#deacon the mysterious

[sassenashsworld]

Actual works on Ao3

Smut challenge

Don't read if you are not a consentant adult

Deacon :

He prolongs the kiss as she want, his lips moving against hers with a tenderness that belies the possessiveness of his grip on her. He lets his tongue sweep into her mouth, tangling with hers in a slow, sensual dance.

Hancock :

"Oh, and Bitch," he mocks, "Next time, come to the State House directly, and maybe I will show you how is it to make love."

She watches him walk away with a mixture of anger and satisfaction. She knows damn well that he’s won this round, that he’s completely and utterly dominated her. But at the same time, she can’t help but feel a sense of pride for being able to make him break his control like that.

Notes about it :

I have study both a little more deeper, to be able to to see what might be beneath these men, beneath their public actions

I doesn't read a lot of smut--all kind of NSFW work about them, and I wanted to give it my own interpretation

About Deacon, I had come to the conclusion that if he was about to give in for anyone, he would do it all, passionately, without restraint of his soul, but with such a tenderness that the clown doesn't shows like in any other part of his life. Other than that, he has to be a mixture of all he is, all he shows and all he hides.

I mean, he is sneaky, and it's it takes some attention, a minutie to the details, a self-control that an impulsive person CAN'T have. And that's why when he should finally love, he love all, he give it all, with sweetness, tenderness in his passion.

But also, he give it all and wait nothing less from his partner. Under the intimacy, the door closed, she/he/them shouldn't even a single THOUGHT for anyone else but him. He is all for she/he/them, they should be all for him.

I then worked it about a mixture of it all; possessiveness, tenderness, control and abandon.

As for Hancock....

Oh, the blast!

Because, while I haven't delved far into the smut works of others, I have read a lot of fanfic, comments, analyses, and headcanon on Tumblr and elsewhere.

Overall, in the intimacy, Hancock is delicate, soft, and subjugated. The man has fallen hard and cannot believe he is love, therefore he acts as if the earth SoSu walks on is a divine surface to embrace.

And that wasn't where I wanted to go.

I wanted to portray that he was dangerous, something to be afraid of. This Mayor, the King of Zombie, is domineering and merciless.

The background is not love, but sex, and harsh sex, from enemy to lover, enticing Sosu into his dominance.

And that was extremely enjoyable.

Hancock, the Mayor before Fo4, was a bold, untamed man who let no one mock him.

And Sosu--Nora--learns a hard lesson here about thinking she can play with him.

Soon on your screens on Ao3 in my work A smut for a Companion

[astrophysicist-guitar-god]

Tee shirt worn by John Deacon, as seen in this post by @riaaanna (in her post, riaaanna thanks 7SeasOfQ for a head's up about the pics).

Unless my eyes deceive me, the print above the illustration (in the red stripe) reads Roger Taylor. There's more print in the yellow stripe below, but I can't begin to guess what it says.

The figure in the middle appears to be a very stylized man wearing black boots? It almost (alllllmost) looks like a very exaggerated Tom of Finland-inspired figure??? Kind of??? A little???

Does anyone know anything about this shirt, or has anyone seen other pics of John wearing it? I seem to remember discourse about John wearing a t-shirt of or about Roger before, but my memory is even worse than Brian's. I swear, this seems familiar in the most incredibly vague way possible.

Is this our Roger? Or maybe it refers to Duran Duran's Roger Taylor??? I'm getting dizzy.

Anyway, thanks in advance!

EDITED TO ADD: See reblogs for @riaaanna's knowledgeable addition! Thank you!!!!!

[lanternlightss]

missing that deacon so badly

[fuckyeahdeaky]

I miss John Deacon so much??!!!!! Like I need more of the John Deacon lore!! I need more stories about John so that I could learn more about him and his personality!!! Sometimes I really wish I could figure out his views on the world and life. Like John Deacon is such a big mystery to me that it actually drives me crazy sometimes to think about it. I sometimes wonder how / what john felt/thought when he realised they were making it big. Like it's so obvious it was a side gig to him and he never intended to make it his job or life. What was his exact thought? Did he weigh the pros and cons ? Did he think it'd be fun at that time? I HAVE SO MANY QUESTIONS!!!!

[jimintomystery]

Album art for Queen's News of the World (1977), by Frank Kelly Freas.

[apenitentialprayer]

In the first image, we see a theme to which [Maurice] Denis will return again and again: the depiction of the Archangel Gabriel as a deacon bearing a book, almost as if Our Lady is the priest at the Solemn Mass to whom the book is being carried to her to kiss. In this very early depiction, painted when the artist was 19, he has even included a couple of acolytes bearing tapers. We something similar in this depiction ca. 1914, except that here the deacon-angel bows his head and raises his arms in a gesture of homage, while Our Lady bows her head in a reciprocal greeting. She is dressed as a bride.

One of my favorites is a depiction in which we see the familiar deacon-archangel holding a Gospel book, accompanied by the candlebearing acolytes, approaching the Blessed Virgin on what appears to be a rooftop terrace, with the sun streaming behind her (which is somewhat unconventional; usually the beam of light comes from across the scene from the other direction). The sublimity of the setting and its vertiginous perspective hint at the lofty grandeur of the miraculous conception.

Top Image: Mystère catholique, oil on canvas, 1890. Middle Image: Annonciation d'Assise, oil on canvas, 1914. Bottom Image: Annonciation à Fiesole, oil on canvas. Quotations by Peter Kwasniewski, "A Modern French Painter in Love With Our Lady: Maurice Denis' Remarkable Annunciation Paintings"

[ugqualtoths-chosen]

My wild headcannon about deacon: he's something similar to the mysterious stranger

[fallout-fucker]

Crows Of The Commonwealth

I was on CrowTok and it made me come up with an idea.

So, obviously a lot of the crows in the Commonwealth are made by the Institute, though I personally like to believe that there are still a lot of crows that are regular ones, too.

Crows are an incredibly smart species of bird, which makes sense as to why they're the ones the Institute use. To my memory, I don't think there are any other birds in the game. Again, I'd like to headcanon that they're not the only ones left but if only a few species of birds managed to survive the bombs and the aftermath, I wouldn't put it past crows to be one of those species due to that intelligence.

Crows are known for recognising people, which also works in favour of the Institute as to why they'd choose them specifically. If you are able to tell the difference between individual crows, you'll be less likely to question if a specific one if following you if you are aware they likely recognise you.

However, they're also known to bring gifts and trinkets if treated right, or actually attack people who don't. And they remember faces. I don't get the impression that the Institute treats them too kindly if they don't even consider Gen 3 Synths as people, who are literally created with technology and human biology/DNA.

If we imagine that the Institute Crows work like Synths do, then that means that they are also able to become independent like Synths can. We know they have the level of intelligence, more so than another species of bird, to perhaps reach that level of independence. That's exactly why the Institute picked them. Wouldn't it be ironic if that became part of the Institute's downfall.

So imagine a Sole Survivor, fresh out of the Vault, scared and cold on their first few nights. Hungry, tired, likely sick, grieving. Alone. They have Dogmeat. They have themselves. A few strangers they saved. Nothing else.

They're trying their best one night to settle. They've only been unfrozen for a few days by now, but have yet to leave Sanctuary. They chose to stay for a couple days to prepare for their long journey ahead, and rebuild their home so they had somewhere to go back to. Preston has taught them basics self defence and survival, Sturges has helped them temporarily fix the holes in their walls. They're not close to these strangers yet, but there's a small comfort in knowing there's still people, and people nearby to run to if anything not friendly comes knocking on their door.

They're picking at a 200 year old box of stale cereal, not able to stomach the taste just yet. In the end, they end up leaving it in a bowl for Dogmeat to have, preferring to sleep, hunger be damned. They sleep on the floor that used to hold the dinning table, not ready to sleep in the now-too-empty bedrooms.

By morning, their sleep is interrupted. Not by the cold October air that their thin, makeshift blanket- That doubles as their coat during the day- barley keeps away. Not by the sunlight that seeps in by the broken shards of class where the window used to be. Not by drops of rain that fall through the cracks in the ceiling. Not even by Dogmeat licking then awake, like he did yesterday morning. This time it's the sound of pecking and squawking that has Sole prying their eyes open.

A small group of grows picking at the bowl of cereal. They must've gotten in through what once was the window, or literally any of the holes of missing metal panels scattered throughout the building. Sole barely has it in them to care. They know they shouldn't waste food that could've gone to them or their new furry friend, but they truly cannot bring it in them to mind. They wonder if the birds have a hard time finding food, too, and decide it might not be a waste at all.

They sit up. A few of the crows fly up onto the windowsill at their movements, one stays enjoying their breakfast, unfazed. Sole waits, sitting still until the birds realise they have no intention of harming them. They glide back down onto the floor, going back to eating.

After a few moments, the crow that stayed perks his head up, neck twitching into an angle that lets him look at Sole. He hops over, stopping just before he reaches their lap. Sole raises their hand, thumb and index finger moving slowly until they land on its neck. His feathers bristle under Sole's pets, his feet dancing happily beneath him. The other crows finish their breakfast. Salem, Sole decides to call him, joins his friends who hop back onto the windowsill. They fly off. He turns his head to the side, a beady eye looking at Sole again. He squawks at them before flying off to join the others.

Sole spends the rest of their day taking metal panels from some of the completely collapsed houses to fix the holes in their walls. They're able to find paint at the old Red Rocket down the road when looking for more equipped tools. Repainting isn't exactly their priority right now, just making sure the house will be fit to stand against the weather, and for when it gets colder in the next few months. The paint will be useful when they get to the stage of being able to consider making it look presentable, however. Unfortunately, the only paintbrush they find is snapped in half. They toss it in frustration. Less so because of the brush itself, and more so because Sole has a lot of anger built up from the events of the last few days that they have no other outlet for.

They end up going home when the sun starts to set, having avoided the empty tomb of memories for as long as possible. It wasn't safe to be out so close to dark.

When they set down their tolls by the door, something on the kitchen counter catches their eye.

Upon inspection, they realise it's an intact paintbrush.

Their confusion lasts barely five seconds, as they hear a familiar squawk. Hoping on the windowsill is Salem. His eyes study Sole. He's waiting. Sole smiles, pulling open the duffle bag they'd taken on their supply run. They pull out two wild mutfruits, which they'd harvested from bushes near the station. Sole cuts them into smaller pieces, before tossing them gently into the grass of their back garden from the car porch. Salem glides to the pieces, now satisfied in knowing that Sole approved of and appreciated his gift. Sole looks up to the trees that border their garden where other crows have started to also descend from to join in on the food offering. Apparently, there's a lot more in this group than what Sole had assumed from the smaller one earlier. About twenty feathered creatures dance about on branches decorated by orange and brown leaves or nibble at the mutfruit in the grass.

Salem flies over once he's had his fill, taking a seat on Sole's shoulder. His friends also begin hopping over gradually, and Sole ends up sitting down to welcome them and pet their small heads. Dogmeat also seems to love the attention, or perhaps just the warmth that radiates from Sole's body as he curls up next to them. Every so often, one of them drops a trinket into Sole's lap as they snuggle into them. A random screw, some gears, even some bottlecaps. Bits and bobs that a few days ago, Sole would've considered mostly junk, even if they'd still been appreciative, but everything now is useful. They even drop a few things by Dogmeat's snout, who sniffs them, tail wagging. Sole doesn't think Salem appreciates the happy licks Dogmeat gives him, though.

Regardless, Sole breathes out slowly, deeply, as they take in the sunset and birdsong before them. It's the first time they've honestly felt any peace since leaving that godforsaken Vault.

Sole makes a mental note to redesign the kitchen window when they get around to fixing it so that it'll be able to open widely. They also begin thinking about designs for birdhouses, feeders, and small fountains.

It's safe to say Sole feels slightly better than they did when they went to bed last night.

They feel less alone.

For some reason, as Salem nestles into their lap, against their stomach, a small pressure builds in their gut. They can't quite shake the instinct, the thought that comes with it. The feeling that Salem feels less alone now, too.

[crassinova]

Linguistic manipulation

[pali-and-proud]

My finals ended yesterday and I ended up sleeping for 11 hours. I can think again.

I want to take a moment to just talk about perspectives. How Buddy percieves Chase, how Chase percieves Buddy, and how Deacon percieves both.

Buddy's POV of Chase is so beautiful to me because Chase is just such an enigma to him. He's so quick to bicker and insult, and he routinely says the most ridiculous and outlandish things that Buddy can't even respond to, and then he turns around and is so selflessly caring and kind and considerate that it nearly always takes Buddy off-guard. Buddy knows the more about Chase than vice versa, and yet Buddy never seems able to expect what Chase is going to do.

I could be wrong, actually, but I think almost all of their conversations end with or include Buddy being confused by something Chase said, or something Chase did. And Chase is doing it all with a shirt, guys.

Chase's POV of Buddy is nearly the exact opposite. Chase knows NOTHING about Buddy, outside of phobias and fashionware, and Deacon's the one who has to remind him about that. Chase is good at reading people; we already knew that. Chase is GREAT at reading Buddy.

He's aware of Buddy's need for attention. He's aware of Buddy's barbs--knows when Buddy's being mean, and when Buddy's trying to be nice. He's aware that Buddy's situation is concerning enough to warrant outside help, and that Buddy won't ask for it. Buddy isn't really a mystery to him--the only real question is how to get Buddy to trust him. Which is insane, really, since we've seen in the current arc (vampire) that Buddy did genuinely trust Chase.

(I could go so far as to say the only part of Buddy that Chase doesn't easily/accurately understand is how CHASE fits into Buddy's life, but I will digress)

Deacon, though? Ohhhh, Deacon. Deacon's role is SO much more important than I think people give it credit for. Deacon is the only way we get a true outsider's glimpse into Chase (he tells us about Chase's money problems, he explains why Chase loves new stuff, he reminds us that Chase's dream to be a singer/dancer/idol isn't realistic and that Chase logically knows that, and he breaks down some of Chase's quirks.)

Deacon is also, uh, how we see Buddy respond to someone he doesn't have an embarrassingly obvious crush on. It's so easy to forget that Buddy is actively trying to treat Chase better until you see Buddy interact with Deacon for two seconds, in which Buddy's managed to be both smug and/or jealous. Yes I haven't forgotten that Buddy is jealous of Chase's cousin. Yes I do think thats the funniest reoccuring joke.

So Deacon having a really good view of both characters--where he can trust Chase's judgement while also being the logic that Chase sometimes forgoes AND can be cautious of Buddy due to past actions while also understanding that Buddy is more complicated than initial assumptions--it's important because it helps ground the characters.

And in direct contrast: Buddy's dislike of Deacon is completely rooted in his terrible understanding of Deacon's role to Chase. Buddy's first conversation with Deacon is him telling Deacon he should stop doing the stories because he's in over his head, despite Deacon having prepared more than Chase ever did. Buddy continues to yell and berate Deacon for his choice in book, despite Deacon actively choosing books he/Chase would enjoy, which is what you (according to Buddy, at least, and my inferences) should ideally do.

Chase's POV of Deacon is a bit more convoluted, and this post is already pretty long; I don't know if anyone's actually reading all this. He's just such a younger cousin; he doesn't idolize Deacon, but he does expect Deacon to have the answers. They're such older/younger brother coded. From the beginning, Chase has wanted to hang out with Deacon. It's almost tragic, honestly, that Deacon has such a high opinion of Chase that he never really shares, while Chase shows his high opinion of Deacon so often that a completely separate person was able to get jealous.

I took my psych final yesterday. Surely this is what my professors would want me to use my knowledge on.

[champagnetommy]

More silly twin Tommy&Rocker thoughts:

Buck and Tommy invite Rocker and his mystery man over for thanksgiving dinner and Deacon knows Rocker has a brother but he doesn’t know they’re twins because Rocker thought it’d be funny if he found out at dinner. They drive over separately because Deacon had to stop by HQ first, but he still shows up first.

Buck greets him and welcomes him in, and tells him to go grab a drink in the kitchen- the kitchen Tommy’s currently cooking in. Deacon obviously thinking it’s Rocker, goes up to him and hugs him from behind, planting a cheek on his jaw.

Tommy freezes and slowly turns around but not before Buck comes in and sees. “Damn it, Donny.” He looks at Buck and shakes his head. “He does this every time!”

Buck’s shoulders shake as he laughs, clearly familiar with Rocker’s antics.

Deacon is very, very confused and backs away, awkwardly. “Um. So you’re not Rocker.” It’s not a question. “God, I’m so sorry, I didn’t know.”

Tommy’s quick to assuage him. “No, I’m Tommy, his—

“— brother.” Deacon nods. “He failed to tell me you’re twins.”

Tommy lets out a long-suffering sigh. “Yeah, he thinks it’s funny if people find out by way of surprise.”

“It’s nice to meet you, by the way. Sorry it was like this.”

Deacon chuckles. “I shouldn’t be surprised, really. He’s such a little shit sometimes.”

Tommy arches an eyebrow. “Sometimes?”

“Okay, most of the time.” Deacon’s expression is fond as he says it and even though Tommy’s annoyed at his brother right now, he smiles, happy for him.

Then, he has an idea. He smirks. “Hey, you wanna get back at him?”

Minutes later, Rocker walks in to Deacon “kissing” (hand between their mouths) Tommy and gets a taste of his own medicine.

[passionwillow]

Family Matters

Hi guys! Had a request for poly LucaxReaderxDeacon and them wanting a baby.

Warnings: Smut! 18+, age gap reader

A poly relationship wasn't on your radar. Like- ever.

But when you met Deacon and Luca while working at SWAT, your whole word was turned upside down. In the best possible way.

They were hesitant at first, given the age gap, but after a lot of talking and debating, the relationship flourished.

Two years together and you couldn't remember ever being happier. The date nights, the love, how they absolutely smothered you in affection, the sex.. As far as you were concerned, everything was perfect.

Kids hadn't really fallen on your radar. Deacon had his kiddos, and you loved every one of them. But you having a child? You honestly hadn't thought of it.

Not until Luca and Deacon sat down with you one morning, one man on either side of you as you sat on the bed. You closed your laptop and looked between them, smiling and raising your brows in question.

The two men traded a look and smiled to themselves, Luca clearing his throat before speaking. "Baby, how would you feel about.. About making a family?"

The question was shocking, and the look on your face must have given you away. Deacon sat up and took your hand, squeezing. "You can say no, that's totally okay. We won't be upset. But.. Luca and I have been talking. And we wanted to discuss it with you."

You looked between them and stayed quiet for a moment, shifting and chewing at your lip. A family.. A little baby with the two men you loved? Growing your relationship with them? It would be-.. Perfect.

"I would love that." You finally said after a moment, and both their faces lit up into grins. "There's just one thing.. Which one of you.. Y'know. Gets me pregnant?"

That was something Deacon and Luca had already considered, and Deacon couldn't wait for this part. "We'll both just.. Fill you. Let it be a mystery."

The words, the insinuation.. Your toes curled in delight at the thought. You nodded quickly in agreement and laughed at Luca tackled you back, his lips meeting yours in an eager kiss.

The next few hours were absolutely mind blowing.

Each man taking a turn between your legs, devouring you and making you cum once each before you even got a moment to breathe. Fingers stretching you, tongues lapping at your juices like men starved..

They gave you a moment to breathe while they each undressed, letting you lay back and watch them with hungry eyes. They were both sculpted like gods, in your eyes. Deacon on the slimmer side, muscled and sculpted, Luca broad and built, equally muscled.

This was the part of the plan neither man could wait for. They must have discussed who would go first at some point, because Luca was between your thighs in no time. Deacon took the space next to you and held you close, lips and hands exploring while Luca sheathed himself in side of you.

All the attention, the sensations happened... It was enough to drive you mad. So much pleasure at one. Deacon's lips and hands, his gravely voice talking you through it. Luca's cock drilling and stretching you, hands on your hips..

Your moans and curses filled the room, and it was only a matter of time before Luca had you humming around him. He fucked you through it in order to reach his own high, your sensitivity from two orgasms, now three, making you a limp, whining mess.

Deacon held you steady through the whole thing, hand on your stomach as he cooed softly to you. Luca had barely pulled out before Deacon was taking his place, thrusting into you with ease.

Your poor pussy was a wet, aching mess at this point, but you were craving these men like there was no tomorrow. You were limp in Luca's arms as he held you close, his own breathing labored as he caught his breath. Deacon knew you were tired, and was a bit more gentle for this last round. His thrusts were hard and steady, but his hands were soft as he held your thighs.

Your fourth orgasm burned in your stomach as Deacon fucked you, and you were crying out in pleasure within minutes, legs shaking as it exploded unexpectedly.

Luca watched in fascination and hunger as you came for the last time that night, body shaking as Deacon fucked you harder and quicker, chasing his own release and groaning your name as he filled you.

You went limp and tried to catch your breathe, the feeling gone from your lower extremities. You didn't notice both men get up and leave, or come back with warm cloths and water for you. Luca cleaned you up as Deacon cradled you and held the glass to your lips, kissing your cheek and temple as you sipped.

Both men curled up beside you and cuddled up to you, smiling to themselves as you fell asleep with a content little smile.

No matter what happened next, you couldn't be safer or happier than you were right now with these two men. Two men who cared about you more than anything.

[anneangel]

Is Aziracrow Canon?

The weirdest thing is that at the end of the book/and Show S1, we know that Adam has changed elements of reality (there are books in Aziraphale's bookshop that weren't there before, for example), so it seems like Adam has rearranged some things differently. Before the nightingale sings, we are told:

“They went to the Ritz again, where a table was mysteriously vacant. And perhaps the recent exertions had had some fallout in the nature of reality because, while they were eating, for the first time ever, a nightingale sang in Berkeley Square…”.

That is, it could be that Adam, upon seeing Crowley and Aziraphale, rearranged the universe so that something more romantic could blossom more evidently between Crowley and Aziraphale. But this cannot in any way be used to say that they were not in love before, since Adam looked deeply at both of them, back at the air base, and Crowley thought:

“Adam turned and appeared to notice them for the first time. Crowley was not used to people identifying him so readily, but Adam stared at him as though Crowley's entire life history was pasted inside the back of his skull and he, Adam, was reading it. For an instant he knew real terror. He'd always thought the sort he'd felt before was the genuine article, but that was mere abject fear beside this new sensation. Those Below could make you cease to exist by, well, hurting you in unbearable amounts, but this boy could not only make you cease to exist merely by thinking about it, but probably could arrange matters so that you never had existed at all”.

And, then, Adam said to Crowley and Aziraphale too: “"I don't think you need to go worryin'," said Adam gnomically. "I know all about you two. Don't you worry".”

It is also impossible to say that A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square is not an implicit/subtext reference to Aziraphale and Crowley's relationship, since the lyrics make very precise references to elements of the book/show, so it is to be assumed that the song was placed in Aziraphale and Crowley final arc, on book, specifically, and also on purpose.

The show uses the same principle; in the series, the song "Bicycle Race" plays very literally when they run over Anathema, as well as playing "I'm In Love With My Car" very literally in relation to Crowley and his car, so I must assume that it was also literal when they played "You're My Best Friend" when Crowley was going to Aziraphale's bookshop (p.s; this song was written by Queen's bassist, John Deacon, for his best friend, better known as HIS WIFE).

Aside from another curious fact, there is a correlation between the couples in this plot; Anathema & Newt, Tracy & Shadwell, and Crowley & Aziraphale, they all have something in common:

(1) Each of them has their own arcs to finish their plots;

(2) their arc is closed in duos, they are considered as couples and their arcs are closed together ("Anathema & Newt", "Crowley & Aziraphale", and "Tracy & Shadwell", respectively according to the final arcs in the book);

(3) they all had everything to hate each other, Anathema was a witch, and Newt was a witchhunter (apart from the fact that his ancestor killed her ancestor), Shadwell cursed Tracy all time, and called her a Jezebel (as if it were the most unlikely thing for someone like him not to repudiate someone like her), as well as Crowley is a demon and Aziraphale is an angel (which should make them enemies), but in the end all these characters end up together and on good terms;

(4) They all end the plot as a couple, although it seems that with Anathema and Newt and Shadwell and Tracy this is more explicit, while with Crowley and Aziraphale, it is more implicit (So you see, the exposition of Crowley and Aziraphale's relationship using the plot of other couples to show the parallels didn't start in the second season through Maggie and Nina, but this has already been noticeable since the book);

(5) If you stop to think about it for a moment, even Adam's final arc (which is the last arc of the book) is a love story, but here it's a story of his love in relation to the world he lives in and how much he's willing to appreciate it.

It is also important to remember that, although I am equating Crowley and Aziraphale with the other humans in this plot, we should not take this too seriously because they are, in fact, mythical creatures (occult/ethereal) and not really human.

They can mimetically simulate some human behaviors (like breathing, the book emphasizes several times that they don't even need to do that, but they do it anyway), so they simulate human behavior when they want to, but that doesn't mean they do it completely (for example, Az can eat, but never needs to use the bathroom, both can drink, but don't detox the same way we do, Crowley can sleep, but for an extensively longer period of time than a human being). The point is, they can adopt some human behavior, but they will adapt it to their own way and preferences.

So we could say that they are a couple, but is not the same as we do as "couple” as human, they are a couple whatever that means to them and how they adapt that to their way of existing.

This is why humans mistake them as a couple at various points in the book (Shadwell and Anathema, for example), but the truth is that humans translate Aziracrow relationship into human aspects, the behavior they exhibit within the human aspect is similar to that of what we call a “couple”, that’s why they seem like a couple for us. But, for real, whatever they are to themselves, it is, in fact, ineffable. Although this is, undoubtedly, a love story.

[quandledlngle69]

i am a SLUT for doll rin and for your latest isagi fic where he accuses reader of being a witch… i sense a pattern i love. would you be interested on writing/expanding more on them? OwO

context: isagi & rin.

hi anon! i had a field day kinda expanding on isagi and i wrote a bit for doll!rin but was lowkey kinda stumped :( the isagi fic was honestly a one–shot and i do have plans for doll!rin but my brain is empty asf

TW; corrupt religion, whipping, forced confession, strangulation, demonic and religious themes, unwanted advances.

 ݁ ⋆˚꩜｡  ݁

okay for a bit of context, i'm going to deep dive in on why the reader was accused and who exactly in the clergy it was, and the aftermath.

isagi is the son of a farmer, reader is one of the only cow maids, as her mother bears nerve damage in her hands from an infection that wasn't treated quick enough. she works for mr. isagi to help support her mother. its known that one of the deacon's son's is enticed by reader. she doesn't do anything that's believed to be a stake of anything beyond platonic, but her over–politeness and kindness is taken as a gesture of feelings.

the deacon's son then changes his attitude towards her mostly out of interest. he starts getting touchy, more flirty-mostly things that would be considered 'normal desire' for a boy of his age. reader picks up his shift in behaviour and she's uncomfortable, yet still polite. the boy then becomes way more bold. she tells him she's in love with a farmer's boy, and it goes through one ear and out the other.

he tries to forcibly kiss her, and in retaliation, an opened palm slap is given.

his ego is bruised, and he's angry. in retaliation, he tells his father that he saw you performing witchcraft. and a man is always going to believe his son.

word spreads quickly in a village where everyone knows everyone.

when isagi finds out at first, he's conflicted and refuses to even acknowledge it. but then the priest pulls him aside. he says to isagi that it's true, and why wouldn't he believe a messenger of god?

he overthinks and nit picks every interaction you've ever had with him, he's angry, confused and overall filled with fear and disgust.

that's when he decides to confront you.

after that, you're taken away. but he's not told of the forced coercion you go through to get a warped confession. he's not told or aware of the violent flogging inflicted on you until you confess to something that was a corrupt lie.

all he's told is that you fully confessed to your crimes and were guilty.

and the pleaded guilty do not get trials, only their punishment.

you're burned at the stake. He tells him he holds no sympathy for you, yet he has to cover his ears at the agonising shrieks of pain at the heat licking up your body, squeezing his eyes shut when the fire ruthlessly burns through layers of fat and muscle to the bone.

he can't sleep peacefully anymore. and it seems as though the deacon's son can't either, because he feels guilty enough to finally confess that he lied.

he isn’t ever held accountable for the words leading to your cruel death.

 ݁ ⋆˚꩜｡  ݁

oh and where do i start with doll!rin...

he's creepy. not in a perverted way, but in a weird, mysterious way. the rosemary your mother gave you had abnormally went missing, even when you recall it being placed in the ceramic dish on your vanity.

sometimes you wake up in the dark, the hairs on your neck standing straight up when you feel someones eyes picking you apart.

you tell rin softly to come back to bed, trying to not let your voice waver in fear at his figure looming over you on the edge of the bed. only when you pat his empty side after a beat of silence does he listen, never saying a word before climbing in, and you swear he feels more colder then usual when he wraps his arms around you.

sometimes you forget he's a puppet of demonic power, not gods work.

other then that, life is...peaceful.

you find he's more of a baby fawn, still stumbling and making mistakes in a world that an anomaly like him wasn't really supposed to interact with. he occasionally forgets how to use a fork, or when he gets annoyed at that gnashing empty feeling in his lower abdomen called 'hunger', or that he can bleed and feel pain. he grumbles every time you help or correct him, but he knows and is grateful he can rely on you.

Quandaledlngle69 © 2025

[featherlight-touches]

KIWIII THIS IS JUST A SILLY THING and you don't have to reply since it's not a fic request but like, please whenever you're up for it do the paralogism quest IM ON MY KNEES there's totally material for lee dahlia because,, him and venti are very, VERY close friends,,,

I just finished it and I'm like thinking about so many things at once (lee Albedo, lee dahlia... free me this instant,,,)

SHIOOOOO, hellooooo OK HEAR ME OUT. I did the quest and I love them all, Dahlia and Venti being besties means everything to me. The ideas, I have too many Shio!! Here have some!!

(╯°□°)╯★・・・★

★・・・★・・・★・・・★

Venti and Dahlia sat together within the cozy Angel Share’s tavern, as it buzzed with sounds of lively chatter and merriment from the patrons inside. Despite the loudness, it was truly a warm atmosphere.

Both had their favorite drink of choice and decided to sit away from the bar area itself, mainly due to the insistence of Master Diluc, but also because it was much easier to talk to each other.

“Dahliaaa~” Venti sang as he held out his empty glass towards the Deacon. “Please help me, my wine seems to have vanished.”

Dahlia raised a brow to his friend and sighed. “That’s hardly a mystery, Venti. That’s the third glass you’ve inhaled in the past ten minutes.”   

“Ehe, technically my fourth.” Venti held up his fingers, which counted five, but Dahlia didn’t bother to correct the drunken bard. “If you count the apple cider that the generous knight gave me.”

“Ah, yes, that’s right. Perhaps you should drink some water instead?” Dahlia kindly suggested, unable to hide his amusement at how animated Venti became with the more drinks he consumed.

At this suggestion, Venti gave a long, entertained laugh. “That’s a good one, my dear friend. But we both know that wine tastes much better.”

“We also know that you have no filter once you drink enough of it.”

“I don’t know what you meeean, you know I can easily hold my drinks just fine. I am an expert after all!” Venti boasted, his loud voice carrying over to the other tables, drawing amused glances from other patrons.

“Not so loud, Venti. You’re competing with other guests,” Dahlia chuckled, putting a finger to his lips. But Venti was far too gone in his merriment, scooting closer until he was leaning against Dahlia, almost tipping them both over with his body weight.

“Come on, Dahliaaa~ you need to lighten up!” Venti had a mischievous twinkle in his eye as his arms wrapped their way around the Deacon. Dahlia held onto the bard, assuming that he was just going in for a friendly hug but jolted in surprise when he felt fingers digging into his sides.

“Ah! V-Venti! Pfft – noho, no!” Dahlia grabbed onto the bard’s wrists to stop them and pushed them closer to Venti. “Stop being silly!”

“But you love when I’m silly!” Venti giggled, trying to free his hands from Dahlia’s grip but he held on tight.

“Not in the middle of the tavern!” Dahlia kept hold of Venti’s wrist and placed both their hands down on the bench between them, glaring playfully into his eyes. “Behave.”

Venti’s expression was a look of challenge and Dahlia knew that if he were to release those hands, he would be in for more trouble. He tried to scoot further back along the bench but no matter how far he did, Venti only followed, closing the distance once again.

It wasn’t long until Dahlia’s back reached the wall, and Venti followed him all the way. Their hands still together Dahlia felt nervous, but giggles already escaped him at his predicament.

“Stohop!”

“I’m not doing anything~”

“But you’re planning it!”

“Nuh-uh. See? My hands are trapped. I can’t do anything like this, can I?”

He had a point, but Dahlia was still suspicious and was determined to wait out this devilish mood the Anemo Archon had taken.

But suddenly, Dahlia startled out a laugh when he felt something ticklish brush against his neck. “Whahat was that?”

He tried to crane his head to see but couldn’t find any traces of the source. He looked back at Venti with an accusing frown, but Venti stared back with innocent smile. He was definitely up to something.

“Venti.”

“Dahlia.”

“What did you do?”

“Nothing~” But as soon as he said those words, Dahlia felt that same ticklish sensation as before, but this time, on the other side of his neck, up to his pointed ears.

“Hehehe!” Dahlia burst into loud giggles, releasing Venti’s hands in favor to protect his neck and ear from what ever was tickling them. When he reached up, he grabbed onto a feather, one made completely from Anemo. “You-”

Before Dahlia could even register his mistake, he was back to laughing uncontrollably as Venti’s now freed hands were glued to Dahlia’s sides and tummy, squeezing.

“Venti - nohoho!” Dahlia squirmed and tried to curl up on himself and somehow managed to rest his head onto Venti’s shoulder while the bard tickled him silly.

“Isn’t it more fun to let loose, Dahlia?” Venti asked, delighted at how hard his Herald was laughing. “Now how about another drink?”

“Fihihine, fine!” Dahlia gasped between laughs, giving a grateful sigh of relief when Venti finally stopped his tickles, and instead wrapped an arm across his shoulder instead.

“Ehe! Uh, all merriment aside, could you buy the next rounds too?”

Dahlia sighed. “Yes, my dear friend.”   

[radrat-pack]

Deacon cannot (as much as he tries) CANNOT for the life of him conceal when he’s feeling anything strongly negative. his jokes don’t come out as smoothly, he’s quieter for the most part.

if it’s anger he’s poorly attempting to hide, he’s overall not awful at it. deacon is absolutely not one to lash out undeservingly (or deservingly tbh… he’s a bit of a coward when it comes to any kind of personal drama in my opinion). however, if you manage to get him talking about what’s got him so upset, he certainly gets fired up as he talks about it, a bit of his dramatic personality sparking out as he raves on about his personal troubles.

his sadness is definitely a bit more unnerving to be around, and he almost never actually tells anyone what his problem is, eventually it just passes and suddenly deacon is deacon again. when he’s upset, he’s almost dead quiet unless being spoken directly to. deacon’s eyes almost glaze over whenever he’s unoccupied. watching him sort of mindlessly lurk around headquarters looking for small tasks to distract himself, it’s unsettling.

in turn though i also believe that when deacon is truly overcome with joy and pride that is also contagious amongst the HQ. He can’t keep the smile off his face, toothy grins breaking out right before he starts boasting once again about how great his new recruit has been doing. his jokes flowing freely and joyfully, even des can’t help but turn away with an eye roll to conceal a small grin at the railroads success, yes thanks to the help of deacons new recruit.

so anyway yeah i think deacon is actually a super expressive person even if he thinks he’s all cool and mysterious he absolutely is not lol. i also think he’s the embodiment of those “the face i stayed silent with” memes :)