For a moment, your hand slipped and you let out a desperate scream, hurting your lungs as you were almost pulled back into the void. Vergil’s cry resembled a roar as he willed his body to move and tightened his grip in a way he didn’t hold even Yamato.

He hadn’t held his brother’s hand once. This time he wouldn’t make the same mistake. This time, he would hold you even if that damned the both of you to the darkest pits of Hell.

“Can’t you see…? Can’t you see that…?”

“I am lost…!” You barked back to the voices, still staring into Vergil’s eyes, trying to catch your breath while your lungs stung as if you were inhaling a thousand knives.

As Vergil looked into your eyes, though, he knew exactly what you were going to say – and he could safely say it was the very same thing he struggled to find the words to.

“Without you.” His answer came in a dark tone, ragged from the effort he too made to be able to hold your hand.

The thunder rumbled twice again – the voices shrieked and you suddenly found yourselves being launched into each other’s arms as the forces that bind you broke into a million pieces.

Vergil’s arms wrapped around you, one of his hands holding your head close to his chest, as you wrapped yours around his waist, keeping him as close as you could. His head rested on top of yours, and you kept your eyes closed – washing away the blood above his heart with the tears that streamed down your face.

“Don’t ever hide from me.” Vergil’s voice was uncharacteristically shaky, somber but reassuring. You had never been so vulnerable in front of him – and even upon seeing you like that, his reaction was to take you in his arms, to welcome you. “I’m not afraid of the dark.”

“And I’m not afraid of your darkness.” You tightened your arms around his cold, bony body as you felt tears running through your hair. “I can see beyond your glimmer, and I’m not afraid of what’s in the dark.” Your voice shook as you took a deep breath and Vergil’s arms held you even closer – his body shaking with the tears falling from his eyes. “It’s you. And I’m never afraid of you.”

“Neither am I of you.”

His answer was but a whisper – a whisper enough to break the darkness into a memory to be kept away in the deepest pits of Hell.

I can feel the thunder that’s breaking in your heart I can see through the scars inside you

*

*

*

*

“You killed the Piranhas from Hell with the power of love?”

Vergil wanted to crawl into a hole and disappear. Or die. Or both.

Probably both.

The whole crew was there as you and Vergil never came back from the job as quickly as expected – and when you did, it looked like you hadn’t slept in days.

The priest was more than happy with the result of your work – even though you never discovered why the Weavers decided to come out of hiding nor what they wanted. The congregation was just happy they were gone and the whole reason behind it would be a long-term thing for the Devil May Cry to work on – or to keep an eye on; maybe something bigger was approaching.

You and Vergil didn’t feel like going back to the shop, though. When you were hurt physically, things were very much ok to deal with, but when the wounds were emotional… You needed time for yourselves.

Unlike his brother, Vergil was a little more responsible with his money – and you, a lot more than the two. You managed to find somewhere to spend a few nights… Which involved the both of you talking out everything you felt and saw. It was harrowing at first, something neither of you were versed in and honestly were terrified of, but it eventually brought you even closer together.

So, to say you had defeated the Lie Weavers with the power of love was something that killed Vergil inside.

And you could almost see his internal self, glaring at you with a ‘really, after all of this you say this kind of foolishness’ look in his sad, silvery eyes, as Lady stared at both of you and made the question everyone was thinking.

“Yep. Power of love, it’s a curious thing.” You shrugged, making Vergil physically groan by your side while Dante slapped his table with a huge grin on his face.

“Make a one man weep, make another man sing! Hell yeah, Back To The Future, babe!” He winked back at you as you smiled in response.

“Of all the people you could end up dating, Vergil…” Trish sat on Dante’s desk, crossing her long legs while sporting a devilish smile on her rosy lips. It was interesting how her voice could never really sound like Eva’s. “It had to be someone who references the same songs as your brother.”

“Alas, fate plays many games…” Vergil rolled his eyes, but as they rested on you, there was a vulnerability you saw only once in that pitch black darkness. “But it is kind enough to give us what we need.”

No one ever really understood what he meant, but Dante was the only one who managed to see something inside his brother’s silvery eyes that could only reflect in yours – and that made him genuinely smile.

Indeed, you would never be the romance of a fairy tale book or a romantic comedy – but you could see what lied beyond each other’s scars; taking a glimpse at the worst of each other without fear and finding whatever light was left inside. You could understand – and that was much more than most lovers in the world would ever have.

[radiance1]

Prompt idea: inmortal teen looking Danny, jumping across different dimensions he lands in DC. He quickly become annoyed because the native heroes won't stop trying to adopt him.

Oh and it take some years to Danny to jump to another dimension

*Cracks knuckles*

Alright so this is extremely, very, late. But it shall be DONE!

So, let us start with some BACKGROUND.

Danny is an immortal teen, yes? So then, Danny has outlived every mortal he knows, as in Jack, Maddie, Sam, Tucker, Jazz, everyone.

So when the last person he loved and cared for died (your pick as to whom), he went into the ghost zone to explore to hopefully forget all the pain. He explored the zone, stopping by some of the ghosts he knows before finding a portal, to which he just says fuck it and dives in.

At first he didn't know where he was, but with some digging he came to the conclusion that it's a different dimension and is like neat. So he explores a lil, meets some people, drinks and eats some food.

Y'know, the usual tourist stuff.

So after a few years he had his fill of this new dimension, seeing everything there is to see and all. So he left, finding a conveniently open portal and then goes on to the next.

And the next.

And the next.

Until one portal, like any other. He pops into a new dimension and expects it to be like all the others, he already had things going on his mind about what it would be.

Perhaps old timey? Maybe Prehistoric even? Oooo, maybe it would be futuristic, those are always fun.

Except it was none of that, in this dimension people have powers and superheroes are actually real.

He was a bit surprised, but easily accepted it.

So there he was, just minding his own business outside of earth's atmosphere, eyeing up the planet to think about where he would visit first, he picked up a lot of languages in his travel, so he doesn't think he'll have a problem where he choses.

So he picks a certain spot to land, some city by the name of Metropolis, only to be met with two people.

A man with a red cape in blue and red spandex, and standing near him is a bat furry in black spandex.

Weird choice but alright, he doesn't judge.

It was when the former turned around- Superman if he remembered correctly, that he felt like he was punched in the gut.

He looked so much like him, so, so much that he thought he was standing- well, more so floating, right there in front of him.

"Dad?"

Danny noticed his mistake after he let it slip, there were some slight differences that his father didn't have, and well, his father is dead and all.

So what did he do to save himself from the embarrassment of mistaking some guy for his dead dad?

He's an adult- practically older than a lot of people actually, even if he looks like a kid. He is mature and will solve this and act accordingly.

He turned invisible and peaced out.

He's sure nothing won't come out of that frankly.

It was just a teeny, tiny slip up.

Something did come out of it, much to Danny's chagrin.

Now he's being followed by these superheroes everywhere for whatever reason and they won't leave him alone when he just wants to sight see.

In a dark and grim city because he was avoiding Metropolis?

Followed by some ninja furries in spandex. (Also what the fuck, why the hell are they so damn sneaky for he almost forgot they were following him-)

He went to New York.

Got found by this random lady who also wouldn't leave him alone.

He escaped to Central City and had a conversation with this guy in red spandex with a lightning bolt of his chest.

Honestly he had a pretty nice time but what is it with Superheroes and spandex?

He wanted to leave, but the portal isn't gonna open again for some undetermined amount of time.

...The universe really likes to fuck him over, don't it?

[minniethemoocherda]

Am I Pretty Enough To Fucking Die?

A/N: Sorry it's been a while since I've posted! IRL stuff got kinda busy for a minute! But I hope it was worth the wait! Also this takes place before my last fic "Saying Something Stupid" Xxxxxxx

Ao3

FF.net

They should have realised the first time that they should have died.

They had spent so long in their human form back then that they had nearly been successful in making themselves forget what it was like to be in their natural liquid state. But subconsciously, they mustn't have had, as it was all too easy for Sinister to bring them back from death.

Countless of the countless experiments Sinister put them should have killed them. At times they wished that he had. But as much as it felt like he was trying too kill them, Sinister always brought them back to life.

It wasn't until when Sentinel-Trask shot a fireball at their face, and they heard Logan scream their name in a repeat of that first fatal night, that the thought first came to them. Because whilst the force of having their body ripped apart hurt like hell itself, it could only have been half an hour later that they were able to pull the burnt blobs of their body back together.

Logan refused to leave their side for at least a week after that and whilst Morph wasn't going to complain, they couldn't help but wonder if the extra protection was even necessary.

Morph had no idea about the science behind it but they knew that somehow they didn't need a brain to function. That the few times they reverted back to a full liquid state, just because they didn't have a physical brain to control them, didn't mean they couldn't. Whenever they were in a human form they would create whatever they needed to move their body, such as their heart or lungs or whatever gendered organs they were feeling that day, even though technically they didn't need them to function, as e it would hurt if one of those concocted organs were injured, as it was their cells that were getting damaged, at the end of the day, they could just shift themselves a new one.

They knew that there were other shapeshifters out there. Mystique being the most famous amongst them. Morph had never met her in person but they had read her file. They knew that she could also change their internal organs, it was how Nightcrawler had come into existence after all. And Beast theorised that she could shift at a cellular, maybe even atomic level. But her natural state was still human, a blue skinned and yellow eyed one but human non the less. Whereas Morph's natural state was as a pile of gloop.

Currently they were in what the team saw as their normal form, pale grey skin with a featureless face. The others did know that it wasn't their real form, but Morph doubted that many of them remembered that.

Except for Logan of course, who knew them better than anyone.

They were sitting besides The Wolverine now, a half forgotten game of go-fish scattered across the table between them and bottles of beer keeping them warm against the chill of the evening breeze.

Stealing glances at Logan wasn't anything new for them but this time was different. They gazed at how the last rays of sun illuminated the sharp edge of his nose, wondering how many sunsets that face had seen. Morph believed that Logan was a sight that they would never tire of seeing.

"You gonna keep starin' or are you gonna ask whatever's in that bald head of yours?" Logan grumbled after Morph must have been looking for too long.

The liver and stomach they'd created, digested the alcohol, giving their body a warm buzz, which was probably why Morph didn't think much before opening their mouth.

"When did you realise that you were immortal?"

Judging by the look on Logan's face that wasn't what he had expected them to ask but he answered anyway.

"The first time I remember getting shot in the head."

"Yeah but how did you know, for certain that you were immortal?"

"I don't. Not yet." Logan shrugged. "Beast reckons that gettin' my head cut off would probably do the trick but I ain't plannin' on testin' that out." He then fixed them with those sharp blue eyes of his. "Why?"

Morph took a deep breath. Honestly after coming out as gay and non-binary, this wasn't half as scary.

"I don't think I can die."

"Oh shit." Logan replied after a moment, rare genuine shock crossing his grizzled features. "You sure?"

"Not yet." Morph repeated back to him in his own voice.

"Well I definitely ain't helpin' you test that out either." Logan snorted as though the pair of them were just shooting the breeze, as though this conversation was a completely normal thing to talk about. As thought this was just nothing thing to add to the list of things they had in common like their love of beer, enjoying taking the piss out of Scott and past psychological torture.

But then Logan had always been the only one who understood them. It was what made him so easy to talk to. Almost too easy. Which made it hard not to tell him how they truly felt.

"Looks like you're stuck with me then old man." They said instead.

"Huh." Before Morph had the chance to reflect on that reflective tone, Logan continued. "Well I can think of worse people to be stuck for eternity with."

"Worse then me?" Morph said through the sharp teeth of Sabertooth's mouth.

"If you spend the rest if time dressed up at Creed, I'll kill you myself." Logan said, punctuating his point with the familiar snikt of his claws.

Then the crease in Logan's brow tensed into something sharper.

"Look, sometimes it's harder to be the one who survives. And just 'cus you can't die don't mean you can't feel pain." Logan stated, watching the sun as it finally sunk bellow the horizon.

They both knew that he wasn't talking about the physical kind of pain. It probably wasn't the healthiest conclusion to come to when dealing with ones own mortality or lack there of, but the thought that they couldn't stop coming back to was that it meant that they would never again be able to hurt Logan again with their death.

Then Logan put his claws away, stroking the red of his knuckles as he cleared his throat.

"So don't go looking for new ways to give us all heart attacks alright. I-we don't like seeing you get hurt."

"Trust me I'm not." Morph snorted. "You don't have to worry about me."

Steel blue eyes met their empty grey ones.

"I'll always worry about you."

It wasn't an I love you, and it probably never would be but, promising to care for them for the rest of eternity would most likely be the closest Morph would ever get and they would hold those words forever in their fabricated heart.

Morph honestly hadn't thought too deeply about their new realisation. After coming to terms with their gender and sexuality this was just another thing to add to the long lost of weird shit they'd learnt about themselves.

But it was a comfort to know that whatever life might throw at them, they would always have Logan by their side.

A/N: So the concept of Morph being made of gloop has really stuck in my head and got me thinking how they can function without organs and if they don't need them, then what could actually kill them?? Like they get blasted in the chest in the OG show?? Then Sentinal-Trask blasts them too and we even see them turn to gloop in that shot!!?? So yeah my latest headcanon is that like Logan, they too are potentially immortal! Xxxxxx

[chvoswxtch]

hi court!!!! I devoured your frank castle fics, you just capture him so fucking perfectly!!! soooo, i’m usually pretty extroverted and outspoken and I feel like I see a lot of frank x shy reader. I was wondering if you were interested in potentially writing this request: frank and a pretty confident and extroverted reader (on the shorter and curvier side bc I’m self indulgent) who maybe feels a bit insecure because of a lack of romantic partners and whatnot and maybe they’re friends and something happens and frank just wants to show her how attractive he really finds her…

maybe this sparks some inspiration? i would love to read it, but either way I am obsessed with anything frank or matt you write!!!

ps: thank u for the follow now we’re moots and i’m so fucking excited!! xxx sending so much love your way

hi angel baby d!!!

first of all, thank you so much for your sweet words. i'm also so fucking excited to be moots now!!! as a short curvy girl myself, I happily self indulged on this with you. thank you so much for the request, angel. I wasn't sure if you wanted it to be spicy or not, so I left it open ended. but if you want a spicy follow up, i'd be more than happy to write it. ;) please enjoy this valentine's treat from me to you, love. ❤️

I know y'all didn't think I was gonna leave out my frankie girlies on valentine's day. everyone say thank you @neverlandcity. ❤️

warning: swearing (bc frankie), mentions of alcohol, & allusions to spiciness. word count: 1.7k

[part two]

pretty.

From the moment he met you, Frank hadn’t been able to shut you up. He always knew exactly what was on your mind because you had no problem speaking it. For someone so small, you sure as hell had the confidence of someone his size, and the attitude to match. He was certain it looked comical every time he had to haul you out of a bar over his shoulder when you tried to pick a fight with some asshole three times your size. Other times though, he just sat back and watched with a grin. After all, sometimes those shitheads earned it.

If there was one person in this entire world Frank was scared to death to piss off, it was you. But, he got lucky in that your patience with him seemed to be limitless. As much as he had tried to keep you at arms length when you two first met, you weren’t having any of that shit, and very quickly had won him over. You very easily became one of his favorite people, and overtime he eventually got used to keeping up with you. 

But tonight, you were quiet. 

Frank couldn’t think of a time since he’d met you that you had ever been quiet. There was the one time you lost your voice from having a cold, but that didn’t stop you from furiously going through two entire notepads in a three day span. He thought he’d enjoy the silence, but honestly he had gotten so used to your voice that it was unnerving not being able to hear it. There was an immense sense of relief he felt once you could talk again, even if you did sound like you smoked forty packs a day for a while. 

You hadn’t said more than ten words since you showed up at Frank’s door thirty minutes ago with a full bottle of tequila that was steadily being depleted. He cocked his head to the side as he studied you, noting the intense look of concentration on your features as you sliced up another lime in perfectly proportionate wedges. 

“Did someone die?”

You immediately paused, whipping your head around to face him as your brows knit together in the center of your forehead in clear confusion.

“What?”

“Just wonderin’ if someone died.”

“Uh…not that I know of?”

“Then what the hell you bein’ so quiet for?”

“What are you talking about?”

Frank leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest, narrowing his eyes slightly as he studied your face.

“You’ve barely said a full goddamn sentence since you walked through that door, and you’re cuttin’ up that lime like you’re performin’ fuckin’ open heart surgery. Not to mention, that bottle was full thirty minutes ago.”

A scoff sounded from your lips as you squeezed the juice of one of the lime wedges into your glass and shrugged your shoulders.

“Yeah well, someone is a heavy handed bartender and likes their drinks strong.”

“You’re the one makin’ the drinks, sweetheart.”

Frank arched one of his brows with a smirk as you glared at him. Your lips parted as you went to retort, glancing between both of your glasses and the assembly line that you currently had going. You shook your head as you went back to fixing yourself another drink and flipped him off over your shoulder.

“Shut up.”

Frank rolled his eyes as he rubbed his palms down his face, eyeing you as you sat back down at the table across from him and sipped on your drink.

“Jesus, normally I can’t get you to shut the hell up and now I can’t get ya to talk to me? The hell’s that about?”

He could tell he was testing your patience by the way you narrowed your eyes and pursed your lips in displeased line.

“No one died, Frank.”

“Then what happened?”

“Nothing.”

“Bullshit.”

An exasperated groan left your lips as you set your glass on the table with a heavy thud, crossing your arms over your chest as you rolled your eyes.

“I had a shitty date last night and I wanted to drink about it. There. Will you quit being a dick now?”

Frank tensed up at the mention of the word date. 

Who the fuck did you go on a date with? Why didn’t you tell him? Since when were you dating? Wait…did you say-

“That bad?”

Your eyes instantly locked with Frank’s, and the emotion swirling around in them had him softening. You swallowed thickly and put your armor back up, rolling your eyes as you laughed dryly and downed another sip of your drink.

“I’ve had worse.”

As much as Frank didn’t wanna hear about you going on a date with some asshole, he did have a lot of questions.

“He uh…do somethin’?”

The nonchalance he had attempted had clearly failed by the smirk tugging at the corner of your mouth.

“Nothing that warrants you going all “Punisher” on him.”

Frank cocked his head to the side slightly as he stared at you, tensing his jaw as his fingers twitched in his lap.

Anyone even fuckin’ lookin’ at you the wrong way would warrant that.

The smirk on your lips quickly fell when you noticed Frank was seriously considering the validity of your words. You let out a deep exhale as you stared down into your glass, swirling the contents around slowly.

“Just…not his type I guess.”

“The hell’s that s’posed to mean? He say that?”

You held your hand up as Frank sat up a little straighter in his seat, shaking your head as you chuckled dryly to yourself.

“He didn’t have to.”

Frank’s face fell at the dejection in your tone, but he was impossibly confused. There was a layer of scarlet starting to burn on your cheeks, and you prayed Frank would think it was from the tequila and not from the embarrassing truth. 

“I…I’m just…not what he wanted, and that’s fine, you know? I just wish I would’ve stalked his social media before the date, because then I would’ve known better than to go. I mean…all his exes were these like super tall, thin, bombshell supermodel types, and that’s just…not me.”

There was a rage flowing through Frank’s veins that he hadn’t felt in a long time. As much as you were trying to play it off, he knew you were upset. He could see the way your eyes glimmered as you gazed down into your glass. 

“Whatever. He was boring anyway.”

“He sounds like a bitch.”

A loud laugh slipped past your lips as you spit out your drink, covering your mouth as you stared at him incredulously and tried to speak through your giggles.

“God Frankie, tell me how you really feel.”

No one had called him Frankie since Russo, and the first time you had, he froze. He hadn’t expected to like the way it sounded coming from your lips so much. He tried to pretend like it annoyed him every time you called him that, but he secretly loved it. It was something that now belonged only to you. He’d never let anyone else use it.

Frank shook his head as he finished off his own drink, setting the glass down on the table a little harder than he had to as he scoffed.

“Fuckin’ idiot was probably intimidated.”

“Intimidated? Frank, I can’t reach the top of my fridge without a step stool.”

“I’m not talkin’ ‘bout your height, smartass. I meant by you.”

There was an edge to Frank’s voice that stunned you quiet and had your giggles immediately disappearing. He seemed genuinely pissed off about something, and there was a flame flickering dangerously in his eyes. He stared at you quietly for a moment, seemingly trying to gather his thoughts. Shaking his head slowly, a tiny smile pulled at the corner of his mouth.

“You’re smart, I mean really fuckin’ smart. Sometimes too smart for your own damn good. You’re funny, and you ain’t even gotta try to be. You got the biggest goddamn heart out of anybody I ever met. I know you talk a big game and you’re ‘bout five feet and some change of pure sass, but you give a shit, ya’know? I mean you care ‘bout people, always goin’ out of your way for everyone and shit. I mean hell, you intimidate the shit out of me, and I’m a man. I can only imagine how much you terrified that little boy.”

Your mouth hung open as you processed Frank’s words. There was so much venom in that last sentence alone that you were nearly speechless. 

“I…you’re…contractually obligated to say that.”

“The hell I am.”

“Frank-”

“A boy wants a girl, sweetheart. But a man…a man wants a woman, yeah? And you, darlin’, are all woman.”

You’d be a fucking liar if you said you didn’t find Frank attractive. But you certainly never thought he would ever see you that way. You thought he tolerated you at best considering you practically forced your friendship on him. You weren’t sure if it was the alcohol simmering in your veins or his words buzzing in your ears, but there was something about the way he was looking at you right now that had warmth spreading throughout your lower half.

“I do.”

“What?”

Frank chuckled as a wolfish grin spread over his lips, nodding his head in your direction.

“You asked if I thought you were pretty.”

Your eyes doubled in size as your lips parted, blinking a few times to try and clear the drunken haziness that had started to cloud your judgment.

“Oh God…did I say that out loud? I don’t even-wait, what? You…you think I’m pretty?”

“I think you’re fuckin’ gorgeous.”

Frank tilted his head to the side slightly as he let his eyes wander shamelessly over your body, clearly pleased with your reaction to his confession. He used his boot to kick his chair away from the table a bit so that he could spread his legs out as he faced you directly. He gently patted his thigh with one of his large hands as he stared at you with a smirk spreading over his mouth.

“Now, why don’t you c’mere and let me show you just how pretty I think you are, sweetheart.”

[samofmine]

thank you anon i had a wonderful time writing this

Sam is Dean's. One way or another, that's pretty much the only thing Dean is certain of now.

Now.

It hasn't always been like this.

Back when they were younger, Dean was always anxious, always worried Sam would leave him one day. He was too different, too silent, too much in his own little world and as much as Dean prouded himself in being the only person Sam would allow to enter his world, he also knew one day this would change and he'd be locked out forever.

So it wasn't much of a surprise when he announced he was going to leave. Stanford.

But even though he saw it coming, it still felt like something died inside of him, a light going out.

And later when they eventually found their way to each other, Dean was certain Sam would leave again. He never wanted the life, never wanted to be part of a fucked up family. He wanted to be normal.

Now, Dean knows Sam has forgotten about that. He finally understands he's never gonna be normal.

Most importantly, he understands Dean is as much of a freak as he is. They're in this together for life.

And, yes, Dean knows Sam is his. In every way he wants him.

This... Thing between them, the thing Dean never knows how to name, has only started a couple years ago. Yes, Dean still feels a longing for his brother rooted deep inside his chest that will never go away, even when Sam is in his arms, moaning his name, panting against his lips, he still longs for him. He thinks this is the result of all the years they lost trying to fight against... this.

Last night, they were bored out of their minds and decided to get hammered together, like they hadn't done in a long time.

Dean loves to see Sam drunk, loves how easily he laughs, how carefree he seems. They could talk about anything and laugh it off.

So, these are the only moments Sam really talks about his time in Stanford. Dean doesn't complain, really, talking about that time only makes the longing grow inside him, but he can handle it from time to time.

Yesterday Sam started to list the people he hooked up with while at college.

At first, Dean was laughing it off.

But then he mentioned someone. A guy.

Dean doesn't care to remember his name. But he does remember what Sam said about him.

The guy was the first one to fuck him.

Sam lost his virginity to a college no-name boy.

And Dean couldn't laugh about that even if he tried.

Which brings him to where he is now.

He found a spell in one of Rowena's books and spent the entire day getting things ready. If it all goes according to plan, Dean will go back in time.

He will reclaim what's his.

He finishes drinking the purple, oddly glowing liquid that tastes like metal and cheap grape juice and says the magic words.

He feels dizzy at first, like he lost consciousness for half a second and came back, and when he realizes... It worked.

Hell yes. Now he has to go find Sammy.

-

Sam is in bed, it's been an overwhemingly long day with too much to do and he really needs to rest.

But, of course, not even this goes according to plan.

He hears a loud noise coming from the apartment's kitchen and jumps out of bed.

He's terrified, hands shaking, and a million thoughts run through his head as he tries to remember what he should do. What he was taught.

He enters the kitchen with a baseball bat in hand, but, before he can see anything someone tackles him to the floor.

His eyes finally adjust to the darkness and he sees him - Dean.

"Easy, tiger!" He says.

Sam frowns.

"Get off me!"

Sam frees himself from Dean and walks to the light switch.

Now, with the lights on, he can see the boy - well, the man - clearly.

It's him, but it's not him as Sam remembers him.

"What the hell?"

"Missed you too, little brother." Dean smirks.

"How the- You-" Sam blinks, trying to gather his thoughts.

Did he fall asleep? Is he dreaming?

What kind of a weird ass dream is this? An old version of Dean breaking into his apartment?

As he thinks, Dean starts going through the kitchen's fridge, grabbing two bottles of beer.

"When you're done freaking out," Dean says, walking to the living room, "Come have a drink with me."

Sam takes another five minutes before he gets himself to follow Dean.

Dean explains everything to him. He explains how he came from the future. How Sam left Stanford, for a reason he won't mention, and they're together a few years from now.

Sam sips on his beer, feeling dizzy.

"But- why? Why would you come here talk to me?"

Dean's eyes darken.

"I know a secret of yours, Sammy."

Dean's voice is so different, even deeper than it already was. His eyes are still a green that seems to spark like a gemstone, and the crinkles by it only make him more good looking.

So, Future Sam probably still hasn't gotten over his crush.

"What secret?" He asks skeptically.

Dean smirks and scoots closer to him, throwing an arm around his shoulder.

He leans in to whisper on his ear.

"I know you've been thinking about me. In ways you shouldn't."

Sam widens his eyes and backs away from Dean on reflex.

"W-What?"

Dean's eyes are even darker now and he looks so sure, so confident, it makes Sam shiver.

"I have a secret, too." He says. "Few years from now, we're gonna be all over each other. I can't get enough."

Sam blushes at the words. He swallows dry, thinking of what to say. Dean's hand finds his thigh, traveling up, stopping on his hip.

Dean pulls him closer.

"Tell me, Sammy." He says, "Tell me how much you want me."

Sam takes a deep breath. Dean starts to kiss down his neck, pulling his hair lightly in a way he only now realizes he likes it, and yeah, there's no way this isn't a dream.

Sam lets out a whimper, getting lost in the feeling. He has wanted this for so long, so damn long, and he hated himself for it.

And now, Dean - older Dean, but still Dean - is right here, giving him everything he always wanted and more.

"Dean..." He says, blushing harder over how needy he sounds.

Dean nibbles on his ear.

"I want you, little brother." He says, "Want you so bad."

He turns Sam's face to look at him and Sam gets lost inside his eyes before he leans in, kissing him with so much desperation he feels himself losing his breath.

He straddles Dean's lap and of course Dean holds him, urging him to take his shirt off and attacking his nipples as soon as they're bare. Sam is already a mess, whimpering and gasping and moaning Dean's name, painfully hard in his pants.

Dean's hand touches him through the sweatpants.

"Tell me." Dean demands, and Sam can't even think of not answering.

"Want you." He breathes out. "Always wanted you, Dean. So fucking bad."

That turns a switch inside Dean and he groans, lifting Sam's body and laying him on the couch, taking off his pants and hovering over him as he takes off his own.

Dean steps back and looks at Sam, naked on the couch. Sam feels his entire body burn.

"You're so beautiful." Dean says, closer now, his hand travelling Sam's body with adoration. "So damn hot, made me lose my mind back then. Still does."

He kisses down Sam's torso and oh, finally, he touches Sam's cock, pumping it twice before taking the head in his mouth, eyes locked with Sam's the entire time.

Sam feels like his brain is melting, he can't do much other than whine and moan Dean's name, so he leans back and watches Dean, leaking precum inside his mouth.

When he's getting close, Dean lets his cock go with a pop. He whines louder.

"It's okay, baby brother. I'll make you feel real good."

Dean rubs the head of his cock, squeezes more precum out and coats his finger with it.

Sam knows where this is going.

Dean starts rubbing his fingers against his hole.

Sam lets out a gasp.

"De- Dean!"

"Shhh, it's okay, baby. Let me take care of you."

"No, Dean, I- I never, I mean, I haven't-"

Dean lets out a groan, tip of his finger entering Sam, and Sam shivers at the feeling.

"I know, Sammy." Dean says, "Gonna be your first. Gonna be the first cock you take in your virgin, tight little hole."

Dean's words are dripping with want, hunger even, and Sam all but melts under his touch.

His finger is all the way in now and he's thrusting it in and out, slowly.

"Ask for it, Sammy." Dean says. "Tell me you want me to take your virginity. Tell me you're mine."

Sam feels shivers running down his body as Dean starts to lick his hole while he thrusts his finger, overwhelmed by how gentle he's being.

"Want-" Sam mumbles. "Want you. Want you to be my first. Please, De-"

Dean adds another finger, this one covered with spit, and starts thrusting in harder. Sam feels weird at first, stretching around his brother's fingers, the burning pain too unfamiliar, but then Dean hits something inside him that makes his body jolt with pleasure and Sam hears himself begging for more of this, more of Dean.

Three fingers in and Sam is almost crying, hips moving trying to meet Dean's thrusts, wanting more of that feeling.

Dean takes his fingers out and leans down to kiss Sam, this kiss filled with passion and want and Sam feels the safest and most loved he's ever felt all his life.

"Gonna fuck you now, baby brother."

Dean says, and Sam feels him coming in, stretching him so much more, he feels like he's going to break, but Dean goes slow and kisses him the entire time until he's fully in.

Sam feels so full his body is taken over by an overwhelming bliss.

He wraps his legs around Dean's waist and pants against his mouth.

"Fuck me." He whines.

And oh, Dean does.

He thrusts inside him, slow but increasingly harder, groaning and giving Sam kisses and bites down his neck.

Sam can't put his mind to understand what Dean's saying, but he gets bits and pieces of it, like "So tight, so fucking tight" and "So perfect for me" and "Made for my cock".

Dean starts thrusting harder and Sam's cock is throbbing against his stomach, almost painfully. He reaches to touch it but Dean stops him, grabs his hand and lifts it, holding it on top of his head.

"Please- I need-" Sam whines, Dean hitting the spot inside him hard with every thrust. He feels like he's going insane from the feeling, too overwhelming, too new.

"You can come like this." Dean pants on top of him, "Come on my cock, Sammy."

Sam whines at the words because fuck, this is too much, Dean fucks him even harder and Sam feels it building up inside him, painfully slow with his neglected cock twitching and leaking, and then it hits him. He lets out a broken sob as he comes all over himself and Dean.

"That's it, Sammy. So good, such a good baby brother for me, fuck." Dean fucks him through his orgasm, groaning as Sam clenches around him, and it's not long until he's spilling inside him, warm and deep and Sam whimpers at the feeling.

When Dean pulls out Sam feels incredibly empty, and he grabs Dean's arms and pulls him down towards him, kissing him passionately, like he's still hungry.

Dean's hand finds his cock while they're kissing and Sam flinches, too sensitive, but his cock is twitching on Dean's hand.

He pumps it slowly until Sam is moaning against his mouth.

"That's it. You did so good, came so good just from my cock." Dean praises him, "Gonna make you come again, baby."

Sam is thrusting up in Dean's fist before he realizes and he comes with a scream this time, entire body shaking.

He falls asleep right after, exhausted.

He doesn't see Dean licking him clean afterwards, and he doesn't see Dean kissing his forehead and saying goodbye.

When Sam wakes up, he wonders if it was all a dream, but his body is still sore and he doesn't know how this is possible.

Years later, when he's back on the road with Dean, older Dean's words still haven't left his mind.

"Few years from now, we're gonna be all over each other."

So, Sam waits.

And he knows damn well it will be worth the wait.

[starrclown]

Random things in my Hazbin Hotel rewrite that I added for lore, character, or because I think it's cool

(I might do this for my Helluva Boss rewrite because these take up alot of brain space and I wanna infodump so Tumblr is my bitc-)

Triggerwarning: Talks of death, suicide, murder, other nasty stuff.

Angel has a daughter named Isabella. (This is Angel Dust. I took the Dust out of his name because in my rewrite Angel is ashamed of his drug addiction. I wanna clarify incase someone gets confused.)

Angel and Husk were born in the same year, 1891. Angel died at 56 while Husk died at 86.

Husk and Valerie (Vaggie)are probably the most innocent at the Hotel.

Angel, Alastor, and Nifty have all killed people. Nifty has only killed one person, her husband.

Both Angel and Nifty were married when they were alive.

Sir Pentious is now a girl. She is now Madame Pentious.

Husk is Transgender.

Husk has a Russian background. He also knows Russian.

Angel and his family are not from America. His family are immigrants from Italy. They came to America when he was about 7.

Alastor is black. He's not mixed anymore.

Cherrie is almost deaf. She can hear somewhat but she is almost excessively deaf from being around explosions all her life.

Angel is blind in his right eye. Things... happened to it.

Since Cherrie is hard hearing and Angel has only one eye, they help each other alot. Angel learned sign language to talk to Cherrie if she's having a hard hearing day. Cherrie usually walks around with Angel if he's in a unfamiliar area.

Both Alastor and Angel are overlords. (I'm gonna have to work out what makes a overlord a overlord )

Charlie is a doll. Litteraly. Her parents made her with demonic magic. (More like a puppet but you get it.)

Charlie has a bad relationship with Lucifer. Lilith on the other hand is a loving an attentive mother.

Valerie even though she doesn't look like it, is very good with certain weapons. Not good with hands on though.

Mimzy and Angel are good friends.

Vox and Velvette don't like Valentino. They stick it out with him because their territories are objectively smaller than Valentinos. They are both weaker than Valentino.

Vox and Valerie have the biggest inferiority complex out if the main cast.

Tom Trench has had a crush on Katie Killjoy for about 20 years now. Katie is aware of it. She toys him along all the time.

Valerie can't speak.

Vox and Angel have a brother like relationship. Velvette shares the same thing with Angel. Only Velvette likes it.

Nifty was the youngest to die. She's 18.

Husk was the oldest to die.

Considering Nifty died so young she often can revert to a teenage life mindset. When someone (Mostly Angel) treats her like a child because that's what she is, she gets upset. Really upset. She doesn't understand why everyone treats her diffrently.

Nifty also tries to argue that she's grown up because she not only had a husband, she has to be bad like a adult because she's in hell.

Alastor shows blantent favoritism when it comes to the treatment of Husk and Nifty. (Hint: Husk ain't the favorite.)

Alastor is actually pretty nice. Despite how evil his is he is genuinely kind to most people. He was raised to be a gentlemen so he never really let that go as a adult.

When you die, after a significant amount of time, you can recive objects from your human life. There is two ways you can obtain objects from your human life. You either have it on you when you die or someone gives it to you as you die. Like being buried with a object or a object being set on your grave. This is how Angel has some memories of his family, someone set a scrap book on his grave. He has his necklace cause he was wearing it when he died.

Angel killed himself. He intentionally overdosed.

Charlie has biased when it comes to sinners. She's unaware of it but it's there. Charlie shows favoritism to younger sinners and to sinners who died from unnatural causes or to wronged sinners. This is demonstrated in the main cast. Charlie treats Nifty, Valerie, and Alastor better than Angel and Husk. She doesn't treat them hostility by any means but she gives alot more leeway to those three then Angel and Husk. She treats Angel objectively worse. If something bad happens and Angel has a part in it, then Angel will most likely take blame. She treats them worse for diffrent reasons. Angel because he killed himself and Husk because of how long he lived.

While Charlie doesn't like killing sinners, she will if pushed far enough.

Angel hides what he actually looks like. He didn't come down to hell looking as he does currently.

Valerie will do almost anything to get validation. Her self hatred is that big.

I have more but this is getting long.

Ask questions if you want. If your curious.

- ⭐️StarClown⭐️

[mulders-too-large-shirt]

s2 episode 8 thoughts

tears. in my eyes. shaky breathing. oh. okay.

well. no place to start but the beginning.

stares at my laptop screen for a long, long time before typing. give me a minute. allow to me collect myself.

okay. we start with scully's mom narrating. and we learn, thanks to the subtitles, that her mom's name is margaret. this is information i will also be storing in my useless scully facts book.

so we knew she had two brothers, but a sister is also mentioned, named melissa. and we get this story from her childhood, about how dana- which feels wrong for me to type, but i will- was given a bb gun by her brothers, and she joined in with them shooting a snake. but then she realized it was bleeding and she cried as it bled out in her hands and held it while it died. which is already So much to handle. and her mom is saying that she feels how her daughter felt that day watching the animal die.

the next thing we see is mulder is there, and. he's saying it's still too early to know if she's gone. but. well.

we see a gentleman bring something out. and it is a gravestone with her name carved into it.

he turns away like he was burned from even looking at it. and man. that hurt. very badly.

we see that her middle name is katherine. and we learn this because we see it on her gravestone.

he goes back to his place (where he still sleeps on the couch) but then he gets a phone call that they've found her. and he busts into the door when the nurse says he can't go in there. that's our man!

he's screaming at these poor healthcare workers, somewhat rightfully suspicious they're involved with the government who took her, but also man. they don't get paid enough. however, i understand the emotional explosiveness this had to have provoked. so he is really just screaming, at the nurse, at the doctor, demanding to know what the hell happened, where she came from, and he says "i swear i'll do anything, i'll find out what they did to her" while being escorted out

then there is a very tense conversation between the doctor and her mother and him. the doctor must have already have been in quite a state, because mere minutes ago a raving angry man accused him of stealing his friend, and now he's sitting with said angry man explaining that they genuinely have no idea how she got here, and that she has no indication of injury.

we also learn that she had no desire to remain on life support past a certain point. and mulder knows this because. he. he. he uh. well he signed her will.

now i think maybe that's just something you have to do at the fbi and i can see them making a little joke out of it- a nice little trip to get each other's will signed, make a day of it, keep it light and funny- but man. man in this context. oh i'm gonna be Sick.

so we see a woman holding a crystal over her body and we learn it is her sister melissa!!! she's really pretty. she tries to show mulder that you can feel her energy by holding his hands over her but he gets angry and leaves.

(i love this dichotomy here, that somehow the ultra skeptic has a sister who is into talking about spirits and crystals. truly i feel this is what happens to people raised catholic)

at this point i wrote "girl i'm stressed tf out" and yeah. kinda the whole mood.

melissa is saying that his anger and fear is blocking the positive emotions she needs to feel, which echoes my statements about how he has been too cranky this season. but i can't even laugh because the man is in Distress.

he goes back to his place after saying he needs "to do more than just wave his hands", and he's bouncing a basketball and putting tape on his windows. i get it. that oppressive feeling of being unable to sit still. every moment dragging like a lifetime. bounce bounce bounce. he wakes up and rips the tape off his windows.

and back to attending to her bedside. i do not think this man has been clocking into his shift at the fbi.

we see a fellow enter wearing a suit and carrying flowers and i was like oh shit is it last rites time? um. so maybe i don't know what gets worn to a last rites event. i realize my weakness in this area and will do some research when we're done here.

but it's not anyone here to do that- it's frohike, the guy from the lone gunman who was making weird comments about scully! he must have come to pay his last respects. he picks up a clipboard and i thought oh my gosh he's gonna start reciting poetry- but he notices something weird on her chart and sneaks it out

it seems the whole thing was orchestrated, because mulder goes back to the freaks at the lone gunman, who invite him to come over and watch earth 2 and point out the factual inaccuracies- which, all things considered, is very sweet- but they send her blood data to a hacker that uses a richard nixon persona and he says that yeah, her blood is weird. and mulder's like, is she gonna make it, and they say no. it got very somber.

in terms of scully view, we see her on this dock of a boat between life and death. i thought that was nice imagery, and extremely eerie. those around her bedside are on one side of the dock, and it looks like the rope could snap and drift away at any moment.

the nurse comes in to do some blood work and i have another "augh blood" moment. so i look away. and mulder is REALLY pondering her blood. i thought he was honestly gonna take it for himself, maybe bring it in for testing or keep it like an emo.

but no! a strange man in a suit STEALS the blood!

so mulder is back into track star mode and is SPRINTING after this guy. i always forget that he is a runner. and he is RUNNING around this hospital and makes it to the parking lot until...

he is stopped by deep throat 2.0, a man for whom i realize i have no other name. but you know who i'm referring to, right? so i guess that name will work for now. deep throat 2.0 says that mulder needs to stop NOW, and that HE got deep throat 1.0 AND scully killed by looking into things too hard. which is an absolutely awful thing to say btw. deep throat 2.0 has a gun to mulder's head and says to stop searching.

mulder proceeds to run after the blood thief despite these warnings. can't say i blame him. he finds the blood thief!!! and they have a bit of a fight until...

deep throat 2.0, who earlier said he wanted to remain out of this mess, rolls up? so we're getting mixed messages here. and he says i'll take care of this and SHOOTS THE BLOOD THIEF?????? in the head.

back to the hospital. mulder is not pleased about the prospect of life support being removed but melissa says he has to honor her wishes. and he's going on about the blood protein and the doctor is like "why do you think this has anything to do with blood protein" and he Does Not Explain

her mom calls him "fox" again and says this is a moment for the family, but he can come too. and he won't come in. he's the wettest and saddest a man has ever looked as they go in there. and then the rope holding her to the dock of the afterlife is severed.

man. if i had been a contemporary viewer i would have been sobbing. thank god i've seen gifsets that prove this wasn't the end for her. because if i hadn't, i would have been in shambles. i mean i Was in shambles but like i would have been bawling on the floor.

cig man is with skinner. i honestly didn't think we'd get up to any sort of fbi related tasks in this episode, but he hands skinner a report and leaves. and then mulder comes in and denies being involved with the shootout at the hospital

(it's worth noting that he is doing all the denying to be an ass to skinner, and yells about "how does it feel, all the denial")

and he says that it was "cancer man" who took scully. i had been calling him cigarette man, but cancer man is very comparable.

the next thing i wrote was "SKINNER IS A BITCH????" this was because he said that mulder is "just as responsible" as cancer man for scully's situation if he knew the risks of this line of work and didn't warn her.

skinner baby YOU CAN'T SAY THAT? seriously i cannot figure this guy out. every time i think i have a read on him he does something like this that shifts my interpretation. what a horrible thing to say to someone.

cut to scully cam. she's on a table in metaphysical land. and her dad is there. he calls her starbuck and refers to himself as ahab- so the first mate and the captain. and he's monologuing about how he never knew how much he loved her until he realized he could never be with her again, and he says they'll be together "soon", but not now. so i'm wondering if she can hear all of this going on. i would guess so.

mulder is in the cafeteria with melissa and she is trying to talk a bit of sense into him. she says "you could spend the rest of your life finding every person that's responsible and its still not gonna bring her back" and he replies "including myself?"

now usually i would say that mulder taking the blame upon himself is tragic and typical, but here, having it also been implied by skinner AND deep throat 2.0, i am thinking, man, he's got to really believe it, even more so than all the other times he couldn't save everyone. which is. fucked up. so immensely fucked up. i'm sorry you pissed me off last episode baby but we can go to the zoo again like i planned. let's go see some tigers and cheer you up.

a woman walks in and asks him for change for the "cigarette machine", which was the first time in my life i have ever heard the term "cigarette machine", so maybe the earth really is healing

but he finds a pack with an address in it, and then, straight from my notes:

"CIG MAN'S HOUSE. OH MULDER IS THERE AND POINTING A GUN AT HIM. AND ALSO SCREAMING. "why her" oh his finger gets very close to the trigger"

cig man says he likes her and mulder, and. wow. what a despicable human being. he says that he likes mulder more for showing up to his place with a gun. says he's playing the game. mulder seems to have a realization he is acting just like those he swore to destroy and puts the gun down. cig man says it'll be their secret. and also that he was the one that told skinner that mulder shot the guy in the hospital even though he didn't think it was true.

we next see mulder sadly tapping at his computer. he prints a one sentence resignation letter "effective immediately" NOT even a two week's notice, that's how bad they fucked this man up

skinner comes by and says it's unacceptable while mulder is packing all of his things. and mulder says:

"i hate what i've become"

man. fuck. he hates the rage he has been driven to. the loss of control. the way he sees himself as being responsible for deep throat and scully. and all of it stemming from his need for answers, to track down his sister. he hates what that feeling of insufficiency has led him to and the path he now walks upon. hates it. hates his situation and himself and the world.

skinner decides to share some personal story time: he went off to vietnam- willingly enlisting on his 18th birthday. and then while he was there he shot a kid who was covered in grenades. the camera glances back at mulder occasionally, who, despite all of his grief, seems to be consulting his oxford training to try and remember what you're supposed to say to a guy who just told you he killed a child in vietnam.

and then he says he watched all his friends die and that he almost died- he was put in a body bag, and was in a coma for two weeks- and he was too scared to learn what happens next. but mulder isn't. and that's why his resignation is unacceptable.

mulder adds things up and realizes that it was skinner that gave him cancer man's location. again. complicating the vibe i get from skinner in doing something positive now. he says that every day is a risk.

deep throat 2.0 rolls up, saying that the people who did this to scully are going to break into his apartment tonight, and he'll have to kill them. he looks displeased by this- aversion to taking any sort of lives- but resigns himself to it.

so he's in his place in the dark ready to start blasting, when he gets a knock on the door. and it's melissa.

this is where we get the iconic exchange "why is it so dark in here?" "because the lights aren't on" which made me laugh so thoroughly seeing it out of context before i ever decided to watch this show

and melissa is MAD. scully is weakening, and she came to get him to say his goodbyes, but he won't go because. well. shootout is about to go down. this is his ONE chance to learn who did this to scully. but she doesn't know that is why he won't leave, so she YELLS at him, about being in a place even darker than her sister, and asks "why is it so much easier for you to run around trying to get even than just expressing to her how you feel? i expect more from you. dana expects more from you"

and man. those words are heavy. he locks the door, knowing that his place is gonna be robbed, and that he'll never know who hurt her, and comes down to see her.

and he's talking to her. holding her hand. saying he's here. he doesn't know if it'll change anything, but he's here.

when he goes home, his place is entirely ransacked, and he falls to the ground crying. fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck. i can't even put into words how bad this broke me. big strong mulder weeping on the ground, his career in shambles and his best friend dead.

i feel like i need to pause there just for how heavy it was. like this was his lowest low. lower than even vampire sex.

but he soon gets a call and he smiles so wide!!! and we learn her eyes are open!! it is the sweetest smile i have ever seen!!!!!!

he gets down to the hospital and she's awake and talking- but she doesn't remember anything- and he, being the insufferable man that he is, says the following:

"i brought you a present (holds up a vhs tape) superstars of the superbowls"

man. man. man. man. she deadpans so quickly. "i knew there was a reason to live"

he must have grabbed a random tape off his shelf and brought it to her with the express intent of antagonizing her back in the realm of the living. and he thought of something to say along with it on the car ride down, his hands shaking. something, anything to make her laugh. a stupid vhs tape. his constant sports references. her quick tongue. oh dear lord help me these two have ruined me.

he gives scully her necklace back, which i wrote about in all caps, while her mother and sister watch

and then we learn that the nurse who was taking special care of her was never actually there when scully wants to thank her and the other nurse is like "um no one who works here has that name" so. SCULLY PARANORMAL EXPERIENCE (POSITIVE)??!?!?!?

overall. man. i am experiencing such a volume of emotions. what the hell. she's back, though. and we saw how much she means to him. and i feel like i could type a million words on the subject but i don't even know what to say because they're still all stuck in my chest. they love each other sososo much.

will he ever tell her what he did in her absence? how he tried to quit? how he broke every rule trying to save her? how he screamed at the doctors, how he broke into cigarette man's house, how he almost pulled the trigger? how he watched a man die when deep throat 2.0 shot him? how he was blamed for her condition by himself and by others? how he left his apartment to be ransacked, giving up his one chance to catch whoever did this to her, to try and let go of his grief and be with her instead? or will he keep quiet except for the latest witticisms and frequent visits and presents and stories by her bedside while she gains strength and recovers?

and how he left, too, when he knew she was okay. how he must have wanted to be there more than anything in the world, but knew she needed to rest, so he left her with her family. how he could breathe easy again. how he had to make it seem like it was cool, and everything was contained.

man. this tv show. i just typed all of those words out and i still feel like i didn't even begin to cover the things i'm feeling. i feel like i need to shake them up and down.

but this should be good, because the x files are reopened... so are we seriously, as the kids say, so back? only time will tell!

[pumpkinsy0]

Ok this might seem stupid but hear me out, perhaps we could get some headcanons of papercut in the events of the book but instead of Johnny it was Curly who stabbed the soc and him and Pony had to run away together? It would also be cool to see what the Curtis AND Shepard gangs reactions are

this aint stupid,,,,ur onto something here,,,,

•ok look, not REALLY related but curly woulda loved that white trash w mustangs and madras line, this white on white violence gotta STOP💔💯

•ANYWAYS, i think he’d put up more of a fight, he’d try to get to pony but they were outnumbered so he gets cornered, HOWEVER, he always carries some weapon on him, or maybe he picked up a coke bottle, POINT IS, bob still died lmao

•i dont think curly and pony would stay around that area as long as johnny and pony did, curly would want to leave as soon as he could so nobody could see them, so ponys forced to just get it together in under like 2mins so they could leave, so ponys disassociating badly

•theyd go to tim, curly doesnt like dally and tim IS his older brother, then tim would tell dally, and they still end up at the dirty ass church</3

•now curlys shaken up too, like hes not trying to show it to look tough, but hes never done THAT before, never flat out hurt someone that badly before, but he still doesnt regret it bc it was to defend pony, however considering hes black in the 60s in TULSA, hes so certain a judge will not gaf that it was outta self defense, so actually hes disassociatin too, they both a lil fucked up rn

•back at home, dally didnt tell darry or soda where they were but tim sure as hell did, he gets what darrys goin through cause theyre both older bros worryin over their younger bros, darry doesnt know HOW to react at all to it, he doesnt tell soda nor johnny, or anyone really, when two bit says he’ll go to texas (i think it was,,,) to look for him, darry says not to bother, so they all feel like darry knows where pony is and they dint know wether to be happy or terrified bc why isnt he tellin em or getting him??

•when it comes to the shepard gang, tim did tell some of em whats going on, only his trusted guys tho, theres basically nothing they CAN do to stop word from spreading about it bc the socs who were there already went to the cops, so they all have to lay low for a while, stay in line cause tim quite honestly cant handle anything more rn

•angela’s pretty much losing it too, shes drinking more, way more irritable, if one of the shepards is gone, ALL of em r losing it dawg

•in the church, curlys trying to act like his normal self but u can tell that he’s damn near close to losing it cause this could mean prison or the death penalty, hes so sure hes done for and pony wants to reassure him but holy fuck it aint lookin too good, they do their normal banger but u can feel this somber tension between the two as if this is gonna b their last moments together

•curly is NOT talking about turning himself in at all, he’d rather kill someone else to NOT go actually, on top of that tims telling him to stay hidden, dallys tellin him to stay hidden, so thats how he knows hes GOTTA stay there

•NOW THE FIRE, just like dally, curly dont care that much bout those kids im ngl, but bc ponys running in there, now HE has to help, boooooo👎🏽👎🏽👎🏽👎🏽

•curly aint like johnny, hes grabbing those kids and pushing them out, whatever injuries they get outta that they gonna have to deal w later, its better than them being dead id think, when the church falls, honestly??? i think my main man curly gettin outta there in time, he lowkey DID push pony out the window cause he was taking too long and then jumped out bit aye, hes livin

•its either that or he risks it and takes the longer way out if like, the wood fell where the window was

•he aint livin without some injuries and scars tho, he did definitely break SOMETHING and got some burns on his hands and wherever else, but hes relatively fine, a part of the reason y is bc he wears a leather jacket, unlike johnny who wears a jean jacket, and jean jackets r more flammable, and as seen w pony, the leather jacket did help him a bit in that fire, he still is banged up tho

[recurring-polynya]

Idk if you’ve answered this question (sorry if you have) before, but how do you think Renji & Rukia first met ? What do you think their life was like originally before Soul Society ?

Pardon me if I'm reading this wrong, but...Rukia and Renji's first meeting is enshrined pretty thoroughly in canon? She rescued him from a water heist that was about to turn disastrous.

This is from Chapter 98/Episode 32: A Star and a Stray Dog, which is the first place you should be looking if you're interested in pre-canon Renruki lore.

As to the second part of your question...you mean before they died? What sort of lives did they have in the World of the Living?

I'm gonna pontificate, so I'll throw that under a cut

First off, I am fascinated with the fact that Kubo gives us nothing about what anyone's living life was like. On one hand, I would like to know everyone's pre-history, but on the other, I'm glad he didn't, like as a literary choice. The slate is supposed to be wiped clean. It doesn't matter. It's maddening, but also correct.

It's also one of those places that is just ✨fanfic free real estate✨ in terms of I think everyone should make up their own version for their blorbos, so of course I have them for Renji and Rukia. I have absolutely nothing to support these, they are just what I felt in my heart.

I have actually talked about Renji's beforedeath quite a bit, here and there in various fanfics, usual under the conceit that, particularly in their Inuzuri days, he would sometimes blurt out some half-remembered thing and then promptly forget it again. Here an excerpt from Chapter 3 of go places:

It’s an Alive Memory, Rukia is nearly certain. Most souls get them. All the boys did, from time to time. To Renji, it’s just brain dust. Whatever it is in Soul Society that makes people forget their lives also makes this memory detritus slippery to hold onto. Renji won’t think of this later, or attach any importance to this conversation. The funny thing is, after ten years of watching him stumble through these moments, Rukia probably has a better idea of what Renji’s life was like than he does. He lived on a farm of some sort. A small one, or at least his family grew a lot of their own food. He died of a fever. Nearly all of his Alive Memories involve his mother. Rukia is almost positive that Renji’s mother is the one who taught him to write. The sewing scissors were likely hers. In Rukia’s imagination, Renji’s mother is very tall and beautiful and kind. Rukia doesn’t need to use her imagination to know that Renji loved his mother very much.

Just to offer a little more detail--doing the math out, where Bleach starts in the early 00s, Rukia and Renji have been separated for 40 years and knew each other for 10 years before that, it would make a lot of sense for both of them to have died in WWII. However, I like to think that time is very wobbly, especially in the outer Rukon, so I like to make their deaths a little earlier-- specifically, I think that Renji died in the 1918 flu pandemic, which may have contributed to getting a plague spirit for a zanpakutou. That being said, my general vibe for his childhood is based on Kanta, the neighbor kid from My Neighbor Totoro, which takes place in the 50s. In any case, he had a pretty small and unremarkable life in rural Japan, aside from the fact that he was loved very much, which will never be unremarkable, no matter how common it may be.

I have written less about Rukia's beforedeath, mostly because she was too young when she died to have any phantom memories. [Note: I know there are some theories out there, based on some arcane clues that Kubo has dropped that Rukia may not actually be a normal soul and may be related to Hell. That's...fine. While I'm never going to say no to a storyline that centers Rukia, I really do hope that it comes to naught. Ichigo has enough Crazy Origin going on and I like the Rukia's backstory the way it is, so I'm just going to ignore all of that for the sake of this post]. Ahem! So, infant death is not anything surprising, or even really interesting, but what makes Rukia's kind of compelling is the fact that her much-older sister died at the same time. To me, this indicates either a natural disaster or a death-by-violence.

As I said above, there are infinity ways you can go with this, but to me, there were two important things I wanted to capture 1) given Renji's descriptions of Rukia having an inherent grace and nobility, and the idea that something about Hisana caught Byakuya's eye, I thought that maybe they should have been noble, and 2) I wanted them to live by the sea. I do not actually remember how I landed on this, but in the 1850s, a bunch of sea fortresses were constructed to protect Japan by attack from sea (see here for more detail). This was the tail end of the Edo period and I liked the idea that maybe Rukia came from an old samurai family, and her father was sent to oversee one of these coastal forts. Did they die in a bombardment? A bad storm? The Kanto earthquake? I never got that far. I'm not even sure if this is a realistic scenario, if they had civilians living there, etc, this was just a half-thought-out thing I came up with for a bonus chapter of a fanfic that someone requested once. The one other detail from that that I came up with and stand by is that I think there were more siblings in their family between Hisana and Rukia. I also like that this idea that makes Rukia somewhat older than Renji, even though the math is impossible and the points are made up anyway.

[barrenclan]

WOOO NEW ISSUE!! i began reading this earlier, but couldn’t finish due to me rereading what i had just read and focusing on the pictures!!! so yeah, finally finished it, and GRRR GOOD ISSUE

first off, throws thrasher in the cootstorm pit too, they can share. no transphobic kitties allowed (obviously not literally, but i love how like.. natural it is? it’s just cormorantpaw’s life and what he’s been raised to think). egrettail should deck him

also egrettail!!!!!! favorite kitty therapist!!!! i assume maybe asphodelpaw asked about her being aroace, maybe brought on after daffodil was like “oh!! ur just like me and asphodelpw!!!” to pinepaw, and that made her think “wait am i into men even?” but. yeah. she just wants to help and she’s such a sweetie

SEVEN. SILVERS. SHE’S MADE IT!!! SHE’S IN AN ISSUE FR!! ULTIMATE ALLY INVENTED HRT TO SUPPORT EGRETTAIL. THE MOST BASED CAT EVER. I LOVE HER SHE’S JUST A LITTLE KITTY. I HOPE SHE’S OKAY. IM GONNA SAY IT METHINKS EGRET, HUSH PUPPY, AND SEVEN SILVERS R FOUND FAMILY JUST A COUPLE OF CHOSEN SIBS. UNLESS THIS IS A NO. SORRY IM EXCITED ABOUT SEVEN SILVERS

shoutout to cormorantpaw for getting his 2nd issue. kinda a crime that i only bring him up now but its ok. i love the goofy early cartoons titlecard image with the literal lovebug and him just thinking it over before going “oh fk im bi” and i love how egrettail was like “it seems like it to me, but it’s up to u” bc she can’t really like. force him to think he has a crush, something about that was really gentle- back to cormorantpaw!!! now he’s a blushy mess and i love him for it. also WHAT DO U HAVE TO DO BOY. WHAT IS YOUR ANGST

yes i know daffodilpaw was hardly here but she still gets her own section bc that’s my favorite community hc collection. cormorantpaw doesn’t seem to want to be involved romantically with her, saying how she’s nice but also noting how she doesn’t tend to listen to him (which doesn’t make daffy a bad person!! just something they gotta communicate as buddies) but also mentioning how she puts her paw on his, and also in the sleeping shot cormorantpaw is staring past daffodilpaw, who sleeps next to him, and at pinepaw. i’m just. babey noooo. break out of ur toxic mindset its okkk. unless u actually do like cormorantpaw then i’m. sorry. how did i make the daffodilpaw section the longest oops

rate this issue 5 mysterious end birds out of 5!!! thank u for another great issue :3

So sorry not answering this ask for awhile! All that trouble with my account hit at a bad time. I'm glad you liked the issue, though. :)

Egrettail had the patience of a saint for not beating the absolute shit out of Thrasher when they were in Defiance, and I'm certain she gave him what for on more than one occasion after Hush Puppy died.

Yes, she and Asphodelpaw may have had a conversation about similar realizations she was going through just like Cormorantpaw, heheh. We'll get there someday.

I was so excited to finally include Seven Silvers in an issue!! When I first created her character I wasn't planning on it, but she's just too fun not to use. Hell, I'm allowed to invent magic cat hormone therapy if I want to, who's gonna stop me. Seven, Hush Puppy, and Egret are any manner of close friends you like, and found family/siblings are as good a way as any.

The POVs from other characters are not going to be very common, since Pinepaw is the protagonist in the end, but it's always nice to dip back into Cormorantpaw's thick little skull. I was pretty pleased with myself for thinking of the rubberhose style joke with "lovebug", honestly. Don't worry about his angst, I'm sure it's nothing.

Good catch on everything with Daffodilpaw in this issue! It's something I did intentionally include, and did want to draw a comparison between Corm describing her as not really listening to him with Pinepaw always listening to what he says (which as you said, doesn't mean Daff is a bad person, just that she's got her own things to work out).

[yaboy-miz]

I have some COTL followers that I want to draw so bad but I have no idea how to draw furries so while I figure out how tf a snout works in a front or 3/4 view I’ll just describe them for now.

Haar was my first follower. They were a grey rabbit with white tufts of fur on their cheeks. I don’t remember their personality. Their name was actually lost for a while because of a weird glitch where all of my followers from before a certain point didn’t show up when doing a resurrection, but I never forgot their face. They started showing up again sometime after the update so now I have that record again. In my little bit of lore I have for them, they never got a grave because there were very few resources and their body was damaged in a way that would make burying them difficult (in the actual game I butchered them by accident while getting used to the controls), so the lamb gave them an unmarked stone with some loose things around it. Over time their name was lost to history and even the Lamb forgot, so when resources were plentiful enough that they could afford to give a centuries-old grave some attention they drew a picture of them from memory rather than writing their name.

Thebre is my oldest living follower and also my favorite. He’s also bugged in some weird way where he somehow lost all of his naturally occurring traits, which resulted in me getting soft locked whenever I selected him first in the mating tent. I don’t know if it’s been fixed but I’m sure as hell not gonna test that. He’s my spouse and im pretty sure he was one of if not the first that I married. This guy has died five separate times and it’s actually ridiculous. His first was via sacrifice because I had the Good Die Young trait and I didn’t want him to die in shame. The second was before the update that let them take off their necklaces because he had a skull necklace and I wanted to give him a gold skull necklace. The last three are because this dumbass managed to have his soul damned three separate times before the game was patched so that they’d return alive after you defeat them thrice. Two of those were because this fucker won’t stop drinking. I have a lot of lore for him that I’ll go into later but the one bit I will drop because it’s funny as fuck is that he somehow became lovers with every single god in the cult grounds except for Narinder, and that’s only because I’m married to both of them. This man fell for five different gods and I think that’s hilarious, so in his lore I decided that he has a one sided crush on all of them but doesn’t make a move because he’s old enough to remember who they are.

I have more but they don’t have much lore so I’ll cover them later.

[thecluelessdoctor]

i swear I don't mean to cause arguments, or anything of the sort in the FNAF community but I really need to get this off my chest about a certain ship popular in the fandom.

Now, the fnaf fandom has always had its hand full of immoral, strange, and toxic ships like most fandoms do. But I'm here to talk about William x Henry.

Please note I will be using facts I know, this isn't just opinion. I will also only be stating the vital events that help my point, because the rest is extras There also might be some events mixed up here, please just correct me on that *nicely*

Also if ur gonna say something, please don't be hating. Because you will be blocked, I don't care if you are a mutual or friend or not, you will be blocked if you try picking a fight.

ANYWAY.

So here is my thing with William x henry. I personally don't mind it too much but sometimes it bothers the hell out of me.

Let's talk about what we know about William and Henry's relationship. We know they were best friends and founded Fredbear's together, and then it is believed 83 happens, where even/chris/ what ever you call him, dies. So that'll fuck up any person so. Yk. ANYWAY, then William kills Charlie. So that's strike one right there, ofc Henry doesn't find out till later I believe but yk.

Now I thInk- when ever Fredbear's got shut down and the open Freddy fazebears is where Henry finds out anyway

Honestly Henry is stupid for not calling the cops like. Fucker you had the proof William murdered your daughter- AH YES LETS GO TO THE NEXT TOPIC- Henry here let's William go. Stupid ass- anyway, so what does William do? Change his name and decide in a British voice "I am going to become Henry's biggest problem."

I don't remember what happens but I am PRETTY SURE William does this in the toy animatronics pizzeria. Then the bite of 87 happens and it's like oh shit.

Now during this time, William finds out about reminant , which I find SO STUPID AND FORCED LIKE- HE CANT JUST BE A MAD MAN?? HE NEEDS TO HAVE A REASON FOR HIS KILLING?? anyway. Willie finds out about reminant and is like 'oo lemme go kill five more kids and watch what happens'

So yeah.

Oh and the fact William *according to what I have read* made Mike be a test subject. If that's not toxic and bad idk what is.

Anyway.

Stupid ass part one over here goes back to fazbears to harvest the remnant from the animatronics only to get himself killed YAY!

Anyway lets skip to FNaF... 6 I think. Henry/stupid ass part two quite literally trys to kill William again so like. These two are at each other's throats.

That's all I got for now- mostly because that's all I remember rn :') (jeez the FNAf lore is confusing)

I also have personal reasons on why the ship has a bad taste in my mouth but that's a different story.

Also, please note I AM NOT HATING ON YOU FOR ENJOYING THE SHIP. I just needed to get these thoughts out.

Also please, if you enjoy the ship and want to interact with me, try to refrain from bringing it up. Due to bad memories I will likely start unintentionally judging or disliking you and I don't want that

[killervelveteenrabbit]

Miraculous Season 6 Speculation

I pulled up this post I made after the season 4 finale to see how close I came with my predictions about season 5. Despite getting pretty much everything wrong, I did nail a few things:

Gabriel was unable to handle the power of all the Miraculous, at least at first

Felix used his control over sentibeings to target Gabriel (although notably not Adrien, whom he was trying to save if anything)

Alya regained the Fox Miraculous (admittedly in the last ep and alongside all the other previous holders)

Marinette fell in love with Chat Noir, complicating her feelings for Adrien

Luka was placed in an impossible position because he knows too much

Natalie's health declined to the point of incapacitation (although I didn’t anticipate the same with Gabriel)

Chloe and Lila established an alliance that ultimately went south

I admit most of these predictions were obvious and easily anticipated. I’d rather not embarrass myself by going too far inside M. Astruc’s head, but I can’t help speculating about what the next season holds.

Hence, I’d like to suggest a few plot threads I anticipate showing up during season 6:

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Everyone assumed Cerise would be the new antagonist, using the Butterfly Miraculous to further her vendetta against Marinette and/or seize the Ladybug and Cat Miraculous to forge a wish of her own. But Cerise’s panic in the last seconds of the ep suggests she’s encountered a powerful force she can’t control. This is the new enemy, although Cerise will become its servant and vessel if it means fulfilling her revenge.

This entity will be far more dangerous than Gabriel ever was, unbound by human emotion or empathy. It will be capable of neutralizing and even possessing the new and inexperienced Miraculous holders, forcing Ladybug to create a new power-up.

Who or what exactly is it? It will either be connected to Nooroo, driven insane by a damaged Miraculous, or Tomoe Tsurugi, the only player in Gabriel’s “Perfect Alliance” gambit who didn’t get anything she wanted.

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Other plot points ripe for exploration:

Adrien and Marinette’s romance is plagued by lingering feelings of attraction for Ladybug and Chat Noir, respectively. They break up over it for at least one episode because one of them suspects there’s “someone else”. One of them gets possessed over it. However, Adrinette comes back stronger than ever, reinforced by better communication, more trust, and the realization that the other one isn’t perfect and that’s okay.

One of the other couples also breaks up or gets in an argument, again for only one episode and also involving possession.

Almost everyone believes Gabriel died a hero—except for Marinette, Felix, Kagami, Nathalie, and Amelie. One of them (and you all know which one) accidentally lets the butterfly out of the bag. Angst and drama ensue.

Amelie moves into Maison Agreste as Adrien’s legal guardian. It gives Adrien and Felix the chance to rebuild their relationship as cousins and friends. But certain members of the MiracuClass still don’t completely trust Felix. It causes problems when they realize he’s Argos.

The new Miraculous holders don’t know what the hell they’re doing and make all kinds of mistakes. They use their powers for selfish reasons, and LB and CN must save them from their own messes. They swap Miraculous without even telling Ladybug. They keep revealing their secret identities to each other. They upset, misplace, or lose control of their Kwamis. They get possessed by the new antagonist and use their Miraculous powers against Ladybug and Chat Noir. If Luka teaches any of them Mirakung Fu, someone's gonna kick one of their best friends in the face. Marinette briefly considers taking all the Miraculous back until an attack on her personally confirms she had the right idea. She starts relying more on Chat Noir as a mentor, and occasionally an enforcer, for the other holders.

Cerise joins the MiracuClass at the new school Miss Bustier created. Marinette’s the only one who recognizes Cerise as Lila, but everyone else thinks Marinette is nuts.

Chloe returns to Paris mid-season, discarded by her mother and with nowhere else to go. Andre reluctantly takes her in, and it turns out she learned nothing—she blames Ladybug for everything that went wrong in her life and will stop at nothing to get revenge. She may enroll at Marinette’s school in disguise and forge an alliance with Cerise, not realizing she herself is Lila in disguise, to “get” Marinette.

Sabrina and Marc’s mutual love of soccer leads the former to develop a crush on the latter. It ends well for no one.

And finally, Luka gets his own love interest, if only because he damn well deserves it.