#he's a filthy edgelord

[lalunanymph]

𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐔𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐁𝐄𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐔𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐃 — sylus

୨୧ meeting him meant the end of your innocence and ignorance

✧.* warnings: suggestive, hunter/prey dynamic, sylus has issues™, mentions of death, mentions of blood, making out, finger sucking, just sylus being a tease

✧.* this my chemical romance edgelord looking ass evil man has got me by the cl!t </3 i cant stop the sylus brainrot help

The sole of your mud-splattered boot splashes into a puddle of filthy water, soaking the hem of your Hunters’ pants. 

Hot breaths spill from your parted lips, and you glance back, full of panic, trying and failing to catch the barest hint of a shadowy figure spilling closer towards you.

Nothing.

But, that doesn’t mean you’re out of the woods yet. 

Doubling your speed, you tighten your grip on your gun, feeling the hard handle slipping between your clammy hands. 

“Damn it,” cursing under your breath, you make a sharp turn, and find yourself face-to-face with a wall. Using your Resonance, you feel for the potential threat, breaths rising and falling sharply as your watch beeps your coordinates back to your anxious teammates.

The second your whereabouts were exposed, you feared what the repercussions would be for allowing yourself to be drawn into such a risky mission. 

Captain Jenna has already warned you not once but twice for going after Onychinus on your own. 

Defying her once again, you fear it would be the last time you would ever hear her sharp words or firm tone. 

A crunch of leaves overhead startles you, and you swivel with your gun raised, eyes darting everywhere in the vicinity. The smell of rubbish burns through your nose, and coupled with the sharp sting of your sweat, it nearly makes you sick with nausea. 

Panic infuses through you, rendering you mute and unable to move when you hear a slow, dark chuckle emanating from the shadows.

He appears, dressed in all black, strands of silvery hair falling right into his deep eyes; your worst nightmare coming to life. 

“There you are,” he seems to purr, deep baritone dragging through each syllable; hammering in how defenseless and trapped you were. “I never thought I’d ever see a day when a Hunter finally becomes the hunted.”

Sylus—head of Onychinus—approaches you with a slow smile spreading across his striking face. His tall stature and fitted clothes, in every shade of black you can imagine, is exacerbated by the crow perched right on his shoulder, its blood-red pupils widening at the scent of your fear. Despite the dangerous aura surrounding him, he could easily pass as a gentleman walking down the streets of Linkon City—eccentric and grinning. 

“You’ll never get away with this.” 

Your words, meant to be a threat, only serves to amuse him further. 

“Oh? Isn’t that what every good guy says?” Approaching you closer, he doesn’t pay any mind to the nozzle of your gun digging right into his chest. He knows you can’t shoot him; you still need your answers. “And then, inevitably, they all turn out to be wrong.”

A flash of red. Your arm seizes and goes limp, the gun in your hands tumbling to the ground; pained cries reverberating across the alleyway. The crow on his shoulder caws, flapping its wings in excitement. 

He grabs your face, digging his nails into the fat of your cheeks. “Pretty little hunter,” Sylus coos again, and this time, pushes you to your feet, controlling your movements with his Evol so you have no choice but to be the puppet at the end of his strings. 

Your legs spread without your consent, and your back meets the wall. 

Sylus watches, those sharp eyes ever mysterious and waiting. He doesn’t lunge or immediately savor your helplessness; letting you stew in your panic and loss of control. 

“Wh-wait,” you splutter. “Don’t do this—”

“Is this not what you were hungering for, my little hunter?” As he speaks, he advances towards you, every heavy footfall spiking fear in your chest. “You knew what you were getting yourself into when you tried to pursue me. So,” he stops in front of you, bending down close enough for his breath to touch your cheek. “Why the hesitation now?” 

“How do you know about my heart condition?” you demand, referring to the encrypted video he sent you a few days ago meant to lure you out into the open. “No one else knows that besides my grandmother.”

Sylus arches one dark brow, cocking his head to the side to truly study the mutiny on your face.

“And how are you so sure your grandmother was the only one with such classified information?” 

This asshole. He was never going to give you a straight answer. You had walked right into his trap.

Trying to move your limbs was futile. You were fully under his mercy. 

The stench of your entire situation grows harder to ignore. You replay every single moment which led you right in this situation. 

A shady video sent straight to your Hunter’s Watch. The dark background and the modulated voice whispering how you can get your answers if you meet him right at the docks at exactly one in the morning. Ignoring Xavier’s concern and Jenna’s suggestion for you to take a partner. Nero, who usually supported your crazy ideas, was for once hesitant when he inspected the video. They never expected you to take this on by yourself—for you to act this recklessly.

And tonight, you would die without any of them knowing the truth.

You want to shout, to tell the entire world that the leader of Onychinus is right in front of you. But, you cannot find  your voice. 

Sylus is close enough for the sharpness of his cologne to fill your nostrils. You can barely move your hand to press the alert button on your watch; your movements are restricted by this dangerous Evol you don’t think you’ve ever encountered.

“Tell me, why do you seek such answers when you do not know the magnitude of their implications?” 

His voice is saccharine sweet, condescending to a fault. 

Scoffing, you turn your face away, unable to look him in the eyes long enough.

“I guess… I want to know why my grandmother and Caleb had to die.”

The admission feels like a punch to your gut. To anyone else, your voice remains steady and firm. But, it took a special sort of psychopath to hear the tremble at the tailend of your sentence and yet, choose to laugh.

“Ah. Yes. I can answer that one for you—Onychinus did not cause the death of your grandmother and friend.” Nothing about tonight’s encounter could prepare you for what he has to say next. 

“You might want to look a little closer to home.”

Closer to… home? 

The confusion in your eyes is his aphrodisiac, and his nostrils flare; getting off on your distress.

“The Hunters,” he clarifies; tone like a teacher speaking down to a toddler. “Don’t you think it strange that they never investigated what happened to your family? Or, did a postmortem on your grandmother’s remains?” 

He’s speaking circles around you, intentionally messing with your mind. 

And yet, a seed of doubt begins to take root. You have to physically clench down on your fists to stop from lashing out at him; Jenna’s sympathetic expression, the doctors who told you that there was no feasible way they could glean what happened to your grandmother and Caleb without at least 85% of the body intact.

An accident. An anomaly. That was how they classified your family’s demise.

You weren’t even allowed to have a closed coffin funeral for them. 

His thumbs touch your cheek, swiping the tears away in a gesture far too intimate for a man who was meeting you for the first time tonight.

“Ever since I first saw you, you’ve done nothing but invade my thoughts.”

Your back melts off the wall and meets the ground, his entire weight pressed on top of you. He has you right under him with nowhere to go, and you can’t even call for help, those long, elegant fingers sliding right into your mouth, forcing you to suck on them.

“My pretty little stubborn Hunter,” he whispers. 

You know the look in his eye; the one men would get when they’re crossing the threshold of claiming the object they’ve been seeking for years. It’s the same look in Xavier’s eyes whenever you accidentally graze his thigh, or how Zayne’s expression visibly darkens when you call him ‘doctor’. It’s the same look Rafayel gives you when you say you want nothing more than to be by his side forever.

Desire.

And fear. 

Sylus swallows hard, and you’re surprised to find his touch faltering. Those magnetically dark eyes could engulf you whole, growing closer and closer until you’re forced to close your own eyes; his lips the first spark that sets your entire world ablaze.

Devouring you like you were oxygen in a deprived world, Sylus kisses are brutal and hard, nipping at your lips, forcing his tongue into your mouth so you have no choice but to choke on your own spit. A dark shadow flits overhead, its caws filling the night air with rampant euphoria. 

He is too forward… this is going much too fast…

“Do you not like it when intentions are made known to you?” He tugs at your bottom lip, smirking at your faltering expression when you realize you’ve spoken those words aloud.

You struggle against him, trying to turn your face away, but Sylus will not relent his grip on your cheeks. 

“Why?” you gasp. “Why are you treating me like this when we both are on different sides?” Struggling to push him away, you’re overtaken once again by his mouth moving down your jaw, caressing your pulse point and traversing down the column of your throat. Kisses which feel more like a possessive mark.  

“Who said we were any different?” He murmurs, and you have no choice but to voice out your disbelief.

“I’m a Hunter. You’re an illegal weapons seller. My job is to stop you—oh.” 

He kneads your hip roughly with one hand, expression open with want. You can’t formulate a single coherent thought, your vision purely dominated by the halo of his silver hair and those deep, impenetrable dark eyes. 

“No,” his deep voice intones, sending shivers up your spine. “You have no idea. We are more similar than you think.” 

Holding secrets you weren’t aware of, Sylus didn’t know where to start; how to make you believe him.

So, he settles for pinning you against the ground, your wrists held above your head and your body trapped under his bigger build.

“Heed my words, little Hunter,” he whispers, and there’s a look in his eye, an unfathomable emotion you wanted to unravel but it was gone the second you dared to look closer. “Do not trust what you think is the truth.”

Before your eyes, he dissipates to smoke, small flecks of blood landing on your cheeks and parted mouth. His raven caterwauls, inducing goosebumps across your entire body as it spirals into the night sky, disappearing from view.

You turn onto your hands and knees, spitting out the blood, wiping it off your cheeks with frantic swipes. 

Someone calls your name, and you don’t realize how badly you’re shivering until a warm embrace engulfs you.

“Oh, Y/N,” Xavier exhales, bringing you closer to the streetlamp light so he can scrutinize your face. “Are you alright? Are you hurt?” 

Thumbing the blood from your face, you nod, murmuring, “This isn’t mine.”

 Xavier opens his mouth, about to ask you what exactly happened when your Hunter Watch went off the grid when Jenna pushes through the alley, her gun at the ready, mouth set into a grim line.

“Y/N. You’re safe.” 

Accepting Xavier’s outstretched hand, you stood up with his help. Jenna shines a flashlight on your face, momentarily blinding you.

“Is that your blood?” she demands, sounding like she was a second away from giving you the lecture of a lifetime. 

You grimace, and Xavier tightens his grip around your waist.

“Captain, we should take her back for an inspection—”

“Agreed,” Jenna cuts him off, then narrows her eyes as she leans closer. “Is that… a mark on your neck? And your lips—they’re quite swollen.”

Slapping a hand to your mouth, you shake your head, hoping your wide, pleading eyes will get them to drop this. Next to you, Xavier stiffens, those blue eyes going glacial as he sweeps them all over your disheveled frame. It’s unavoidable that he comes to such assumptions based on your appearance. 

But, rather than lashing out in jealousy, he reels it in, choosing to steer you back towards safety.

“Whatever happened, you can tell us later. We need to get you checked up.”

His grip digs into your skin, and you don’t know what to say once the inevitable interrogation comes up.

How could you divulge all that Sylus had said without putting Xavier in a predicament between trusting you or being loyal to an organization he serves well? 

If what the Onychinus leader said was true, you couldn’t trust Captain Jenna either. 

And Tara…

Everything dear in your world begins to blur, infecting the foundations of your love for the people you trust; making them crack and crumble. 

Xavier, Jenna, Tara, Nero… did they all know what happened to your family but refused to tell you the truth? 

You had no idea how to react; you couldn’t wrap your head around such a betrayal if the truth were to come to light.

You think you could probably destroy the entire Organization with your bare hands if what Sylus said was true. 

Abovehead, somewhere in the trees, a raven caws—a harbinger of worse things to come.

a/n. save me emo edgelord crow boy save me .... reblogs and feedback are appreciated !!

©️ all works belong to lalunaymph. do not copy, repost, translate or share across any other platform

[astro-pioneer]

my nosferatu!

lifeless skin, sharp fangs, and unusual allergies? sounds like his type. 『dottore』

! sumeru spoilers !

@n0tamused !!! :33

barely cares about any harm that happens to you

in actuality he's basically the reason you even HAVE injuries in the first place

his segments barely view you as a partner, moreso a test subject that can't die unless some extreme outside factors interfere

that or a simple travel companion, seeing as though he allowed omega to bring you to sumeru for company

the only evidence that you're not just a test subject is the consistent pet name dottore will drop and the fact you're not dead or altered

no one does anything though, mostly because it's dottore of all people

you're not the perfect of the bunch either, if the puncture wounds on every segment say anything

and they've heard stories from his subordinates that you have a temper when bothered (especially when it's day even though you can't see the sun??? ok edgelord)

everyone on the sumeru expedition was basically holding their breath the whole time

lord of darkness going to the hot and dry desert??? with the sixth harbinger??? scary thought

you gave the night vendors hella business so the locals can't really complain

two psychopaths insanely in love, i guess

"Ah, that hurt, Dotte." The subordinates who were also on the deck of the ship stared in shock as the segment of the Second casually ripped your arm off. The agent closest had to suppress a flinch from the blood splattering from your arm onto his boots. Despite verbally saying you were in pain, your expression barely changed. The segment, Omega, simply grinned, eyes crinkling behind the mask as he observed. What, exactly, he was analyzing, no one knew.

"Perfect! Now here-" he thrust the disconnected and lifeless arm to you, "-heal yourself. Quickly now, we're almost to Sumeru." The same subordinates could help but watch in disgusted interest as your arm merged itself back to your shoulder. "Now, darling, let's go change your clothes. They're filthy." Oh, wow, no one even noticed! Almost like it was your fault.

In new clothes and donning your iconic parasol, you freely express your scowl to everyone on the dock. You did not like Sumeru. It was second only to Natlan on your list of the worst nations. The heat was tolerable compared to the desert, but was still horrendous in your eyes. Thankfully, the half pint Sixth was on a different boat from you. You'd have more to frown about if it was shared.

Dottore carefully guided you off the boat and onto the sturdy walkway when it docked. You muttered a word of gratitude before he let go. "Stay in the city." The threat was well hidden as he tapped your forearm. You rolled your eyes before quickly heading to the room you and Dottore were to stay in. His plan was to head to his old research location early in the morning. Just the thought of being stuck travelling in the desert during the day made you groan. The agent assigned to you struggled to match your stride as you left for your temporary room.

The harbinger in the sixth position avoided your gaze. After the gruesome trek ("I'm not being dramatic, Dotte."), your day continued to get worse. The little puppet boy was the whole reason you were out of Sneznhaya anyway. Plus that attitude of his has not landed him on your good graces ("I've lived longer than you've been planned, little puppet. Don't tempt me to do something to you.").

If only your lover could've been less greedy and mental. Or, maybe if he was more organized. Yes, him being more organized would be better. His segments leaving important documents and experiments in your bedroom annoyed you to no end when they barge in to grab them. If be was more organized then none of you would need to be in his old office. You twirled your parasol in your hands with your iconic scowl. Apparently you and The Balladeer had something in common.

Segment Omega watched you get dressed. The two of you were taking a stroll together when the sun was starting to set. The plan to distract the common folk of Sumeru and allow The Balladeer to ascend was already in effect, but be could tell you were getting increasingly irritated. On the walk, you overheard chattering of a night market happening. He knew that nothing he could say would deter you from going.

When he first thought about this, his aggravation got the best of him and, sadly, he took it out on your hand. He would never ACTUALLY kill you; you were too precious both to his research and the primary segment. Your trusted agent watched from behind as the feared and powerful Second fretted over how to hold the shade maker while you moaned about how badly your hand hurt to hold it yourself.

Now, however, as he helps you choose what to wear, he couldn't help but think it over. Having you out would be excellent. Word of that pesky traveler duo being in Sumeru and sticking their noses into his affairs had already spread through the dispatched fatui. He didn't need much time to prepare their welcome and a quick chat with you would give him more than enough. "Dotte, help me choose what to wear." Whining should not be coming out of a being as old as time.

A crushing kiss was all your Dotte left you with before the two of you split ways. The streets were basically empty. You could feel the blond and little white haired child staring at you from around the wall. You could also sense that little dendro archon too. Using that silly Marionette's creation was smart. However, they posed no concern to you. Your goal here was to empty your pockets and force your Dotte to carry everything you purchased. A fine punishment for what he's put you through this trip.

Sometimes, you wonder how the harbingers are able to stay in their ranks, as loose-lipped as they are. "Are you sure we should be going up to them? They're a part of the fatui!" The little white one didn't know how to lower her voice. It was also not hard to overhear, as the restaurant was basically abandoned. There was no background chatter to cover their voices or footsteps. Nahida (should you call her Katheryne?) analyzed the way you moved and acted. "Hey, Nahida! Are you even listening to Paimon?" To the archon, you didn't care about what was happening in Sumeru.

If anything... "There's no garlic in this, right, darling? I have a horrendous allergy to it." ...you seemed to care more about spending than anything else. She didn't miss the big bag of mora you passed to the waitress with the order to split it with the chef. I guess being a big shot of the fatui puts you in a higher figurative pedestal.

"Do you know what's going on?" The archon of wisdom was not stupid. It was obvious you weren't human. Every vendor you went to and brushed against when paying thought about how your hands felt as though they were freezing (and about how loaded you were, but that's besides the point) and how your skin looked sickly. They just assumed you were infected with something, but Nahida knew better. And watching as your sharp and dangerous fangs glint in the streetlight confirmed it all for her. But, strangely, she also knew you wouldn't do anything to them.

"'Going on' with what, exactly, little archon?" The little white child - Paimon, you mused silently, gasped, hiding behind the blond hair of her companion. What annoyed her was that she couldn't read what you were thinking. It was too overlapped, too soft to catch. The only thing that was consistent were thoughts about one person. It was a little insane, if Nahida was being honest. "Besides, instead of worrying about me and what I'm doing here, shouldn't you three be running to the Akademiya? Being late to a scheduled meeting isn't the best look. Especially for the esteemed traveler."

It was interesting to see how the blond's face morphed. Your taunts as well as your affiliation weren't helping the urge to start an altercation. "Tata, little children." Your little finger wave made Paimon stomp her feet. "Oh, darling, could I also have some desserts as well? To go, though, along with the other entrées. Greatly appreciated." Another bag of mora being placed in the girl's hands had her squealing all the way back to the kitchen.

You were still awake and active in the room when your Dotte met up with you. Most of your items were already placed in your bags. The only goods you kept out were the ones you personally wished to give to your agent. Just because Dottore hates his subordinates does not mean you hate yours. The rest were for your Prime segment. Even though he split himself into different periods of his life, in every single one he was your Dotte just like you were his...salvation, so to speak. You were proof that what he was looking for was plausible. That was the only thing that was continuous in all of his segments.

"Oh, my nosferatu. How I missed you so." Sometimes, all Dottore wishes to do is merge with you. Tear you open and live inside of you, and you in him. He couldn't help but tightly grip your wrists as he hugged you from behind, forcing your arms to follow his in wrapping around you. "The traveler and their little detective group of Sumerians have found out too much, I'm afraid. I'm sending Omega home with the rest of the deployed fleet. It's up to you on whether or not you'd wish to go."

His heartbeat echoed into your silent chest as you leaned into the blue haired man, making him hold all of your weight onto his body. "You still have yet to get the Gnoses, and as much as I love hanging out with Omega, spending time with my Dotte is better." He allowed your fangs to casually slide into his wrist, his outer coat barely pulled back to avoid the blood that leaks from the puncture wounds.

The mention of his segment made him hum, swaying both of you side to side as he thought about all Omega did. You were used to it - obviously, seeing as though you've stuck with the doctor - and it was mostly directly ordered by him. However, conflicting the same injuries on you for no reason other than to just do it annoyed Dottore to no end.

He wrapped his freed arm around your neck, finger tracing over your notched ear. It never fully healed after all, he mused. "Oh, my darling." He didn't continue but instead cupped your face. His mask and gloves were off and presumably on the bedside table. He didn't care that blood still flowed out of his arm. All he cared about at the moment was how the only thing in your eyes was him. How it should always and forever be.

Watching the Omega segment depart with all of the other fatui members sent a sense of foreboding into you. The god of wisdom might be least inexperienced, including how she was held by the sages of her nation, but from what you could see from her, she was cunning. Your Dotte already had that issue covered. "It's ironic how the soundwave doesn't work on gods or vampires. I guess any non-human is immune." His footsteps were daunting to Nahida.

"Say, if my segments were an insult to the concept of life, how would you label my nosferatu? And all of their unique ways of documenting to help my experiment?" She couldn't possibly guess what your assistance in creating the segments were.

"If you mean the vampire that's been with you, I don't see how they're a part of this."

"Oh, but you should. You see, they have also defied your so-called concept of life multiple times. Their whole existence is a disgrace to your philosophy. Now, it's not my place to discuss their upbringing. I've got to keep my title as their "Precious Dotte" after all. Not like spilling their silly little secrets would change that."

Their talk seemed to take forever. Your agent faithfully stood beside you, arms crossed behind his back. The new brooches connected by chains matched him well. "Do you miss being out on the field to collect debts like your fellow agents?" You could hear his surprised cough. You were not really expecting a reply, especially when there was no knowing when Dottore would be back. His obsession with everything you made him order all of his subordinates to not converse with you in his presence. However, this was your subordinate. So who cares what he orders?

His boots shuffled against the shaded walkway. The silence stretched on for a few minutes. You spent the time twirling your parasol out of boredom. "Sometimes," he huffed. He no longer flinches when your eyes slide to land on him. "I'm still able to go into battle, especially when you unintentionally stir up trouble, my lord." You barked out a laugh that quickly turned into a short cough.

Dottore's footsteps start to enter your ears. "Unintentionally is a nice way to put it, my dear. Maybe I'm doing it on purpose to keep you on your toes." He followed as you stepped out of the shade, meeting up with your blue haired lover who already walked past. "You let go of your segments, Dotte." The doctor's red eyes curled in distaste behind his mask. Your agent casually blended himself into the background behind you.

"It was all to fulfill my side of the transaction for the Electro Gnosis. Besides, dealing with all of them was draining. A little annoying to clean up after, too." The agent casually glanced down with his eyes at his boots. Despite taking hours to scrub his boots, there was still a faint hue of brown on the tops. He could agree with the harbinger on the clean up comment.

Dottore stared at you with utmost devotion as you spilled your lustless desires. Your shared room back in Snezhnaya was messier than usual due to all that spending you did in Sumeru. In between your statement, you expressed your woes about the temporary loss of his segments. Even through the dramatic complaining you did, Dottore still watched you move around as though you were his own personal god to worship. His very own Nosferatu to your Dotte.

[katyspersonal]

brador probably brushes his teeth with bleach to wash the blood out of his mouth like the edgelord he is and to make it look like he foams at the mouth like a dog. also he reads 50 shades of grey to self-insert and imagine laurence as the sadist millionaire guy.

I will have you know that Brador takes such excessive care of his teeth because before his jailcell era, he took his image very seriously and didn't want to stain Laurence with his filthy presence! But even that aside, Brador makes suce that his manic grin always looks as shiny and charming as possible! YOUR edgelord son Bloody CrOwOw, on the other hand, doesn't bother with his mouth hygiene at all and that's why a smile engraved on his funny helmet will always look way better than his real one! Did I ALSO mention that Crow sips the blood because of addiction at least, because of vital need at MOST? Meanwhile Brador drinks blood JUST because!

Also Brador properly utilizes the fiction he engages with to explore his cringe urges and keep them contained within safe environment! And when he will be open to discuss them with Laurence, they will have very healthy and good kinky sex! He is a good example for all of us! YOUR blorbo, on the other hand, not only never got that queenussy, but also probably still pesters stranger women begging them for nudes low-quality roleplay where they'd need to say the lines from Annalise he wrote based on his wet dreams!

[bylightofdawn]

So I don't know if I will emotionally, mentally or physically make i through episode 8 of Beyond Evil.

This episode has been a fucking EMOTIONAL ROLLERCOASTER that has inflicted emotional damage on me.

Thoughts and spoiler cuts beneath the cut.

Oh my god everything with Kang Jin-muk makes my fucking skin crawl. The close up of him eating the noodles and the dutch angle just made it like 10,000 x more upsetting.

His smug smarmy and the taunting way he keeps trying to upset everyone and Dong-sik in particular. Just…OH MY GOD. Someone kill this man. He needs to die.

They fucking BROKE ME at the crematorium scene. Everything with that. Dong-sik needs a hug desperately. Someone give this man a hug and tell him it's going to be okay. Him torturing himself and imagining how he failed Kang Min-jeoeng in her final moments. The fucking shot of him standing on top of the place she was slowly suffocating to death right underneath him. The cinematography of that entire shot? Just mwah chef-kiss.

That is actual nightmare fuel personified there.

And then little Mr Sunshine Oh Ji-hoon just having a mental breakdown because he’s blaming himself for being there and not knowing she was in danger. FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK.

The emotional damage of this episode.

And then they go and give us unhinged Dong-sik just grinning like an absolute feral madman when he taunts Kang Jin-muk into strangling him? So help me if fanficcers aren’t writing some absolutely FILTHY Dong-sik getting off to breathplay smut I WILL BE SO DISAPPOINTED IN YOU.

I also love that Han Ju-won just fucking shut down because he oops caught feelings and can’t handle the fact he was willing to murder a man for daring to touch his little Meow Meow. This man is so emotionally constipated he can’t even.

My mans really needed to take an emotional sabbatical because he caught the fee-fees.

And then this fucking show has the AUDACITY to hand us the fertile AU of rent-boy Ju-won and Donk-sik being his client with Dong-sik AS ALWAYS flirting like crazy with him and asking him what kind of flower boy he would be.

HOW DARE YOU. I also love the entire restaurant scene and Han Ju-won trying to be the edgelord that he is who hates icky things like feelings and friendships. Whilst he is TURNING HIMSELF INSIDE OUT EMOTIONALLY for a dead hooker he used as bait just because he doesn’t want her to lay in a ice box for months on end unloved and unclaimed.

And our king Dong-sik just calling him out on his bullshit as always.

Also? I hate to tell you this boo but YOU are the clingy one in that relationship. You and your mancrush obsessing over Dong-sik which was so strong you moved to a whole new city just to try and ‘catch’ him. Uh huh. You keep telling yourself that, boyo.

And Jeong-je and his awful mother. Please tell me this poor damaged manchild is not still living at home because that sadly would explain a lot about his Peter Pan syndrome and why an adult man is wearing a hideous hair cut like his. Pfffffft He is a poster child for arrested development. And is so emotionally fragile but my mans has a lot of rage in him and I'll be interested to see where his story heads.

But then it has to end with them finding Jae-i’s mother and just…fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck all over again.

I am exhausted after every episode of this show. And cannot binge it all at once because it makes me feel too many things

[rainbowgod666]

RIFLE. IS. FINE.

Look at you filthy NĪNGĒN messing with great design of TRUE KING OF ALL FIREARMS Mikail Kalashnikov and fucking over innovation- WHAT IN FUCK IS THAT CARTRIDGE. I DONT CARE IF ITS QUICK-PULL THAT FUCKING THING SO STRAIGHT IT VOTED TRUMP AT 2016 PRIMARIES OF US OF A. Why is the barrel so short? You wanna make Spray And Pray? YOU GET SAME RESULT WITH FLECHETTE AND LITTLE HOLY IMAGERY STUCK WITH TAPE ON SIDE YOU COCK-BURNED WEED MASTURBATOR. And where in fuck is stock? Why did you not even get stock-less modification??? You made half-breed with MG42 of third reich for this??? Then i go back to catridge- QUICK PULL MAG IS USELESS IF IT HOLDS LESS BULLETS THAN HOLY DESIGN OF M1 GARAND. And why does it have bipod if it is so much shorter than penis of average twitter transphobe? WHERE IN FUCK YOU PLACE THIS SHORT SHIT, ON EDGE OF FUCKING A4 PAPER? And why are there holes on barrel-I CAN SEE TIP OF BOOLET FROM SIDE!! And why is most of reciever welded parts- (messes around) BY GREAT ANCESTORS- THE GUN RATTLE LIKE MARACAS? YOU WANNA MAKE GUN FOR RACIST BORDER PATROL OF AMERICA TO LAUGH? THESE NOT LOOSE TOLERANCES, THIS ONE MISFIRE AWAY FROM VAL-FAKING-ALLAH, YEAH YOU HEARD ME. GUN SO SHIT NOT EVEN CRINGE EDGELORDS OF WOMAN-HATING ISIS TAKE THIS RIFLE TO BATTLE, THEY WOULD RATHER JIHAD THEMSELVES INTO FLAMING HOLE IN KAZAKISTAN, IT WOULD BE MORE HONORABLE THAT WAy. And also the fuck is this bolt? Why it open both ways huh? You made a fuckign bisexual gun? (slaps like its an italian film from the 80s) YOU NO MAKE BISEXUAL RIFLE SHIT. THE BISEXUAL RIFLE ACCEPTS MULTIPLE TYPE OF BOOLET BUT SHOOTS CASING ON ONLY ONE HOLE, AND SHOOT IN OTHER HOLE. And look at those HAMMERINGS? Ahegao Paintjob cannot fucking stick to uneven surf- (realization) WHAT FUCK ARE THOSE PICATINNY RAILS??? THE SCOPE CANT ZERO IN ON THIS FUCKIN THING, DO YOU NEED TO AIM LIKE BENT BARREL MADE BY NAZIS WHEN THEY WATCH TOO MUCH 1940 LOONEY TOONES??? BARREL CANNOT BULLET BECAUSE TOO SHORT BUT NOW YOU WANNA MAKE LIKE MY PEEPEE IN REAL WORLD AND MAKE IT FIRE SIDEWAYS? No no, this not rifle, THIS HERESY IN EYES OF GUN MANUFACTURERS! If zack hazard see this, HE FEED YOU TO THE SEX DEATHCLAWS- OR MAYBE YOU MAKE HIM USE SHIT GUN ON YOU TO AT LEAST GIVE YOU DEATH YOU DO NOT FUCKING DESERVIOLI. If you want to make cursed build is fine, BUT DO NOT EXPECT TO MAKE SNUBNOSE VIOLET BARRETT WITH RANDOM PARTS. You disgrace in eyes of gun-interested autistic toddlers of world- NO WORSE ACTUALLY. I CAN HAVE KID FROM MY OLD ELEMENTARY SCHOOL MAKE NEW MINIGUN WITH JUST SOME STICKS AND ROCK BIG ENOUGH TO MAKE KILLING OF ABEL ONCE AGAIN. YOU TOOK BUDGET AND USED IT TO WACK OFF TO IMAGE OF OLDER ANIME WOMAN, OR WAS IT BLUE EYE WHITE DRAGON SHAPED LIKE LITERAL CHILD- ah who am I kidding even disgrace like you would be terrified of 5000 year old child with knowledge of biology. BUT POINT STANDS. YOU DID NOT MAKE GUN. NOT EVEN ORKS FROM GRIM DARKNESS OF FAR FUTURE MAKE GUN SHIT LIKE THAT, THEY AT LEAST MAKE GUN HAVE SHAPE OF GUN AND HAVE MAGIC TO MAKE THEM FIRE GOOD. DISMANTLE THAT SHIT AND MAKE TWIN-BARRELED GUN WITH AK PLATFORM AND ADAPTABLE MAGAZINE HOLDER FOR 9MM AND .45 ACP OF AMERICA. THEN FIGURE OUT HOW TO FUCKING USE RULER AND "STICK-BUILD" IF YOU CANT MAKE STRAIGHT LIKE WITH RULER.

[caterpillar-and-canvasari]

Elder Scrolls IV x Pathfinder, Part 1

So... I got burnt out on my Pathfinder game a few months ago, and I started running a game based on TES IV: Oblivion, which was the first Elder Scrolls game I ever played. I'm not gonna put too many details that I haven't revealed to the group yet, because they're avid theorycrafters and they're digging through UESP and the internet in general trying to figure out my cryptic hints, but I will share what's happened so far, because frankly, I'm having a wonderful time.

In this version of Oblivion, the game starts with three prisoners in a cell: Skadi Nagania, an Imperial spellsword with Nord heritage, whose family motto is "I have learned nothing"; Flees-From-Water, an Argonian Blade novice with a crippling fear of slaughterfish and a strong dedication to law and order; and Theaval Oakvale, a Bosmer alchemist and the most True Neutral character you'll ever meet. The three of them are taunted by a certain Dunmer as they languish in their cell.

(Yes I am including my Valen Dreth dialogue, I spent a lot of time writing and rehearsing it!) "Well, well, well, what a sorry little party we have here! A filthy human, a midget, and a lizard. A pity you three won't have long to get to know one another. Do you know what happens to the people they place in that cell? I've heard the guards talking, something about 'extraction.' What are they extracting, I wonder? Your blood? Your life force? Your very souls? Well, it won't be long until you find out. Heeheeheehee!"

At this point, the party hears horrible screaming echoing from further down in the dungeons, and they all remember what they were doing before they were in the prison- there was a deafening crack, louder than any thunder, the sky seemed to split open, and a brilliant white light erupted from the heavens before they were knocked unawares.

Fortunately, they have a way out; after poking around the cell, they realize that a slab of the wall seems to be loose, and after more examination, they realize it can be pulled to the side using a pulley disguised as a shackle. They make their way through decrepit ruins and twisting tunnels, fighting off rats, and then skeletons, and then goblins, gathering supplies as they go (mysteriously, the loot they find is exactly what they had on their character sheets before they were arrested XD). Finally, they reach an area they expect to be full of Mythic Dawn agents (three of my four players have played Oblivion before), but instead they find clockwork spiders, crafted from mirror-polished silvery metal and powered by strange, grey clusters of crystal. The party continues on, and they find scattered bodies, both Blades and Mythic Dawn, with the occasional smashed spider. Finally, they reach a room with several doors, and the party goes to different doors to try and force a way open. It's then that Flees walks into a room and finds the body of Uriel Septim VII.

Now, something to know about Flees' player: when he first joined my group, he was extremely self-conscious. He deliberately chose to play a near-silent masked edgelord to avoid too much interaction. But as Flees fell to his kness, his player broke down into an incredibly dramatic combination of crying, yelling, muttering to himself, and, once the other players tried to comfort him, playing off their responses beautifully. I was so proud of him. Then Skadi's player really got into things, too, pushing Flees to focus on the task at hand with an uncharacteristic, authoritative coldness that was quite imperial and almost... dragonlike. Yeah, uh, everyone knows what the eventual plot twist with Skadi is.

When the three of them step out of the sewers at last, they are greeted by a terrifying sight: the Imperial City is burning, the White-Gold Tower encased in grey crystals that descend from a rift in the now-grey sky, and in the heavens hangs what looks like ornate metal latticework, encasing all of the world beyond that celestial schism.

That's where I left the first session.

[dak-legacy]

Toki mains Reaper in Overwatch.

[existentialcrisisrambler]

Warning: A normal ramble about being worried about how Jay ended up with the Walkers in the first place somehow turned into a "shower argument" type of ramble, but the 2 sides arguing have chemistry.

-

Season 6 has left me wondering how tf did Jay ended with the Walkers, and the edgelord part of myself keeps coming with the worst possible scenario, like:"Oh my gosh Jay was literally dumped in the junkyard as a baby."

The other part of myself is hitting the edgelord with a rolled up newspaper and saying: "Shut up, Jay could have been adopted from an orphanage or be given directly towards the Walkers by either his mom or dad. Think about it, how did Cliff Gordon manage to keep up with Jay's life from a far if he didn't know who adopted him?"

Then, the edgelord fights back with some sass: "Cliff Gordon was a womanizer who wrote an entire book about how to create a relationship based on lies and generally terrible communication (It's also kinda sexist). There's no way things ended well between him and the last Master of Lightning. I doubt that kind of dude would have been involved much in his child's adoption process to other people."

The edgelord holds up a finger close to the less edgy one's face: "Another thing, why would a filthy rich actor needs to give away his child up for adoption? He could have easily hired a nanny or do what Misako did and dump Jay at a boarding school."

The less edgy one lowers the arm wielding the newspaper and sighs: "You're right. But here's the thing, we don't have all the pieces. We don't actually know if Cliff and the last Master of Lightning had a falling out, we don't know how she died and we don't know if she died during childbirth or some time after that. We don't know why Jay was given away in the first place. Was he given away in a hurry or was the choice to give him away thought more thoroughly? And just to be optimistic, we don't know if Cliff died still believing in the things he wrote in that book. He could've died a changed man, but kept the book as a reminder (I do think Cliff is a bastard for not contacting Jay at all, but that's for another time)

The edgelord folds her arms and shakes her head with a smirk: Fine then, you argumentative bastard

Then they hung out by watching a trashy show on tv while sharing snacks. (I'm aware (with worry) that there's enough chemistry between these two losers to have them make out. However, I hate myself, all parts of it, too much to allow them to do that.)

[chaoticevilspacewitch]

Oh gods no please do not inflict your Weiss/Adam fantasies on the world. Please smother that hellbaby in the filthy cradle of your fever-riddled imagination.

But yeah I've always thought Adam was a deliberate deconstruction of the anime edgelord type, and his entire arc, particularly Blake ending up with generally-upbeat & positive Yang, a critique of the entire 'dark antihero' trope.

Adam is Frank Miller's Dark Knight. Unhinged, brooding, hyperviolent, and depersonalized behind a mask. He's the other everyman of the show, which is why certain segments of the fandom took his downfall so badly. His sad, unheroic defeat and Blake definitively choosing Yang instead was their own fantasy getting double-shanked.

Look me in the eye and tell me Monty planned for Adam to become a one dimensional edgelord after having spent three volumes building him up as a tragic, conflicted revolutionary.

Bruh.

Literally the first thing we see Adam do in the series is hijack a train full of innocent civilians and bluntly state he doesn't give a damn if they die because of his actions. He was never a good person.

[sunlitmcgee]

Y’know there’s Many Reasons why I hate c!Techno. Many reasons that needn’t be aired out here. But I think the main thing that makes him so awful, so annoying, so goddamn insidious and downright repulsive, is that no matter how hard I try to ignore him, he will always end up forcing himself into the stories of the characters that I Actually Enjoy And Somewhat Care About.

Like see I don’t like c!Niki. Never have. She’s just very meh to me and not very interesting. She’s involved in lore connected to my favs, but her presence and impact there is so minor and brief that I can easily ignore her and forget she exists.

But c!Techno? C!Technoblade Bitch Cunt Fucker Blood God Bastard Piggy Piece of Rancid Ass Fuck?

HE’S EVERYWHERE! HE IS IN EVERY PLOT OF EVERY CHARACTER I EVEN MILDLY ENJOY. AND HE’S NEVER GOOD! HE’S NEVER FUN OR INTERESTING OR INVOLVED IN THE THEMES BEYOND TAKING THE THEMES AND STAMPING ALL OVER THEM.

I can’t escape him! I can’t ignore him! No matter the character, He’s Always There. C!Tommy was framed as a villain because of Bedrock Bros. C!Ranboo was even more pathetic(and not in a fun way) due to his involvement with the Syndicate, and now c!Tubbo’s gone from one of the most complex & nuanced characters to nothing more than a shallow bratty girlboss because this filthy pig cannot help but infect every story he comes into contact with with the most horrid brand of Edgelord Mary Sue-ness that I have ever seen. 

He’s everywhere. He’s horrible. He’s a stain on the lore and I hate that I have to deal with him whenever lore for my favs come up. God I want him dead PLEASE just kill him 

[ac-liveblogs]

Scaramouche's character from what it looks like is literally an edgy teenager with an inflated napoleon complex. He blames Ei but honestly, most of the problems are him and his napoleon complex and god complex.

Hmmm. We don't have much to work on with Scaramouche - just his tripped-out hallucination monologue and the one-sided conversation in Phardis Dhyai - but even that links together coherently enough, even if I think the execution is lazy.

What is a god complex to a character that was created to be a god? Scaramouche is trying to gain the omniscience he was always meant to have - and is very aware he missed out on it - because he's tried living as a human and discovered the hard way that being human and having feelings sucks. Because he is a child that never learnt how to process grief or negative emotion, he lashes out at the people that hurt him and goes full doomer mode on the concept of existing. Like, as he is right now - he doesn't want to exist anymore.

He outright says he's fine losing "Scaramouche" - memories, personality, etc. - in the pursuit of Godhood, because before Scaramouche hit edgelord villain mode, his life was painful. It's easier to read all this as being akin to suicidal ideation - death of the ego, not death of the flesh.

"REALITY... IS PAIN!" > "I don't want to exist [as myself]" > "I was cheated out of a better life" > "I will take that life for myself, even/especially at the cost of this one" > "Dottore is a filthy enabler"

He is also a huge jackass.

At the very least, this is how it's reading to me.

I don't think that Scaramouche is as hung up on Ei as people think. I mean, we have chronicled a little too extensively that Scaramouche spent [x] centuries taking homicidal potshots at the Raiden Gokaden, but the closest he ever came to lashing out at Ei was his... stupid Vision Hunt Decree, which only tangentially affected Ei and was mostly for economic reasons? He didn't even engage with her in Inazuma, although that is very possibly just because HYV are lazy hack writers.

Which is always a problem to take into consideration when evaluating any story or character arc. HYV are lazy hacks and will absolutely take the easy way out wherever they can! I mean. Look at his entire story. This fucking kid...

[just-another-self-shipper]

💐 DO IT 👀👀👀 for anyone you like! :D

— @dark-magical-ships

I'm doing this one for Black Hat (since he doesn't do typical lovey-dovey romance, the flowers will reflect that lol)

Amaranth (immortality)

Amaryllis (pride)

Buttercup (riches) since he's a filthy capitalist

Coriander (lust)

Laurel (ambition, success, renown)

Lime blossom (fornication)

Morning glory (love in vain, affection) [which one applies? It's a mystery]

Rose, black (mystery, danger, obsession)

Wolfsbane (misanthropy)

A smaller bouquet since most of the flowers have positive connotations and that won't do for my Edgelord™ (affectionate)

Thanks for the ask, @dark-magical-ships ^^

[nemofil]

more sincere deceit spoilers loll

smth’s up with the military guy. mf really just up and left his people

i LOVE the funhouse aesthetic of the entertainment district but can i just say whoever the hell made the geometry like that deserves 10 years of jail time

oh so the dude running the cafe was. well i should’ve expected that but i didn’t

this purple edgelord called jadon rlly tried taking my batter like no bitch that’s MY puppet not yours take your filthy hands off of him

wait this bitch can break the 4th wall? OMG hiii my name’s hachi yes :)

he also tried manipulating me by telling me his edgy backstory then forcing me to watch his play

it was entertaining though. 3.5/5

oh right he’s a simp for the batter it’s fucking hilarious

oooh red voice coming in clutch

IT’S KINDA SHORT SINCE I HAVEN’T BEEN PLAYING THE GAME A LOT THESE DAYS BUT YEAH jadon was. yeah i love jadon i can be your puppet <3

[keelywolfe]

FIC: Snowdrifts ch.2 (spicyhoney)

Summary: Undertale brothers in the house! Blue is gonna have to bring out more chairs.

Tags: Spicyhoney, Violence, Rescued Child, Medical Experimentation, Babybones

Read it on AO3

or

Read it here!

~~*~~

From the first moment his brother chose to lead him through the filthy hallways of the old lab to show him an innocent child, Edge felt as if he weren’t quite aligned with the real world any longer. His memory of taking the baby into his arms and summoning that first attack held almost a dreamlike quality, as did their desperate flight from Hotland to the outskirts of Snowdin. It left him in the unfamiliar position of a memory he both didn’t want to remember but also never wanted to forget.

In a single moment, his world was twisted and turned upside down, so he supposed in that way it made sense that they ended up in Underswap.

It was also amusing, in its way, that the first reaction of all of their alternates was so similar to his own: pure doubt of what they were seeing, and the chaos of the Undertale brothers meeting Snow was another memory that wouldn’t be soon forgotten.

Before he could even agree that yes, their sight was not deceiving them, it was indeed a baby and a skeleton Monster baby at that, the door to the bedroom upstairs opened. Stretch emerged in a loose-limbed shamble, still sleep drowsy and wearing only a sagging pair of boxer shorts.

He’d barely made it to the landing before Blue said with loud outrage, “Papy! Put some clothes on!! We have guests!”

Stretch all but screeched to a stop and looked down at himself, blinking owlishly as if trying to figure out exactly what part of his wardrobe was unacceptable for company. Edge could only hope that he didn’t choose the boxer shorts and tried to look as if he certainly wasn’t appreciative of the very lovely view of smooth, silky bones.

That was, until he noticed the way Red was smirking as he took his own gander at the scenery. Edge frowned, jabbing an elbow into his brother’s side as he hissed out, “Quit staring!”

Red only rubbed at his ribs unrepentantly. “hey, lil’ window shopping never hurt anyone.” That leer tore Edge between the urge to slap his brother upside the skull or to cover Snow’s little sockets to protect her from such a terrible sight.

“It’s going to hurt you right in the tailbone!”

“oh, so sorry bro, didn’t know you were the jealous type.”

“I don’t need to be the jealous type to not want to see you drooling on the floor!”

In the midst of their whispered argument, overshadowed by Blue’s shouts, Stretch stood frozen on the landing. He spared a horrified look at them in the living room and all the eye lights staring up at him, then back at himself and wealth of bare bone he was showing. Stretch didn’t say a word, only turned on his heel and went right back into the bedroom. When he emerged again, he was dressed from his socks to the hood pulled over his skull and Edge was again split in his emotions, both mourning the loss and righteously grateful that his brother lost the privilege, too.

In the meantime, Papyrus took possession of the baby with much the same awkward enthusiasm that Blue had, bouncing her lightly in his arms as he burbled happily, “What a precious, adorable child who was definitely not here the last time we came over! What’s her name?”

“It’s Snow,” Edge told him. It was only then that he remembered he hadn’t yet shared the name with his brother, who groaned loudly, slumping back on the sofa.

“snow? really, bro?” Red complained. “we’re surrounded by the stuff every day and now you want to add it to the roll call? don’t we even get to put it to a vote?”

“I’m trying to protect her from the evils of the world,” Edge told him stiffly, “a name chosen by you would likely qualify.”

The way his brother’s grin widened should have warned him, if warning was even necessary when it came to Red. “snow kiddin’, bro, here i am just chillin’, and you gotta snowball me like that? i coulda picked an ice name for the little flake—"

“You seem to be under the mistaken impression that I won't hurt you in front of the baby.”

“Let it go, let it go,” Papyrus interrupted brightly. He held the baby up, dangling in his hands in a way that made Edge resist the urge to snatch her away. “It’s a perfect name for her, absolutely! Even if she occasionally gets ribbed about it.”

“yeah, it’s a great name,” Stretch agreed. Within the depths of his hood, his grin was cheekily wide. “if i do say snow myself. and i did.”

At that moment, Snow decided she’d had more than enough of being the center of attention or perhaps she simply had good taste when it came to horrible puns. She let out a loud wail, squirming in Papyrus’s hold as she reached for Edge. He gathered her into his arms, privately grateful to have at least one person on his side when it came to a dislike of awful humor.

Her cries cut through the general chaos, rendering normally loud skeletons fretfully silent and Edge stood, cuddling her close as he tried to coax her hiccoughing sobs to stop.

“someone’s had too much excitement,” Stretch said. He stood and went over to the pillows that had served as her nest and ended up haphazardly pushed aside to make way for the highchair. He rearranged them and patted a spot right in the middle. “bring her over here, she can have a laydown while we explain the sitch.”

Edge carried her over, patting her back as she whimpered and clung. “Perhaps I should take her upstairs, instead.”

“nah, sit with her,” Stretch said firmly, “she’ll settle down. better to train ‘em young to sleep through anything, useful skill.”

“Yes, you and my brother make use of it often.”

Despite his worries, Edge settled her into the pillows, following her down to sit next to her on the floor. He gently rubbing her sternum, paying no mind to the greenish bean stains on her pajamas, and very soon, the child calmed, falling asleep with an ease that would make several skeletons he could name envious.

He sighed, relieved, and turned around, startling to find everyone looking at him. Waiting, Edge realized; he had said he would explain and it seemed Red was more than willing to leave that task to him. Trust Red to stick to the more enjoyable parts of childcare and leave the difficult task of revising the birds and the bees to him. Or in this case, more like beakers and broken ethics.

This time, he kept the information to the barest details of finding her and taking her from the lab. It was not a story he cared to keep reliving.

“…and so we brought her here, to keep her safe,” Edge finished. Despite his cursory explanation, the entire time he’d been talking Blue and Papyrus sat in silence, their sockets huge. With every word, they’d crept forward as they listened until both of them were only inches away from him, still listening raptly.

“You save her,” Blue said, awed, “like a hero from a storybook!”

“Yes!” Papyrus agreed fervently, “A knight. Riding in on your steed—”

Red snorted, “that’s one i ain’t ever been called.”

“—saving the damsel from the evil villain!” Papyrus finished triumphantly. “If only I could have been there with you!”

“And me!” Blue added, starry-eyed, “the Magnificent Sans!”

“And the Great Papyrus!”

“Heroes!” The last was said in unison, both of them striking bold poses with hands on their hips right where they sat. Their glowing triumph was only diminished by sheepish guilt as the baby stirred uneasily at the noise.

“Heroes,” Edge murmured. He didn’t have the soul in him to disabuse them of their fantasy, even if he could somehow persuade them that there was nothing heroic about his so-called rescue, not in the slightest. He glanced back at the baby, watching the soft rise and fall of her chest as she slept peacefully. No, not heroic, only this small glimmer of goodness stolen from the depths of misfortune.

“so what are the odds of anyone popping through a portal to come looking for the little princess?”

They all turned to look at Sans, who was leaning against the sofa arm, his hands tucked into his pockets. He was the only one who’d made no attempt to hold the baby, Edge realized. Even now he kept back in that half-hidden way he had where one didn’t quite notice he was even missing until he spoke, his normal easygoing smile tightened into a near-grimace.

There was a question buried in there, but Edge wasn’t going to be the one to bring it up, entirely too busy deciding how to field the one he’d just been asked.

His brother chose that as his moment to finally speak up. “chances of that happenin’ ‘s at about zero, sansy. no new visitors are gonna stop by from our little slice of the universe.”

“you sure about that?” Sans said. His tone was light, almost teasing. The brief strobe of his eye light into a blur of blue/yellow, anything but.

“yep,” Red popped the ‘p’ loudly, “real fucking sure. now, how’s about we get to work on that movie before the abominable snow monster wakes up?”

Papyrus and Blue scrambled to their feet and headed for the kitchen, speaking in hushed tones that were really only just below a shout about popcorn and snacks and dashing deeds.

Edge stayed where he was next to the child and fought the urge to look at Sans. He could feel the weight of his gaze resting heavily on him, right up until his line of sight was broken by Stretch crouching down next to him.

“you want me to bring you some popcorn?” Stretch grinned ruefully, “figured you might want to sit next to the snowflake for this.”

“Yes, thank you,” Edge said, surprised. It was hardly necessary, he could certainly manage the two minutes required to go to the kitchen himself for a bowlful. He could, except for the fact that Sans’s question sent an uncomfortable trill crawling up his spine. Ridiculous, his brother was right, it was impossible for anyone to come from Underfell now, the machine was the only way, there was no other path.

Utterly ridiculous, and yet, Edge wanted to stay close to the baby all the same.

Stretch hadn’t yet move. “hey, edgelord,” Stretch leaned in, whispering right next to his audial canal. “i know you don’t think much of it, but i’m tellin’ you, they had the right of it, hero.”

“I’m not a hero,” Edge said, softly. He’d only done what any person whose soul wasn’t hardened to stone would, likely what his brother intended all along. It was only incidental that he’d been the one doing it, a combination of circumstance and luck.

“you are to her. and me.” Stretch stood quickly without giving Edge a chance to protest, faint orange dusting across his cheekbones as he headed for the kitchen where the rattle of popcorn was beginning. Next to him the child stirred, murmuring softly in her sleep. Edge reached over to settle a gentle hand on her, crooning wordless soothing. She didn’t wake, only took two of his fingers into a surprisingly strong grip and held on.

How was it, he wondered distantly, that her tiny grip transferred so easily to his soul, squeezing with gentle warmth around it right in his ribcage and holding on tight.

~~*~~

tbc

[cherry-flavoured-thot]

Maybe for fgo do you have any hc sfw and nsfw for Edmond Dante's? I love my avenger husband please and thank you!!

I am surprised by how much i ended up loving this edgelord 

Edmond:

-Edmond and the concept of an s/o crack me up, because he’s walking around being a brooding avenger, mutter to himself and everyone’s is just like nothing unusual going on here, but his s/o is actually walking along with him hidden in his coat and they’re talking.

-He will go above and beyond for his s/o. Need some coffee? Done. Want an extra blanket cause you’re cold? Done. Need someone to completely disappear? No? Okay but just let him know. Need someone to come an rescue you from a life or death situation? Dantes is on his way.

-Sometimes him and his s/o will just be chilling and he’ll just, disappear, it happens often enough that his s/o isn’t too surprised that it happens, sometimes he tells them why, stating there was something he needed to check on. But in reality he had to leave the room a moment because he witnessed them doing something very cute and he wants to keep his reputation as an avenger in tact.

-Which is completely pointless, because it doesn’t take a genius to see how whipped he is for them, Dantes s/o literally said they wanted to give you a kiss and without hesitation you bent down so they could give you one.

-All I can think about is how skilled Dantes is at hiding or finding places to hide, would he put that skill to use to bang his s/o in dark alleyways while doings his best to muffled any sounds they might make? Probably.

-Most of the noises he makes during sex are him dirty talking his s/o, but it’s not impossible for his s/o to make his words get caught in his throat, they’ll find him pretty silent when they’re sucking his off or they’re riding him.

-Although they’ll find his voice returns pretty quickly after he finishes, especially if it’s after sucking his dick and they’ve let him finish on them, making about just how filthy they look right at this moment.

[lettherebemonsters]

He glared at the Radio Demon, those yellow lights simulating his eyes almost more demonic than the sinners he judged. He had beaten Alastor once.....but that was when Heaven had his back. Now.....he was alone down here.

He had to be smart about this.....fuck, he wished Lute was down here with him. She'd know what to do....

" I'm keeping my fucking eyes on you, Edgelord. Make the wrong move and I won't fucking hesitate....."

It was a draw.....but Adam played to win. If the Radio Demon wanted to play filthy, he was going to jump in the mud face-first.

"Thank you for the lovely card." slowly reaches his hand out. "Why don't you come here so I can touch your growing wings?" @voodoodaaddy

" Hehehe, nice try Al. But I'm not letting any part of you go near my wings again.

Not unless you want to hear what the inside of your fucking prostate sounds like with your mike up the ass..."