#everyone he works with is so baffled by right and angel but no one wants to really ask about it except maybe brent but

[moeblob]

"Maybe I'm a broken man, but I still work"

Aka here's the secret phrase C:

v quick coffee shop doodle - there's a secret phrase on the back but I do not have time to draw it rn cause I gotta pack up and go

(I have been listening to the song "Broken Man" a lot lately ... as I found it out like three days ago. and it really fits Right)

[leeknow-thoughts]

𝅄  ׅ⊹ ۪ ꣑୧ dance of the sugarplum fairy

𝝑𝝔 l.mh x f!reader

𝝑𝝔 synopsis : Minho believes in fact over fiction. He's a scientist. It's practically in his blood. You're as much of a scientist as he is, hell, a better one than him at that. Yet, you still find wonder in the holidays. While you find wonder in presents and twinkling lights. Minho finds wonder in you. Could a confession gone wrong end up going right for him? Could you reciprocate his feelings that he's been pushing down for years and years?

𝝑𝝔 warnings : chemistry professor!minho, chemistry professor!reader, f!reader, mutual pining, christmas in a non-religious way, crying (in a sappy way), jisung! cameo, tooth rotting fluff, smut got mixed in with my fluff??, no clear dynamics, but minho is mommy (sorry guys act fucking surprised), mommy!kink, shower sex, p in v (unprotected, pls don't do this!!), pet names, pls lmk if I missed any warnings!!

𝝑𝝔 note from the author ! : Calliope once again indulges in soft!minho and doesn't apologize for it >_< I hope everyone is having a wonderful holiday season and that all who celebrate Christmas get exactly what they wanted!! :3

You're as reactive as Fluorine, and Minho wishes he didn't think of you chemically the way he does. He wishes he didn't immediately think of you when he thought of work and his experiments and the fucking teaching position he held. He wishes he could just think of you for you and he could go fuck off for all he cares - having a crush on his coworker.

And you're humming along to the song playing over the radio - some Clario song, he only knows who that is because you love her music. Honestly, he thinks you like music more than you like chemistry - so why did you choose to do this for a living?

You surely weren't a bad singer - Minho had heard you sing, it puts the harked herald angels to shame if he does say so - and you certainly were pretty enough to be famous.

Pretty was an understatement, you were the most devine creation to walk this earth. There's no way in his mind that he can conceptualize that you breathe the same oxygen as him - to him it was a privilege that he got to see you at all.

You were sought after, every fucking college in the nation wants you to work for them, yet you stay here. It wasn't like the place you work at is bad, it's MIT for Christ's sake, but Harvard has been asking for you for years.

He's almost offended by it, colleges treating you and all your brilliance like a tradeable Pokémon card.

Speaking of Pokémon, you're watching it on your phone as you finish up a lab report. How you can listen to music and watch a show and write a detailed report baffles Minho, but he doesn't question you because you're you, and he's the utter fool in love with you.

"You're spacing out Minho," your voice graces his ears, fuck, was he staring at you? "You look like you need a coffee, let's go get a cup, I'll pay."

You smile that sweet smile and talk in your sweet voice any longer and he's sure he's going to go insane. You're letting your hair down and it falls just right, framing your face perfectly. You had curled it that morning, and worn a perfume that smells like autumn.

He knows it's ridiculously foolish to consider something a chance that is nothing but stolen glances and blush stained cheeks and private thoughts. He can't help it.

"I think Jisung needs to start letting you get some sleep, you're zoning out so much," you hum with such concern, and he crumbles.

He feels almost dirty. Dirty for the thoughts he has of you. Dirty for the reason he isn't getting much sleep. Thinking about you in ways that would terrify a Catholic, or hell, even an atheist.

"'t's not Jisung," he slurs his words together.

They become a wet mix of vowels and articulations when he's talking to you. He hopes he doesn't sound this fucking dumb when he is teaching.

"Maybe you're sick," you tilt your head.

It's a habit you have, tilting your head when you make a statement. He finds it endearing. It was one of the first things about you that he perceived as such.

"'m fine, promise," he brushes off, "'nd I don' need any coffee."

"Well, you better wake up before the festival," you sigh, and he hates to think he let you down.

The festival, fuck, that is today. Each year the college throws a winter festival for the students, a lot of sororities and fraternities set up booths and the cafeteria gets turned upside down with decorations. The faculty's Secret Santa too, shit, he hasn't wrapped his gift. He really doesn't hate the festival or the idea of it, it keeps him young. He just doesn't know if he is gonna be able to stay around you any longer.

"Who did you get for Secret Santa?" you ask, taking a seat at the table, returning to your lab reports.

"Jus' Lix," he hates how drunk he sounds, "what about you? You always go above and beyond in the gift department."

He would never lie to you, you do go above and beyond with gifts. Each year, you go all out, spending a ridiculous amount of time and effort when it comes to the gifts you buy for people.

"Can't say unfortunately," you whisper, "or else it wouldn't be a secret."

You give him a smile that makes his stomach do a flip. "But I did get you something," you perk up.

You walk over to your bag and pull out a wrapped parcel, and carefully hand it over to him. "Thought you'd like it, took forever for it to ship over from overseas."

Minho examines the neatly wrapped box, wrapped in pink wrapping paper with a pink bow tied on top of the box. "Thank you," he sounds breathless.

He opens it carefully, and is met with a white box. He pulls the lid off and pulls out the cloth that sits on the bottom of the box. Revealing a white lab coat. The fabric is crisp and ironed. In the corner the text 'Dr. Minho Lee, PhD' is embroidered in black. Underneath the lettering is another embroidered patch. Instead of his name though, it's his three cats. Each of the cats looks identical to their real counterparts. "Sorry if it's stupid, I-" you apologize, "I just- I dunno-"

Stupid? It's the most thoughtful gift he has gotten in a long time. It comes from your heart, how could it be stupid.

You're the most beautiful and thoughtful person he's ever met. I love you, loved you for so long, he thinks to himself. He's so moved he almost feels like crying.

"Minho," you're quiet, stunned into silence.

He just realizes how his mouth has betrayed his mind, and his legs are moving with a panic.

The air is so damn dense as he sprints down the hall from the lab. The white fluorescent lights taunt him with their hum as he dashes away. Away from you, away from the chance that was all in his head.

He is gripping at the tie around his neck. He sees no comfort in the double doors out of the science lab, he is running without reason.

He breaks through the double doors and is soaked almost instantly. The snow is heavy and it patters against his body.

His legs stop moving, and he just stands there. In the snow. Terribly cold and terribly wet. He could curse God, but he doesn't believe in Him.

The doors behind him open and close. Doom blooms in his rapidly rising and falling chest. "Minho," it's you again, "Minho, you'll catch a cold."

His legs are frozen through. He couldn't move if there were a bear chasing him. He can't speak either. He's rendered silent. "Minho, it's about fucking time you confessed, b-because I-I l-love you too."

He can suddenly find the strength to face you.

When he does, the first thing he notices is your face. Mascara has soaked your cheeks, tear stains evident. "Y-huh? Wh-why are you c-crying?"

"Because I fucking love you," you sound weak- Minho never heard your voice sound so scared, "a-and you love me too? Did you mean it? You love me too?"

You're equally as soaked by the snow as he is. Your arms are crossed over your chest. He moves before he thinks, there really is nothing to think.

Hypothesis : you want him to kiss you. And according to the scientific method, he must test his hypothesis.

He's putting one foot in front of the other and moving to you. He wastes no time, simply cupping your face and pulling you in for a kiss.

Sparks fly like shown in movies, his lips feel tingly and he can feel his heartbeat in every bone of his body.

Your lips are even softer than he imagined. Soft and molding against his own in ways that make him dizzy.

Like throwing a block of lithium into a pond, he feels like he may explode. Every atom in his body is undergoing a chain reaction that is so right he would never stop it.

"Love you," he's mumbling against your lips, "loved you for so long. You're everything I've ever wanted."

Tears brim his lashes, they nearly fall, but he is too elated to cry. "Minho," your voice is muffled by the sloppy kisses you're placing on his lips. You let out a groan and Minho's composure crumbles.

"Always been you," you hum, "since I met you, no one else."

All he had known until now had been decomposed and resynthesized. Like a chemical equation. He hates that he still thinks of you chemically.

Yet, he'd count every atom in your body so he could find out why you're so you. He's tear apart the heavens and the earth and chemically rearrange them just to see you smile.

Your bodies are melting together, forming a mixture of desperation, love, and lust. His hands are gripping every inch of your soft flesh available.

"Minho- mhm- take m-me home," you whimper into his mouth.

He kisses you one last time. He knows he will have this life, and the next to kiss you, he's in no rush.

His eyes finally open again, and he swears he has never seen a more beautiful sight. Your makeup is running down your face, and your lips are kiss bitten. Your body is pressed against his, and your hands are cupping his jaw. "H-home?" He stutters like a little kid.

"Your house," you grin, and he swears there's a mischievous glint in your eyes, "unless you don't wanna see me naked?"

If his jaw hadn't been on the floor before, it definitely was now. "God," he groans, "c'mon."

He's pulling you along with him, in the pouring snow, to his apartment. "If I catch a cold because of you, Lee Minho," you vaguely threaten.

"Then I'll nurse you back to health," he immediately replies.

You're both placing one foot in front of the other at a fast pace. When he sees his apartment around the corner, his heart thumps rapidly in his chest.

He doesn't struggle with the keys even though his hands are shaking beyond reasonable doubt. The warmth and comfort from his home is nothing compared to that which he gets from you.

He's stepping inside and pulling you in with him before slamming the door closed. A sudden fear rises in his chest, and any semblance of what to do next faded from his mind.

You notice this, you notice everything. "You okay?" you press your body against him.

You're both soaked from head to toe in cold water, yet you're so warm against him. "I-I?" he's stunned, like a dear in headlights.

You try and fail to hide the disappointment in your tone when you say, "do you not want t-"

He doesn't even leg you finish the sentence, "-I do. I do. I do. I-It's just not supposed to hap-happen like this."

"Please explain?"

"I - I have pictured, I've thought about us- us doing this, and I-I feel like I'm doing it wrong," you search his eyes for a clue as to what he means, "I mean-I just thought it would be so much more, romantic. N-not the confession, the- I just want to make it perfect for you."

"And how would you do that?"

"With rose petals and red wine and candles and-"

You shut him up with a kiss that is broken all too soon for Minho's preference, "you're such a dork, oh my god," you sigh playfully and hit his chest lightly, "I don't want roses or red wine, or candles. Minho, I want you. That's it."

"I-I," he stutters and can feel his cheeks heating up, "w-we should hop in the shower?"

"Excellent idea," you smirk.

Minho takes your hand in his and leads you to his bathroom, "sorry for the mess," he apologizes but knows that you won't mind.

He takes his eyes off you for only a moment to turn on the warm water, and when he turns back to you, you're halfway undressed. He swears he's never seen anything as beautiful as you.

You with your shirt and skirt in a heap on the floor, the only thing covering you is your underwear. Black cotton panties with lace hemmed on the side and a matching black bra.

You're reaching behind your back to unclasp your bra when he speaks up, "let me."

You smile at him and turn around, Minho's lips ghost down the side of your neck while his hands busy themselves, taking off your bra. He kisses down the back of your neck and your body shudders against his own.

You eagerly flip around and press your lips against his own. Now it's your hands that are pulling at his soaked shirt. You break the kiss but only for a moment, only so you can take off his shirt.

"Mhm," you moan into his mouth and Minho's grabbing at your sides like a madman.

His fingers hook under your panties and pull them down your legs.

And he finally gets a good look at your most sacred parts. They're more beautiful than his mind has ever painted them to be. Your breasts are soft to his touch, not too big nor too small. And your cunt, it looks tastier than a Sunday dinner in his eyes. His eyes rake down your happy trail that connects to your neatly trimmed bush and he wants to kiss it. He wants to kiss every inch of your skin.

He pulls down his boxers with his pants, and his semi-hard cock aches to be touched, to be inside you. You take his hand and step under the stream of water. He follows.

He'd follow you anywhere.

Hot water brings life to his cold skin. He's wrapping his arms around you, and his lips push against your own. "Where's the scar from?" you mumble the question between kisses.

"Had surgery wh-when I was a kid," he only stumbles over his words because your hand wraps around his cock and starts to slowly pump him.

He's so sensitive it hurts. Hurts all over. His body writhes at its own accord. "Your cock is so fucking pretty," you hum.

The words are filthy, but they sound as holy as the Pope's because they're said by you. "Baby- I-" you're so good at making him feel good.

Had you done this with someone else? Had you jerked them off in their shower? Had you ever brought another person this much pleasure?

Jealously pools in his chest at the idea of you with anyone that isn't him. "W-why are you so good at this? I-I just, please, wanna be the last. Can't handle the idea o-of you doing this to anyone but me," he confesses.

His sudden confession makes you falter and he tries to read the expression on your face, "last time I did this was before I met you, there's never been anyone since I met you. You were always gonna be it for me."

He almost sinks to his knees he feels so stupid. "D-do you want me to prep you?"

"There's no need, I promise," you smile at him.

You flip around, your body is pressed against his shower wall, the warm water hits his back and he swears he's never been more comfortable in his whole life.

He holds his cock in his hands and lines it up at your entrance. "You ready?" He can't help but sound a little cocky.

"God, Minho, just put it in," you whine.

His knees falter when he finally presses inside you, your walls are warm, inviting. You were right, you didn't need any prep.

"Oh, God," he groans even though he only has his tip in, "fuck, don't know how long I'm gonna last."

"Don't worry," you hum, a sharp squeak leaves your mouth when he stills all the way inside you.

He's buried so far in his cock is pressed up against your cervix. A shiver runs through his body when he finally thrusts inside you. You're tight and warm and so soft.

He's desperate, with every thrust of his hips he is losing every drop of his composure.

"Harder," you beg, "fuck me like you mean it."

His hips slam against your own, and you let out cries of pleasure as your body convulses against his own.

"Love you," you repeat the words like a mantra, they tumble from your lips with every thrust of his hips.

His hand wraps around your body and finds your clit. He would die if he didn't make you cum first. "Ah, jagi," he moans.

"Ah, Min- mama," you don't even realize what you're saying.

Mama? That was new, but he wouldn't protest. Not to you. Not in a million lifetimes.

"Mama, hmm?" Minho whimpers, "you wanna call me that?"

"Mhm," you nod your head furiously, "love you so much!"

How he loves you too.

His hand glides down your body and finds your swollen clit, he rubs it tenderly as his hips stutter in their movements. "Mama!" you squeal, "gonna cum!"

Minho can't warn you before he cums. He swears on everything he knows, this was the best sex he's ever had. His body convulses against yours and all that can be heard is the water hitting the shower and the both of your debauched breaths.

"Love you," you whisper.

Minho places a kiss on your spine, "I love you so much more, jagi. Merry Christmas."

[jojoiread]

Hello there! Could I ask for some HCs of Charlie Morningstar, Vaggie, and Angel Dust meeting Alastor’s sibling, [Reader] [Gender Neutral] [Platonic], for the first time? They’re also a powerful demon like their brother, have deer-like features (antlers and tail), fashioned with glasses, a distorted/static voice, (of course being a cannibal), etc. However, what contrasted with Alastor was they don’t have a creepy demeanor nor ill intentions. They’re actually a decently nice demon who would visit the hotel to check up on their only brother and chat with everyone.

- @sanctum-of-ramshackle

Meeting Alastors Sibling

Charlie Morning star

• Charlie would be overjoyed to see, let alone find out, that Alastor has a sibling.

•”OH MY GOSH WELCOME I DIDN’T KNOW ALASTOR HAD A SIBLING COME LET ME SHOW YOU AROUND”

•Immediately starts showing you around and telling you about how the hotel works and her dreams of redeeming her people.

•Asking you all sorts of questions relating to you and Alastor, “Who’s older? Did you guys get along? Who’s-“

•Gets cut off my Alastor cause he knows damn well that you’ll start blubbering his secrets.

•Absolutely enthralled with your personality, not everybody down here, let alone a powerful overlord who’s just so… nice and not trying to deceive others.

•Ask you if you want to join the hotel and understands when you decline.

•Gets excited for the next time you visit and waves,hugs,smiles,(a whole song atp) once you leave.

(Alastor now making a plan to keep your yapping mouth shut).

Vaggie

•Does not trust you AT ALL when you first arrive.

•A double of Alastor? No fucking thanks, keep it away, she does not need to deal with that, one is enough.

•Starts sizing you up and asking questions, judging to see if your gonna be a problem just like Alastor.

•Once she sees how nice and unalastory you are, she’ll start to calm down a bit and let her guard down.

•Absolutely baffled that someone like you is even related to Alastor.

•”Did Alastor get dropped on his head and that’s why he’s a bitch and you’re not?”(Yes he’s standing right behind her)

•(Alastor makes sure to keep a close eye on you two after that)

•She’s happy that you get along with everyone at the hotel, a good change of pace around here.

Angel Dust

•Literally does not care at first, so what? Another guest? Alastor’s sibling? Whatever

•When you first stride up to him, he makes his usual sex comments, asking to make a pass at that ass (Alastor glares and he stops relucantly).

•”So, hows it feel to squeeze out of the same tight pussy as freaky face himeself?”

• Thinks your just a mini-version of Alastor, same hair, looks, voice, etc, just throwing Alastor into a duplicator.

•Asks if he can get duplicated too.

•After realizing how nice and sweet you are, he starts to lighten up on the act he uses.

•Still making crude comments, now he’s just making sure a certain somebody isn’t in the room.

•Thinks your just like Charlie and gets himself drunk before conversing.

•(You’re both laughing and playing with fat nuggets after).

[luminouslywriting]

no thoughts just John Brady being a dilf….

he’s the man in church who all the women point to and say to their husbands why can’t you be more like him

Nonny. You're so right. And it's giving Nathan Scott from One Tree Hill okay??

Listen?? John Brady?? This man right here?

He is the man who makes parenting look effortless, even to his wife. Never loses his temper with the kids, he's happy to walk around with a baby sling. Hell, if he could carry the baby weight for his wife, he would. But seeing as he can't, he will do whatever it takes to make her happy.

He's the type of man who rolls up to Church with all of the kid's hair done, looking like little angels, and keeps them all in line and happy. And everyone's thinking "Mrs. Brady must be busy with all of those kids."

And yes....yes she is. But John Brady gets home from work and immediately gets to work being a husband and a father. His work doesn't end just because the work day is over. He joyfully helps his children with homework and helps them learn how to read. One of them scraped their knee earlier? He's kissing it better and tucking them in at night. His wife is low on sleep? He has work in the morning? He's up with the baby and making sure that his wife gets the rest that she needs. He joyfully takes the time to hear about everyone's day and makes sure that the kids all know that Mama Brady comes first in his life—the kids all come second, though he adores them.

And Mrs. Brady? You'd think she'd be tired of being pregnant, but the orgasms alone keep her going haha. Every night she is getting pampered and he is taking graciously good care of her because she is his world and that's just a fact. She's so relaxed at Church that it unnerves everyone else, because they have HOW MANY CHILDREN?? How is she this calm? It's the orgasms and the sex and the body worship—and the fact that John Brady is superman when it comes to his family.

He's so entirely pleased when he gets to hold the baby in Church because Mrs. Brady is a little busy with their toddler who fell and hit their head. He's happy to carry her bag and help her into the car. He's happy to spend his summer days playing in the backyard with the kids and everyone is just baffled by the way that he is just so miraculously happy with his family. Because surely, no family is perfect.

Which is not to say that his family life doesn't have its stresses and its trials, because obviously everyone does. But he's so blessed and happy to have a wife and kids and it's the life he's always wanted, so of COURSE he's going to treat them as though they're his entire world. Because they are.

[alice-after-dark]

I've Actually Thought About This...

Inspired by this reblog from @lovethatmakingcoffee (original artist is @paprikaries), I've actually considered this for a while and I have some thoughts about why Vox needed to have Sir Pentious hide a camera in the hotel.

(Just for clarification, I do understand that the comic is meant to be silly and all in good fun, it just got my wheels turning)

So the first point is the television in the hotel. It definitely looks old, so it's possible it's too outdated for him to connect to, however, I think there's another reason entirely. Every time we have seen Vox interact with a TV screen, he appears on it. TVs don't have cameras. They only display. So while Vox could in theory connect to the TV and watch the hotel that way, he'd only be able to do it while literally making everyone aware that he was watching them.

As for the phone thing...well...we don't actually know if Vox can connect through phones. The fandom, myself included, has assumed he can because phones have cameras and screens and use electricity, but we have never actually seen him interact with a phone using his powers. Even the call from Velvette is from his head, not his phone. And when he talks to Sir Pentious, Pentious is using a V-Watch, not a phone, which I do get is supposed to be a play on smart watches, but I did look it up and smart watches have extremely limited video capabilities, meaning the V-Watch is most likely exclusively designed for video calls. It's also very clear from the angle we see Vox at that he himself is not using a V-Watch. He's probably using one of his usual computer monitors. Honestly, when it comes down to it, I think phones would work the same way as a TV. He'd appear on the screen. The big thing about video cameras is that they are, by design, one-way devices. He can watch without being seen.

As for the logo thing...I've said this in another post, but the logo actually doesn't mean much in hindsight. Like, imagine finding a hidden camera in your room, looking at the brand, and going "ah hah! They are clearly the ones stalking me!" instead of thinking someone, oh I don't know, purchased said camera from the brand? It's one of those writing points that honestly baffles me. Vox is probably the biggest producer of tech in Hell. It's really not a surprise it would be one of his cameras. Angel Dust really jumped to conclusions assuming the Vees were behind the spying. Yes, he was right, because that's how the writing wanted it to go, but he kind of had no reason to draw the conclusion he did so quickly.

[snowysoul-squrirel]

Pizza at Playcare

Imagine, if you will. An overweight and anxiety ridden Italian chef able to run at Mach 3 and break through metal, named Peppino Spaghetti, as well as his short, gnomish friend, Gustavo, and their pet rat, Brick come across Playtime Inc instead of the Player.

The first thing they come across is the Grabpack, which is given to Gus. The rest of chapter 1 happens.

When they get to the end, after the vents, Huggy Wuggy is chasing them, Peppino is screaming but Gus has the bright idea to give Huggy a slice of pizza. ...and it works.

Gus:**patting Peppino's back** "Ey, don't worry Pep! The poor guy was just hungry, that's all!"

*some time later, they come across Poppy, open the case and she is instantly baffled by the rat, gnome, a traumatized Peppino, and Huggy Wuggy. But they carry on…*

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

*They carry on and Poppy gets kidnapped.

They slide down to rescue Poppy, and Mommy was only accounting for one guy, not the quartet.*

MLL:"Emm...Poppy says she'll give you the train code when the games are complete, isn't that right P-"

Peppino: "Ohh, Santa Maria, Lady! Just get on with it! "

Gus: "No need to be rude Peppe! This could be fun!" Peppino:"*sighing* Oki doki. We'll play your games, Missy! "

MLL:"Oh, how wonderful! I'll see you to the Game Station then!"

*And when it comes time, Gus and Peppino respectively gives PJ and the Wuggies hot and delicious pizza from the hammer space and a good bopping, respectively though Peppino does rescue the Mini Wuggies because of Gustavo. Then comes Bunzo, who is more of the same. Mommy however, is furious about this, almost demanding they play her way.

And soon, the chase happens, Peppino is carrying the little ones in his arms with Huggy following him, Gus is rolling on Brick, and Legs gets caught in the grinder.

She understandably screams, but Brick comes to the rescue by unplugging the thing.*

MLL:Y-You saved me? Why? After everything I done!

P:Let's just say I have experience in this rescuing thing.

This of course, being a reference to both the Toppins, and the characters he rescues in the crumbling tower.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------After the train crash, everyone was seperated. They got back together, don't worry.

Gus and Brick with the littler ones, and Peppino with Huggy and Mommy.

They do manage to meet back up though at Playcare. Gus and company found a secret, employees only Cable car, Peppino and the BBI duo in his car. (as for the gas masks, I let the toys wait outside with Brick, who squeaks stories of the Tower. Gus and Peppino both find a mask though, dw.)

After all the cord connections, Peppino barrels through the School, promising Delight that him and his work partner have food and others waiting for them, so she comes with.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

When Gus and Peppino find the critters, (Hoppy and Bobby in the Toy Store; Kicken, Bubba in Home Sweet Home; Picky and Crafty in different places of the school) they quickly take them back to PlayCare, where MLL and Brick is keeping watch over everyone.

The Critters are alive and well, having been found by the duo, because I wanted them to have a happy end.

But when Gus and Peppino find DogDay, they're horrified. Peppino may have seen a lot of bad things, but this… Then DogDay begins to speak.

DD: You... You're Poppy's angels, come to save us. Nothing left to save, not here... You're in CatNap's home, angel. Their home.

A million pairs of eyes are on you now. Watching, waiting, hungry.

They want nothing more than to crawl beneath your skin and eat away at you bit by little bit- fill what feels empty inside themselves.

That... thing... CatNap. The Prototype is his God, and this is what he does to heretics.These little toys follow CatNap to avoid that very fate- and in return, they are fed. We tried to fight it, The Prototype's control. I'm... the last of the Smiling Critters.

*It's then that Gus and Peppino share a glance, but don't speak quite yet. Out of the corner of his eye, Peppino notices the minis beginning to crawl to Dogday*

Listen to me, you need to get out of this place. You need to live. You and Poppy can fix this, end this madness, the torment, the-

*Dogday notices the minis now too, Peppino clenches his fists* Oh no... OH NO!Leave me. Please! ANGELS! RUUNN!

*Peppino yowls, does his thing and builds up a combo on the minis, growing increasingly angry at the Prototype and wanting to get out of this hellhole more than ever. Gus and Brick, however are helping Dogday to the others, who is surprised to hear that they're still alive, crying tears of joy as he envelops the critters in a hug*.

Gus:"Don't worry, you big puppy. I know a gal who's an expert in sewing! She'll fix you right up"

DogDay:"T-Thank you, angels. You don't know how much this means to me, to the Critters as a whole!!" and he's tearing up, the sweet boy

*When Peppino and Gus find Catnap, Peppino is MAD. He runs down Catnap and nearly kills him from speed alone, but Gustavo talks down Pep from killing him.

Gustavo knows, he just knows, that there is some good in Catnap. The Prototype descends from the ceiling. Gus is petting a shivering Catnap who reaches to it, the feline asking their god for assistance. But before it can skewer Catnap, Peppino SCREAMS and pulls down the Prototype, a mishmash of toys, bones, flesh, and metal and begins mauling it.

And with one final punch, it's finished. The past can't be changed, but there can be a future with the victims of Playtime Inc. get to go free, and this, my friends, is one of them that my AuDHD mind conjured up*

(i absolutely copied this from an existing post i made lmao)

[maopll]

May I request Lucifer, Mammon, Satan, and Diavolo with a confectioner reader?

SWEET TREATS !

| obey me!

⌗:, a/n: first obey me req! I love any ask which has something to do with sweets. thanks for giving diavolo though I love this himbo.

⌗:, warning: fluff only

⌗:, pairings: lucifer, mammon, satan & diavolo w/ gn!confectioner!reader (separately)

,,baking sweets have been running in your family since. your friends, teachers, and neighbours all have complemented that your sweets taste like the celestial realm and...they were not joking,,

LUCIFER was once again overworking himself so to help him get through those stacks of paperwork you prepared some tea and biscuits. you kept those at a place where he could reach.

He was a bit hungry that moment since he had been overworking non-stop so it was like a midnight snack at this point even if the tea had grown cold. Once he tasted those however, he thought 'they taste good' but when he tried to grab for more he was met with empty plate because he basically ravaged the plate without thinking that he had been binge eating. he was going to ask you where you found those biscuits from and he was amazed to hear that you baked those. you truly have some worthy talents thus the reason why you belong in the house of lamentation. he had to admit that those felt like the baked goodies he found in the celestial realm back when he was still an angel. but now that he has you he can always ask you for more. but for rigjt now he is not going to get more cause according to you Beel ate them. you can always make more for your overworked luci :)

MAMMON and you were inside the kitchen while he was talking about the happenings of the week while you were preparing some lunch for everyone because the next day was school. everyone had mostly the same but he had fee sweets because he is your favourite dumb lover

he did see you put some sweets and he had that pikachu meme face. he was BAFFLED hearing that you can bake. WELL that's the very reason why you are his human. Make more for him he loves your cooking he just can't get enough. especially those croissants that you make. Before he really didn't like human world cooking but yours can be an exception. Your cakes, crackers and other baked foods tasted like the ones Michael and Lucifer used to make for him when he was a kid and would always annoy his brother to make more because 'I am hungry!'. You saw how mammon's eyes were a little dazed and heard him chuckle a little. looks like he's remembering those good memories.

DIAVOLO was sitting in his office taking care of the ministrations of devildom at large and the paperwork of RAD. he had been doing it and the heaps of paper just never seem to end and while you did know that he would be working at the very moment thanks to a certain butler. so you gave the cake you made for him and some tea and asked Barbatos to serve it to him because you didn't want to disturb him when he's busy and he would definitely ditch the paperwork to just talk to you

He was still doing his paperwork when Barbatos came with some tea and cake. He thought he had made them so with a simple 'thank you' he had him leaving the room to take care of other works. After a while, when he was finally going to eat those, he felt like he ascended to the heavens. he swore he saw some white pearly gate with trumpets. How did these taste so good? he has had enough of Barbatos's food that he should know their taste by now, so how did these taste so different and so...delicious? on inquiring barbatos, he found out you made it and asked him to serve it to him. Now he was running to his phone just to ask you to come here. he can't thank you enough for giving him foods that give him more energy! he knew it was the right idea to bring you in as the exchange student since you were basically good at everything! Well now since you have shown your talents he will NOT hesitate to shamelessly ask you to bring some more. he loves you <3

SATAN here was making food for asmo because he demanded that one food that was all the rage in devilgram but he didn't get to eat and only Satan was the one who had it. since he knew how it tasted he should be the one to make it right? so here he is baking some raindrop cake

He reluctantly agreed because if he didn't do it he would constantly annoy him and that would just fuel his anger more. so he begrudgingly decided to listen to his whims. He was kinda frustrated because one, he just brought a new book about cats and he has been wanting to read it for so long and two, he can't get this thing in the right shape either and it's just been a hard journey all along. He was thinking of blasting away the kitchen but he held together what little piece he had of his patience and thank god you arrived at the right moment. please help him dude can't figure out anything.

He had been sitting across you while you baked and he gave instructions but he didn't think so you would actually be able to bake that??? he gotta admit he underestimated you and your decorations on top and the taste of it was immaculate. he was craving for more but that was for asmo and he really went ahead and asked without thinking "can I have more" and he was blushing hard because he just spitted out his inner thoughts. he was met with cackles from you but you will always make him some more if he wants all he needs to do is just ask !

[excelsi-or]

summoned (epilogue: pt. 16)

pairing: woozi x fem!reader/fem!OC

w.c. 1.8k (just a little fluff to end of this series)

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7 | part 8 | part 9 | part 10 | part 11 | part 12 | part 13 | part 14 | part 15 | part 16

EPILOGUE

The evening of the end of the world, the angels and demons drop the humans off at Hansol’s apartment.

As soon as Seungkwan sees them, he says, “That’s it. We’re having a dinner party.”

She doesn’t have the energy to argue. She even takes the beer that Hansol offers.

That sets Seungkwan off even more, and the storm turns into a whirlwind.

“Seokmin and Jihoon can’t come.”

“They can’t? Why not? You and Jihoon have been tied at the hip since we met him.”

“Uh…” She meets Hansol’s eye as he returns from his bedroom with a change of clothes. “How much do we share?”

Seungkwan cuts Hansol off before he can even open his mouth. “You smell like smoke, your dress is burnt, Hansol is ravenous and not eating leftovers. Something’s happened. Do I need to add that the sky was bright red? I was about to try to get home to my family because I thought that the world was ending. But now, all of a sudden, it’s fine.”

Hansol takes her by the shoulders and guides her towards the bathroom. “You go shower. I’ll deal with Seungkwan until everyone comes over. Gives you time to decide if you want to share.” 

“You’re honestly the best. The best best friend ever.”

Hansol clucks his tongue. “You’re welcome, Antichrist. Go shower.”

As she’s about to close the door, she tells him she isn’t the Antichrist anymore.

“How can you suddenly just not be it anymore?”

She shrugs. “My mom explained it, like, since the world didn’t end with me as it was supposed to, there’ll be another Antichrist.”

“So, now you’re just… you’re just human?”

She nods.

“And your parents?”

“Well, for foiling the Great Plan or whatever they call it, no go. Dad doesn’t get his soul back. Mom didn’t really have hope anyway.” There’s a quiver in her voice that Hansol hasn’t heard in a while.

“Oh.” Hansol pushes his way into the bathroom to wrap his arms around her. “I didn’t know. I’m sorry it didn’t work out.” He pretends as if he can’t feel the tears against his neck. He isn’t quite sure what it means that they don’t get their souls back. He’s still baffled that his best friend was, but is no longer, the Antichrist.

When she pulls away, he can’t tell that she’d been crying. “They have human lives to live, and I get to keep my soul. Apparently, that’s worth it to them.”

“Have you told them about your demon boyfriend?”

“Jihoon said he’s going home,” she says. “Nothing here to entertain him anymore.”

“Hansol-ah! I need you to peel the vegetables!” Seungkwan calls.

A few days after the end of the world, with Jeonghan and Seungcheol’s wedding to now plan for (they heard it could’ve been the end of the world and decided they were getting married ASAP), she isn’t expecting to walk up to her apartment door and not have a door to open.

Annoyed, she pats the wall in the general area where her doorknob should be.

“If this demon also fucking locked my door, he’s being kicked out,” she mutters as her hand finds the knob.

Luckily for the demon, it’s unlocked.

From her doorway, she can see him stretched out on her couch in sweatpants and his favourite red hoodie, a book hovering over his head.

“You said you were going home.”

The book lowers slightly so he can see her, unfazed by her lack of greeting. “I did.”

“So, what are you doing here?”

“Hanging out.”

“Okay, but where’s the human who summoned you?”

“There isn’t one.” Jihoon sets the book down: The Alchemist. Definitely not hers. “I just came to see you.”

This causes her to pause. “Me.”

Jihoon shrugs. “Earth’s a little more interesting right now. Seokmin’s right. More fun when there’s less plague and more technology. The food’s a little weird, and art seems to have gone to shit, but—”

She chuckles as she drops her things by the door and sits on the couch next to him. “You can just say you missed me. How long are you staying?”

“Your whole life, actually.”

“What?”

“Yeah.” Jihoon stretches his legs out for the coffee table. “Seokmin and I may have played some tricks. And I may be the coolest demon in existence this millennium.”

“What do you mean?”

“I had a holy water bath and didn’t die. Freaked the other demons out. Satan’s not punishing me for messing with the Antichrist. I’m yours for now.”

“You’re telling me that you’re going to stay with me for the rest of my life. How am I going to get married and have a family?”

“I thought me saying I was staying for the rest of your life was essentially me asking you to marry me.”

It feels as if those words smack her right in the face. The anxious person in her starts panicking at M-A-R-R-I-A-G-E. A few minutes of reeling her brain back from panic helps her see that Jihoon’s just offering what demons think is human commitment. 

“It sounds like you’re intending to be a nuisance,” she finally says.

“I also forgot to mention I’m not really a demon anymore.”

“I didn’t know that was something you could just give back.” The anxiety is fighting with excitement. Because Jihoon is saying all the right words. 

So, she gets up to make tea just to keep her hands busy. And so she doesn’t have to sit so close to Jihoon.

She’s been so used to knowing everything and being one step ahead. Now, that she really is just a human, she’s realizing that the unexpected is extremely uncomfortable.

Jihoon trails after her. “So, maybe I made some deals with the Devil to be here. But nothing that you need to be concerned about.”

She squints at him. “What exactly are you proposing?”

Jihoon rolls his eyes. “That I stay here. With you. Live your life with you.”

“I want children one day.”

Jihoon shrugs. “That can be arranged.”

“With a partner.”

He motions down his body. “I’ve arranged that already.”

“By assuming that I’d agree to this.”

Jihoon tips his head, his eyes flicking from cat-like and back again. “Do you not want this?”

She rests her hip against the counter, processing her feelings. “You’re telling me that you want to be my life partner. Are willing to have children. But have you considered that I’ll get old and age? You’re not going to leave me for naught?”

“If you gave me your soul in exchange for not getting old, that could be arranged.”

“Absolutely not. I’m human. And I intend to stay that way.”

This makes Jihoon smile. “And that’s why I’m staying. Because you’re human.”

“You hate humans.”

“I like you. And maybe Hansol. Your other friends are tolerable.”

She holds her hand up in the air between them.

“What?”

She nods her head at her hand.

Frowning, he lifts his hand to mirror her.

“Oh, you stupid—” She crosses the kitchen to press her palm against his, notices that he’s warm but not burning. “I can touch you.” Her fingers settle between the spaces between his. “Why can I touch you?”

“Are you not listening to me?” he chuckles. That would normally be annoying, but he now finds her incredibly endearing. It helps that she’s definitely not the Antichrist. “I told you I made deals with the devil.” Jihoon’s eyes don’t leave hers as he kisses the back of her hand. “So, what are you thinking, human?”

“That you still haven’t answered the question about what happens when I age.” She notices his confused expression. “Jihoon.” The use of his chosen human name causes him to warm even more; she can feel it in his hand. “As good-hearted as your intentions might be, and having grown up with a demon for a mother, I can’t grow attached to you knowing you’ll disappear when you realize I’m not what you want anymore.”

“I’ve been human before,” he whispers. Her eyes widen slightly at the admission. She doesn’t personally know any demons that were once human. Her mother says they exist, but most of the ones she’s met have been fallen angels.

Her mind is whirring at what that’s meant for the life he’s lived. And makes her want to analyze every decision he’s made in her presence.

But Jihoon doesn’t give her much time to process it. They have a lifetime together for her to learn that. “I know what the stakes are by offering you this.”

“And you still want to stay? I thought we were only in agreement that we please each other well.”

“And I enjoy your company. More than anyone else—human, demon, or angel—that I’ve met.”

“Even when I can’t please you physically anymore,” she states.

Jihoon studies her face, can picture the way it’ll age, has deliberated heavily about whether he can watch her die. “I have a feeling that you’ll find other ways to be entertaining.”

She scoffs in disbelief, charmed and also scared.

“I may also be aware of the fact that Seokmin is intending to stick around for your lifetime. Your friends’ as well. I won’t be lonely.”

“He knows you’re staying.”

“He knew I was considering it. He told me that I’m the only one who can make the decision. And that you’d have to accept me anyway for it to be real.”

“Couples fight.”

“We’ve butt heads quite a lot in the time we’ve known each other.”

“I’m pretty physically intimate.”

“Good. I like that.” 

She wonders what else she could say that would make Jihoon re-evaluate. “I’m really insecure.”

Jihoon’s eyes flicker. “I can deal with that.”

“You’ll be expected to come to Seungcheol and Jeonghan’s wedding then.”

The corners of his mouth downturn slightly, but he agrees to that too.

Before leaning into him, as he seems to desperately want her to do, she says, “As soon as you even think about double crossing me, or mess with my mind even slightly, you’re gone, okay?” She elaborates further. “I need to trust that you’re with me, because you like me. Not because I can be manipulated because I’m human and touch you well.”

Jihoon chuckles and nods. “Got it, human.” He doesn’t tell her that as soon as she tells him to leave, his contract is over, and he’s gone. Maybe one day, but not right now.

“Now, will you please kiss me and stop worrying about a future that’s still so far away?”

“In your lifetime, it’s nothing,” she reminds him.

Jihoon shrugs. “Sure, but for you, it’s long.”

She rolls her eyes. He’s the one who closes the distance between them, one hand slipping under her shirt to rest on the skin of her hip. It’s a pleasant warmth.

“I’m happy for you to stay,” she says as his lips brush hers. “Even if I didn’t summon you this time.”

Jihoon laughs, pecking her lips again and again. “It would actually be a more difficult existence for both of us if you had.”

There’re fluttering nerves in her stomach that some of his words have calmed but not all. And he’s unlikely able to soothe every fear she has about this, but she asks anyway. “Is it okay if we go slow?”

“What do you mean?”

His thumb rubbing back and forth on her hip is distracting. She rests a hand over his to stop him. “Slow. To get used to this. I brought you here with different intentions. I fell for you by accident. Everything that’s happened afterwards is not something I’ve had time to process.” Her gaze glances at him and then away. “Is that okay?”

Jihoon hums, not used to her bashfulness. “Hey.”

She meets his gaze.

“I get to be human for a little while because of you. Whatever you want.”

“Really?”

Jihoon nods. “I’m a reasonable demon, as you know.”

“You were a pain in my ass when I summoned you.”

“I can be a reasonable pain in the ass.”

She sighs. “Okay.” She pulls him closer. “I’m in.”

hello!!! another story down.

this story is very conflicting for me. i was so excited about it when i was writing it and editing it. and then while i was posting it, something about it wasn't speaking to me anymore.

don't get me wrong. i love how this story turned out. but i wrote the first draft of this, i think, almost two years ago now. i'm a different person, a different writer, and a different reader too.

so, i think my unattachment to it is because it doesn't fully represent me as a writer anymore.

but for everyone who's read this/will read this, i hope you enjoyed it! i hope you're around when i return, because i will be going on a proper hiatus probably until the summer next year. need to write more stories (some original projects & some fanfic). i'll pop back in and out when i feel like it, but for now, this is farewell!!

if you wanna follow my creative journey (not just my woozi fanfics), i'm an-artthief on Tumblr too. posting some updates on a few original works i'm working on and reblogging some art and things that i enjoy. :)

happy holidays everyone! and if i don't post again before the end of the year, happy 2024 too! xx

[dawnwynters]

~~WIP Wednesday~~

So, first WIP. Trying this tumblr thing out. Hope you enjoy? (I'm so damn awkward)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

WIP (Working) Title: Feelings

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She easily found Juvia and Lisanna, hugging them both and telling them she was heading home because she really didn’t want to stay at the party if Dan was there and constantly trying to get under her skin. “We’ll talk soon, I promise.” She kissed both of their cheeks before she headed towards the door, her dreams of a peaceful escape shattering as Dan blocked her path.

“Lucy! I don’t believe you’ve met my Angel.” He grinned at her, his eyes slowly moving down her body despite the woman in his arm. “She’s a reporter, too. She works for the Magnolia branch of the National Paper. She covers the big stories as they happen. So much better than covering small time, fluff stuff, right?”

Lucy gave the white-haired woman a genuine smile despite the barbs in her heart at Dan’s well aimed dig. “That’s amazing. But, if you excuse me, I was just-“

“Angel also lives in his amazing penthouse!” Dan grinned maliciously at her, not realizing the frown on Angel’s face as she caught on to what he was doing. “She also models on the side. She has the best fucking body I’ve ever seen.”

Lucy kept her face neutral, trying not to take his words to heart even as they stung because she took pride in her looks. “I’m happy for you, Dan. But, really, I was just-“

“There you are,” Natsu slid up beside Lucy, his arm curling around her waist as he pulled her against his body. “Bedroom’s the other way.”

Lucy’s eyes widened just a fraction as she noticed Natsu was now shirtless, his belt was unbuckled, and pants were undone. “Wh-“

“Ya promised I could lick whipped cream off ya in celebration, Luce.” He purred the words, holding up a can of spray whipped cream as his eyes locked on hers, silently telling her to go with it. “I’ve been dreaming about it all night, baby.”

“S-Sorry,” She stumbled out, her hands resting on his bare chest as she decided to go with it despite how mortified she was. “I was heading out to grab something.”

“Mmm, don’t worry, baby. I got everything we need in the room.” He held the can up. “Wanna open that pretty little mouth of yours for me?” He was completely ignoring the stunned looks from everyone around them, giving Lucy his undivided attention and grinning when she opened her mouth almost instantly. “Good girl.” He sprayed some of the whipped cream in her mouth, pulling back just enough to have some drop on her collarbone. “Oops.”

Lucy’s fingers lightly dug into his chest as she watched him duck his head down, his tongue sliding across her collarbone and up her neck until his lips were at her ear.

“Put your legs around my waist. Trust me.” He whispered, lifting her up and smirking when she did as he told her to. “Let’s go. I’m ready for my reward.” He carried her off to one of the bedrooms, not bothering to look at anyone as they left. “Sorry.” He muttered, setting her gently down on the bed before stepping back and fixing his pants. “You looked so hurt and uncomfortable.”

She stared at him, her eyes wide and her face bright red as she watched him pull his shirt back on. “S-So your solution was to do-“ She gestured helplessly. “That?”

He chuckled as he started pulling his socks and boots back on. “Yeah. Because he’s trying to hurt you because he knows you’re still single and he thinks the more he bugs you, the quicker you’ll go back to him. I just made sure he knew you had moved on.” He glanced at her as he tied the laces on his boot. “Everyone was just watching. They all knew what he was doing and no one fucking did anything. It pissed me off. You don’t deserve that.” He rubbed the back of his neck, a little embarrassed. “I just wanted to get ya out of there and save your pride at the same time.”

She stared at him, completely baffled by his sudden mood change. “Th-Thanks.” She whispered, looking away as she tried to calm her racing heart down. “So do we just sit here and wait an appropriate amount of time before leaving?”

“Nah,” He smirked and moved to the window, shoving it up and showing her the fire escape. “Why don't you let me walk ya home?” He held his hand out to her. “I promise after we get on the ground, I’ll keep my hands and mouth to myself.” He winked.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[simple-seranade]

back when i was into dreamsmp, i was a huge quackity fan. i was a c! quackity apologist, was team SWAG2020, and he was probably one of my favorite characters. to this day i still find his arc fascinating and enjoy his content

now with all this in mind, let me tell you

VOTE JOE HILLS

sure, quackity has sexyman potential, but it’s just that- potential. his arc took more of a turn for the tragic, corrupted hero, all of his own design. his character is working up from his pathetic mess into something he would have admired while also becoming someone he never wanted to be. which, like i said, is fascinating

but joe? joe is indescribable. he’s utterly baffling, confuses everyone around him. he has the cryptid part down, he has a love for the arts, he has written fanfiction and guides to writing fanfiction. he is campaigning on linkedin. he’s a biblically accurate angel compressed into a beanpole of a man with lime green glasses. this man is perfect tumblr sexyman material.

so do what’s right for quackity’s character arc and give it the respect it deserves by voting joe hills

[tenok]

The point (one of them) is that both Aziraphale and Crowley actually think they the smartest one in any given situation. And since I relate to Aziraphale much more today I get fixated on his brand of superiority. He starts his journey with rebellion from pretty tame "I don't get why they makes this desisions and it's look horrible on surface evel but I'm sure that they get best ineterests of everyone involved in their hearts and it's probably me the one that didn't get some oblivious detail" to "oh okay I'm sure it's some kind of misundestanding and we can all talk it out as adults because we there work on same goals" to frustrated "they won't ever listen to me and I will get in trouble for arguing and it will be better for everyone if I will make my desisions in secret and go behind their backs because I just can't let THEM make desisions that will destroy everything". It's not straightforward, I'm 30 and still circulate sometimes between "what if it's me the one that wrong aout everything" and "god HOW people can be THAT stupid", but I remember going throught this stages first as good and obedient kid with really stupid parents making stupid desisions and later with school, govermnet, activist spaces etc.

And the problem is, I was the smartest person in the room enough time to develop issues, and Aziraphale lives like his for 6000 years at least. I can only imagine how many times he thought "if only Starmaker listen to me and didn't Fall", "if only God listened to me and didn't make an Apocalypse happen", "if only Heavens listened to me and didn't did this or that that thing", "if only Crowley listen to me and understand in what kind of danger we can get", "if only that human listened to me and haven't dig the body", etc etc. It's awful, to be the one who always gets to say "I told you so", especially when there's such awful consequenses you can't even feel satisfaction, and you will be the one to clen this mess up (and Aziraphae will clean, or better try to prevent). Now, it's of course leads to issues. BIG issues.

1) It's really hard to stop being plotting and maciavellian and communicate things properly when you expect that person will at best argue with you, at worst punish you and double down on their stupid desisons and you will clean this mess up. It also really hard to stop trying to control everything because you already accepted that everything is your responsibility and everyone else would just make things worse. (as someone that relates to Aziraphale I think he did so much progress there, the levels or trust he shows Crowley are amazing for two beings that probably last time heard of psychotherapy when Freud was alive. but such trust is fragile thing, one misstep and you back on your "it will be better if I do everything alone" bullshit. I'm not saying it's good. I'm also not saying that it's bad. it's just how things work)

2) It makes you overstep other people authonomy, because, again, it would be better for everyone if they did what you think best for them. It works funny wih Aziraphale because yes he's all for free choices for humanity!! NOW GO AND DO SMART CHOICES DAMN YOU!!! WHY YOU DON'T PICK THE THING THAT WOULD BE SMART TO PICK I HATE YOU ALL. That's where me and Aziraphale difer a little because at least I somewhat good at stepping into other people shoes and understand why they do what they do. But angel there is autistic (or bad at this specific thing for other reasons), so I think when people he consider reasonable doesn't agree with him for their own reasons he ge's really baffled, like, there arE correct opinion and it's mine, WHY are you being difficult?? to spite me?? And I'm sure that half of the reason why Aziraphale's so comfortable with Crowley is that he perfectly happy to let him buly or manipulate him into doing things Aziraphale picks as right. Usually Crowley know where pick his battles and how to play long game to make Aziraphale agree for really important stuff he wants from him, but otherwise? Sure he will complain how he hates Hamlet but they will watch Hamlet, and Aziraphale will be very pleased with himself. (and than there goes final fifteen and we back at "but WHY won't ypu agree with thing I pick or us IT'S GOOD AND RESONABLE THING" and we should be happy that consent is something that imporant for our angel ok? he would be angry with Crowley for picking wrong but he won't make him do what he doesn't want. they respect each other like that.)

3) It makes you really really tired and tense. You control everything, unfortunately the longer you do it the more things starts really depedend on you, you can't let go, you don't know anyone that can share this burden with you because first they should prove that they won't blow his up and for this you should share at least something with them, but what is they would blow it up? Better be safe than sorry. And look when it's my problems it's credit cards and doctor appointmens and with Aziraphale we talk about people dying. Crowley dying. Now, as I said, he actually shows Crowley so. much. trust. for someone with such issues. Because Crowley was there for 6000 years, and he proved himself capable enough times. But still there's areas where let go and not worry would be impossible for Aziraphale, Crowley's safety being one of such things (you see, you can risk with your life when you deal with your problems because whatever you will clean shit up if needed, but if someone close to you hurt themself?? it's YOUR problem too but it will be SO MUCH HARDER to clean. I think when Aziraphale points to Crowley that hell would be harder on him than he can expect heavens to punish him, it's partially because he believes it's true and partially because he knows how to minimize harm when heavens angry with him but HOW can he do this for Crowley??). Anyway. Lol. The more I think about it the more I sure that Crowley without Aziraphale would be a miserable angry dick, and Aziraphale wihout Crowley would be dead, because it was the one person that kept him one tiny slip away from total burn out.

So yeah there's a lot of posts about how angry heartbroken etc Crowley will be with Aziraphale (I don't agree but that's for other post), less posts about how sad and heartbroken will be Aziraphale, but I hope to see Azyraphale being angry too (it they will be angry with each other at all). Not only for not picking him or leaving or making everything messy and emotional and wasting their first kiss at their fight etc, but also because Aziraphale was trusting him! Trusting that he get another resonable adult in team with him! Someone who he can trust to make resonable desisions and see his ideas as clever and him as capable and being willing to go to the end of the world with him with mild complaints and than!! When he did trust him to understand!! He was like everyone else!! Unresonable and emotional and angry with him and why he asked him at all he should've do it secretly and alone as always and it would've be as usual and it wouldn't hurt but it was Crowley that taught him to trust and to ask him for help!! Breaking his perfectly fine coping mechanisms!! It's all his faut if you think about it huh?? (but of course he's already forgiven. but also Aziraphale would do what he needs to do alone this time, as one and only capable adult in the world.)

Anyway it's not a meta it's just some late night thoughts. And it's in no way whole analizis there's so much more problems inside this angel. It's just something in particular that resonated with me today. Also it's not in any way critisizm of him, mind you, because a) he does really the smartest person in the room most of the time and b) I LOVE how fucked up in the head he is!!! I think he needs to become even more fucked up actually!!! and Crowley should love him for that and I will cheer for him from sidelines!!!

[its-coda]

My take on the Suzaki twins. Incomprehensible hc dump below :

In summary, they were twins but after Ryo died, Masashi started to have an identity crisis.

Assassin/Bodyguard duo

Ryo is the older twin.

Ryo prefers using the dagger, occasionally uses the sword.

Masashi likes to switch it up more, especially making a show of it with the transformations, baffling his enemies. He becomes much more motivated when his enemies give him good reactions.

Masashi seems to be the more “responsible” one compared to Ryo because Ryo is more open to having fun and getting drunk in public, while Masashi is a bit more reserved bc he doesn’t like “making a fool of himself in public”. Usually ends up having to keep tabs on his brother from causing problems.

Despite that, Ryo is the more “mature” one of the two (at least when sober), with him being more level-headed and calm under pressure. Masashi is more prone to lashing out and getting carried away by emotions. They’re both pretty impulsive in their own ways though.

Ryo likes to act like he’s lazy and doesn’t care, but he’s actually really good and serious about what he does.

Masashi has a bit of an inferiority complex, and is constantly trying to one-up Ryo. Though whenever he tries to do so, Ryo ends up upstaging him. This has been how it is for almost all of their lives.

Despite constantly fighting, they work really well together, and are inseparable.

They understand each other really well, but they feel like they can’t ever be that close or truly vulnerable to each other. They can’t ever get along in the way everyone else thinks they do. They’re both fully aware of this, of them preventing themselves from getting too close.

They fight and kill together, yes. They drink and celebrate together, yes. They ask the other what they want for dinner, yes. But do they ask the other what’s wrong when they notice the other being quieter than usual? Do they apologize when their insult hurt more than intended? Do they acknowledge their constant need to be better than the other? ….No, they don’t.

What was supposed to be the usual job went awry when their opponent turned out to be stronger and more prepared than they anticipated.

While they did put up a good fight, one of their pursuers managed to catch Masashi off-guard, disarming him. They charged at him, and without thinking, Ryo stepped right in front of Masashi, taking the sword straight to his chest.

Ryo took the sword off, and killed them with it. Meanwhile Masashi didn’t know what to do, and just started yelling at Ryo for being so careless because HE’S supposed to be the calm one under pressure, instead of just blindly doing something stupid.

Ryo couldn’t say much, but he tried to calm Masashi down, like he usually does whenever Masashi got too hot-headed.

He didn’t make it, and now Masashi really doesn’t know what to do.

He started hanging around Earth Angel more, mostly because it was Ryo’s favorite drinking spot.

Almost no one knew about Ryo’s death, and if they asked, he just told them they went their separate ways.

People couldn’t really tell them apart when they’re together, and only going off of how they act compared to one another, so now people just assume which twin he was with no direct comparison.

Since Ryo’s death, he started going out to drink more, and he finds himself trying to act louder and more of a “cheerful” drunk because he doesn’t like looking so depressed in public.

Because of this, people started calling him Ryo. The Earth Angel mama, the regulars, and even his clients. He never bothers correcting them, though. He also only ever introduces himself as Suzaki, yet they always seem to call him Ryo or otherwise imply so.

He eventually joined the Yakuza, though I’d like to think he’s not part of the Matsugane Family. He’s from another family, and Hamura hired him later on because he needed an assassin.

No one in the family knows his first name, and the people of Champion District call him Ryo, so “Masashi” started to fade into the shadows, until even he isn’t sure of who he really is.

He kept spending his days at Earth Angel almost everyday. The other patrons kept asking him about “Masashi” and how he’s doing now. “You two were always together, so why haven’t we seen him by now?”

Someone heard rumors of him joining the Yakuza, and they all immediately assumed that was “Masashi”.

“Who knows, maybe he thought that would make him stronger than me. He’s just trying to act tougher than he really is.”

He never actually introduced himself with his first name, so he’s always just whoever people call him as, and he never stopped to consider who he believed himself to be.

He decided he was going to draw a clear line between “Masashi” and “Ryo”. He’s “Masashi” when he’s an assassin working for the Yakuza, and he’s “Ryo” when he’s getting drunk in Champion District. That’s why his whole “Ryo” persona is pretty two-dimensional, only centered around being a drunk getting free drinks from others, because he’s not exactly CLOSE with Ryo, at least not enough to know how he really thinks, and certainly not enough to act like him all the time. That’s the only thing he knew about him outside of being an assassin/bodyguard, and like I said, he drew a clear line between “Ryo” and “Masashi”, and being an assassin and all that entails falls under “Masashi”, thus having no place for it in “Ryo”.

The first time he ever introduced himself as Ryo was when Yagami wandered into Earth Angel. After that exchange, he wondered why he lied to Yagami. He never technically lied about his name before, but being “Ryo” when he’s at Champion District just felt so natural that being anything but “Ryo” feels so wrong. Maybe it’s because he can’t merge his two “lives” together. He knew Yagami when he was “Masashi”, and “Ryo” didn’t know Yagami.

So he kept being “Ryo” to Yagami, and when he grew to respect him, he decided to help Yagami fight the Keihin Gang without considering what that would mean to his separate “identities”. He would have to fight as “Ryo”, but fighting was only for “Masashi”, so that line between the two started to blur.

There’s a difference in lying about who you are exclusively in one closed space compared to lying about it in public. It stopped being the exception, and it started to feel real.

And now as he helped Yagami defeat the Keihin Gang, more people knew him as “Ryo” despite them knowing “Masashi”, because he couldn’t really hide his true personality all the time, especially when it’s not “Ryo’s” place to be.

Even Yagami noticed that “Ryo” doesn’t act all that different from his brother.

[j0kers-light]

His Lighthouse: Until Next Time (Male!reader x fem!Joker)

Until Next Time - Oneshot

KEEP IN MIND THIS IS NOT A CHAPTER UPDATE!

Hey hi loves!🖤✨

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The next shift at work was chaotic to say the least. Everyone was dying to know what happened after Joker and her goons stormed the place. 

Of course, HR had to do their spiel, offering you counseling, support, and blah blah blah. You were a witness to murder on top of being held hostage, not a charity cause. Unfortunately, it was mandatory whether you liked it or not. Management also encouraged you to sign an NDA, which you refused. For all intent purposes, nothing happened. You wanted to forget and move on. That in of itself was an NDA. 

No one else respected your attempts at forgetting.  

Jim Gordon cleared you of any legal liability and you took the suggested week off from work to ‘clear your head.’  

The commissioner claimed that you needed some time to purge The Joker from your head.  

Initially you brushed off his concern, she was just one woman, but after the second night of restless sleep, you had to admit defeat. She was everywhere. You could feel her hands roaming your body— feel her soft weight resting on your chest once more.  

You imagined her lithe form lying underneath your sheets and saw her long hair; mere innocent strands turn into venomous snakes in the dark. The color green held new meaning and that laugh of hers… f__k.  

It bounced off the walls of your apartment and drove you even more insane. You’ve been a bachelor for years. The thought of another being in your apartment was ludicrous and yet feeling her warm body collide with your back, felt right. 

“I'm boooooored Y/n.. pay attention to meee.”   

You willed your body not to turn around but you had no control here. There she was wearing one of your t-shirts—hair all askew, looking like a dream. Then you reminded yourself, this was a dream. 

‘She isn’t real!’ you told yourself.   

This was an illusion, yet her eyes sucked you in despite the alarms blaring in your head to run. Did you really want to escape and why should you? 

Joker was so petite compared to you. It baffled you that she was capable of destruction on such a massive scale. It must’ve been so hard to be a woman surrounded by alpha males in the crime world. You had an urge to protect her, to love...   

Joker smiled sensing that you wanted to give her a kiss and stood on her tippy toes to meet you halfway. 

Only for your lips to meet thin air.  

You shot up out of bed a sweaty, panting mess. It wasn’t real, so why did you want it to be?  

Enough was enough. Screw being off for a week, you needed to go back to work. You couldn’t last another second cooped up indoors with your demented mind playing tricks on you. That dream felt too real.  

You clocked into work that same night, ignoring the multiple stares you received. 

Apparently no one expected you to bounce back on your feet so quickly. It did take you a while to get back into the swing of things and you found yourself missing Jazz drowning on in your ear during the night. That wasn’t a problem. Others soon replaced the silent void you longed for.  

A guy you hardly knew from your team rushed up to you during a line rush.  

“Yo dude! You’re alive!” He scanned a barcode before hefting a package onto the conveyor belt, “It’s been what? Three days? Are you sure you good bro?” 

You tried not to let your annoyance show. This was Gotham. People witnessed crime all the time and went about their daily lives just fine afterwards. Why was everyone treating you like a baby?  

They didn’t need to know that you were slowly losing your grip on reality. You were fine if you didn’t think about her.   

“I’m fine.” You stressed.  

The parcel in your hand landed roughly on the loading pallet but you didn’t care. You wanted the monotony of work to erase Joker from your mind and talking about her in conversation was counterproductive. You squeezed your eyes shut and counted to twenty. 

The random worker must’ve read the room. “Aight, Y/n. Just ah, take it easy ya know?”  

You thought that would be the end of things. Far from it.  

It hadn’t been a full hour since you clocked in and people that you never talked to decided to bother you for a crumb of gossip.  

“What’s she really like? C’mon tell me!” 

“Don’t get me wrong, she’s f___king crazy but uh.. I’d still hit ya know what I’m sayin? Did.. did you tap that?”  

When you didn’t respond and roll your eyes, it didn’t help the situation.  

“Haha! Y/n my man! You did! I didn’t know you had it in ya!” 

You were getting irritated from all these questions. Didn’t they have work to do? The line sure was getting backed up. 

Where was Frost to break up distractive chatter when you needed him? Your shift manager was notorious for yelling at his team to get back to work. He was nowhere to be found which left you with no escape from your vulture-like employees.  

Why couldn’t they understand that you weren’t saying anything on the matter? What happened was over and done with and you weren’t one for gossip anyways.  

Finally your lunch hour had come, and you were heading to lunch when another guy approached you. The frustration was building all night, but this poor guy would receive it all. Not your problem, you were past your breaking point.  

“I’m not answering s__t, so f__k off.” You slammed your metal locker shut in anger.  

The force rattled some things inside however your fellow employee wasn’t scared away. He simply blinked in shock and stood his ground. He was persistent, you’d give him that much.  

The guy held up his hands as a show of peace.  

“I wasn’t gonna.. Look, I was a close friend of Jazz.” You paused in your retreat and that was a cue for him to continue. “I know y’all were partners on the line and I just. I wanted to ask if you were okay?”  

He scratched the back of his head, cringing to himself. Hopefully that sounded sincere. Men weren’t usually in tune with their emotions much less to check up on one another.  

You on the other hand took the attempt in stride. It was the first time someone asked how you were feeling and meant it.  

You honestly don’t know what to say. “Uh, yeah I guess. I mean.. I miss having Jazz as a spotter. No one can carry a 1070 backwards like him.” You joked.  

The guy seemed to get your way of coping and laughed along. “Yeah, it's like he had eyes in the back of his head or somethin’.”  

The two of you walked to the mess hall reminiscing all the crazy feats Jazz did while at work. He was an idiot, but he was reliable at the day’s end. Before you knew it, lunch came and went, and you were still chatting with Thomas.  

He worked on Line A, the one that packaged the goods for your line to move onto loading bays. Even though Thomas was in a completely different sector, you slowly formed a friendship with him. He was quiet, well educated in his job function, and a cool guy to chat with. 

The two of you were about to head back to the floor when he stopped you by hitting your bicep. “Hey Y/n. Some of the guys from line A and I are planning on going to O’Brian’s after work. You down?”  

He scanned his ID on the security panel and opened the door to enter. You let it close properly before gaining your own access.  

The one minute delay gave you time to mull over the invite. O’Brian’s was a popular eatery open for third shift workers but more importantly, it was located in the heart of Joker’s territory.  

Any other time you would’ve jumped at the opportunity, but something didn’t settle well with you to accept. Perhaps the fact you met the owner and knew nothing good would ever come from being in the same vicinity.  

Just thinking about the murderous businesswoman made your head begin to ache.  

“Nah I’ll pass but thanks for offerin, man.” You replied.  

Thomas nodded and the two of you went separate ways to finish up the night shift. Thankfully no redacted pallets passed your line upon your return. You weren’t ready to move any illegal goods anytime soon.  

The rest of your shift flew by uneventfully. With it, the sunrise blinded you as you returned home. You were beat and wanted to grab a quick breakfast before crawling into bed.  

You were lucky that Frost appeared after your lunch hour and made it his priority to yell at anyone who dared to talk to you. It was a busy night, no time to gossip— and for that, you were grateful. Your headache only seemed to worsen the closer the inevitable hot hour arrived.  

Between the hours of one am and four, the likelihood of illegal items being on the line reached as high as eighty percent. It left a bitter taste in your mouth to move something that triggered the events that only happened three days prior.  

You started to regret coming back to work so early. Your shoulder throbbed in agreement.  

But that was over and done with and now you were back home.  

You carried yourself through the front door and made it to the fridge for a drink. You were downing your second glass of orange juice when a voice behind you spoke. “How was work?”  

You inwardly sighed. The hallucinations were back.  

It was best to just go with the flow as you were too tired to question your sanity or argue. You scanned the fridge and found a jar of overnight oats mixed with fruit in the back.  

“Tiring, I think I made a friend tho. He’s aight I guess.”  

A soft hum was the only response you received for a length of time. Then you heard a, “That’s good Y/n. It’s good to have... friends. Lefthand drawer.” 

You were struggling to find your spoon drawer, that’s how exhausted you were. You tossed an appreciation over your shoulder only to freeze up in hindsight.  

Something about her tone was off—it sounded too sentient, and it made you turn around to face your delusions.  

At least you thought it was.  

“Holy s__t!” Much to your horror you locked eyes with The Joker seated at your island counter, watching your every move. She looked so at ease, as if she belonged there that it gave you whiplash.  

“W-What the.. WHY ARE YOU HERE?! HOW DID YOU—?!” 

“Nghh. Too loud.” She groaned and adjusted the bag of frozen peas better on her head. It made you pause and look at her more closely. Her usual pristine suit was disheveled and there was blood on her collar. The sight made your stomach do flip flops.  

You set your breakfast down and asked. “Did you get into a fight?”  

She snorted and didn’t reply. Her gaze shifted out the window. If you weren’t paying close attention, you would have missed the glassy look in her eye. 

Okay, now you were concerned. Joker was a female and entitled to mood swings, but then again, she was tough as nails. Batman hit her vehicle with an RPG just three days ago and she walked away just fine— so to see her so defeated today was jarring.  

You had to play this carefully or it could end ugly.  

For some unknown reason you weren’t terrified that The Joker was in your apartment. Witnessing her so vulnerable tossed all common sense out the window.  

Your exhaustion made you emboldened enough to crack a joke. “Let me guess. You didn’t wear a seatbelt again?” You nodded at her injury.  

A brief smirk appeared on her disfigured face. So she remembered. “Tch, he always aims for my head. Stupid jerk.”  

You were at a loss. “Who?” 

She rolled her eyes, the color of fresh spearmint, and sent you a ‘keep up, will you?’ look. “If you must know.... Bats and I had a fight. It’s whatever. H-he’s always like this. Hurting me n’ all..”  

Joker let out a shaky breath and focused intently on your kitchen counter. In that moment she looked so... small. You couldn’t lower your guard however. She was a monster, a wolf in sheep’s clothing.  

“That doesn’t explain why you’re in my apartment.” You added. That earned you an eye roll.   

“I was close n’ it felt safe. I wanted..” she let out an airy chuckle, “For once, I wanted to feel safe where someone wouldn't hurt me.”  

Her words punched you right in the gut. All this time you feared the woman with the reputation, not once thinking about the woman behind the scars. She was human just like you with feelings and desires.  

Speaking of, your gaze dropped down to her lips.  

Her signature lipstick was smudged around the edges but you could see the bottom lip was split with dried blood in the corner. Her and Bats had quite some fight and it was apparent that she lost. Joker looked like crap.  

You wanted to offer her aid but your sleep deprived mind blurted out the first thing it could think of. “You think my place is safe?”  

The thought made you snort. Your place was amazing, and rent was reasonable, but the locale was not great. You were in the rougher side of Chinatown being the closest residential area to the Dixon shipping docks where you worked. You wouldn’t necessarily call it safe.   

In Joker’s eyes, your place was a Mecca.  

“You promised not to hurt me Y/n, don’t tell me you’re a liar too?” She tried to shake her head but groaning in pain when it became unbearable.  

You rushed over to help reposition the bag of peas on her head. She noticeably flinched at your touch although you didn’t notice. Being this close to Joker after spending so many nights with just her phantom was refreshing. Perhaps later you would think back and cringe— right now you spun Joker’s chair around so she could lean her head on your chest.  

That addicting blend of roses and lighter fluid seeped into your senses. She was like a balm for your weary bones.  

And when her heart shaped face looked up at you, you waited with bated breath to hear what she had to say.  

“I like your eyes. There’s so.. kind.” She whispered in awe.  

“Kind?” You echoed. 

She reached up and caressed your cheekbones. You noticed her nails were painted pitch black today yet your focus shifted to her own eyes. Her sooty lashes fluttered a mile a minute. “Yeah.. safe.”   

“Jo—” You sighed when she slumped forward. Great. You were left holding an unconscious criminal in your arms with no clue on what to do next.  

This was not on your bingo card for today or any day for that matter. You had plenty of Joker exposure from three days ago to last you a lifetime, but it would be rude if you kicked her out in her current state.  

You didn’t know anyone to call (except the police) so you resigned yourself to fate. She came to you in her time of need; you wouldn’t abuse the trust she bestowed upon you.  

Without thinking, you scooped Joker up bridal style and headed to bed.  

You woke up well rested a little bit after one pm. A con of being on third shift; a completely different sleeping schedule than normal.  

You were about to climb out of bed when your body seized up and remembered the events earlier this morning. The Joker was in your apartment! The two of you talked before she.. 

You glanced over to your right, only to be thoroughly disappointed to find the bed empty. She was gone, as if she was never there to begin with. Was she? Your mind wasn’t thinking straight these days.. 

If she was, it shouldn’t have bothered you but it did.  

You carried her to bed, you removed her shoes— red bottoms to match her lethal body count, and tucked her in. You’d wash the sheets later since her heavy makeup ruined them.  

It took you ages to fall asleep, although you weren’t complaining. Having Joker in your bed stroked your male ego. She was a sight you could get used to even if she was a walking red flag. You were thinking with your dick at this point.  

Her long green hair called out to you and you played with the ends of it to help you nod off. This tiny wisp of a girl drove you insane with little effort on her part.  

She did something to your head that night. It made you gravitate towards her; it made you protective when you had absolutely no right to do so.  

She made you realize just how lonely you were and watching her brow furrow in distress, perhaps she was too.  

Pulling Joker into the safety of your arms immediately calmed her down even if the price to pay was her nails digging into your skin. She could sink her claws as deep as she liked, you weren’t letting her go. You were hooked.   

Obviously you did let go, given the fact that she was gone.  

You flopped back on the bed, groaning to yourself until something made contact with your arm. It was smooth to the touch and felt harmless so you rolled over to investigate.  

How could you have missed this? A deck of cards was scattered on your bed with the most important one, the Joker, being on top. You picked it up with shaky hands to read the note inscribed in blood red ink.   

Until next time.   

She even kissed the card wearing her jet black lipstick.  

You read the promise over and over and committed her flowery handwriting to memory. It became your new obsession.  

Good thing Joker didn’t keep you waiting for long.   

An odd arrangement formed between you and Joker. Four days after the dubbed pillow incident, she barged into your living room with a box of assorted doughnuts and watched you play video games all night. You were both terrified and turned on by her play-by-play skills that led to many wins.  

Another night, she crashed through your bedroom window and broke her stilettos heel in the process.  

You made her blueberry pancakes to feel better and you learned Joker had quite the appetite.  

Another random day, you were preparing for work and walked in on her soaking in your bathtub. You tried not to look— really you did, but the temptation was too great. You took in her wet body at a loss for words. The scent of roses swirled in the confined space and made your head swim.  

Sickly sweet, just like her.  

You were tongue tied when she asked if you wanted to “join her.” The vixen even blew red tinted bubbles your way to entice you!  

You foolishly went to work with a hard on.  

However other times Joker wasn’t alone when she dropped by. She would storm into your apartment grumbling to herself with a shadow right behind her.  

“Uh Joker? Who’s this?” You pointed to the creepy male who was giving you the death glare.  

Joker flipped her hair over shoulder while bending down looking for something in your living room, “Does it matter? Whaddya doing tonight, Y/n. I’m booored.”  

She said it nearly identical like in your dream weeks back. You walked closer to her, your gaze never leaving the blond watching your every move.  

“It’s my night off, you know that.” You chided her.  

You used some of your accumulated days off for an extended staycation. You told her about it the last time she came over but apparently things went through one ear and out the other.  

Her eyes lit up in delight when she found what she was looking for. You missed her tossing it to her goon since she threw you a question simultaneously. “Oh! Can I stay ov~errrr then?” 

“You never asked for permission before.” You fired back.  

Your comment earned you a grunt from Joker’s bodyguard and like a flash of lightening, her entire mood shifted. She spun around and held a knife to his throat before you could even blink. Where she kept it wearing that skintight outfit, you didn’t want to know.  

“Is there a uh.. problem, Blondie?”  

You felt like an outsider watching the altercation unfold. You got to see the real Joker, cold, vindictive, and cutthroat interact with anyone who opposed her. Her angelic voice made her threats even more chilling. In the end Joker giggled and let the guy go who breathed a sigh of relief— but not without giving you the stink eye as he walked out.  

Why did it feel awkward all of a sudden? Joker thankfully cleared the air with her next statement.  

“Now that’s all settled..” she sauntered over to you and flashed you a sultry smile. “Ya wanna go out with me?” 

Y/n.exe has stopped working. You were speechless. She wanted to do what?!  

“Out? W-With you?” You managed to say.  

Your response made Joker’s grotesque smile falter, though you hardly noticed. “Yes! We can um.. rob Gotham Merchant Bank and go shopping or or! bomb the GCPD headquarters with glitter! No, I got it! We can assassinate the mayor!”  

Oh boy this woman was insane. She was practically shaking with excitement.  

You smiled softly at Joker while pushing her away. It pained you to see her crestfallen face. How dare you say no to her? 

You had to correct your mistake in order to stay alive.  

“Or.. we could stay in and watch a movie.” You guided her to sit down on the couch with you.  

Joker eyed you in silence as you turned on your tv and opened a streaming service. She didn’t know what to do from here and you could hear the vulnerability in her voice.  

“A m-movie?” 

Seeing that she was struggling, you selected a good war period film and sat back. It should entertain her bloodlust at least. The opening title appeared and you took Joker by surprise when you pulled her down to cuddle with you.  

It may have been super smooth to an outsider but your heart was beating out of your chest.  

You were in a lover’s embrace with Gotham City’s deadliest criminal. You didn’t dare move. Joker’s body was like a poised cobra on top of you. If you didn’t feel her steady breathing, she would’ve been a statue.  

Gunfire from the movie stole her attention and with each body that fell, you could feel her slowly relaxing into your hold.  

Why were you attracted to the crazy ones? 

Joker was thinking the same thing. It was ridiculous how quickly she caved in to your request. You didn’t give her a chance to argue, you simply got comfortable and brought her along for the ride.  

It was different and overwhelming. Instead of fast-paced heists and the thrill of running away, she was subjected to the calm rhythm of your heart and the dumb acting onscreen. A bright scene lit up the room and it was then Joker took the time to take you in.  

You were obviously handsome with a boy next door charm that rotted her teeth. Mama raised you to respect women and not once did you try to make a move on Joker.  

The sad part, she wanted you to. You worked out and it showed with your toned arms and rough hands.  

She’d seen you lift boxes twice her size with ease and it made her grow wet with possibilities.  

What were you like in bed? Were you still a gentleman? A dom? Or a fun combination of both? Ahhh! She needed to know but moments like this were a rarity.  

She couldn’t remember the last time someone held her close and just existed. Your eyes were focused on the movie while your hand was busy rubbing soothing circles on her back. You made her feel normal, just a girl hanging out with her boyfriend.  

Her minty eyes widened. Were you her boyfriend? The idea kinda excited her.  

It was settled. You were her boyfriend whether you liked it or not.  

The movie became irrelevant to Joker, your scent, clean with a hint of pine had her eyes falling half-mast and your subdued strength, in the way you held her tight with just one arm, to your heart beating rhythmically in her ear. Safe.  

You were safe to Joker and that meant the world to her. In your arms no one could hurt her, not even Bats.  

She hoped that she wasn’t too heavy because about twenty minutes into the movie, she was out. You followed her not too long after thinking the same sentiments.  

Joker was crazy but you would protect her at all costs.  

[ssahotchnerr]

hi, lovely? angel? loml? your little blurbs and writings have me giggling and kicking my feet and blushing at my phone 🥹🥰

i was just thinking about something and thought maybe you’d write about it? so, i’ve been thinking about how hotch (a lot of the time, when they’re not briefing about a case) will sit in his own little area of the jet, separate from everyone else - and he’d be so baffled when you’d start to sit across from him. because there he is, sitting underneath a mountain of paperwork, and you’re seemingly content just to bask in his company. and after a while, he’d ask you about it, and you’d say smth about how after a case, it’s calming to just be around him. he exudes safety and security in a way the others don’t for you - mainly because their nerves, their stresses are so easy to read - and if you’re ever to get any sleep, it’d be to the sound of rustling papers, to hotch’s pen jotting down reports, the typing of his keyboard, just being comforted by his presence !! (i don’t know about you, but there’s smth so calming about being lulled to sleep by the sounds of an ambiance like that) and maybe, he’d offer for you to sit next to him, to lean your head on his shoulder and try and get some rest 🥺🥺🥺🥺 because he’s a sweetheart <33

aw aw aw omg 🥹🥰🫶🏻😭 ily???? thank you so so much that means absolutely everything to me <33333

the way it breaks my HEART whenever we see him sitting alone on the jet 😭 like do you think he thinks that no one simply wants to talk to him??🥺 everyone's making conversations amongst themselves and he's just 🙁 working quietly. maybe it's just an excuse to look busy, so no one feels like they need to include him if they don't want to :(((( that everyone views him on a professional level rather than personal?? ughgjhsh 😭💔 like no no no aaron baby just no no no we love you <333 😭

AND you know me normally i elaborate right away, BUT hehe this may or may not already be in the works for my secret santa fic 🤭 stay tuned!!!!!!

[suna-reversed]

𝐩𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡

toji fushiguro x reader

You could have anyone you want

Why would you want to be with me?

I’m nothing special

WC- 8k+ || MINORS DNI !!

my fic for the “great conjunction collab”

Warnings/tags- (unprotected sex, oral sex, slight voyeurism, choking, nipple play, mating press, size kink, slight breeding kink) (historical AU, non-canon timeline, greek mythology, hades-persephone retelling, mentions of misogyny/sexism, depression, religion, hurt/comfort, angst, heartbreak, major character injury, descriptions of blood, violence and death, manipulation)

𝙀𝙧𝙞𝙙𝙖 - 𝙝𝙖𝙩𝙧𝙚𝙙

It would be an understatement to say that Toji, despite being one of them, had never felt like part of the clan and had hated the whole Zenin bloodline through all his years of suffering.

And the only thing he hated more than his own blood? It was the damned nobles who looked down upon him- mocking his lack of power under whispers and rumours. The spineless cowards didn’t even have the courage to spit those venomous words at his face.

He kept note of every single one of them- it was hard not to with how their laughs echoed in his mind each night as he dug his nails into his palms. So of course his attention was bound to drift towards the mother and daughter from a titled family that happened to take residence in the Zenin estate when they got news that their home down-south had been attacked. 

𝘼𝙨𝙩𝙧𝙖𝙚𝙖- 𝙞𝙣𝙣𝙤𝙘𝙚𝙣𝙘𝙚 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙥𝙪𝙧𝙞𝙩𝙮

Your home had not been attacked. It was all planned of course- your travel to the mountains up north that crossed the Zenin abode, your mother having fabricated the news so that she had an excuse to find an honourable match for you from one of the most powerful clans. Her sly spies had already done the dirty work, providing you with two suitable men- even if one of them was twice your own age and the other known for his aggressiveness. 

The white gown your mother had dolled you in and the orchids she had braided into your hair had every single eye focused on you as you made your way up to your chambers. You kept your head down, too nervous to meet the eye of anyone- hoping no older man took an interest in your facade of purity and innocence and decided to stake his claim on your body. Oh, how you wished you could get away from this life, get away from the wretched woman you had to call your mother, get away from all of it- the stupid clan- the stupid suitors- the stupi-

“Ah!” 

You yelped as your body crashed into what seemed to be a rock hard wall of muscles, the scent of night chilled mist and cedar taking over your senses. You blinked. 

Gulping, you moved back a step, ready to start sputtering apologies before your mother peeled your skin off for already having embarrassed yourself. Instead, your words stayed stuck in your throat as your gaze met with an intense pair of orbs- filled to the brim with the rage of achilles, but somehow also his sorrow. Your breath hitched in your throat, and in the back of your mind, you knew you should do something- move, apologise, scowl like a noble lady would if nothing else- but all you could do was stand there stunned, the man’s stance mirroring your own. 

You flinched as the pot-bellied butler who was leading you down the hallway came back, and you thought the dark haired man might kill him right there for interrupting the burning moment between you two. Instead, you were shocked as he let himself get pushed to the side, stuffing his hands into his pockets, head down as he made a beeline towards the exit.

You barely felt the crescent moons being engraved into your skin as your mother dragged you to your room by the arm, a clipped smile on her face. 

𝙊𝙧𝙥𝙝𝙚𝙪𝙨 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙀𝙪𝙧𝙮𝙙𝙞𝙘𝙚- 𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙗𝙞𝙙𝙙𝙚𝙣 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚

“Toji”

He continued walking, even as his eyes held a warning look. Gritting his teeth, he increased his pace.

“Toji-”

He shuddered. Say it again, he wanted to command, instead he turned the corner, hands curling into tight fists.  

He had been confused at first, almost appalled, at you- at your audacity to try and act like he wasn’t who he was- a piece of scum, the lowest of the lowly in the clan. But it seemed like this is how you had decided to spend the rest of your time whenever you weren’t being flagged by suitors or being paraded around your mother as the ideal of a chaste loyal wife. 

He had indulged you the first time you had struck up a conversation. Perhaps that was his initial mistake. His second being committed just now as he turned to you, the glee on your face making bile rise up to his throat. He had seen women like you before- well born “ladies” of the court in dire need of a good fuck, before they were packaged off like objects to a husband who’d only ever look at them as a vessel for carrying his children. Toji huffed in annoyance, eyes doing a quick scan of his surroundings before he grabbed your wrist and pulled you into one of the storage rooms right around the corner. 

“Look-”

Toji cut himself off as he saw the baffled look on your face, your eyes starting to fill up with fear and panic. Somehow, he found himself speechless, the bitter words of telling you to go look for pleasure in a whorehouse now dissolving on the tip of his tongue.

He knew who you were being considered as a match for- having overheard the conversation during a clan meeting- it was supposed to be the sons of one of the higher ups and he could already picture the half wilted life you’d be living. And right then, something clicked in Toji’s mind- all those years of hatred and resentment flashing before his eyes as you hesitantly stepped back, tears welling up in your eyes, and right there, Toji knew what he wanted to do- what he had to. 

He took a deep breath and your heart hammered even harder in your chest. He had been different from the rest of them- you had known it from the first time. However, now you doubted your own wits, trying to recall the ways of combat you had seen the soldiers back home perform- even though you didn’t quite see how you’d succeed against the tall burly mass of flesh that towered above you. You jumped back as he strode right towards you- eyes clenched shut, hands raised in front of your face ready for the impact and pain. 

You were met with nothingness, barely feeling the light brush of his arm as he moved past you. 

Toji sighed at your almost childish antics, even though he agreed your actions would have been justifiable if it was any other man having pulled you into such a secluded place. He waited for you to calm down, lazily looking for the latch of the huge glass window situated on the other side of the room. He easily lifted it open, biceps flexing as he did so- placing his hands on the ledge before pulling himself to the other side.

He turned back towards your gawking figure, rolling his eyes, ready to put forward the offer that would decide if you were worth his time and effort or not. He extended his hand, trying to ignore the heat crawling up to the tip of his ears at the giddy relief-filled grin that spread across your face as he asked, 

“You ever visited the countryside princess?” 

--

You must be an angel in disguise, he finds himself thinking. It terrified him- the time he had spent staring at the column of your neck, watching your chest fall and rise with every breath- and the time he could have spent simply admiring every crook and nook of your body. 

You looked serene in the golden hour of the afternoon, lying on the grass with your eyes shut, sunlight cascading down your figure making it seem as if you carried your own halo. Toji was afraid you’d sprout wings any second now, disappearing away to someplace heavenly- someplace better than the hell you were about to be condemned to- someplace that didn’t have monsters like him. But at last, you were only a human- soon to be one of the Zenins if nothing else. 

The time you had sneaked out to the lake in the countryside with him had not been the last of your rendezvous. You had been quite different from what Toji had expected. You hadn’t made any advances towards him but you weren’t the pure little thing everyone believed you to be either.

You were smart to say the least- a trait that families often suppressed in women of your status, trying to force them into nothing but submissive concubines for their future husband. You were oddly aware of it- had mentioned your doomed fate quite a few times now, and he was struck by how you always laughed, as if your own self being stripped away was a joke. You seemed to do that quite a bit, and he understood it in some twisted way of his own plight. 

Even as his mind kept reminding him that you had still grown up being pampered, being spoiled, having others do your work for you- others like him. But conversation had flowed so naturally with you, he found himself showing you more and more of his places of solitude he had found all over the village through his years of misery.  

You were also naive in many ways, but still blunt in twice as many. Toji had rolled his eyes as he had asked you what you did with your free time back home- the answer was expected- it always had to be something related to the arts and education, trying to pump the ladies full of culture so that they have something to talk about at the dozen balls and galas they’d be attending every month. However, he had almost choked on the pear he chewed as you had started listing names of erotica after erotica- the titles being lewd enough to let him know just how filthy the content inside would be. 

You had burst into laughter at the look on his face, crumbs of fruit left on the side of his mouth making him look even more bizarre. You had reached up your fingers almost instinctively, eyes widening as you realised you had brushed them over the scar he never seemed to talk about. His hand was wrapped around your wrist in less than a second, halting it in place. 

He had stared right back at you, breaths heavy, eyes calculating as he loosened the grip around your skin, but not before he lifted your fingers to press against the mark once more. You swore you could have heard the drumming of your heart, and perhaps he did too.

As you brushed away the remaining bit of the sweet fruit, you couldn’t help but notice the flush that had formed on his cheeks, even as he scowled. 

𝙀𝙧𝙤𝙨- 𝙥𝙝𝙮𝙨𝙞𝙘𝙖𝙡 𝙙𝙚𝙨𝙞𝙧𝙚.

“You’d better be quiet or everyone’s going to know what a naughty little slut you are.”

You’re bent over the table in the storage room that has somehow become your portal of escape from the person you have to pretend to be. It’s not the first time Toji has whispered his filthy administrations into your ear, but he’s never done it quite so close to where anyone could walk in and catch you red handed. 

Perhaps it was the fact that his face had turned a sick shade of green at the sight of your suitor tucking your hair behind your ear, your lips twitching upwards at something he said- the same way they had twitched up the night before when he had risen from in between your legs, the taste of yourself flooding your mouth as he had pressed his lips to yours. 

This is exactly what you were here for, and despite it, Toji knew who’s name you screamed at the end of every day. So then why did another hand on you ignite a bestial flame inside his chest? Why did he feel the need to pull you away in the dead of the night amongst the crowd of tipsy people, ridding you of the fabric of your dress in one swift movement as he had pressed you against the nearest surface. 

You didn't panic for even a moment, you knew it was his hand just from the touch of it, his hot breath against the shell of your ear, and his throbbing member pressed against the curve of your behind as a thumb rubbed circles into your hip bone. 

You throw your head back against his muscular chest, craning your neck upwards till you meet his eyes- they soften for the briefest of moments, but the way his tip brushes against your underwear-clad core seems to fill them with raw electricity once more. And you think he’s going to fuck you right there- make you cry out his name for letting another man so close to you. Instead, you gasp as his rough hands grab the flesh of your thighs, kneading the muscle as he spins you around, a smirk being flashed your way as he gets on his knees. 

He looks ethereal in that moment. And your breath hitches in your throat as you realise you’ve made a fallen angel bow before you- have tricked him into thinking you can cleanse him of his deeds when the only sinner in this room was you. The way his lips press against the inside of your thighs, nose rubbing against your freshly flowing juices- it’s tantalising, even worse when he takes both your hands in his as they try to find solace in his locks, pinning them to your sides onto the table instead. 

He rests his chin right below the apex of your mound, eyes wandering to your face as he sighs, the lazy but smug curve of his lips accentuating the scar you had grown to cherish as much as your own heartbeat.

Your chest is heaving, the sound of your heavy breathing hanging in the silence of the room as you look down at him. If this was to be his ruination- his fall from grace- Toji would die a happy man. The scent of you is lingering right below his nose, his mouth watering alone at the thought, but he cannot seem to pull away his eyes from your beguiling face, bathed in the moonlight. The words seem to escape him before he can think twice of them.

“Do you know how beautiful you are? It’s truly distracting.”

You’ve barely let his words settle in before he presses his thumb right against your wet heat, rubbing small circles onto your sensitive bud. You don’t have a chance to respond as he proceeds to dive into your drenched cunt- his tongue giving kitten-licks to your clit, lapping up any wetness that dares to drip down. You cry out loud as two of his fingers join his mouth’s onslaught, slapping a hand against your own mouth remembering where you were. 

The sounds filling the room as he suctions your clit in between his lips are filthy- arms wrapping around and under your thighs, pulling your arousal even closer to his starving mouth, the new angle of your leg being thrown over his shoulder letting his fingers rub against the spongy spot inside your walls that makes the coil in your stomach snap. You’re grinding against his face and he’s letting you, nose pressing onto your clit as he licks up the remnants of your juices, fingers continuing to fuck you through your climax as they quiver and shake around his head. 

You’re still coming down from your high, body hanging limp at an awkward angle against the hard wooden surface. His strong burly arms are easily lifting you up, carrying you towards the other side of the room- right towards the glass window. Your eyes widen as you realise the malicious idea that has popped up into your lover’s head, but you’re barely able to put in two words of protest before your feet are hitting the ground, the cold surface making you gasp as your tits are pushed against it. You’re crying out loud as he rubs his thick length against your soppy folds. 

“Toji- someone could see us- we shouldn’t- ah!”

You’re cut off as he lines himself up at your entrance, a pleasurable burn down in your core as his girth stretches your walls. It always hurts. No matter how many times he’s made you cum on his fingers and tongue or prepped you up with an ointment- his size is something no one would ever get accustomed to. He knows it too, but tonight he seems to care less about taking it slow and letting you adjust. You honestly cannot care less too, not when you're gushing around him as such when he’s barely even halfway inside. 

“Too big Toji- too much.” You’re mewling, hands trying to grip onto something.

“You can take it- fuck just let me-”

He’s hastily moving his fingers across your stomach to rub your pulsing bud, groaning lewdly at the way your cunt flutters around him, letting him move deeper inside of you.

The growl that leaves him as his tip hits your cervix is grossly animalistic, making you moan loudly. His other hand is coming up to grip your jaw, cheek pressed against the glass as he lifts up one of your legs, the angle letting him thrust in and out of your poor drenched hole even deeper. His thrusts turn sloppy, eyes clenched shut above you as the sounds of his balls slapping against your flesh with each thrust fill the room.

You’re both groaning in unison, his strokes getting faster as he feels your walls clamping down on him. You’re choking on a breath as his hand moves to wrap around your throat, the sensation making you moan even louder.

“Call me selfish-”  

A sharp smack is delivered against the flesh of your ass causing you to arch your back, the action making your tits press up against the window even more,

 “... but I don’t ever want anyone else to touch you.”

His lips have been suctioned to your neck, your delightful noises being muffled as he’s turning your head to the side till his tongue slips into your mouth. He tightens his grip around your neck and you’re seeing stars, along with the pace of his fingers on your clit and his rapid thrusts making the well in the bottom of your stomach come apart, tears of pleasure slipping your eyes, the feeling of his seed painting your walls making you clench against him amidst your own orgasm.

You barely feel the arms cradling your body, carrying you to set you down on the table. You furrow your brows as Toji strips himself of his shirt, and your eyes widen at the thought of him ravishing you once more so soon. Instead, you shudder as he swipes it against your sex, cleaning up his mess. 

The way you beam at him, even in your exhausted state, is honestly worth the ruined shirt- he finds himself thinking as he moves to pick up your dress from the ground. He clicks his tongue as he realises just how much of shreds he had ripped it into in his feral daze. He’s lifting his head to meet your eyes, wondering how he’ll tell you that you have to find a way to get back to your chambers in this state- 

“Oh-”

Your saccharine voice is pulling Toji out of his thoughts, surprise forming across his face as you burst into laughter at the sight of what he’s sure has cost twice as much as all the clothes he’d ever owned combined. 

“How well do you think I’d fare going out in one of the potato sacks?” 

How could he have not smiled right back at you. 

𝘿𝙤𝙡𝙤𝙨- 𝙩𝙧𝙞𝙘𝙠𝙚𝙧𝙮 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙜𝙪𝙞𝙡𝙚

Toji had never wanted to rip his own heart out so badly before, inject his blood with ambrosia so that he could be worthy enough for the goddess that was ready to abandon her sanctity- her piece of heaven- for him. He had always known how it would end- in an empty heath of a fire gone out long ago, the only thing keeping it burning now regret and sorrow.

 Love could not have sustained you when there was barely enough space to breathe, when there was barely enough food for your kids to live off of. Once the love faded, all that’d remain would be your wish to go back to the past, getting drunk on forgetfulness so that you can survive within the stone cold walls of a house- not a home.

Once again, Toji knew what he had to do- knew he willingly stepped into this hoping to ruin what was supposed to be the prize of his own blood- in order to humiliate them and fulfill his revenge.

He also knew he was the ruined one now as thoughts of you plagued his mind day and night- how his tactful game of cat and mouse had turned into sweet kisses and hushed giggles, and how all he wanted was to find a pit stop in time where his blood did not matter, where the sins of his past did not matter. But despite it all, he knew he couldn’t have dragged you into his own hell, even if you begged him to take you.

He sighs. 

You had recited the exact conversation you had with your mother- laid yourself bare before him as you poured out your heart- letting him know that it’d be worth tasting the 7 seeds of evil even if it meant living in hell for half your life. 

He had thrown his head back and laughed. 

“You really thought our little getaways meant anything more than a fling to me? More than just a decent fuck?”

You stood still, mouth agape at the words that had slipped past his lips, a hand fisting the fabric of his shirt right above his heart, desperately searching for the pulse of the man you’d grown to adore over the past few weeks. 

He had looked down at you, the scar you had so tenderly ran your fingers over twitching upwards- in amusement- in laughter, face contorting into one of resentment- of revulsion before he had suddenly stilled. 

“Did you forget your place princess? Pretty little head got too lost in a fool’s paradise- did you forget you are one of them- always have been one of them.”

He had spat the last words at you and you wanted to shake your head, wanted to tell him he was utterly wrong, but all you could do was clutch on even tighter to him.

He had put his hand over yours and you had almost begged for him to tell you that this was a sick joke- almost pleaded for him to intertwine his calloused warm hands with yours as he always did- as he had when he made you scream his name, instead you had found yourself gasping at the icy touch as he flicked away your wrist, brows furrowing in repulsion at the contact- at you.

The tears that had slipped through your eyes had only worked to make him throw his head back like a giddy child once more. He had looked up at the sky as if he was mocking the gods in Olympus - look at how I’ve so beautifully wrecked what you created,

while you had stood there looking up at him as if he was your religion, mouthing,

this is not a joke, love me, love me.

𝙊ï𝙯ú𝙨- 𝙢𝙞𝙨𝙚𝙧𝙮, 𝙖𝙣𝙭𝙞𝙚𝙩𝙮 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙜𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙛

You felt raw. But you did not fight the black hole opening up in your chest. You let it settle into your bones, nurtured the hollowness- ignited it until you felt it turn into flames instead.

You couldn’t have let the ice creep into your heart- it would mean giving up the tears, giving up the feeling of wanting to be swallowed whole by the ground beneath, and that would mean you no longer felt- no longer harboured the only thing that made you feel alive in the cage of bones and flesh your troubled mind resided in. 

There was a heavy pain in between the arch of your shoulder blades- like your wings had been clipped and your halo ripped away.

You ignored the scowl that rose to her face, the way she flinched as you leaned over to rest your head in her lap. You couldn’t tell if the wetness on your cheeks was yours or hers- mourning the daughter she was going to lose. You felt your mother’s burning gaze through the back of your head all throughout the journey back home- could already feel the wrath of your father and the nasty bruises that were to come as her hand came down to rest on your head. 

You instead found yourself being locked away immediately- not a single word from anyone. The only time your door opened was for a maid to serve you your half portioned meals. Not like you had an appetite or a will to do anything else. 

Days passed by, perhaps weeks or months, and you counted the scattered marks on the wall beside your bed like you had done once with the freckles across his back, and you waited-  for what? You weren’t quite sure yourself. You waited and waited until the day your door opened, but it wasn’t the regular pitter patter of steps of the maid who served the food.

Instead, your eyes met the raging ones of the head of your clan, and for the first time in days, an icy shiver creeped up your spine.

----

The torment you’re put through is much worse than expected. You were well aware you were to be disgraced, to be stripped of your title, but somehow the gaze of your own friends and family avoiding your beaten bloody form and ignoring your whimpers and cries of agony was what had stung the most. 

The world seemed to be upside down, fading in and out of hues of colour and greys and blinding lights. You could barely feel the blood dripping down the back of your head and into your shirt as your gaze managed to remain focused on the window outside of the rattling carriage you lay in, panic rising in your chest as you recognised the familiar scenery. 

You fought your hardest to stay awake, but you lost to the increasingly heavy pressure against your head, hoping your blood would run dry before you had to face the hell you were being thrown into. As your head lolled to the side, you wondered if satiating the hunger within you was worth the price you were paying- if this was what happened to every soul that had brought the god of the dead to his knees, wondered if you were the first to do so- wondered if you’d be the last. 

𝙃𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙨- 𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙪𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙧𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙡𝙙 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙙𝙚𝙖𝙙, 𝙜𝙤𝙙 𝙤𝙛 𝙧𝙚𝙜𝙧𝙚𝙩

Toji had left the clan- made a living of his own by doing what he did best, by doing what he was made to- destroying and causing wreckage till there was no piece of his soul left to be salvaged. 

He had avoided news about you like the plague, and had still ended up finding out that you were locked away back at your home from the gossiping servants. He had chuckled bitterly, what had he been expecting? He was right after all, you'd never have to face any consequences in life, and soon this whole scandal would be swept under the rug and you would be well on your way to marrying another wealthy brat, having filthy little kids with him who’d have the same luxuries in life and-

Toji found his heart dropping, the axe along with the freshly chopped wood he carried thumping down against the forest floor as he reached the entrance of the wooden cabin he had taken residence in. He saw the pool of blood first- the familiar mop of hair later.

No-

He must be hallucinating- 

But he still found himself moving out of his own accord, gathering the crumpled figure into his arms, feeling a thick fluid drip down his skin- stain through his shirt as he tried to pick you up. A chill ran down his spine as he realised what those savages had done for your body to resist even in an unconscious state- 

And that’s when his eyes slid to the nails in the ground, the sharp metal going right through the flesh of your fingertips, a note pinned to your abdomen in between your shredded dirtied clothes-

“We don’t want the gross wreckage of your perverse ruination. Keep the whore since you wanted her so much.” 

A sea of rage rose in the back of Toji’s mind but it stilled, the vicerating waves crashing against the shore that was the barely noticeable action of your chest heaving. He held back what was a choked sob, mind barely sane as he took out the nails as gently as possible- a man so familiar with death yet utterly horrified by it as he counted your laboured breaths, thanked every deity out in the universe for every huff of air that he could feel against his chest as he carried you inside. 

—

How do you kill a god? 

You had asked him once. He had raised his brow, ruffling your hair before pushing you down onto the bed once more, intent on at least letting you know how you got to heaven. 

How do you kill a god?

It now echoed in his mind as he watched your broken body lay on his bed, having done everything he could have to fix you up even though he feared there would be wounds more than just the physical ones when you gained consciousness- if you gained consciousness.

How do you kill a god? 

Pit him against another god. Let him stare at his own reflection and see all his glorious flaws until he’s falling to his knees, begging for the taste of ichor to be washed out from his mouth, begging to be stripped of his damned divinity- because the curse of immortality is a heavier burden to carry than the curse of mundane suffering- because it’s easier to drown in a sea full of blood than live with it staining your hands.

𝘼𝙥𝙝𝙧𝙤𝙙𝙞𝙩𝙚- 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚, 𝙥𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙪𝙧𝙚 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙥𝙖𝙨𝙨𝙞𝙤𝙣.

“How do you kill a god?” You had asked him once.

Afterwards, you had lain awake late into the night as he had given you a taste of his own holiness, bare in his arms as he had muttered the words into your hair, barely a whisper as they escaped past his bleeding lips, 

How do you become a god?

The burning light attacked your eyes and you flinched loud enough for your own ears to ring, and then flinched even harder as the hot searing pain spread through your body, especially across the tips of your bandage covered fingers. You tried to use your voice but your throat was like a desert and your own harsh whisper scraped against your sensitive ears.

All you could do was stare up at the unfamiliar ceiling, lying numb, waiting for your saviour- or perhaps your torturer to come.

All had gone still once the door opened, your gaze falling onto the familiar hands that carried a bowl of water and about a dozen different small bottles in a basket. You stared through him, through his wide blown eyes and through the sigh of relief that left his mouth as he rushed towards you. 

How do you become a god?

There was much more you had wanted to tell your mother. You had told her you were sick of pretending, sick of being the goddess of spring when everything you touched died in your hands- how every beam of light you emitted was a stolen one from another soul. Perhaps, you had always craved pomegranates and death - had always willingly walked into the darkness with a smile and open arms.

How do you become a god?

You let him plead and writhe to have a taste of your lips - make him believe it is his only salvation. And right when his lips meet yours, you dig your teeth in deep and not let go, even as his fingers grip the column of your throat and his growls rumble inside your mouth. You let the trail of crimson coat your tongue and feel his tears burn your flesh- you make him taste your blood and take his throne. 

—

He says your name like it’s a prayer and you want to rip out his heart.

Instead, you turn your head towards the wall opposite to where he stands, clenching your eyes shut, hoping the next time you wake up it won’t be here. 

Still, you can hear his voice. Every single day of every waking moment- even as you sleep- even as you wake up in cold sweat haunted by the bittersweet melody of his laughter the day he crushed your heart in two, or the time your own blood nailed you down into the earth. 

But most of all, you hate it when you can hear the gruffness of his voice, still heavy from sleep as you let him cradle your head, shushing you- letting you know it was just a nightmare- but it was a nightmare you had lived through- a nightmare he had put you through. 

Not that he didn’t acknowledge it equally as much. It was odd- almost laughable the way he was so desperate to bring even just a flicker of the light back inside your eyes, breaking free from his stoic and tight lipped demeanour to whisper grossly sweet nothings into your hair.

He had explained his regrets the first few days that you had refused to even look at him, simply staring at the wall as he stripped you of your clothes to redo your bandages, not even the barest of reaction visible across your face. He had caused this. 

The first words you had muttered to him weren’t of hatred or anger or sadness- they were said into the heavy air, late into the hours before dusk at a point in time where your bones still couldn't support the burden of your body, 

“I need to pee.” 

You had said it through gritted teeth, had scowled throughout the process of him picking you up and carrying you into the bathroom, giving you privacy to do your business. 

The second time you had spoken to him was right after and it had somehow dented itself much deeper than he had expected it to, even as it was all he had been preparing himself for in the past few days, 

“I hate you.”

You had said it with no anger, no poison in your words- had simply stated it like it was a mere fact. 

“I know.”

—

It was weeks later and you seemed to have fallen into a strange routine.

He’d go out to do his filthy work, come back bathed in blood and dirt, even as he washed himself off outside thinking he was sly with it. You’d pretend not to notice as you’d cook for yourself, sometimes leaving bits behind as leftovers even if you had purposely spilled the extra bit of rice- had regretted it as soon as you had realised you had done it because he hadn’t had dinner in three days.

Perhaps it was the irony of the situation, and maybe even the cold winter air creeping into your bones that let him move from simply holding you when you woke from your nightmares- to him warming your bed at night even when you dreamed of nothing but the scar beside his lip. 

Still, you let him know you despised him every night that he pulled your body against his chest and every morning that he rubbed his warm hands up and down your arms. Even as you felt yourself leaning into his touch, felt your heart softening at how he’d mutter apologies into your hair while he thought you were asleep, how he’d pay attention to the foods you took more of and made sure to get twice the amount next time, how he’d shred his own shirts to provide you with cloth for when you got your monthly cycles. Yet, you couldn’t find any other words to say to him. 

𝙋𝙚𝙧𝙨𝙚𝙥𝙝𝙤𝙣𝙚- 𝙌𝙪𝙚𝙚𝙣 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙐𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙧𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙡𝙙 𝙂𝙤𝙙𝙙𝙚𝙨𝙨 𝙤𝙛 𝙨𝙥𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜, 𝙛𝙡𝙤𝙬𝙚𝙧𝙨, 𝙙𝙚𝙖𝙩𝙝, 𝙡𝙞𝙛𝙚, 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙙𝙚𝙨𝙩𝙧𝙪𝙘𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣

You had woken up alone as you did on most mornings, grateful that you wouldn’t have to face the shame that came with having your limbs tangled with him. The day was like any other yet different, perhaps it was the monotonous dread of living a life such as this- of having to live at all after being stripped of everything you had called yours.

You had somehow ended up taking steps outside of the wooden door, outside of the small garden the burly man used to grow his own vegetables, and even farther outside the vines and shrubs that kept the cabin hidden from any unwanted visitors.

You had walked and walked till your feet carried you to the edge of the world, a never ending fall down below from where you stared at, the sound of water flowing signalling the presence of a river running deep under the steep cliff.

You had stopped walking, the silence of the forest being the only noise to have outdone the heavy emptiness in your heart in months. And you simply continued to stand there, bare feet digging into the dirt and grass and stone, barely realising when the light faded away and darkness took over. Hadn’t it always been like this? 

It had taken no more than two rounds of the house and the trail of footsteps in the garden out back for Toji to realise you had left. His heart had dropped into his chest as he had followed the dents of your feet in the ground, careful not to step on them as his mind bitterly reminded him that it may be the last of what’s left of you by now.

He knew where the trail you had walked along led- had himself sat on the edge of it once, legs dangling off as he his mind had replayed the memory of your glossy eyes and crestfallen face when he had hit you with those fatal words months ago. Toji’s breath hitches in his throat, hands shaking as he pulls away the last branch blocking the view of the edge of the cliff. 

His feet are moving faster than his mind can think as he all but falls onto his knees, clutching your abdomen as if you’d disappear forever if he let you go now. You turn around in his arms, a look of confusion on your face, your eyes still as hollow as a void but all he cares about right now is the steady thumping he can feel with his chest pressed to yours. He’s clenching his eyes shut, taking a deep breath before he’s sliding his hand into yours. You don’t protest- letting him lead you back into the warm safety of his house and he’s too relieved to consider whether your lack of resistance is a good thing or not. 

You’re sitting on the edge of the bed and you can hear him ruffling through something in the bathroom, door ajar, eyes glancing towards you every two seconds as if he’s expecting you to bolt out the door any second now. For once, you don’t want to stare at the wall as he walks towards you, getting down on his knees- making a blow of nostalgia hit you right in the gut. But your eyes remain fixed at the top of his head, at the dark locks that had grown out much more since the last time you had let yourself gaze at him. 

You only realise what he’s been doing as you notice the bowl of water kept on the floor, hands gently lifting up your dirty feet, cleaning them of the mud and the blood from small scrapes. He’s lifting up your legs onto the bed once he’s done, adjusting your pillow as a gesture for you to lay down. He’s blowing out the lamps and soon enough you feel the mattress dip, his arms engulfing you tighter than ever before. You can feel the slight tremble in them and you feel guilty for the small pinch in your chest. You wait for his breathing to steady, head to fall limp into the crook of your neck before you roll over towards him in the dark, eyes set on the small crinkle between his forehead and brow. 

The warm hand that cups Toji’s cheek has him convinced that he may have lost his mind. Opening his eyes, he knows for sure that you have. Especially as you slide your other hand into his, pulling it till it’s placed onto the crest between your collarbone and chest, adjusting it a little more towards the left. Toji’s staring intently at you, wondering if this is your way of telling him that you’re still alive- that even though you’ve been cursed and damned to living in this hell, your heart still beats- it still fights. 

Toji bares his own emotions through a gesture- pulling the small hand that holds his to the apex between his upper ribs- pressing it till your fingers feel like they might just pass through his flesh. He hopes you know that if he could, he’d snap each one of his ribs open so that you can reach inside and press the palm of your hand against his beating heart, rip it right out of his body and spit inside the hollow space of his ribs with contempt- even then he’d survive on your hatred alone if it means surviving with you for the rest of his life. 

“I don’t hate you.”

The words are whispered in the dead of the night with no emotion, no trace of forgiveness or affection- simply stated as if they are common knowledge.

The soft lips coming down on his own have his mind spinning. He realises what it is you wish for- to be able to live once again as a human, to feel once again as a mortal- he can almost almost hear you saying the words into his mouth as your fist bunches up the fabric of his shirt. 

“I’m tired of being a god.” 

He can feel his own sentiment being passed right through as his hands slide under the cloth of his shirt that you wore, exploring the expanse of your reverenced skin, mouthing his response against your cupid’s bow.

“I’ll worship you even after you fall from grace.” 

And he does, pulling himself up on arms above you, dipping his fingers into your soaking sex, making quick work of ridding you and himself of your clothes. He’s tucking your legs against your chest, feet dangling over his broad shoulders as he comes forward to meet your lips. He’s pulling away and you’re mewling at the loss of contact- the loss of his taste. 

“Do you want this? Do you want-” He takes a deep breath, forehead coming forward to press against yours till your noses brush against each other, “...me?”

Your response comes in the form of sliding your hands to the back of his head, pulling him forward till his lips crash against yours once more- bucking your hips up till the tip of his massive girth is brushing against your heat. He doesn’t miss the moan that escapes you, eagerly kissing you back, moving to litter a plethora of kisses against your jaw- your neck- your collarbone. When he comes back up to your face, he’s well aware of the effect he’s had on you- the want in your eyes as you lift your hips against his once more, a small plea leaving your mouth. 

The need that comes over him is animalistic as he moves a hand down to position himself before sliding into your soppy hole, he swears he can see stars with how hungrily you swallow him in. You’re gripping his shoulders, nails digging into his skin as he strokes your insides so languidly. Your faces are close enough for you to feel his breath on your mouth, to feel the fall of the hot droplets on your cheeks, your own tears of grief- of freedom- of a love gone to waste so long ago combining as he continues to thrust in and out of you deeply. 

He’s dipping his head and the tears are being kissed away as his hand moves down to play with your over sensitive bud. You can't stop peppering kisses against his lips, moaning his name in his ear as he hits a particular spot inside you. He can feel you getting closer with how your breaths get deeper, fingers moving faster, strokes getting sloppier. 

You feel the tight coil in your stomach start to unravel, and all it takes is for him to lower his head and suction his lips around one of your nipples for you to come apart underneath him. He’s reaching his own arousal soon after, pulling out to spray his seed onto your stomach. He all but collapses on top of you, rolling over to his side once he catches his breath, another hitching in his throat as he finds you crawling onto his lap, legs straddling his waist as you bury your face into his naked chest. 

This is what being a god feels like. The taste of wine coating your tongue and the way his lips meld with yours- swallow you whole and then spit you out. You reach for him again in the dark, his chest panting against yours as the moonlight cascading from the window hits his face. You rest your chin against the centre of his chest, looking up at him with droopy eyes, his own stare right back at you- filled with tenderness and affection. 

“No one will ever hurt you again, I promise.” 

His voice is gruff and heavy, but carries a sincerity warm enough to send tingles down your back. You can’t quite place the look on his face, it's determined- pointed. You can feel the unravelling of the violence beneath his skin as his hand comes to cradle your jaw, and you wonder just what kind of monsters the god of the underworld plans to unleash.

His hand moves to caress the back of your head, adoration-filled eyes raking over your still panting figure. He presses his lips to your temple and says your name like a prayer. It all floods in- the pain- the love- the sorrow- the joy- you’re sobbing and he’s holding you like he has time and again. Only this time, he finds himself awestruck by the spark of ember that comes alive in your eyes, even if just for a second, he knows you’re going to be fine. 

-

The god of the dead had bowed before you, offered you his crown, his throne- would have ripped off the flesh from his own back and handed it to you without any hesitation if only you asked. 

You were the goddess of spring and everyone had loved your life and light, but who except him had acknowledged the death and destruction that came along- had reached out their hands into the rotten parts of your flesh and kissed every bruise and scar?

This was Toji Fushiguro’s life now, coming back home to his precious darling each day- the only burst of spring in his everlasting winter, the only ray of light in his world swallowed by darkness.

Tonight, as you lay on him bare-bodied and covered in sweat from your previous feat, he finds you asking him about the season, about how far the harvest festival was. He’s confused at your sudden curiosity but answers you nonetheless, telling you it’s in a fortnight. He finds himself asking why. 

“Every single member of our blood attends the festival- they had waited for it while they kept me away.” 

It’s the first time you’re talking about the incident and he can feel you quiver in his arms. It makes his blood boil, and he finds himself protectively pulling you even closer into him. 

“...they had wanted each and every single one of them to get a chance to cut through my skin.” 

That’s all you say before falling asleep, the tears on Toji’s chest making a storm of anger rage inside his mind. 

--

It’s a fortnight later and Toji watches the red and orange hues of the flames making your face glow brighter than the sun. 

You’re standing there hand-in-hand with him, looking over the half wrecked ruins of the village, the screams of the people you had grown up with- who had taken no less than a second to turn their backs on you- who had left you to die- now echoing in your ears. Right on the edge of the hilltop you stand on, you see a small figure running towards the slope, clothes burnt, high pitched sobs filling the air as it succumbs to the heat that had spread through it’s bones.  

She must’ve been eight or nine years old judging from her size and half burnt frills of the frock she wore. You know she’s at peace, much like the many others who would’ve faced nothing but agonising hardships being raised in the hands of your cruel persecutors- all of whom lay as nothing but bones and ash and dust now. 

Toji’s worried that he’ll find the same emptiness he’s spent months breaking through as he glances over at your face. Instead, there’s a fire being reflected in your eyes, a sadistically deliciously smile stretched across your supple cheeks. He finds his own lips curving as he grips your jaw to turn your head and press his lips to yours, the screams and shouts of your monsters merely anything but white noise as your fingers come to tangle in his hair. 

After all, Hades may have been the god of the dead, but it was Persephone’s wrath which brought upon the destruction.

© suna-reversed — all rights reserved. please refrain from modifying, translating, reposting of any kind. plagiarism will NOT be tolerated.

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[tizzyizzy]

RE your Izzy post - YOU’RE RIGHT AND YOU SHOULD SAY IT. Bless you. I’m honestly so sick of the hypocrisy in this fandom, Ed can slam Izzy into a wall, permanently maim him and *force him to eat his own toe*, and Ed apologists will be all ‘poor baby angel Izzy made him do it uwu’. Yes, Izzy is deeply flawed, but so is Ed. In what world is the measured response to someone saying something (deeply unkind yes, deeply inflammatory, yes) cruel cutting their toe off and making them eat it? It’s hugely annoying to me that the OFMD fandom paints Izzy as some kind of dastardly abuser. He’s an unpleasant little man who needs to chill out, but does he deserve to be permanently maimed forever? Nah. Ed is a pos for that. Anyway, I wish I was brave enough to post my thoughts on the subject publicly but alas I fear the tumblr hate machine. You’re doing the lords work 💖

I swear I want to be normal, but how can I be when people are wrong on the internet about characters I like?

As much as they misread Izzy, the misunderstanding of Ed is truly baffling to me. Ed orders a man flayed and drowned. He reacts to being humiliated at dinner by wanting to shoot everyone. He is very good at intimidating people, and is full of confidence.

Ed is not quaking in fear because Izzy Hands, the worlds smallest, angriest purse dog, told him to "watch his fucking step". Stede and fucking Lucius have managed to get the upper hand on that guy.

And he has an entire crew willing to back him up. For fuck's sake.

It really just blows my mind the contortions of logic people will go through to excuse and justify Ed's actions.

I mean, isn't one of the most interesting things about Ed the fact that he's a bloodthirsty pirate who wants to grow as a person, but is struggling?