#hes angry and he deserves to be. he deserves to be selfish and decide that he's done letting the people he cares about be sacrificed

[kawaiijellymonster]

just saw a thing on pinterest that said that getou sucks as a villain, imagine being so wrong, couldn't be me

[iz-star]

About Zayne's loneliness.

Sometimes I wonder what an angry Zayne looks like? I mean, NOT angry at MC/you but maybe angry at Astra and/or his fate for putting him in such difficult and unfair situations.

Zayne loves MC deeply, with his whole being, but loving her makes him be 'selfish', to want something for himself, to seek his own happiness alongside MC when it seems that his fate was always to serve others before looking after himself.

It's like he himself said in Master of Fate's Myth: "When emotions and desires are involved, selfishness is bound to exist".

In Master of Fate, he's deemed as a Siming which in Chinese mythology, is a kind of deity in charge to allocate humans' life spans, and according to Wikipedia:

"Siming's special concern (and power) is the balancing of yin and yang (Hawkes 2011 (1985), 109). Of particular relevance here is the relation between yin and yang balance and human health, and the importance to individual human health of such balance, as articulated in traditional Chinese medicine. Siming has the power to balance or unbalance yin and yang, and thus to lengthen or shorten human lifespans, or to provide health or prolong illness".

Siming could decide to provide health to a person or to prolong illness, in that way, having an important role into deciding people's life spans. It's interesting cause Dr Zayne and Dawnbreaker pretty much do the same.

Dr Zayne does his best to cure and take care of people, thus stretching out their life span, while Dawnbreaker gives them a merciful death to avoid them to live as walking corpses, thus shortening their life span.

Unlike Master of Fate or Foreseer, at first glance it could look like Dr Zayne and Dawnbreaker have no God-like power, thus have no control over destiny or fate, yet they still do.

It's actually Foreseer the one who lacks some kind of jurisdiction about people's lifes and fates; he could still glimpse at their destiny, being aware of what awaits people but wasn't allowed to intervene in any sense and most of all, he wasn't allowed to glimpse at his own fate.

In any case, until now, all Zayne's lifes have always been about taking care of other's destiny but what about him? When describing gods, Zayne is actually quite humble, saying that gods maybe are just like humans, except that they had the chance to do a bit more.

Zayne is quite selfless. He's not the kind of man who would blame his destiny for all the things that have happened to him and yet... They're still unfair.

Foreseer once said: "My destiny is to disappear from the annals of history... For someone who wants to remember me, it certainly feels wonderful".

At some point, Zayne's duty isolated him in every life time. He lived alone and caged in a Tower in Foreseer's Myth, he lived alone in the Mountains as Master of Fate, and he lived totally alone as Dawnbreaker. His only companions were Jas/Bai but no other human being.

Dr Zayne is actually the only one whose duty has brought him some kind of recognition, admiration and appreciation (and well deserved, of course), and hasn't isolated him from society, but funnily enough, he has this condition with his evol that sometimes turns him into a treath, which makes him keep others at arms length, especially MC. As for Master of Fate? Foreseer? Dawnbreaker? They all have to move the threads behind backstage in a lonely duty, being Foreseer the most severe case. It doesn't help that in the Foreseer timeline, Zayne is even explictly prohibited to be with MC.

Zayne's fate was always to look after other people's fate but like I've said before, MC was always the exception of every rule in his book because she was the one who made him yearn for human warmth and closeness with someone else and because of that, he'd break the rules to ensure she lives a long happy and safe life, even if is not at his side... Unironically.

In Foreseer's Myth, it is said that Astra prohibited him of being with MC in this and his other lifes because Zayne was a tool. At first, Astra's severity at punishing Zayne looked more like a senseless tantrum of a prepotent god and while that might be true, it seems that Zayne not being able to be with MC in every life time is simply because she would never allow him to fullfil 'his destiny' and to make matters worse, she's a "variant" (We don't know exactly what this entails, we just know that is something threatening, I have some assumptions about it but let's keep it like this for now) . That's why, unlike Rafayel and the other LIs, it seems that he doesn't keep memories of his previous lifes or previous experiences with MC, yet he said once that if souls truly existed, then he was sure that his soul recognized MC before his memory did. MC is this person that always reminds him that he's not just a "tool", a means to an end, but an individual being that is also deserving of something better.

Zayne's love for MC often reminds me of that Córtazar quote: "You were always my mirror, what I'm trying to say is that, in order to see me, I had to see you"

I wonder if there's one life time where Zayne will be allowed to have happiness and company without having to pay a high price for it.

[rileyslibrary]

Where’s my pen, Lt.?

Summary: You’re PMSing, and Ghost comes to the rescue.

Relationship: Simon “Ghost” Riley x F!Reader

Word Count: 1,110

Notes:

Angst and fluff

Dedicated to my ✨ anon

Want more?

———————————————————————

How can you be angry, sad, and tired all at the same time? It’s a never-ending cycle. Every month right before your period, you feel like shit. What did your species do to deserve such a cruel and recurring punishment? What a selfish b*tch that Eve was. So much for taking one for the team.

You’re standing in front of a table with a shattered drone resting on its mahogany top. Fortunately, with the right tools, carbon fibre is easy to repair. Unfortunately, this army base doesn’t have the necessary equipment and personnel for the job. It can be a complex task if you don’t have the resources, especially if you lack the energy and strength to do it just by yourself.

Ghost is sitting in the corner of the room, cleaning his handgun. He looks calm—sirene—as if he didn’t just stare death straight in the eyes a few hours ago. How does he do that?

On the contrary, your movements are sluggish, you have terrible back pain, and you lack the motivation to complete even the most basic tasks. But you have to fix that drone for its next mission.

You catch a glimpse of yourself in one of the drone’s camera lenses. You’re unrecognisable. Your hair is acting up again, with unruly strands forming a halo at the crown of your head. Not only that, but your reflection reveals another issue. You take a closer look at your face. Fuck; another pimple. It decided to settle on your chin this time. Great—just great.

“Everything alright?” He asks, interrupting your thoughts.

“Y-yes, ready to start the process.” You answer with false confidence. Can he tell you’re faking it? Probably.

He says nothing but keeps staring at you with an unreadable expression, his silence giving an answer in itself. After what seemed like an eternity, he stands up and walks towards the door, exiting the room and leaving you alone.

You close your eyes and take a deep breath, exhaling in relief. Come on, get a hold of yourself. Focus.

You gather your hair up and fix it with whatever you have available in front of you. Now is not the time to be making stylistic decisions. You’re not here to compete in a pageant, anyway. What you need to do is fix that damn thing and fast.

You roll up your sleeves, grab your notepad, and open it on a new page. You pick up your p-

Where’s your pen?

You begin searching the table for your missing item, picking up drone components and putting them back in an unruly manner.

Maybe it rolled off the table!

You kneel on the floor, furiously searching for your pen as if you’d lost your most treasured asset. Where did it go? It can’t just grow legs and walk away! It must be here, somewhere.

You stumble as you rise to your feet, bumping your head on the table’s corner. Dizzy and frustrated, you stay on all fours, attempting to calm yourself with every ounce of dignity you have left.

Until you ultimately give up. So much for the confidence boost you tried to give yourself a few moments ago. You roll around and sit on the floor, drawing your knees close to your chest and burying your face in them as you let out a long, deep sigh.

“Is that part of the repair process, soldier?” Ghost asks as he re-enters the room, “do you grieve the drone first before you glue it back together?”

Today, of all days, he decided to act like an asshole.

“I misplaced my pen, Lieutenant,” you reply, still seated on the floor.

“You’re crying because you misplaced your pen.” He repeats in a deep, monotonous voice.

“I’m not cr- forget it.” You sigh defeated.

You can’t tell him what’s going on inside you. He’ll never understand. Ghost could take a bullet to the shoulder and still manage to climb a mountain while you’re whining about a minor inconvenience.

“Get up.” He commands, and you follow his orders. You pick yourself up, dust yourself off, and attempt to stand as straight as possible.

He stares at you with those interrogative eyes of his and slides something from across the table. You look down at the purple-wrapped rectangle in front of you.

A chocolate bar.

“I know what’s up,” he says, shrugging as he looks at the chocolate, “you tend to be like that a few days before.”

Your eyes widen in surprise. “How do you know?”

“I keep a log,” he explains. “I might be confident enough setting up an ambush in the middle of the desert, but I don’t push my luck with you.”

You crack a smile and accept the chocolate. “Thank you, Ghost,” you mutter, eyeing the piece of candy. He keeps a log, huh? What a guy.

“About that pen you were looking for,” he continues, “it’s in that patty of yours,” he explains and points at you.

In the what of yours??? You stand perplexed by his last statement until he gestures toward the back of his head. You mimic his actions and chuckle in embarrassment as you realise what he’s referring to. But of course! You used the pen to secure your hair. You exhale in relief and pick the pen off to set it on the notepad.

“You’re a lifesaver, Simon.” You reply.

“Keep your gratitude for the battlefield, soldier,” he adds dismissively. He’s obviously flattered, but he’ll never confess it. “Now tell me, how’s your back doing?” He asks, “still in pain?”

You nod. “Hurts like a motherfucker, sir.”

“Let me see,” he says, and you lift your hair up to expose the back of your neck. He moves in closer to get a better look, and you can feel the heat of his breath against your skin. His fingers are gentle as he works his way down your neck, kneading the soreness and pain away with skill. You wince as you feel his touch, but the pain is nothing compared to what it was before he began to work his magic.

“Oh, and, uh, Lieutenant?” You whisper softly, almost inaudibly, as you feel the tension leaving your body.

“Hm?” He murmurs, his strong hands now carefully massaging your shoulders.

“It’s called a bun,” you say with a smirk, “not a patty.”

———————————————————————

[leth-writes]

I'm so happy to see someone writing for twilight it really doesn't get the love it deserves.

This is weirdly specific, so bear with me.

Can I request Paul (twilight) x reader who's Jacob's ex-girlfriend, and they had like a really messy brake up so they REALLY don't like each other and so Paul and jacob get onto a fight about it.

Thanks for your time I've really been enjoying reading your work❤️❤️❤️

hello, lovely anon!

Usually I do shorter pieces for requests, but I kinda blacked out and wrote 2000 words for this... Sorry?

Please enjoy!

It was quiet, without Jacob. The two of you had been dating for over a year, before suddenly all he could think of was Bella, Bella, Bella. She was the only thing in the world that mattered to him. You didn’t mind the two of them being friends, you weren’t jealous and you didn’t believe the rumors spreading at school, but you still wanted to SEE him! You loved him, for god’s sake! But no, Bella was sad or Bella was tired or Bella wanted to go exploring and suddenly, he had no time for you. 

It had been weeks since you’d last truly spoken beyond a quick 20 minute phone call every time you tried to hang out. In fact, you decided, today was the last day. It was the last day you would grovel and beg for his attention. This was it; if he didn’t agree today, you were done. He could go date Bella for all you cared.

You stomped down the stairs, your socked feet hitting against the soft white carpet, and skidded into the tiled kitchen. The grey light streamed in, illuminating the phone like a halo. It was fitting for something that would determine the fate of your relationship.

Angry, yet hopeful, you strode forward and picked up the phone, resolutely dialing Jacob’s number and waiting as it rang.

Finally, someone picked up. “Hello?” Jacob called, sounding groggy.

“Hey, Jake! I was thinking, we should spend some time together! It’s been a hard couple of weeks, and I haven’t seen you at all!” You said, anger draining and hope filling your chest, suddenly feeling weak at the knees. God, you’d missed his voice. “Can’t, Bella and I are going to try and build the motorcycles. You know she’s been having a hard time recently, and I think I’m really helping!” He responded, sounding distracted and far from the phone. 

The hope shattered like ice, cutting up your insides. “Jake, we haven’t hung out in 3 weeks. I could really use my boyfriend today,”. Even to your own ears, your voice was pleading. It sounded weak and brittle, like you were fragile, not the strong front you’d tried to put on for him.

He sighed, voice crackly through the receiver. “Listen, you know Bella hasn’t been doing so well, and I’m the only thing that makes her feel better. You can’t expect me not to go out with her, just because you’re feeling a bit lonely…” His voice was exasperated and distant, like he was already done with the conversation.

Suddenly, that anger came roaring back, licking up the sides of your chest and burning away at your heart. You felt yourself trembling with rage, with despair, at the way he was talking to you.

“No, you listen, Jacob! I’m done! If you aren’t going to see me, if you’re going to prioritize Bella, then you can go stay with her! I never want to see your stupid, selfish face ever again, you fucking asshole!” You practically shouted, slamming the phone down. You whirled around, nose practically bellowed steam, and stomped to the couch, grabbing a pillow and screaming into it. You’d show him, you’d go out and have fun all by yourself and prove you didn’t need such a shitty boyfriend anyways!

It’d been a month since you last talked to Jacob, and while the breakup hurt, you were glad you’d ended the relationship when you had. Looking back, the thought of hanging on was depressing; you’d reconnected with your friends in the past month, going out practically every day and hanging out anytime it got too rainy to go to La Push. You hadn’t seen Jacob or Bella around, and you could honestly say you were happy to not have to so much as think about them anymore. It wasn’t your business.

It was the perfect day to go La Push, and your friends were already there when you pulled into the parking lot. It was overcast, no real sign of rain, and a gentle, cool breeze was drifting through. The beach was covered in large rocks, not really meant for swimming, but perfect for drinking and just listening to music and gossiping, and that’s exactly what you did. 

Until, of course, they arrived. Jacob had been sure they were a blossoming gang, but you hadn’t been so sure. You’d never really spoken to them but Billy had thought they were good kids, just a bit… odd. Yet, now, seeing them on the beach, you could understand where Jacob would’ve gotten that misconception. Sam and his friends were massive, Sam himself standing at almost 6’6” by the looks of it and the shortest member, the boy with the dimpled chin, cleared 6’0” easily. They were heavily muscled, each wearing cargo shorts and shirtless, and were rough-housing as they walked, bumping into each other and shoving each other as they approached your small group. The loudest of the boys, the one with the intense expression and the loud voice, shoved the smallest and laughed boisterously. Then, he looked over. And he made eye contact with you.

And he stared.

And stared.

Eventually, you grew uncomfortable, shifting uneasily on the small picnic blanket you were sitting on as you looked away, toward Sam. He was pulling the loud boy to the side, harshly whispering as the boy kept eye contact. You leant over to your friend, quietly asking which boy was which. You listened as she pointed them out; the one staring at you was Paul, and he was dangerous. You gulped, once again looking away and out toward the shoreline.

“Hey, mind if we join you guys?” Sam asked, approaching with his group and staring at you. The others also looked exclusively at you, though not as intensely as Paul, as though your answer was the only one that mattered. Shivering, suddenly cold, you nodded and looked down. “Hey, at least they’re hot,”one of the girls in your group muttered, and the tension was broken. You burst into laughter, snorting as you held your sides. At least you weren’t feeling uncomfortable anymore, even if you did feel a little dorky. You glanced up through your lashes and Paul was still staring, though less intensely, a soft gleam in his eyes and a small, genuine smile on his lips.

That was the beginning of your relationship with Paul.

You woke up to loud pounding on your front door. Racing down the stairs, you skidded to a stop in the front hall, making eye contact with Bella. Fucking Bella Swan was at your door at 6 in the morning, pounding furiously and looking like death warmed over. You sighed, resigned to not getting to sleep in on a Saturday, and opened the door slowly.

“There’s something wrong with Jacob!” Bella exclaimed. She looked haggard, eyes ringed with deep purple bags and pale skin looking almost translucent. Her hair was ragged and greasy, hanging limply around her wan face, clothes baggy and dirty. She looked like shit. Maybe Jacob broke up with her?

“Okay, and why does that involve me?” You said, leaning against the door jamb and staring off into the distance, squinting at the pale morning light.

“You’re his girlfriend, he’s bound to listen to you!” She cried, thin clammy hand clutching at your wrist as she tried to tug you toward her red rustbucket of a truck.

You remained unmoved, now glaring at her. “No, Bella, I’m not his girlfriend, we haven’t been together for over a month, and I haven’t seen him in over a month and a half. He spent all his time with you; why would he listen to me now?”

She paused, hearing the hurt hidden in your voice and glancing up into your eyes for the first time all morning.

“Wait… you broke up? But Jacob loves you!” She said, voice weaker than before, almost a whisper.

“Yeah, well, he cared about you more. But, I guess if he’s in trouble, fine. What do you need me to do?”

Jacob’s yard looked exactly the same as you remembered it. That made you feel oddly sad, like you’d subconsciously expected it to reflect Jacob’s sadness at you leaving. Yet, it remained the same, just as it was before you’d ever come into his life. Had you really had such a small impact?

Bella was already out of the truck, running toward Paul and the others as they sauntered toward the house from the tree line. You sprinted to keep up, knowing she was going to say something and futilely trying to prevent it. When you reached them, she had shoved Paul and was accusing the boys of hurting Jacob, whatever that meant. Paul was shaking, literally trembling, as his muscles jumped and leapt under his skin. It looked like his skin was… moving as he puffed in effort. “Paul?” you tentatively approached, drawing closer as he leant over, panting as his shoulders jerked. “Shit!” Sam cursed, leaping forward to pull you back and away from Paul. You kicked and struggled as he picked you up, trying to get back to Paul. Couldn’t they see he was sick?!

Suddenly, Paul was gone, and in his place was… a giant wolf. It was like he’d been cut out of the world and replaced. What had happened to Paul?

“Bella!” Jacob shouted, vaulting over the porch fence. His skin seemed to split open, replacing by rapidly growing fur, and his face elongated as his nose broke and became discolored. By the time he hit the ground, he was a wolf. Were you hallucinating? You felt faint, leaning heavily against Sam, who shifted to support your weight and drag you away from the fight. Both wolves were now circling each other, growling and barking, trying to nip at each other's flanks. You felt like you were receding from your body, like you weren’t real. Everything felt far away, and your ears rang. Then, you passed out and went limp.

You jerked awake with a gasp almost as soon as Sam caught your full weight, shifting to lift you up into his arms.

“Paul!” he called, and the wolf who had replaced Paul looked over, eyes wide and sad as he saw your trembling form. Then, the wolf was gone and Paul was standing in its place, quickly pulling on clothes as Embry passed a pair of shorts to him. He cursed lowly and jogged over, grabbing you from Sam’s arms and holding you close. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, over and over, like a prayer.

He sent you down gently, still holding you close to his chest, enveloping you in his soft warmth as his arms wrapped around your shoulders. The world went quiet and all was right, until Jacob interrupted the two of you by shoving Paul.

“Get the fuck away from her, you piece of shit!” He yelled out, punching Paul hard in the nose and causing a spurt of blood to leak out. Paul cursed again and spat out a mouthful of blood, growling lowly. “You don’t get to say that, asshole! You broke her heart, you have no right to tell her what to do!” Paul returned, standing his ground as Embry and Jared tried frantically to stop the fight from continuing. 

“That doesn’t mean you can put her in danger!”

“I didn’t! She didn’t know until your little girlfriend came along and started shit!” Paul bellowed, gesturing at Bella, who was shrinking into herself behind Jake.

“Don’t bring her into this! This is about your shitty control, Paul! Don’t blame Bella for you not being able to handle a little pressure!”

“Stop!” Sam said, getting in between the two. “Jacob, you go blow off some steam. Don’t come back until you’re calm. And Paul…” Sam continued, trailing off as everyone looked at you. “Just… Just explain everything, okay?” He said, sighing and rubbing his forehead to fight away the growing headache.

Paul turned to you, opening his mouth to speak. 

And that was the day you learned about shifters.

[kentosovertime]

(adj.) deadly, destructive

➳ yandere best friend!yuta x afab!reader - 1.5k

➳ a/n: straight up brain rot- i just know this man is unhinged

➳ cw: explicit content, explicit language, unprotected sex, orgasm denial, emotional manipulation, yandere themes, catfishing, friend zone, degradation, praise, pet names

✨Masterlist | Tag List | Ask Box | AO3 | Ko-Fi✨

Fat, ugly tears soak into Yuta’s white sweater as he wipes the wetness from your cheek while he rubs your back comfortingly with his free hand. 

“It’s gonna be ok, hun…” He coos with a warm hum that feels like home. It’s why you begged him to pick you up from the date you were stood up on and ghosted after months of talking. 

“N-n-no its n-not.” You sob into the pillow that you’ve curled around, clutching the fabric until your knuckles blanche in color. “I feel so fucking stupid!”

“What’s wrong?” He pretends to sound clueless, like he’s concerned about something you’re not telling him. “You still haven’t told me why you were at that coffee shop…”

“T-that guy I told you a-about-” Your breath shutters out of you, making it impossible to force words out for a second. “It w-was a d-date and h-he didn’t show up. I’m blocked on everything n-now.”

“The guy from the dating app?” He makes a show of furrowing his eyebrows in concern, frowning deeper when you nod your head into the pillow, sobbing even harder now. 

“Feel s’dirty and used… what’s w-wrong with me, Yu?” You want to crawl out of your skin, you feel so nauseous thinking about how close you had gotten to this guy, how much you had confided in him. “Why can’t all men be like you?”

“Oh hun…” You allow him to tilt you towards him as he settles on the couch next to you, pulling you into his arms as he gently shushes you. “Come ‘ere, baby.” 

His arms wrap around your body and settle you in his lap, sighing contently as you nuzzle into his neck, basking in the warmth and support he always provides you. Once you’re settled into him, even as your cries continue, he finally allows himself a satisfied grin that his plan is going better than he thought. 

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅ 

His jaw clenches as he watches you from across campus, seeing you giggling loudly with yet another frat boy fuck ass who’s only with you to get his dick wet. You deserve someone who puts you first, who cares about you more than anyone else; someone like him. 

That night he’s decided he’s had enough of being the afterthought when he deserves you more than these boys who break your too soft heart.  One more terrible heartbreak would certainly break you enough for him to make a move. It's just one more… then you’ll never have to go through it again. 

That’s how he justifies opening his phone to download the dating app he knows you use the most, making a profile after he pays one of the men desperate for cash on campus to use his photos and have him facetime you a couple times to make it more believable. 

It doesn’t take long for you to match the profile or for Yuta to use the knowledge he has as your best friend to concoct the lies that would hook you fastest. The imposter he created enjoys all the same things as you, understands your problems, and supports you when you’re down. 

It’s almost pathetic how quickly you fall for him, folding after a couple months of talking when Yuta decides to be selfish and asks you for a video of you playing with yourself. Yuta digs his teeth into his bottom lip, stifling a guttural groan at the first sight of your finger spreading yourself open for the camera, teasing your clit before you burrow your middle and ring fingers into your cunt. You little pleading moan for him to send something in return so you can picture it while you fuck your fingers into yourself. 

Yuta seethed with jealousy, even if it was his cock you came to when he sent you a video back. You didn’t know it was him, you didn’t love him. It made him so angry that you refused to see what was right in front of you. 

Whenever you hang out with him, you gush about this guy that you met that was so much different from the shit bags you normally gravitate to. And Yuta would smile, listening to you describe everything about him except how you sent him to the dirtiest little clips while he glanced at your hand, itching for you to sink those fingers into yourself again so he can suck them clean. 

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Your sobs slowly calm with Yuta’s warmth sinking into your bones. Only small hiccups echo in the room as you feel him leave small kisses across your shoulder. 

His touch isn’t unfamiliar but this specific action is, he was normally so reserved with you, but you shiver as those comforting presses of his mouth on your skin, his breath skating across the surface, serving to fill the void left by a man you thought you could love. 

The low, desperate rumble that sounds from his throat has your eyes fluttering and goosebumps running down your skin. The kisses slowly turn wetter, sloppier as he lays one just below your ear, his tongue peaking out to lap at the skin there. 

“Yu…” Your voice cracks, pleading, as your head tilts to the side, giving him more room to continue his actions. “M-make it stop h-hurting… please.” 

“I don’t know what else to do, hun…” He almost can’t hold the condescending coo from his tone. Fuck he wants to hear you say it. He’s waited so long for the words to fall from your lips. 

“I… Can you…” You hiccup in embarrassment, burrowing into his neck as you grip his shirt as tight as you did the pillow earlier. “I w-want you to fuck me, Yu.” 

“A-are you sure…? I don’t want you to regret it later.” His eagerness is only betrayed by his fingers digging into your hips as an anchor. He needs you to know he’s going to care about you more than anyone, that he isn’t the frat trash you soil yourself with.

“Y-yes… but if you don’t want to- Yu!” You squeak, your eyes widening when your back hits the couch cushion and he settles between your thighs, his hardness already pressing against the fabric of your panties under your skirt you wore especially for your date. 

“Don’t want to?” He growls, pushing the fabric of the skirt to pull around your hips, reaching between you to rip the seam of your pretty lace panties you wore for the imposter he created. 

He deftly flicks the button of his jeans, pushing them along with his boxers to his mid thigh, entering you in a rush movement before you can decide you don’t want him. 

“Oh fuck, Yu-” You moan loudly, your sobs turning to those of pleasure as he sets a brutual pace, taking out all his frustration, anger, and jealousy on you. 

He grits his teeth, carelessly shoving his hand under your shirt to grope your breasts, gripping onto them to hold you in place, using it for leverage to drill into you harder.

“Finally woke the fuck up and realized I’m right here?” He hiss as you flutter around him, your cunt making a white ring around his cock as he fucks you raw. His brutal pace is matched by the demeaning tone. “So nice to be your second choice, you know? Stringing me along like a needy slut?” 

You jolt in shock, the rough treatment only serving to make you clench down on him harder, teetering on the edge.

“S’not like t-that Yu-” You whine, clawing at his chest through his shirt. “I’m s-sorry, I d-didn’t m-mean it like that- M’sorry ‘made you wait!”

He grins ferally at you folding so easily for him, ready to finally force the final blow.  

“Really, hun?” He reaches a hand to your clit, circling it slow enough to drive you crazy, keeping you right at the edge of your orgasm without giving you that last push. “Fuck toys don’t get to cum… only girlfriends do. Are you my perfect little girlfriend? Or a useless fucking cum dump?” 

“Girlfriend!” You shriek as he immediately applies more pressure, his thrusts stuttering a little. You’d give him anything to cum. “I’ll b-be yours ple-” 

Your back arches off the bed as you explode into a thousand little pieces, coming hard enough for your vision to go fuzzy, mewling when you feel Yuta still after pressing deep inside of you. His cum spills from your abused cunt, spilling out from around him to drip down onto the couch. 

“Good fucking girl, hun. Fuck-” The praise makes you tremble and cling to him and he knows breaking your heart was worth the pain.

tag list: @sugarbooger513 @sugarmapoops @roughwithfluff @severelytalentless @yelzoldyck @silversslut @aazaard @dreamyyholland @wobblewobble822 @vantastic210 @rafzaha @tirzamisu @chososhoney @littlemochi @bebechinas99 @firdaoz @saoney @meromelo @pelicanpizza @sukunassoulmate @damncakie @katgalle @honeyyjems @tsukikoxo [[ if your blog name is crossed out i couldn't tag you]]

[thesunfyre4446]

i'm getting really tired of the "Aemond had no right to claim Vhagar" bs.

first of all, if justify Rhaenyra - Laena's cousin who grew up with her, and Daemon -Laena's husband - having sex on her goddamn funeral then you're in no position to criticize Aemond - who has literally never met Laena in his life - for trying to claim her dragon.

Aemond saw Vhagar and decided to go for it. Vhagar disappeared for years after baelon died, who knows if he'll ever get the chance to get close to her again? and maybe Rhaena will succeed in claiming her before him? it was a now or never moment for aemond.

baela and rhaena were justified in their anger, it's their mom's dragon. it's the last thing they had left from her. BUT aemond has never met these girls. he's desperate for a dragon. he's desperate to prove himself. so yeah, he's going to put himself before two strangers.

now let's talk about "Aemond paid the prince for claiming Vhagar \ Aemond deserved losing his eye" bs

no. no he didn't. aemond did not "pay the price for claiming Vhagar". it wasn't a sacrifice he had to make. vhagar accepted him as her rider, he had already claimed her when he was attacked by the strongs and the twins. aemond lost his eye because Luke cut it out. that's it.

Aemond's insult towards Rhaena was obvs directed at the strongs. for aemond, this wasn't even about rhaena. it was about finally winning against his bullies. and don't get me wrong, it was a shitty thing to say. but guess what guys, aemond's a kid too. he's like what, a year, two years older then Jace? kids can be selfish. kids can be really fucking mean. was insulting rhaena the empathic and mature thing to do? of course not! but it's clear that all aemond cared about was just getting back at the strongs. aemond's behavior was really normal for a bullied 10yo.

[and btw, Rhaena and Baela getting really angry and attacking aemond is also really understandable . from their POV, they've just lost their mom, and this random kid has just claimed her dragon & insulting them. ]

[kurooo-is-here]

Hi so i hope you dont mind a very angsty request. So you know how MC sent Miraidon/Koraidon to protect Kieran during the Terapagos stuff. For this request, let’s have reader sacrificing themselves for Kieran for drama, im talking throwing themself in front of Kieran to take the blow. An action they didint think it through bc too caught up in the moment kind. Now they arent dead but well that gotta hurt a lot. So throughout the whole fight with Terapagos, reader is just barely holding on. And when they finally caught Terapagos, they instantly faint, finally letting themself to rest. A rest which turns out to be a 2 month coma. When the Mc wake up, they now have chronic pain and now have a hard time walking. Yayyyy :)

So can i request Kieran x reader and Drayton x reader, where the both of them have a crush on the reader but have yet to confess, see the reader back in BB academy after months in a wheelchair and have chronic pain. Like imagine the angst :)

Btw if you want, you can make it to a hurt/comfort. I just want angst :)

(P.S. i just found your blog today and i really like your work! Keep up the good work!)

Omg noooooo 🥹🥹

Drayton would be PISSED at Kieran for allowing this to happen to you. You nearly died because of him and his selfish behavior. He'd definitely drag Kieran aside and give him a not-so-friendly warning.

...Kieran reveals to Drayton that he has feelings for you, which just pisses off Drayton even more. Kieran liked you this whole time, and still decided to act like a complete asshole? Unforgivable. Lacey is halfway out the door with you in the wheelchair before you two see Drayton kicking the crap out of Kieran.

It takes both Lacey and Amarys's combined efforts to pull Drayton off of Kieran, but he finally stops when you ask Drayton why he's doing this.

"You nearly died because of this idiot, Y/N! He's been nothing but mean to all of us, and he couldn't even protect you in the end--"

"That's not true!" You exclaim, tears in your eyes. "It was my fault for jumping in front of Kieran to save him, but he was the one who got me out of Area Zero! He stayed at my hospital bed when I woke up and apologized to me! He's already said he's sorry, so you don't gain anything from kicking him while he's down!"

You ask Lacey to help you get to the cafeteria, which she immediately obliges to. Drayton is left to think about your words as Amarys takes Kieran to the infirmary.

Both Kieran and Drayton are wracked with guilt for different reasons... Kieran feels like shit for treating you so poorly, and even after all of that, you nearly died to save him. He feels like Drayton had every right to get angry at him, but he doesn't know how to feel about Drayton getting angrier when Kieran said he liked you. He doesn't want to lose you, not again. His heart can't take anymore of this regret and self-loathing.

Drayton feels terrible because he had no idea Kieran even apologized to you, and he can't shake the feeling that he's going to lose you if he lets his anger show again. He still has these gross feelings of jealousy... and even wishing that Kieran was the one who got injured instead. That bastard deserved it way more than you, at least. But he feels like a monster for even thinking that way...

I will leave the "ending" for this one more ambiguous, as I don't think there's a right or wrong answer between picking Kieran and Drayton (or picking neither). They both kinda fucked up.

[spacerockfloater]

I am so displeased with Alicent’s character development, if you can even call it that.

Her taking her frustration out on Criston and slapping him because her grandchild died? Disturbing as hell, but I was willing to led it slide because she was grieving and it seemed like Cole understood that, too.

Her letting Gwayne insult the fuck out of Criston and be racist/ classist towards him without defending her lover in the slightest? The man who has no personal gain from all this shit-show and does it all for her sake? I was fucking livid. Tell me, whose loyalty is as fleeting as a moth’s again?

And then having the audacity to be angry with him for not standing up for her when she herself didn’t do the same for him? What is wrong with her!? Especially when Criston made a perfectly valid point: she doesn’t have the heart to do what must be done to win this war, which is crazy considering that she was fully ready to fight Rhaenyra to protect her children. The children she borderline hates now apparently (I can’t get over how much she suddenly disapproves of Aegon and Aemond this season), which would have been fine since they are her rapist’s children and all, but then why would you go to war and not be ready to do whatever it takes to win it? What do her and Rhaenyra think that they’re doing here? Did they plan on being the first pacifist war leaders in the history of the universe or what? Neither of the two act like women with motherly instincts or humans with personal agendas to pursue. It’s as if all of the women in this show are competing for the fucking Nobel Peace Prize.

By the way, speaking of her and Rhaenyra, the parallel of them being women who are ignored by their council is so forced. Alicent never wanted to rule neither in the show or the book. In HOTD she supports her son’s claim to save her family from Rhaenyra and her faction and in F&B she does it because she feels that the law is on her son’s side and he deserves the throne. She NEVER does it for herself or because she thinks women shouldn’t rule. Never out of selfishness or misogyny. So where the fuck did this “parallel” come from? It’s so infuriating.

I understand this is not completely her fault. I think her character peaked in S1 E9 and the producers saw how justified her actions were and how sympathetic she is (even Emma D’Arcy said they are on her side) that they decided to knock her down a peg, because God forbid the Greens have anything good going on for them! Let’s make them all hate one another! She’s slowly regressing back to herself from the first half of S1, because the determined mother and queen that was ready to win at all costs is no longer there.

As someone who has spent countless hours of my life defending and praising her, I am so saddened by her behaviour this season. I know this is Ryan’s tactic to make us hate the Targtowers, but nonetheless it is show canon and I feel the need to be fair and hold her accountable for it.

[imaginepirates]

Everything I Need

Jack and the reader both have feelings for each other, but have yet to act on them. When the reader sees him kissing someone else, they think he's already in a relationship, and they begin pushing him away to save their own emotions.

@emdrabbles @tesserphantom @viper-official @hellspawn-brownies @groovy-lady @ghoulishbehaviour @kittenlittle24

~3100 words

~~~~~~~

The distinct slide of warm sand through your toes pulled a smile to your face. After six long months of roving, the Pearl had made port back at Tortuga, and your feet hit solid ground for the first time in half a year. As much as you loved sailing, a ship was only so large, and you could only walk the same fifty yards of deck so many times before it began to drive you batty. 

The scenery never changed on the open ocean, not truly. Oh, every day the water was a new shade, and the sky a new color, and the patterns of the waves and clouds never took the same shapes, but even when the sea changed from serene to angry, wind was still wind, and water still water. 

The little cove you’d tucked yourself into was a welcome change to all that. You relished the vibrant greens and yellows and reds of the plants, as well as the chirping of birds, and even the singing cicadas. Later, you would enjoy new company, too, and new stories alongside, but for the moment, you were content to sit only with the company of the land. 

Your seclusion, however, didn’t last long. A figure dropped down next to you, barefoot with their trousers rolled up to the knee. It hadn’t taken Jack long to find you; he knew you too well. It should have annoyed you more, that he always knew where you would be, but his company was never unwelcome. 

“Glad to be back ashore?” 

You accepted the bottle he held out to you, taking a swig before answering. “In all honesty, I am. But you’re already itching to be back out there, aren’t you?” You nudged him with a knee, and he smiled back at you, used to your teasing. 

“Can’t help myself, love. The ocean calls to me, and who am I to deny her? I have everything I need out there.”

“Except rum. You come back for that.”

“Except rum,” he agreed. 

It was easy, conversation between you. Jack had a way about him like a gentle morning tide, an ebb and flow to his words and thoughts, simple to wade through and enjoyably warm. A part of you wondered whether he shared this side of himself with everyone, and another, selfish part of you secretly hoped he didn’t. 

The truth you had come to accept was simple: after many long years of knowing him, somewhere along the line you’d fallen a little in love with your captain. That truth, of course, was a maddeningly frustrating one. There were many unspoken rules aboard a ship, the first and foremost being that no part of the crew was to have romantic, or god forbid sexual, relations with the captain. It was a grand violation of the fragile ecosystem that was ship life. Compounded with that fact was the deeper, more meaningful reason you couldn’t bring yourself to confess— Jack was a creature of freedom, and in desiring his affection, you would be denying him the full range of liberty he needed. It was a thing you simply couldn’t do. 

“What are the chances Anamaria has already gotten into a fight?” Jack was still staring out over the horizon, that characteristic gleam in his eye. 

“What are the chances she’s already won?” You knew Anamaria, and there was a high likelihood that by the time you got to whatever tavern she was in, someone would already owe her money. And have a broken jaw. 

Jack stood, helping you to your feet and corking his bottle. “I won’t let you be reclusive all night. I’ll need someone sympathetic there when Anamaria decides it’s my turn.”

“I’d pay good money to see that.”

Jack feigned offense. “How could you?”

“Because if there’s someone knocking you around, you likely deserve it.”

You walked into town like that, joking and placing meaningless bets on who had gotten up to what while you were both away. Tortuga was exactly like you remembered it, a city much like the sea, where things never really changed. Every building was still itself, if a little more tattered and worn. Not that you minded. That exact attribute was what made it perfectly suited for a group of pirates. The place had its charm, even amongst the heaps of mud and rusty door-joints. Old and battered, just like you all were.

Jack slipped past you into a crowded bar, and you promptly followed. You were overwhelmed all at once by the rowdy music, the sea of voices, the mix of smells, the different fabrics, and the heat created by so many bodies in so little space. You tried peeking around for a familiar face but had no such luck. Instead, you accepted the random fluke of drink Jack had plucked off a bar and set in your hands. 

It took careful navigation through multiple rooms before you saw anyone you knew. Sure enough, Anamaria had a stack of coins on the table in front of her, and half the room away a man was nursing a black eye and bloody nose. 

You settled down next to her, eyeing the considerable amount of money she’d won, grinning. You could swear she had some sort of gambling god sitting on her shoulder, whispering in her ear and telling her the right cards to play. Jack had wandered off somewhere else, presumably in search of something new to drink. You watched him go, letting your eyes linger on his form in the dim light, comfortable in the knowledge he couldn’t catch you, only to get an elbow in the ribs from Anamaria who sat just beside you. 

“You have got to stop staring at him like that.”

“Hey now, don’t be unfair.” You held up your hands, reluctantly tearing your eyes from Jack. “It’s not that bad. I really doubt many people have noticed.”

“Only half the crew. If excitement onboard doesn’t pick up, we’ll be betting on you two next.”

“That’s unfair. Pintel and Ragetti provide ample entertainment.”

Speaking of those two, you noticed them across the room, clearly bickering over some newfound subject. They always found ways to inspire philosophical discussion, even if the philosophy at hand was objectively ridiculous. 

Unfortunately, though, Anamaria was right. Your feelings for Jack were probably a bit obvious, despite trying to keep them to yourself. You were afraid Jack would find out, or worse — that he already knew. But you couldn’t keep yourself from noticing his smile, his laugh, any simple expressions of true joy that weren’t part of his facade. He put on an act, you knew, for most people. The perfectly suave pirate come to rob you of all earthly riches, leaving you dazed and a little enthralled. An alluring storybook character come to life. It was those real smiles, though, that you couldn’t shake from your brain, that kept you staring after him even as the moment faded and passed. 

Then there were the endearments, said out of habit if anything else, but they still had their charm. Every time he called you ‘love’, you got this warm sensation in your chest like the feeling of a good drink, spreading to your stomach and dancing across your limbs. Flirtation was in his nature, but that didn’t make it any less effective.

You sighed, taking a sip of the mystery drink Jack had handed you. It was some sort of cocktail, pleasantly fruity with a hint of grenadine*. Jack had disappeared, so your focus shifted toward watching other bar-goers. A tall blonde sawed a whipping fiddle, the tune drawing dancers to the center of the floor. The dancers, of course, were too drunk to keep their coordination, and the resulting chaos of limbs had you snickering. 

Tortuga really was the last bastion of revelry in the ever-shrinking world. You let yourself enjoy it; there was enough time for overthinking things later. For the time being, you relaxed back into your seat, cheering on Anamaria when another poor sod challenged her to cards, wheezing with laughter as Gibbs attempted a jig, blushing and breathless as the fiddler pulled you into the crowd for a dance of your own. 

By the time early morning rolled around, the bar was full of passed-out patrons, people napping wherever they could find room. You rose groggily to your feet, unaware of how long you’d been asleep, and staggered to the door. The outside air made a refreshing contrast to the stifling heat inside the bar, and the smell of brine helped clear your head. You rubbed your eyes and straightened up. 

You walked around the back of the bar in hopes of finding clean water with which to wash your face, only to see a handsome, redheaded young-man with their fingers buried in the front of Jack’s shirt. And their mouth firmly on his. 

You whipped around before either of them could notice you, stalking back the way you came. You didn’t hear the soft thud of the redhead’s body hitting the wall as Jack pushed them away, nor Jack’s voice, calm but firm, denying any further advances. Instead, you followed your feet until they hit sand, curling up in the cove you’d found the previous day. 

You should have known. You should have known Jack would already have someone, someone he was closer to than you. You couldn’t be the only person in love with him—if you’d noticed all the wonderful things about him, other people undoubtedly had, too. Jack had been a pirate for a long time, and had a whole past you knew nothing about. Of course there would be someone else. 

You curled and uncurled your fingers in the sand. The breeze off the ocean did nothing to cool the hot wave of jealousy that rolled over you. You let it sit there, broiling and festering and simmering within you, allowing yourself to stew over it. Warm tears fell over your cheeks, and you wiped them away angrily with the back of your hand.

Then it was gone. Like the recession of the morning tide, your jealousy left you in one fell swoop, and only exhaustion and emptiness remained as you hugged your knees. You had no right to feel jealous of Jack’s lover. You and Jack had never shared a romantic relationship, and you had no claim to him. All you had were the feelings you kept to yourself, and it was your own fault for never acting on them. If anything, you should be happy Jack had someone he cherished; it was so rare as a pirate to find time for partners. 

Still, a little nagging voice in the back of your head whispered its miseries in your ear. 

Back aboard the Pearl, the crew filed onto the ship, still dreary and in need of more sleep. But Jack seemed anxious to leave, and everyone was used to hangovers and quick departures. Gibbs grumbled something along the lines of ‘what trouble has Jack gotten into this time?’, but nobody argued about getting underway. 

For you, it was both a blessing and a curse. While you doubted anyone had noticed your absence that morning, you were less than thrilled with the prospect of seeing Jack every day and being reminded of the feelings you desperately needed to leave behind. Then again, leaving Tortuga meant you wouldn’t have to hide from the bars in fear of more…potent reminders. 

You spent your time avoiding Jack as much as possible. Somehow, there was always a task for you to do down below when he was on deck, or rigging to climb until he was a speck far beneath you. The crow’s nest was quickly becoming your favorite spot. You could climb there and brood for a while under the pretense of watching out for the Navy—any of them—and you didn’t have to deal with concern from the crew over uncharacteristic frowning. 

But he noticed. And you noticed he noticed because his gaze wavered whenever it landed on you, and that never used to happen before. He’d stopped speaking with you, though you felt how much he wanted to. You told yourself it was for the best, but it felt wrong at the same time.

In truth, it hurt. You missed your old conversations, the easy familiarity you used to share. Your life on the Pearl just wasn’t the same without it. It was your fault, too, which stung even more, and you hated thinking that you were putting Jack through any sort of torment of his own. Your intention was never to hurt him, but you feared that was part of the result you were getting. 

As it turned out, Jack wasn’t the only one who noticed. “Why are you avoiding him so much lately?” Anamaria sidled up to you, helping you secure belaying pins. Jack wasn’t on deck, so you were more free to talk without fear of anything getting back to him.

Leave it to her to sniff things out. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You tried playing the comment off, but knew you failed miserably. 

“Did something happen between the two of you in Tortuga?” 

“No.”

She put a hand over yours, halting your work and forcing you to meet her gaze. “Something’s wrong, of that I’m sure. Care to enlighten me?” Seeing your hesitation, she reassured you. “I’m your friend. I’m not going to tell anyone, and I’m not going to judge you. Too much.” 

You knew from her smirk that she was joking, and it was the first time you’d had any humor around in weeks. It felt good to have that dynamic back, and you warmed to the idea of opening up, though you were a bit mortified to do so. 

“It’s just…” you began, “you know I have feelings for Jack. And I was finally coming to terms with them, but the morning we left, I realized there’s no place for them.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean I saw Jack kissing someone else.” You stopped mid-action, the rope in your hands suffering an unfinished knot.

You didn’t need to look at her to know Anamaria was shocked. You pushed on, the silence too much for you to bear at the moment. “It makes sense: I mean, he’s been a pirate for a long time, and he’s had all these adventures and travels, and it shouldn’t come as a surprise that he met someone on one of them. I have no right to feel jealous; we were never together.”

“That doesn’t make it hurt any less.” Anamaria’s hand came to rest on your shoulder, her thumb rubbing gently over your shirt. 

You sighed. She was right, as usual. “No, it really doesn’t.”

“I’d say let’s spit in his drink, but you’ve already acknowledged it’s not that sort of situation.”

You smiled a little in spite of yourself. You continued working in silence, taking as much comfort from her company as you could. Maybe with her around, and being friends with the rest of the crew, you could dull some of your pain with their companionship. No matter how much it stung that Jack couldn’t love you, you could never be truly lonely with the rest of them by your side. 

Evening fell with a cloudless sunset, nothing to obscure the reds and yellows and pinks of the darkening sky. You stayed on deck instead of retreating somewhere else, unwilling to let your negative thoughts get the better of you. You were still alone, standing at the rail by yourself, but you weren’t lonely with the rest of the crew milling about, wisps of conversation drifting over to you. 

A presence at your side made you turn. It was Jack, staring out over the horizon, looking a little anxious. You couldn’t blame him. You knew you were the source of his discomfort, and you wanted to make up for it as best as you could, though the prospect of confessing the reasons behind your behavior scared you. He would think less of you for this, you were sure. He was too easygoing to understand why you would be so caught up on jealousy.

Jack opened his mouth to speak, but you started. “I know I’ve been distant, and I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.” You sucked in a breath, bracing yourself for what had to come next. “I saw you in Tortuga the morning we left, you know, with that boy. He’s a handsome sort, and I’m glad for you, but I had no idea you were in any sort of relationship, and I had kind of been hoping…” you trailed off. This was hard, but you had to grit through it, because not talking to Jack again would be harder. “I had feelings for you. Have feelings. And watching you with him has kind of been eating me up alive.”

You risked a look over to Jack after a moment, waiting on a response. To your surprise, he looked shocked, and beneath that, you saw a tinge of sadness. 

“I’m sorry to overwhelm you,” you began, but Jack cut you off with a shake of his head. 

“I’m the sorry one, love. You shouldn’t have had to see that, and it gave you the completely wrong idea.”

Now it was your turn for shock, and not a little panic. “What do you mean?”

“I mean I didn’t want him to kiss me.” The sentence hung in the air before Jack continued. “It’s not that he isn’t good looking, or that I don’t know him—I do, but I don’t feel that way about him. I don’t…” Jack frowned, looking for the right word. “I don’t love him.”

“Oh.” It came out so small you weren’t sure you’d even said anything, but Jack finally managed to look you in the eye. 

“I don’t know if I deserve your affection. My flirting gets me in trouble; you got to see it first hand. And that got me in trouble with you. I’m not sure I’m worthy of commitment.”

“Oh Jack.” You raised a hand to cup the side of his face. “I don’t think you have a choice. I’ve already loved you for so long, I’m not sure I can stop.”

“Even though I deserve one of Anamaria’s beatings?”

“Even though that.”

Jack’s fingers laced themselves through yours, keeping your hand in place on his cheek. “I don’t need land to find my lover. You said it yourself: I could stay at sea forever. Because I have everything I need right here.”

*I’m aware grenadine wasn’t invented until 1872, but I needed to put something there, and idk my alcohol. 

[croxot]

MORE Armored Core 6 Thoughts - The Corporate Military Leaders

After coming to the conclusion that Armored Core is my game of the year, I've been thinking needlessly deeply about many little bits of the game. I wanted to put some thoughts out there about the Corporate Military Leaders (V.II Snail & G1 Michigan). More specifically what makes them so different in how the player perceives them -- How their corny characterization makes them all the more engrossing. Spoilers to follow.

Michigan

• Massive blowhard military type, speaks with all the bravado of your stereotypical US army drill sergeant.

• Despite this, he is somewhat endearing. He's still a shill for Balam, but he has a clear level of respect for those under him, and grants even more respect where it's clearly deserved.

• Knows all his underlings by name.

• Will chastise his own men for not showing you enough respect on the mission where you are expected to kill him and his entire force. Seems to take it well despite what's happening.

• Despite his position placing him as one of the defcato villains, there is very little direct animosity to muster for him. By the point in the story where you can decide to kill him, Balam has already lost the race, and Michigan has shown very little ill will towards you personally (even if you've previously betrayed the Redguns).

---

(Quick note on V.I Freud: While Freud is Technically a higher rank than Snail, he's clearly turned over military leadership to Snail, which makes Snail more of the de-facto face of Arquebus. Freud's just an ace who shows up to have a good fight, and otherwise doesn't make much of a show. Which, yeah, that's fine.)

Snail

• The Immediate difference here is that Snail is consistently depicted as conceited and selfish. Where Michigan is on first-name basis with basic underlings, Snail is verbally disgusted with the thought of acknowledging anything or anyone that isn't directly and immediately beneficial to him.

• And that's great because this game ABSOLUTELY benefits from having someone that's so easy to hate. Snail treats everyone around him, including his ranked allies, and even Freud, like dirt.

• He's even worse to you in the sense that he's convinced his type of space-cyber-lobotomy is so much newer and shinier than yours and makes him objectively superior to you. Like calm down dude this isn't a brain damage contest.

• This makes the Liberator of Rubicon Ending immensely satisfying in a way the other 2 endings just don't compare to. The game has spent around 15-ish hours having this guy be a gigantic douche in nearly every line he speaks, and then he shows up to fight you when realistically he doesn't even have to considering the circumstances.

• And so with Rusty's theme blaring in the background, he has an angry breakdown while you send him and his Balteus 2: Scuffed Laser Edition™ directly to the shadow realm. It is the most satisfying boss kill in the game.

[poppy-metal]

been thinking a lot about groveling for patrick after artashi kick him out after ur shutdown in bed

you start to realize you want him around... but you have to find a way to tell him that

and part of it is the very reason u were hurt in the first place. bc u like seeing the way patrick makes art and tashi happy. u just... need to trust that you make them happy too.

thinking a big realization comes when something big happens in ur personal life - good or bad - and you realize that more than anything, you want patrick.

tashi would be too clinical. art would be too soft. patrick wouldn't try to make anything better. he'd just let you... feel.

you start seeing where he's missing. the spot he should be occupying. and u decide that u have to get patrick. and u have to do it on ur own.

bc it was ur silence that shoved him out. it has to be ur voice that brings him back.

so u go to him. u consider bringing flowers - feels emasculating. consider buying new lingerie - feels like ur expecting too much. u find urself outside his door, a crumpled paper in ur hands, way too disheveled for what should be a formal affair, knocking on his door.

"ah. did tashi send u?"

an awkward silence. "no. i ... came on my own. can i... can we talk?"

I love love love this concept I love the thought of being forced to come forward with your feelings especially to someone like patrick who's so honest - feels shameful like you're a little kid apologizing after doing something wrong and you can't stop looking at your feet but he makes you look at him and oh. he's so beautiful. something in his chaos makes him so lovely. wild dark curls. flushed tan face with a smattering of freckles. his sometimes blue sometimes green eyes. they're green now. you recognize they get that way when he's serious - angry or sad or amped up or contemplative. you think he might be all of them combined. to him, you're nothing but the little brat who got him kicked out because your say is apparently more important than his.

he allows you in, thinks about throwing you out and slamming the door in your face but he's just not that kind of guy. plus you look so miserable it's kind of funny. he wants to hear what you have to say. cracks open a beer and doesn't offer you one, and leans against his kitchen counter as you settle into his worn fraying couch. he thinks you look too pristine to be in his bumass apartment but something about it, he likes. you could use a little dirtying up.

"art and tashi want you to come back. so, um. you should. I know things got complicated and intense and things were said that were mean, um. but they really miss you - I know if you just came back you could work things out and - "

"what do you want?" he cuts the bullshit. points at you with his beer bottle. he won't let you pussyfoot around. he's not in the mood, honestly, for games. the week has been miserable enough.

you look down at your hands. "it doesn't matter what I want. I was selfish before, and I'm sorry. I won't be going forward."

he looks at you. he'd laugh if he wasn't in such a shit mood. he licks his teeth and sucks in a breath. drains the rest of his beer and approaches you on the couch. it nearly swallows you - and he comes close enough until his knees are brushing the arm. leans down until your eyes are level, on of his hands resting behind your head for balance.

his breath fans across your face. beer and cigarettes and something minty. it shouldn't smell appeasing, but your mouth fills with spit, and you swallow. he's so in your space - always invading boundaries.

"so you're okay with me fucking them whenever and however I want."

you look away. "if that's what you want."

he huffs a laugh that isn't humorous. it's mean. he decides to bully you a little - you deserve it, anyway. "what if I want you to watch."

your lips purse then. displeasure. something curls in patricks chest. amusement and satisfaction. he likes pushing you more than he should. he knows you'd hate it, watching. feeling left out is what got you into this mess.

"I don't have to be involved." you tell him lightly. demure. soft. he wants to pull your bottom lip between his teeth and bite until he tastes blood on his tongue.

"I want you to be." he tells you. "you're a spoiled fucking brat and you pissed me off and if you really want me back then I want you to sit in your little time out corner while I fuck your mommy and daddy and I watch how fucking good I make them feel without you there."

your bottom lip wobbles. he expects you to tap put, call it quits, say no way. but you just nod.

"if that's what'll bring you back. I- I can take it." even if you don't want to. you know it isn't just about you. even if you like being the center of attention. "I said I was sorry. I mean it. I-"

I want you back too, you think but don't say.

you don't know how to bring that up to him when you've been nothing but a lousy brat.

"you what?" patrick prods anyway. curious.

you shake your head. "just come back. I'll do whatever you want if you will."

patrick straightens and looks down at you with a kind of predatory glaze in his eyes. his lips quirk. you're such a little bunny. hopping around in front of him when he's hungry. he wants to fuck you. badly. he wants to assert his dominance over you.

he wants you to want him.

and when you watch him fuck tashi and art - you do. you find yourself jealous - not of him taking them away from you - but of them for getting to feel him. you find yourself thinking you'd be the best out of all of them at taking his dick - you know it. and when you touch your pussy to the sight of him pounding tashi into the mattress it's because you want it to be you instead. and when you cum later with arts tongue on your clit - and patrick watching you from his place next to tashi, it's because his eyes are on you that you shudder apart so cataclysmically.

you've managed to fix things. everyone is content, you think. but you aren't. how. how do you admit to wanting patrick when you've put this wall between you. when you've made the distinction that you're dating art and tashi separate from eachother. that patrick has his own place that he sleeps and tashi bought you an apartment - so that things are more equal and fair and everyone is happy.

how do you admit to wanting patrick when you've kept the ruse up this long. when you alternate days. you spend the weekends with art and tashi and he spends monday through wednesday. you've dug a hole. how do you tell tashi and art who have already made so many compromises for you to feel happy and loved- that you want even more. that you want patrick too. that you take back everything you said at the beginning and want all four of you to be together, in one place.

they'll all hate you for being so fucking dramatic. maybe you should end things. let them be together without the complication of you there.

[fishsticksloser]

Robot

f!Donnie x gn!reader

Warnings: angst, argument, Donnie is trying his best, communication, kisses, comfort, short

A/N: I honestly couldn't stop thinking about finishing this... I have been thinking about it so much lately for some reason... But! There is a request that made me actually decide to write it, it'll be at the bottom.

Previous  |  Next

You were shaken awake. Your eyes blinking open to see your husband leaning over you, the brows on his mask pulled down into a frown. You feel his hands on your shoulder before pulling you to sit up. "What the hell are you doing in here?" He asks, his voice rough from sleep, but firm and even.

"Well good morning to you too." You huff, rolling your eyes. You push his hands off you, seeing a flash of something in his eyes from the action.

"Answer me." Donnie grabs your chin, making you look at him. His touch wasn't as rough as you expected it to be. "Why are you sleeping in here? This is my area, my sanctuary."

"What are you? A robot? Asking me my purpose for being here?" You scoff, pulling your face from his hand. You get off the couch, tugging your clothes into place. "Of course I only matter when I'm somewhere you don't want me."

Donnie stays on the floor next to the couch, his hand still frozen in the air. He slowly lowers his arm, not saying a word. He deserves this, he treated you like shit for months. He never deserved your love, your commitment, your time... Hell he didn't even deserve to be looked upon by you.

"You haven't talked to me in months... Let alone looked at me..." You continued, rubbing your temples. You paced a little, glancing over at him every once in a while. "I've felt so lonely, thought you hated me, that you regret marrying me."

Realizing he hadn't spoken, you turn to him, seeing him look at the ground. His body slumped over, it was clear he felt terrible. Thoughts raced through his mind, how could he ever fix this? It's clear that you deserved better. Of course you do. Why would anyone deserve to be with someone as selfish and neglectful as him? Why did you stand it for so long? How did you? You deserved more than this. He's so evil for making someone he loves so dearly feel so terrible.

"Donnie?" You ask, your heart breaking a little at the sight of him.

"No... No. I deserve it..." Donnie looks up at you, moving up to sit on his heels. "I'm... I'm so sorry, darling. I have treated you like you didn't exist. I was a robot... I was emotionless. I—" He shakes his head, wrapping his arms around your waist. "I never meant to make you feel that way. I've been so caught up in my own worries, I didn't realize how much I've been neglecting you. It's not fair to you, I should've been there for you."

"Never doubt for a moment that I hate you, that I regret marrying you... You are the light of my life, I can't imagine life without you, and I never want to." He murmurs, burying his face in your stomach. "I... I was angry when I woke up... I was hoping to stay awake, invite you into bed with me... Become your husband again... Be in our sanctuary, together.... I will do whatever it takes to make you see how much I love you, to make this right..."

[lakesbian]

btw another little thing i really liked in this chapter was this part

“So I fail, maybe,” I said, and I felt a weight lift, admitting it out loud. There would be options. I’d picked up enough that maybe I could still pressure the faculty to let me skip a grade. I would be old enough to take online classes like Brian was.

“You don’t have to give up.” “I’m not giving up!”  I raised my voice, angry, surprised at myself for being angry.  I took a breath, forced myself to return to a normal volume, “I’m saying there’s probably no fucking way I’ll understand why she did what she did.  So why waste my time and energy dwelling on it?  Fuck her, she doesn’t deserve the amount of attention I’ve been paying her. I’m… reprioritizing.” He folded his arms, but his forehead was creased in concern.  “And these new priorities of yours are?” I had to search for a response.  “Living my life, making up for lost time.”

like. there is so so much societal judgement towards highschool dropouts as the ultimate failures in life, and so much pressure for kids to finish highschool even if it's literally killing them. i just really appreciate that taylor is portrayed as feeling a weight lift from accepting the possibility of just walking away, that someone can have to drop out of highschool for any reason--like experiencing such horrendous peer abuse and administrative neglect that attending literally got her sent to the hospital--and have other options. i like that she gets to decide that it's not giving up and she's allowed to be angry at someone saying she's "giving up" for refusing to subject herself to continued abuse. i like that she gets to believe that dropping out doesn't automatically make her life over, but is an opportunity for her to actually live her life instead of spending five days a week just trying to survive abuse. it's not that her life is automatically going to be easy afterwards, or that this will fix everything, but she is at the very least claiming her time back for herself. and she's not portrayed narratively as giving up, or as immature or selfish or stupid in any way for choosing to do that. worm wins again at being understanding of and sympathetic towards traumatized teenagers without infantilizing them, minimizing their decisions, or demeaning what they feel they have to do to survive

[astromechs]

24 + rebelcaptain for the micro fic ask game <3

24 (tender) from this list; still accepting!

Cassian tries, makes his most sincere effort, to not think of this in terms of deserving.

Jyn had gotten angry with him, truly angry, once when the sentiment had slipped out of his mouth. Her eyes had gone cold and her face as hard as stone before she'd turned on her heel to walk away, and when she'd returned to him several standard hours later, she'd told him that where her love goes, where it should or shouldn't be, is for her to decide and no one else. And when he'd nodded his silent agreement, he'd let that be the end of it.

He tries, makes his most sincere effort, but there are times when that's harder than others.

It's hard, now, setting his blaster with a clunk down onto durasteel in time with a heavy exhale as the rain pours outside the ship, not to think he doesn't deserve the tender hand that finds his shaking one and laces their fingers together. It's hard not to think he doesn't deserve the arms that wrap around his body from behind and invite him to share the weight of a burden, hard not to think he doesn't deserve the warmth of her presence, the way so much of the tension in him ebbs in the face of it.

Who would deserve something like that? Certainly not someone who's selfish enough to take it so readily.

But he does; he turns to fall into her arms, burying his face in her neck. She holds him close, shielding him from everything else, and in the safety of that, he closes his eyes.

For a while after that, he doesn't think anything at all.

[alluringnectar]

Timeless

abby anserson x fem!reader

a/n: idk how to use tumblr so my fault the layout is ass, i’ll improve lemme cook 😭🙏🏽. ts work is a repost, so its crappy. lmk if yu want smut cus i’ll write it.

summary: you’ve been promoted & you come across abby.

warnings: sfw, js shit talking.

pt. 1, pt. 2, pt. 3

Beep beep.

You groan, not ready to get up. Your hands fumble for the alarm clock, pressing every button your fingertips graze.

Beep beep!

How the hell is it still sounding? You ask yourself, finally lifting your head from the pillow to check the time.

6:43 am.

Shit.

You're usually awake and ready by this time, but yesterday you were out partying with your friends. Your recent promotion within the W.L.F. had warranted a night of revelry, but now the consequences were clear: a foggy mind and a rush to start the day. You had gained new perks from Isaac himself. Your friends thought this was deserving of a celebration, so they invited everyone from the W.L.F. You didn’t hate partying, but you preferred just hanging out with your friends. Among others, you were considered friendly, which was the truth— but you did like some time alone as patrols really tired you out.

Today was about clearing your clouded mind from worries, just living in the moment! Last night was one of the best nights you had in a while; you got to meet great people. You met a man named Manny; he was playful and divertido, a trait you admired. He was happy to introduce you to his other friends as they were going to be your new partners for patrols. A couple, Owen and Mel, came forward to greet you. “Your hair is so healthy and silky! I’d do anything for long hair like yours!” Mel smiled, and you grinned, thanking her.

You’ve always prioritized your looks and emphasized the importance of being well-groomed. You loved makeup, pink, and putting bows in your long hair. It was what made you, you. You found comfort within femininity throughout the apocalypse and the battle against scars. Your thoughts were interrupted when you heard something approaching Manny, Owen, Mel, and you. As soon as you looked up to see who it was, you couldn’t help but stare. Her hair was braided, wearing a tank top so you could see the density of her muscles. She had a calm demeanor, and you crossed your arms in a playful way. “Have I seen you before?” She smiled with her teeth, and you swear you could’ve folded right then and there. “No, you haven’t,” you felt your cheeks burn, giggling at the thought of her actually wanting to get to know you.

“Abby,” said the blonde woman. Abby. The name seemed to suit her. “Father’s joy,” you mumbled. “What?” Abby asked, genuinely curious. “That’s what Abby means,” you smiled warmly at her, waiting for a response. Abby chuckled; she raised her arm to rub your back. “What’s your name then?”

Before you could respond, Mel snapped, saying your name to Abby. You were confused by the abruptness of her answer. As you turned to look at Mel, she looked angry. Not at you. At Abby. Abby smiled softly and looked over at you, a look that you could forever hold in your heart. “I’ll see you around,” and with that, she walked away, heading towards another group with Manny, way more welcoming than Mel. At the corner of your eye, you saw the way Owen looked at Abby. He looked at her as if he had regrets, as if he lost something they had. You decided to shake it off, as it may only be your imagination. “What’s wrong, Mel?” you asked her, with genuine concern about why she's cold. She smiled at you softly and told you “Oh, it’s nothing. I just wanted to look out for a new friend. Abby is not someone you want to be hanging out with.” You hummed to yourself. You usually don’t believe what you hear, only what you see.

“She’s a shitty person.”

“She’s selfish.”

“She’s a liar.”

Despite Mel’s warnings, you still wanted to get to know Abby. Your desire to learn more about her grew. She sparked your curiosity, and the yearning blossomed.

After the night was over, you took your heels off and collapsed in your bed. You were excited about what new patrols you can take on tomorrow and who was going to be your partner. You ended up falling asleep, staring at the ceiling while Abby lingered in the back of your mind.

Now you were brushing your teeth, putting on a Lulu Define jacket, and tight flared black yoga pants. You put your hair in a slickback, put your sneakers on, and walked out the door. This was your first patrol after being promoted by Isaac. As you walked into the gym, you walked to the treadmills as your usual routine is cardio. Then you feel a hand placed on your shoulder; you turned your head back and it’s Abby. She smiles at you, and you smile back, blush tainting your cheeks. Abby parts her lips. “This outfit looks cute on you.”

“Thank you, Abby.” What Abby doesn’t know is that her compliment will be forever in your mind. Only within minutes talking to her - and only meeting her yesterday - she already makes you all giddy like a teenage girl in love. “Care to get some breakfast with me after you’re done with your cardio?” she asks, and you nod eagerly. “Of course, I will. Who would ever pass up that offer?” you giggle. Abby smirks at not just your reply, but at your giggle. She found you cute and amusing, but she was afraid Mel already said something to you. She didn’t want to mess up this chance— she couldn’t lose you when she never even had you. She’ll be careful and gentle even if it would take longer. Time will pass.

After 30 minutes, you considered yourself done for the day, as it was just a warm-up for the patrol later in the evening. You saw Abby sitting on the bench, wiping her sweat off the weights— she was thoughtful of others, and you kept that in mind. How could she ever be selfish? You walk up to her and tell her “Do you wanna go now?” Abby grins and says “I’d love to.”

Today’s menu was breakfast grilled cheese with Greek yogurt parfait- not bad! Since Abby has some perks, both of you got your meal pretty quickly and some good seats! “Have you seen the new patrol rotation?” Abby asks, and you shake your head “No actually, I was planning to check after the gym” you reply. “Maybe we can check together then. After this meal of course” she chuckles. Her smile is so cute, and you’d cross the whole world just to see it again. “You know, you’re not what I expected you to be.” Abby looks up at you, brows furrowed in confusion. “Mel said something didn’t she?” You sigh but nod, “I just think it’s funny how you’re the exact opposite of what she claimed for you to be. She’s sweet, but she was wrong about you. Don’t tell her but I think I’m starting to prefer you” you giggle, putting your fingers onto Abby’s lips as if to shush her. Abby was quiet alright, but not for the reason you’d think it would be. She’s thinking of your fingers gently touching her lips, leaning in for a kiss. Her thoughts are interrupted when you speak, “Do you wanna go check the board for patrols now?”

“Let’s go.” Abby stands up, pushes her chair back into the table and takes your hand— never roughly, as she’d never want to break you— fragility as a porcelain vase. Her calloused fingertips and palms, now holding your forearm, something that you’ll think about to help you sleep.

As you’re approaching the board, there’s a whole crowd of people, surrounding it. While some are content with their role and duo, others are muttering under their breath “fuck.” You can’t help but keep your fingers crossed that you’ll get Abby. As you and Abby kept shoving your way through, yelling “ ‘xcuse me!” you finally make your way to the front, and both of you immediately scan for your name. Then, you see it.

You and Abby. She seems to notice too, because she’s whispering “looks like you’re stuck with me for a little longer.” You giggle, lightly elbowing her playfully.

In reality, you'd prefer to be with her more than anyone else.

[caffeinetheif]

Greenhouse

Yandere! Daivolo x GN! MC

WC: 2.5k

Warnings: basically everything that involves yanderes, blood, heavily implied (but not described) minor character death, imprisonment of MC, implied forced cuddling/bed sharing, blood, mentions of paranoia and the feeling of being watched, some minor violence from MC towards Diavolo (let’s be honest he kinda deserves it), attempt at a non-consentual kiss

A/N: y’all I’m super sorry for the absense. Work and school has been hectic. The stress of prepping for a study abroad is taking its toll that’s for sure. As always, I hope you enjoy and let me know if I missed any warnings! The title is a little cryptic, but I have my reasons for choosing it :)) Also, this was low key based off of a dream I had a while ago lol

“MC, darling,” a gentle voice rouses you from your peaceful slumber. It takes you a moment to remember where you are and who you are with.

Your mind reacts with panic. You’re still here, stuck in this cursed room with the demon who stole you away. The demon who faked your disappearance so he could keep you just for his own selfish desires.

“What, Diavolo?” you can’t help but let a bit of resentment slip into your voice. If there’s one thing that’s stayed the same after being snatched, it’s your distaste for being woken up.

The demon chuckles, “I apologize for waking you, dear, especially so late. There’s urgent business that I must attend to, but I promise I won’t be gone long!”

You glare at the back of Diavolo’s imposingly tall form as he stands up from your shared bed and dresses himself. If you had it your way, you wouldn’t even be here, much less sharing a bed with the Prince of the Devildom. You tried demanding your own room or bed when he first whisked you into his castle, but he laughed and told you that there was no need to be so stubborn.

Noticing your angry stare, Diavolo turns to you and smiles, “You can go back to sleep, MC. I know how much you hate being woken up.”

Diavolo restates that he’ll be back as soon as he can as he moves to press a kiss to your forehead. In a split second act of rebellion, knock your head into his chin as hard as you could without much of a windup. The demon doesn’t even flinch, but laughs instead.

“Still feisty as always!”

You think you see a flash of annoyance and disappointment in his honey gold eyes, but quickly flop back down in bed and turn your back to him. Maybe if he thinks you’re going back to sleep he will leave you be. You hear him bustle around the room a bit more before hearing his boots move towards the door.

That damn door! It locks from the outside and Diavolo has the only key. No matter how much you destroy the room searching for the key, you have never found where he keeps it hidden. The only idea you have is that it is somehow enchanted and bound to Diavolo in some way. Every time he enters and exits the room, he always locks the door behind him, which ruins your chances of any escape through it. Even the solitary window in the room is magically locked and indestructible to anything you throw or hit it with.

You hear the clicking of the lock becoming undone and the door opening. The door is shut quickly and you assume Diavolo has left. Time passes as you wait for the resounding ‘click’ of the lock sliding back into place. The sound never happens, your heart jumps with excitement at the prospect of Diavolo actually forgetting to relock the door in his hurry to attend to business. You quietly sit up and swing your legs over to stand. You move towards the tall solid wood door and listen for any notion that the prince is returning. You hear nothing for several minutes before you decide to test your luck.

Your shaky hand reaches out for the cold iron door handle and you slowly twist it. The inner mechanisms click and you wince as they echo throughout the empty room. Slowly, and ever so carefully, you push open the door. The hinges faintly groan but put up no fight.

The hallway outside is quiet. There is no sign of life from Diavolo or servants or maids. No footsteps or voices are heard. No demon is there to order you to stop or to get back in the room. There is no light coming from the hanging light fixtures or candle holders on the walls. The only light source is the gentle moonlight beaming in through the windows. The lack of life almost seems too good to be true, but it’s your only chance at escaping this hellhole.

Ever so carefully, you sneak out of the doorway. Twisting the handle, this time from the outside, you push the door shut so the hardware doesn’t alert anyone to the door being shut once more. You almost don’t believe that you’re out of that room. Before you begin the next phase of your escape, you look down the hall both ways. No one can see you leave, but that is an unlikely occurrence. So, you just have to out run them if you encounter anyone.

You start at a careful speed walk down the left hall. The paintings and portraits that hang along the wall seem to follow you with their eyes. A strong sense of foreboding urges you to move faster. A creak echoes from down the hall, and that’s all it takes for you to take off. You run down the ornate halls, ones that you had once admired. Now, they’re nothing but a mocking labyrinth and the paintings that adorn the walls mock you as you run. The tiled floor below does nothing to dampen the sound of your feet as your feet hit the ground.

Making turn after turn, you quickly find yourself lost in a state of panic and desperation. None of these halls look familiar and there is not a single living soul wandering around. No one is there to help you.

Or so you think. You make another turn and run face first into another person with a grunt. The force of the impact knocks you to the ground, but the other stays on their feet. You look up at the figure, the first living being you have encountered since arriving at the castle. He’s taller than you, but not tall by demon standards. He rubs at the spot on his chest where your head hit and he glances down at you in surprise.

“Huh?” he begins speaking, “there’s not supposed to be anyone in this wing of the castle, much less a human.”

Asking this demon, a servant of the castle, for help is a risky gamble, but one that you’re willing to take, “Please, you have to help me! I’m being held captive by Diavolo. Please, I need your help!”

The servant nervously glances around him, looking for any listening ears or prying eyes. He takes a shaky breath before saying, “You… you’re the reason Young Master has been acting strange.”

He sighs and looks like he’s contemplating something, “I shouldn’t. My Lord will have my head if he finds out I am helping you.”

Your gut drops, this is the first living being you have seen since you were brought to this wretched place! Is he really going to just… ignore you?

In a fit of desperation, you reach out and grab his sleeve, “Don’t leave me! I have to get out of here! I need to escape!”

Your outburst startles the demon and he shakes his head, “I didn’t say I was going to leave you. Follow me, and be quiet.”

Your heart leaps and you have to fight the urge to thank him, who knows if there is anyone listening. Turning on a dime, the servant walks through the decorative halls, making a number of right and left turns down other hallways. The two of you approach a ‘T’ shaped corridor and he seems to be attempting to remember something. Several seconds pass before he turns to the left option. 

The length of the hall is uncharacteristically dirty, with dust coating the vases and paintings. The only light present comes from the moon peering through the occasional window. The few paintings that have been long neglected seem to follow you with their gaze and you hurry to keep up with your guide’s long strides. 

Soon, the two of you finally arrive at a large, hardwood door. The demon quickly glances down the hall where you two just came from before flicking through his keyring. Finally, he stops once he finds a small, bronze key that matches the delicate hardware on the door and slides it into the keyhole. The key is twisted and you hear a dull click as the door is unlocked. The door creaks ominously as it is swung open to reveal a dusty, sparsely decorated room. 

The unnamed demon enters the room and motions for you to follow him inside. Once you do, he relocks the door and quickly walks towards a tall painting that hangs on the wall.

The servant glances back at you, “Help me move this painting. There’s an old passageway behind here that leads to the courtyard.”

The sound of his voice brings your attention and you hurry to help him. As you approach the demon, you notice the painting is a portrait of a very young Lord Diavolo and his father sitting together. Something about this painting doesn’t sit right with you, but you choose to ignore it in favor of helping the servant move the large painting. The two of you lift in tandem and he guides the heavy frame to the side, leaving an opening just wide enough for you to fit.

“This is where I Ieave you. The rest of your escape is up to you. I will do my best to cover your tracks.”

As you slip between the wall and the frame, you glance at the demon and whisper a gracious, “Thank you, for everything.”

The demon nods and shifts the painting back over the entrance to the passageway and darkness engulfs you. It seems more like a tunnel than anything, but it is wide and tall, clearly made for much taller and broader demons. The lack of light wouldn’t phase any demon who enters due to their superior vision in the dark, but you? You’re nearly blind and depend on the feeling of the wall at your side to guide you.

As you maneuver down the pathway, you can’t shake the feeling of being watched. You know it’s silly and chalk it up to the paranoia resulting from Diavolo’s constant hovering. Regardless, you pick up your pace, opting to ignore the burning sensation of the stone wall dragging against your hand.

You don’t know how long you walk for. Luckily, the secret tunnel doesn’t seem to have any alternate hallways and consists of a single, winding one that leads to your destination. The chilly air and cold stone walls seem to sap all the heat from your body and you begin to shiver. 

You finally see the moonlight beaming down at what you assume is the end of the tunnel. Glee fills you and you break out into a run as you grow closer to the light. The moonlight drifts down through a metal grate in the ceiling of the tunnel. It looks like it should be big enough for you to squeeze your shoulders through to get out. You stand under the grate and investigate the hardware. You don’t see any bolts or hinges on the grate that might hold it shut to your surprise. 

The only thing that poses an issue is the height of the exit. The tunnel was not constructed with human height in mind, leaving the only exit a great deal above your head. With your arm stretched straight up as far as you could go, you still aren’t able to touch the metal. Even rising to your tiptoes the piece of metal is just too tall for you to touch. 

With your heart pounding, you jump and swipe at the grate. The tips of your fingers brush against it. You jump and hit it again, and again, and again before the grate is dislodged far enough for you to be able to get your hand between the edge of it and the opening. With one more jump and a hard shove at the metal covering, the hole is completely uncovered. You mentally cheer, not wanting to give away your location to anyone who may hear.

It takes a couple more jumps for you to grasp onto the ledge securely, and at this point your arms and legs are exhausted. But you can’t give up, especially when you’re so close to being free! Just the feeling of the fresh air and cool breeze on your fingers is enough to spur you on. You bring your feet up against the stone wall as extra leverage to push yourself up and out of the hole. Adrenaline is one hell of a motivator. 

The breeze caresses your face as you roll onto the grass surrounding the outside of the hole. You want to laugh, cry, yell, whoop and holler at the feeling of finally being outside. How long has it been since you have smelt dirt? You never thought you would miss the stuff, yet here you are.

“Have you finished having fun? I must say, you made it quite far.” 

Your eyes snap open and your head shoots up to find the voice.

You see the one demon you are trying to escape. Diavolo, in all his glory, is crouching down a mere six feet away from the hole you just pulled yourself out of. The smile on his face doesn’t match the disappointment in his eyes.

A metallic stench fills your nose and brings your attention to Diavolo’s hands. Even with the moonlight projecting his silhouette and hiding most of him in darkness, you can still see the deep, ruby blood staining his hands. In the back of your mind, you know who it came from, but you don’t want to believe it. Lately, you find yourself not wanting to believe a lot of things.

Diavolo chuckles when he notices your eyes fixated on his hands, “It’s a shame, he was such a hard worker. To think such a dedicated servant would go behind my back to help you run away from me. Though, I do have several demons eager to replace him.”

No, no no no no! This can’t be happening! You didn’t even know his name, yet you find yourself grieving for the demon you just met.

Diavolo stands and a large, bloody hand wraps around your upper arm. He hauls you up like a sack of potatoes and ignores how you flinch and squirm at the feeling of the still warm blood seeping through your shirt. You can tell he’s furious as he moves to guide you back towards the castle.

“No, please, I just want to go home!” You panic, you can’t go back. If he gets you inside the castle again, you’re never getting out.

“Your home is here, MC. It’s here at my side where I can keep you locked away, where I can keep you safe!”

Anger surges through you and you kick and writhe, doing anything to get out of his grasp, “I’m not some object for you to own! I don’t belong to anyone, and certainly not you!”

Diavolo’s eyes narrow, and the aura he gives off is oppressive. Your brain screams at you to run, to get away, that Diavolo was dangerous. After all, he killed a demon in cold blood just because they brought you to an escape route.

“You were mine the day you arrived in the Devildom.”