#i don’t CARE what’s in there. i will not be mysteriously disappearing because the fucking shadow creatures got me

[unlicensedmortician]

shoutout to the white vault for having monsters scary enough that i get paranoid sometimes. those creatures freak me right the fuck out i am never exploring a cave

[shaunamilfman]

Dating Rhiannon Lewis HC's

pairing: Rhiannon Lewis x reader note: she's my pathetic, desperate, clingy gf so get your own.

Throws out an ily on the third date and tries so pathetically hard to play it off. “I love youR SHIRT. It's such a nice shirt.” Before running off to the bathroom to hide. She's so smooth. Pacing back and forth in front of the mirror for ten minutes before she manages to gather enough courage to come back to you and pretend nothing happened.

Keeps score of who’s texting who first and how often. It doesn’t stop her from still texting first, though.

Cannot ever get her hands out of your hair. She's so fucking gentle about it, caressing your hair and gently scratching at your scalp with her nails. Won't go near your hair on her bad days. Running her fingers along the back of your neck instead of your scalp. Fingers flexing like she wants to touch it but won't. Just doesn't trust herself not to hurt you. 

Always makes the house so fucking cold when you sleep over so you're forced to cuddle with her for warmth. Her ass is running around the whole house opening windows and creating drafts in the twenty minutes she has in between your text and when you arrive. Oh, also, all the blankets are in the wash but hers. So sad, guess you'll just have to share. Mysteriously, all of your long-sleeve shirts have disappeared too. Weird. 

Makes you do those stupid couple quizzes in magazines.

Rhiannon “We have food at home” Lewis. Once the initial excitement about having people to go out with dies down, she comes to an important realization: the more the two of you are out, the more you're exposed to dating options that aren't her. That's just not allowed. Doing anything and everything she can to keep you at home short of telling you to get your ass back inside. 

God forbid you try to go out somewhere without her. Why would you need to go see your friends while she's stuck late at work? Who's going to walk with her to the bus station? She starts asking so many questions about it, sounding so hurt that you eventually cave and don’t go. It’s not blatant manipulation, not when it’s you, but it’s usually enough to have you rethinking the whole thing anyway.

So jealous, but won’t directly say anything about it. Just starts holding onto your hand tightly with this strained look on her face.

She always misplaces your things when you're going out, or just if it suits her better. Your car keys? She hasn't seen them. The shirt you were going to wear that she doesn't much care for? You probably lost it. Here, she found her personal favorite of your shirts, though. You’ll find the other shirt mysteriously hung back up neatly in your closet the next day, like nothing ever happened.

Rhiannon wearing your shirts when she knows you're looking for them to entice you to stay home. Laying back on the bed, pouting up at you. Long sleeves that her hands just barely peek out of. “What, are you looking for this?” Making you give her a kiss if you want your shirt back to go to work. Maybe even two if she’s feeling greedy.

Tries to fix all your problems for you the second you mention them to her.

So incredibly clingy. If you're with her, you're with her. Sitting on the counter, talking to you while you cook or while you take a shower. You step out, and she's holding the towel out for you. Makes a show of breathing hot hair on it and pretends she was keeping it warm for you. You wake up every time with all four of her limbs wrapped around you, no matter how the two of you actually fell asleep.

She texts you about the weather all the time just as an excuse to talk to you.

So incredibly sensitive. Bottom lip trembling and tearing up because you said you weren't sure if you'd be able to make drinks with her coworkers tonight. Her ass trying to play it cool all like, “That's fine 🥺.“

Detailed plans for any outing she takes you on.

She plays those like little girlfriend games all the time. The like, "Would you love me if I was x, if I did y, if z happened?” Just hours and hours of it. It starts off so innocent and teasing, but it ends up getting really serious and real specific. “Would you still love me if I, like, killed someone? Accidentally. Hypothetically, of course.”

Gets really drunk one night and starts trying to get a concrete list of breakupable offenses. Pulls out this like color-coded Excel file of info with terms and conditions and shit. She takes this girlfriend stuff seriously, bro. Debating the details of it like she’s making a contract.

Stalks your socials all the time.

I just know Rhiannon pulls those like "ten tricks to keep a man" shit they have in those magazines on you. Goes down it in a list deciding what you react the best to. Tries maintaining eye contact for a freaky long time until you finally call her out on it. Insists that it’s not what she’s doing, but you realize she’s hidden all her magazines from you the next day.

Double, triple, quadruple texter. You better not fall asleep on her, or her ass will be knocking on the door within a few hours.

She likes to surprise you with dates, but she’s so horrifically bad at it. She gets nervous and ends up asking you a billion different questions about things you like, that by the time you get to the date you’ve basically already planned it all for yourself anyway. Rhiannon looks so proud of herself that you can’t bear to say anything about it.

You catch sight of her search history over her shoulder one night, and it’s like twenty variations of “What to do on a date.” / “What to say on a date.” / “Where to go to dinner in…”

[cringefailvox]

Sometimes it makes me so sad nobody went looking for Alastor after the battle. Sure, maybe they knew he was still alive from Husk, and that he likes his privacy , but your hotelier goes MIA after fighting an angel only the devil from the Bible can beat? And you don’t follow up on that?

“So long as I have all of you with me!” 🎶 she sings, notably NOT having everyone with her.

I really hope they bring this up in season 2. Does it get to Alastor that he is not considered part of the group? That nobody was thinking of him after all he did to get the hotel started?

Can Vox use this point to discredit the Hotel? “ The Hazbin Hotel, where everyone is welcome and everyone deserves a shot at redemption! Unless, of course, we deem you too far gone, in which case, you can go f*** yourself while we eat pancakes” ( side by side videos of Al beaten up and the crew recovering with Lucifer’s promised pancakes)

i ALSO think about this all the time. on a practical level it makes sense that we'd have to trim the finale down to something manageable, and really all they had time for at the very end was a resounding musical finish, which necessarily glosses over some loose ends like this, BUT. on a personal level i would've killed to see whether the hotel actually thought alastor was dead or not. because as soon as adam joins the fight, charlie says "alastor was supposed to handle him! oh, no, he must be—" MUST BE WHAT??? and then we simply never mention him again. they're all clearly delighted to see him (except lucifer and husk, of course) when he comes back, which makes me think they at least knew he was alive, but might be unaware he was seriously injured—it seems possible that they wouldn't really consider alastor could be genuinely harmed, after all the time he's spent building himself up as the terrifying guardian of the hotel that can't be fazed by anything. think blitzo's "he can get hurt?" moment in western energy: the radio demon can't be dead. he can't be hurt. he's alastor.

now, would alastor himself be bothered that they didn't look for him? one hundred percent. perhaps he tells himself good riddance, he didn't want to form genuine bonds with these people anyway, friendship makes you vulnerable, friendship invites intrusions on your life and privacy that you never asked for, etc. but the night before the battle he basically confessed to niffty that he's grown accustomed to the hotel gang and enjoys being around them. he's not antisocial, he's just maladjusted and values his independence, and it visibly stings when he learns that not a single overlord cares to investigate his disappearance at the meeting in ep 3. whether or not he would have told the truth or welcomed any line of questioning is irrelevant. it's the principle of the thing—he wants people to be curious about him, he likes to cultivate a mystery, he wants to be chased. and then... no one does.

so ohhh yes i think it gets under his skin, and he absolutely resents that it does. i'd also love for this to get brought up in s2, i think it could make for a scene where charlie pulls him aside, thanks him for helping them during the battle, and that they were worried about him in the aftermath, because i'd LOVE to see alastor 1) immediately brush this off and redirect her energy somewhere else, and 2) have a Moment of conflicted emotion about how that open statement of affection makes him feel before visibly crushing it to dust. repressed king

i'm very intrigued by the vox thing too. that'd be such an interesting tack for him to take, to discredit the hotel by trying to form a wedge between alastor and the hotel through a kind of warped sympathy. like "i'm not a fan of the guy either, but yeesh! sure does paint a picture, doesn't it?" which alastor would fucking hate, but can he really bring himself to disagree? SO delicious.

[cherrrydragon]

➤ find something worth saving (it's all for the taking)

CHAPTER NINETEEN: INTERTWINED, SEWN TOGETHER

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SUMMARY ↳ And the universe said, "I love you." You stare at them. "Infinite universes. Infinite possibilities." pairing: jon kent x gn!reader x damian wayne warnings: none wc: 4.6k

It’s nighttime in Gotham, a city of shadows and contrasts that you've come to know well. The skyline is a jagged silhouette against the dark canvas of the night sky, punctuated by the occasional glimmer of lights from skyscrapers and streetlamps below.

You swing gracefully through the city, the rhythm of your movements second nature after months of navigating these streets. The cool breeze brushes against you, carrying with it the faint scent of rain and distant echoes of Gotham's perpetual hustle.

Arriving at a familiar rooftop, you land softly and take a moment to survey your surroundings. Oftentimes this is where, Damian and Jon often met you, a secluded spot where you can discuss plans, share moments of quiet, or simply enjoy each other's company away from the chaos of your nightly duties.

Tonight, however, the rooftop is empty when you arrive. The absence of their familiar presence gives you a moment to reflect on everything that has brought you to this point—the life you’ve led, the friendships you cherish, and the burgeoning feelings that have taken root in your heart.

You find yourself replaying conversations and moments in your mind, Jon's warmth and Damian's complexities intertwined with your own thoughts and uncertainties. The city seems to hold its breath around you, as if waiting for your next move.

You don’t get to, because you feel a sudden and violent gust of wind, and then there’s someone right behind you.

“[Name],” Jon breathes, pajamas and all. You turn around slowly, senses buzzing at his presence.

He takes two half-hearted steps towards you, before using his speed to get right in front of you in the split of a second. He reaches out a hand, almost instinctively, as if to steady you or perhaps himself. His gaze searches yours, his expression a mix of relief and something more complicated, something you can't quite decipher in the dim rooftop light.

“It’s you. It’s really you,” he says, reverently. His eyes trace your face, taking in every feature. “There’s no one else with that heartbeat.”

And, fuck, if that doesn’t just completely do you over.

He places his hands on your arms tightly, pulling you to him. As if you’ll disappear if he isn’t holding onto you. “What happened? Where were you?”

You try to speak, but no words come out. “You were just gone. I couldn’t hear you at all,” he whispers. He spots the Web-Watch. “What is this? Did whoever took you put it on you? Is it hurting you?”

His hand wanders over to it, and you suddenly remember how you first got stuck here in the first place. You snatch your wrist out of his range, because his strength is no joke. He looks at you confused. “It’s mine,” you choke out.

Jon's eyes narrow slightly, searching yours as if trying to unravel the mystery that surrounds you. He grabs your hands in his, gently bringing them up his face. “[Name], [Name][Name][Name],” he mutters. His lips move against your fingers, breath warm. “We’ve been searching for you everywhere.”

“I’m sorry.”

He closes his eyes tight and shakes his head. “Don’t apologize.” Jon's grip on you loosens slightly, his eyes flickering with a mixture of relief and lingering worry. "We missed you," he admits quietly. "Damian's been impossible, you know. He wouldn't rest until..."

You sigh deeply. “I honestly… didn’t think you’d care all that much,” you manage, your voice barely a whisper against the backdrop of the city's distant sounds.

“Why wouldn’t we care?” he near growls, looking at you fiercely. “With how we feel–” he cuts himself, breathing deeply. Jon's expression softens, his gaze holding yours with a depth of emotion that resonates through the quiet rooftop air. His hands remain on yours, a gentle warmth that anchors you in the moment. "I didn't think I'd see you again," he admits, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Are you hurt anywhere?” he asks, hands moving to run down your sides. It feels nice.

“No.” Your hands lay gently on his, not moving them. “I need to tell you something. You and Damian.”

Jon's hands pause their gentle exploration, his gaze locking onto yours with an intensity that reflects both concern and a hint of apprehension. The rooftop seems to hold its breath around you, the city's distant sounds providing a muted backdrop to this moment of intimacy and vulnerability.

“Can you take us to the Den? To talk?”

"The Den," he repeats softly, as if testing the idea. "Yeah, we can go there. Whatever you need." His voice carries a reassurance, tinged with an unspoken question. "Are you sure you're okay to talk about this now?" Oh, Jon. Ever the sweetheart.

You nod, taking a moment to steady yourself. "You deserve to know.”

He scoops you up in his arms tentatively. His eyes linger on your form wrapped in his arms, almost longingly. He sighs when he feels your arms wrapped around his neck. He flies you across the city, urgent but at the same time leisurely. Trying to savor whatever time with you.

As you arrive, Jon gently sets you down, his concern apparent and his touch gentle. The Den's interior is familiar and comforting, the place a testament to your resilience. It looks just like you left it, like it was frozen in time. The sight of it makes your heart squeeze.

His hands gently cup your face, turning you to him. “I’m gonna go get Dami,” he says, not making any move to let you go.

Your gaze is filled with infinite amounts of fondness for the boy. “I’ll be here,” you promise. You bring your hands to his face and angle him so you lay a sweet and cherished kiss on his cheek. “I promise.”

His eyes fall to your lips for a few aching seconds before he nods.  Jon lingers for a moment longer, his thumb brushing gently against your cheek before he reluctantly pulls away.

"I'll be right back," he murmurs, his voice carrying a quiet reassurance as he turns to leave the Den.

You watch Jon go, feeling a mix of anticipation and nervousness settle in your chest. Alone in the quiet of the Den, you take a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart. . The soft light from the fairy lights cast gentle shadows around you, creating a cocoon of solitude.

Minutes stretch into a timeless space, each second filled with the weight of anticipation. You find yourself replaying moments with Jon—his earnest concern, the warmth in his touch, and the unspoken emotions that seemed to hover between you both. Damian's complex presence also flickers through your thoughts, his sharp wit and guarded vulnerability leave an undeniable mark on your heart.

Finally, the soft sound of footsteps heralds Jon's return. He enters with Damian in tow, the atmosphere shifting subtly with their presence. Damian's expression is a mix of relief and something harder to define—perhaps a blend of concern and guarded hope. He approaches with a measured stride, his posture betraying a readiness to hear whatever you have to say.

Jon moves to stand beside you, a reassuring presence at your side. His hand finds yours, offering silent support and encouragement. Damian's gaze flickers between you and Jon, his demeanor a mix of curiosity and a hint of apprehension. 

"Where have you been?" Damian demands, his voice edged with a mixture of relief and frustration.

Jon looks at him sternly, and, surprisingly (is it really, though?), Damian’s demeanor stutters. The silent signal calms his initial intensity. His gaze softens fractionally as he looks back at you. Damian contemplates for a moment, before sighing and approaching you. He takes you in with a mix of guarded concern and curiosity, his usual stoic demeanor softened slightly by the relief of seeing you safe. 

“Beloved,” he mutters without constraint. His use of the endearment catches you off guard, a rare display of vulnerability from someone so often guarded. It almost makes you want to cry. He takes your face in his hands, the same way Jon did.

You feel his fingers trace your lips, a gesture that speaks volumes in its tenderness. Damian's gaze searches yours, his usually sharp eyes softened by an emotion you rarely see openly displayed. "Where have you been?"

"I thought... we thought..." he continues, voice faltering for a moment, as if grappling with the weight of his own emotions. "Are you hurt?" he asks quietly, his concern palpable in every word.

You shake your head slowly, overcome by the intensity of the moment and the flood of emotions that threaten to spill over. "I'm okay," you manage to whisper, your voice barely audible in the quiet of the Den.

Damian exhales sharply, a mixture of relief and lingering tension leaving his frame. He pulls you into a tight embrace, surprising you with the strength and earnestness of his hold. His arms wrap around you protectively, as if to shield you from any harm that might dare to approach.

"I wasn't sure if you would return," Damian admits quietly, his tone tinged with a mix of vulnerability and something deeper, something you're beginning to recognize as a bond that goes beyond mere partnership or friendship.

Jon's presence beside you feels like a grounding force, and as Damian's arms wrap around you, you realize just how much you missed this—missed them. You close your eyes, letting yourself be enveloped by the warmth of their concern and the strength of their embrace. It's a moment that transcends words, a silent affirmation of the bond you share with them.

When Damian finally releases you, his gaze still holds that unspoken question, the need to understand where you've been and why you were gone. You take a deep breath, preparing yourself to share the truth with them, to lay bare the secrets that have kept you apart.

Silence stretches between you, filled with words not said and emotions too raw to name. Finally, Damian breaks the silence, his voice steady yet filled with a quiet plea. "Don't disappear again."

You squeeze his hand gently, a silent promise passing between you. "I won't," you assure him, your voice steady despite the turmoil in your heart. You take a deep breath, preparing yourself to share the truth with them, to lay bare the secrets that have kept you apart. Jon and Damian's eyes remain locked on you, their concern and anticipation on display in the quiet of the Den.

"Where do I even start?" you begin, your voice barely above a whisper. "There’s a lot you don’t know about me, things I’ve kept hidden because…well, because I thought it was for the best." Jon's hand tightens around yours in silent support, while Damian's expression remains intense and focused, waiting for you to continue.

“I’m not from here,” you state, hesitant be damned. You’ve spent far too long hesitating. “I’m from Earth-143258 in an alternate universe.”

Jon and Damian exchange a glance, their expressions shifting from confusion to curiosity. Jon's grip on your hand tightens slightly, while Damian's intense focus on you doesn't waver.

“A universe where you, where the Justice League and Gotham and Metropolis don’t exist…” you look at them, “...outside of a series of comics.”

Damian's brow furrows, and Jon's eyes widen with a mix of intrigue and concern. The weight of your revelation hangs heavy in the air, the enormity of it settling in their minds.

"A different universe," Damian echoes, his voice filled with a blend of skepticism and curiosity. "And in this universe, we're...fictional?"

You nod, feeling the intensity of their gazes. "Yes. In my world, you’re all characters in comic books, movies, TV shows... You’re heroes in stories, legends. But here, you're real."

“A man named Miguel O’Hara, the Spider-Man of Earth-928, made an autonomous multiverse jump using a device like this.” You lift up your wrist to show them the Web-Watch. “Using it, he amassed an elite force of others like him from different universes. Including me.”

“Karen, would you mind?” you ask. Suddenly, a hologram forms, showing the intricate base of operations that is the Spider-HQ. “Our purpose is to protect the multiverse from anomalies and threats that could destroy entire realities. Sometimes people end up in the wrong universe, and we send them back to their home universe as well.” The hologram casts a gentle glow on their faces. “We call it the Spider-Society.”

The hologram shifts, changing into a bright tree. An intricate veil of webs expands around you, filling the space. “This is all of us. All of our lives woven together in a web.” You take a moment to admire the image. “The web of the multiverse.”

Jon and Damian stare at the hologram, their expressions a mix of awe and disbelief. The tree of webs illuminates the Den, casting intricate shadows that seem to weave the narrative you’re sharing. Jon's grip on your hand remains firm, a silent anchor as you delve deeper into your explanation.

“All of our stories are pretty much the same. We get bit by a radioactive spider that gives us powers, and we use those powers to help people.”

Damian listens intently, his usual skepticism softened by the gravity of your words. He glances at Jon, silently exchanging a look that conveys both their shared disbelief and the realization that your story, no matter how fantastical, is being delivered with sincerity.

“Was there an… anomaly in our universe then?” ask Damian, looking at you.

“No,” you sigh. “I was never supposed to be here.”

Your legs carry you closer to the hologram, Jon following in an effort to not lose his grip on you. “I found a particle accelerator. Most of the time that means nothing good. Turns out, an alternate version of me,” you emphasize, “[Name] [L.Name], had gotten stuck in my universe and was just trying to get home. But seeing me,” you pause, taking a breath.

“All they saw was someone trying to get in their way. They activated the particle accelerator and threw me in it.” You turn to look at them. “That’s how I ended up here.”

Damian and Jon exchange a glance, their expressions a mix of disbelief and concern. Jon's grip on your hand tightens slightly, his eyes filled with a mixture of sympathy and determination.

“So, you’ve been… lost all this time?” Jon asks softly, his voice carrying the weight of the revelation.

“The whole reason I wanted to create the badassium was so I could use it to power another watch,” you say, looking down at it. “Since other me destroyed it.”

“A while ago, they visited me. In this universe.” You look at Jon. “On New Years.” You watch as recognition flickers in his eyes. “You can imagine how well I reacted.”

“That’s why you were crying,” he says softly in realization. “Suddenly seeing the reason you were… stuck.”

“I told them to find Miguel O’hara. And he did, a week ago.”

Jon's hand brushes your cheek gently, his touch a comforting presence amidst the weight of your words. Damian stands nearby, his expression unreadable as he processes the implications of your story.

“So, this entire time,” he begins, voice hinting with disbelief, “while we have been over ourselves with worry that you were somewhere hurt–”

“Damian,” cuts in Jon sternly.

Damian ignores him. “You were enjoying yourself, finally home and away from this cursed place you got stuck in? Somewhere we couldn’t even begin to look for you? Is that it?”

Your heart sinks at Damian's words, his anger and frustration cutting deeply. You can see the mix of emotions in his eyes—relief, betrayal, confusion—all battling for dominance.

“No,” you whisper desperately. “No, it wasn’t like that. In fact, the whole time I was home I couldn’t focus on being happy because I was focused on you,” you state. “On how I left things and how I wished I could explain everything to you but who could I when there’s such a disconnect between us–” you choke, cutting yourself off.

“Didn’t you think we cared? That we deserved to know?”

You flinch at his words, the truth of them hitting harder than you expected. “I… I didn’t know what to think,” you admit quietly, meeting Damian’s gaze with a mix of regret and vulnerability. “In my world, you’re… different. Fictional. I never expected…” Your voice trails off, unable to find the right words to express the complexity of your emotions.

“I would’ve never even considered the possibility of your existence before now,” you whisper. “I really should’ve known better.”

You stare at them. “Infinite universes. Infinite possibilities.”

“Then why didn’t you stay?” Damian asks quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. “If you were finally home, why come back?”

You take a deep breath, the weight of Damian's question hanging in the air. Your gaze shifts between Jon and Damian, their eyes reflecting the depth of their concern and the complexity of their feelings.

“How could I?” you ask them. “After everything, how could you expect me not to feel the way I feel?”

"When I first got here," you continue, "I felt lost, out of place. But then I met you both, and everything changed. You became my friends, my partners, my family. The thought of leaving you behind... pretending everything that happened never happened. It was unbearable."

“You're real,” you say softly. “Everything about you, and everything I feel about you is real.”

Silence descends upon the Den, the weight of your words hanging in the air. Damian's gaze remains fixed on you, his usual guarded demeanor momentarily faltering under the weight of your sincerity. You feel Jon’s grip on you tighten, a constant presence of support and understanding at your side.

You breathe in. “I’m telling you this now, because you deserve to know. And if you’ll have me..”

Looking at them now is like looking at destiny. “I’d like to stay in your lives.”

Damian's expression softens imperceptibly, his gaze lingering on you with a mixture of contemplation and something deeper that you can't quite decipher. Jon squeezes your hand gently, a silent reassurance that speaks volumes amidst the unspoken tension in the room. They look at each other for a heart stopping moment.

"Beloved," Damian murmurs softly, his voice holding a rare vulnerability. "You've been missed."

Jon nods in agreement, his eyes conveying a depth of emotion that mirrors your own. "We want you here," he says quietly, his voice a steady anchor in the midst of uncertainty.

You nod, a weight lifting from your shoulders as you step closer to them. Jon's arms wrap around you first, pulling you into a warm embrace that feels like coming home. Damian joins, his embrace steady and reassuring, his presence a grounding force amidst the whirlwind of emotions. 

You take a deep breath, feeling the warmth of their embrace resonate deep within you. "Thank you," you say, your voice filled with gratitude. "Thank you for choosing me.”

Jon presses a gentle kiss to your temple, and Damian's hand finds yours, his grip firm and reassuring. "We always will," Jon vows, his voice steady.

“Well,” starts Jon, grabbing your shoulder to turn you to face him. “If it’s no trouble, I’d really like to kiss you now.”

Your chuckle breaks the tension, and you nod, unable to keep the smile off your face. Jon's eyes light up with a mix of relief and affection as he leans in, his lips meeting yours in a tender, heartfelt kiss.

It’s different from Damian’s kiss. His lips move in tandem against yours, intertwined, sewn together. His hands rest on your waist, squeezing lightly.

Jon's kiss is a symphony of warmth and tenderness, a stark contrast to the urgency and passion that often defines Damian's touch. You can feel the depth of his emotions in every gentle movement of his lips, the way he holds you as if you're the most precious thing in his world. The kiss is a promise, a reassurance, and a declaration all at once.

Damian watches the exchange with a soft, almost imperceptible smile. He steps closer, his hand reaching out to gently cup your chin, tilting your face towards him. "Beloved," he murmurs, his voice a low, intimate rumble. "My turn."

His kiss is different from Jon's—more intense, a reflection of his complex emotions and the guarded vulnerability he's allowed himself to show. It's a kiss that speaks of his longing, his relief.  When he finally pulls back, his eyes search yours, seeking reassurance.

Later that night, you sit between Jon and Damian, cuddled up on a worn-out couch in the Den, the soft glow of the fairy lights casting a warm light around the room. Small talk fills the space.

“Wait, so, Wonder Woman doesn’t exist, but Thor, God of thunder, does?” asks Jon. You’re not paying all that much attention to him since the feeling of his fingers caressing your side is quite distracting.

“I guess the universe picked and chose,” you hum.

“So there’s no Justice League?”

“There's the Avengers,” you say. “Just as cool as the Justice League. And they’re my friends,” you grin triumphantly.

Damian listens quietly, eyes lidded and content. “Were you a fan of these comics you mentions earlier?”

Your grin turns a little shy. “Maybe just a little bit.”

Jon's fingers trace idle patterns on your arm, a comforting gesture that grounds you in the present moment. "Does that mean you know all our secrets?" he teases lightly, a playful glint in his eyes.

You raise an eyebrow, matching his playful tone. “I don’t need pre-knowledge to figure out all I need to know about you.” Your hand flattens against his chest, rubbing along it.

Jon sighs at your touch, eyes fluttering. “Smooth,” he murmurs, leaning in to press his lips to yours. You melt into the kiss, the warmth of Jon’s lips against yours sending a shiver down your spine. His hand moves to cup your cheek tenderly, his touch gentle yet filled with a quiet intensity that speaks of promises and shared moments.

Across from you, Damian watches with a mixture of amusement and something deeper, his gaze lingering on the intimacy between you and Jon. He clears his throat, drawing your attention. “As much as I appreciate witnessing this... display of affection,” he says, voice tinged with a hint of dry humor, “perhaps now is not the time.”

Jon presses a few more kisses to your lips before breaking away. “You’re just jealous,” Jon teases, leaning back against the couch with a satisfied grin.

Damian rolls his eyes, but the corners of his lips twitch upward in a rare display of amusement. “Hardly. You two are insatiable.”

“Insatiable is right,” you mutter, staring at Damian’s lips.

Damian raises an eyebrow at your comment, a hint of amusement coloring his expression. "I beg your pardon?"

You shrug, a mischievous glint in your eyes. "I mean, you're not exactly innocent in all of this," you tease, leaning closer to him. "The way you kissed me back then..."

You turn back to look at Jon. “Did you know he picked me up and pinned me against the wall?”

Jon’s eyes widen in mock surprise, his playful demeanor matching yours. “Did he now?” he asks, leaning closer with exaggerated curiosity. “You have to tell me all about it.”

Damian's cheeks color slightly, but he meets your teasing with a smirk. "I don't recall you complaining," he retorts, his voice laced with amusement.

You move, placing yourself on Damian’s lap, and wrapping your arms around his neck. Damian's hands settle comfortably around your waist as you settle on his lap, his gaze meeting yours with a mix of amusement and something deeper, a warmth that lingers beneath his usual stoic demeanor. Jon watches the exchange with a playful grin, leaning back against the couch as he enjoys your dynamic.

Damian’s expression softens slightly, his sharp features betraying a hint of the turmoil beneath. “I… I apologize for my earlier insensitivity,” he murmurs, his voice laced with a rare humility. “It’s… difficult to process.”

You lean forward, your hands playing with Damian's hair as you look into his eyes. "Don’t apologize," you say softly. "I get it."

Damian's gaze softens as he meets your eyes, his usual guarded demeanor giving way to a vulnerability that speaks volumes. "Thank you," he murmurs quietly, his voice holding a depth of emotion that resonates through the quiet of the Den.

Jon watches the exchange with a soft smile, his hand finding yours once more as he leans in closer. "We're here for you," he says gently, his voice a steady reassurance amidst the lingering tension.

You smile warmly, leaning in to press a kiss to Damian's forehead. "We're in this together," you assure him, your voice filled with sincerity. Jon leans in from his spot beside you, pressing a kiss to Damian's cheek with a fond grin.

Oh, you remember something. “You know what I found out?” A small grin spreads across your face. “I went to have a talk with alternate me.” Your finger gently traces patterns on Damian’s chest. “Found out something really interesting.”

“And what would that be?” Damian mutters, subdued by your touch. Jon’s hand comes up to rest on your back.

“Most of us Spider’s usually have the same people in our lives,” you begin, voice dropping. “A Gwen Stacy, an MJ, maybe a Felicia Hardy,” you lift your head to look at Damian. “AKA, the Spider’s very own cat burglar, Black Cat.” Damian raises a brow at that.

“However, they didn’t have any of those people. You know what they did have, though?” you ask, pausing for dramatic effect.

“They had you two,” you say softly, gaze shifting between them. “Damian Wayne and Jon Kent. Not Superboy or Robin, just completely normal people.” Jon and Damian exchange a glance, their expressions reflecting a mix of surprise and contemplation.

“I love you,” you say, smiling softly. “I love you in every universe.”

Jon stares at you, his eyes filled with a mix of awe and affection. He leans in, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips, a silent affirmation of his feelings.  Damian looks up at you like you're a thing to be worshiped, face one of awe. “We love you too,” he murmurs, his voice carrying a depth of emotion that resonates through the quiet of the Den.

Jon sighs contentedly, leaning back into the couch with a smile. "I don't think I'll ever get used to hearing that," he admits, his voice smitten.

You laugh softly, the warmth of their affection enveloping you in a cocoon of happiness. "Get used to it," you tease gently, resting your head against Damian's shoulder. "Because I'm not going anywhere."

Damian's hand finds yours, his touch grounding and reassuring. "We wouldn't want you to," he murmurs, his voice a soft whisper that echoes through the room.

Jon nods in agreement, his gaze never leaving yours. "You're stuck with us," he says with a playful grin, leaning in to press a lingering kiss to your forehead.

The three of you settle into a comfortable silence, the Den filled with the quiet intimacy of shared moments and spoken promises. As the night stretches on, you find yourself surrounded by the warmth of their presence, knowing that in this moment, and in the countless moments to come, you've found who you truly belong with.

Wrapped in their embrace, you let all your worries wash away, the echoes of their voices and the steady rhythm of their hearts lulling you into a state of peace. In the quiet darkness of the Den, amidst the city's distant hum, you find solace in the knowledge that you are home—at last, and always—with Jon and Damian by your side.

notes: see you guys sunday for the epilogue :)

[johnwickb1tsch]

bittersweet ~ a yandere!John Wick x fem!reader sunshine/grump coffee shop AU... Part 27 all chapters

WARNING: NSFW, SEXUAL CONTENT, YANDERE SH!T. Plz take care. I luv u all. 😘

-“I have a surprise for you.”

Hearing this fills you with what is perhaps a disproportionate amount of trepidation.

However…consider the source.

“Oh?”

“I wasn’t going to give it to you yet, but…I think I’d better.”

You are not sure what to think about this, so you remain silent.

He takes your hand, leading you up the stairs.

As you walk down the hallway you are filled with more and more apprehension, convincing yourself that there is some trick he’s pulling around the corner. He has been disappearing on and off, refusing to tell you where he was going, but vaguely hinting that he was cooking something up for you.

You fear it’s something you don’t want at all, like a red room fully fitted with racks and restraints and hooks hanging from the ceiling. If he frames that as a gift you swear you will pull a Bertha, and burn this personal version of Thornfield Hall to the ground.

You do not like it, when he insists on covering your eyes as he walks you through a door close to your bedroom upstairs. By the time you take three steps into the room you have damn near worked yourself into a lather, a fine trembling running through your limbs.

“Shh, baby, you’re going to like this,” he assures you, which is no real assurance at all.

Five more steps before he stops you, removing his hands with a flourish.

Your heart leaps to your throat.

Floor to ceiling windows let in a flood of morning light to the room. There is a big table, and copious shelves, and…an easel.

You realize he has made you an art studio.

Your feet move forward of their own volition, taking in the various boxes stacked on the table and the shelves. They’re art supplies, and you recognize brand names that you could hardly afford on your barista’s salary. Sennelier. Windsor and Newton pigments, top tier. Fine brushes from France and Germany that cost fifty dollars a piece. Tablets in every size and every tooth of Canson paper.

“Oh. My. God.”

“You…like it?”

He almost sounds vulnerable in that moment, which is entirely ridiculous.

You imagine how you would have reacted, if your relationship had been normal. You would have thrown your arms around his neck, showered him with kisses.

This studio is everything you’ve ever dreamed of having, as an artist.

As it is…he is buying your complacency, if not your love, trying to distract you from your situation with expensive trappings and let’s face it—adult arts and crafts.  

It hurts.

And yet, you know you’d better fucking say something, or Mr. Nice Wick is going to flee the scene.

“How did you know?” you ask, fingering a box of brand-new oil pastels. “It’s perfect in every way.”

You are trying your best to sound happy about it, but your throat is tight, and you know he’s going to get mad about it any second now.

He couldn't have surprised you more, if he'd stood on tiptoe and performed a pirouette, as when he simply gathers you into his arms. 

“I had help from the owner of the art supply store,” he admits. “Pretty sure they'll be sending me a Christmas card for the rest of my life.” 

You laugh at that, settling into the hollow at the base of his throat. It feels so good, just to be held like this. A part of you cautions not to trust it—but most of you is so exhausted from living on edge, you just take the comfort at face value. 

“Did you go to Mr. Morton’s shop?” you ask, referring to the local art stop in town. You don’t know why this gives life to a glimmer of hope in you. It’s not like the kind old man would have any reason to suspect you’re here, with John Wick, just because the mysterious newcomer suddenly had a yen to buy out the store of all its art supplies.

“No, I went a little farther afield.”

Almost as though he was covering his tracks.

“Oh.” You cannot conceal the note of disappointment in your tone. “John…” You muster your courage for the next question, hoping you won’t blow the day all to shit, but you suddenly need to know. “Am I a missing person?”

He presses his lips to your forehead, and speaks quietly against your skin. “Technically, no. A friend of mine will ping your passport entry at JFK soon. You’ll tender your resignation with regrets at the coffee house. I’ll have your little apartment cleaned out. You don’t need it anymore.”

He really did think all this through. You digest the details of his Machiavellian plan rather distantly, as though you are on the outside watching from above. He has orchestrated your disappearance masterfully, but also in a way that won’t raise questions with authorities should you happen to resurface in his company. In a twisted way this gives you a sliver of hope, that maybe he doesn’t intend to keep you locked away forever.

A fool’s optimism, perhaps, but at the moment it’s all you have.

“Where’s my phone?”

“At the bottom of the Grand Canal, I’m afraid.”

“That’s littering.”

He just snorts in answer. You find that you regret the fact that all your photos are lost. You never did back them up on the cloud. How strange, that such a record of your life could be erased with the destruction of one electronic device.

Talking about this doesn’t seem to scuttle his mood, so it gives you the courage to ask, “Can I come in here whenever I want?”

You are so hopeful in your request that you sense him war with himself, in the end unable to outright say no. “If you're a good girl,” he qualifies with his lips still on your forehead. 

Hiding beneath his chin, you grind your teeth at this caveat, but don't voice aloud any of the pithy comebacks that come to mind. 

 Then you notice your sketchbook from Italy is sitting on the worktable, along with your custom bound copy of Jane Eyre.

After everything, you’re not sure why seeing it there, knowing it had been in his hands, makes your heart skitter in your chest. He follows your gaze, a dark eyebrow lifting. It is filled with sketches of him from before you met up in Venice. The whole fucking thing is practically a confession of the grinding longing you'd felt for him, in the first couple weeks after you left. You can’t deny it now, but you can choose not to acknowledge it aloud.

He stares you down, clearly hoping for…something. A confession, perhaps, or at least an admission. You feel like a bug under a magnifying glass in the sun, fixed with that gaze. But you hold fast, and in the end he sighs. “I’m going to go clean up breakfast,” he tells you. “Have fun with your new toys.”

He kisses your forehead before quitting the room, and once again you fancy that if one were to squint, you could almost mistake the two of you for a normal couple.

-He actually leaves you to your own devices until darkness begins to fill the trees beyond the window.   

By the time he comes to collect you he has changed into a black button down and dark jeans. It suits him to his bare toes, and inwardly you sigh. Why does this devil of a man have to be so goddamned handsome?

“So, what has my little artist made today?”

You are loathe to admit, the answer is nothing.

You opened every box, gazed at the pastels and paints and pencils longingly. And yet with charcoal in hand the fine white paper taunted you, inspiration an illusive thing.

You had no idea what you wanted to draw, or paint, or make. The past week has been so jarring, you would think you would be bursting with something, but all you draw is a blank. 

You shrug, curled up in the comfy chair by the easel, your drawing pad open in front of you. He takes the seat opposite, regarding you quizzically.

“You don’t like it in here?”

“I love it,” you assure him, and its no complacent lie. “I just…have been soaking it in.”

“Hmm.”

You can tell that he’s disappointed, and your treacherous heart skips a beat.

You failed to turn on any lights, as the sun is setting. John flicks on a single lamp on the side table, washing his one side in a dramatic glow. It is as though something clicks into place, as you look upon him. Your dark angel, your sinister lover, your obsessive captor, a man you should hate, but you are drawn to him like a moth to the flame.

Perhaps now, he shall also be your muse. Was ever there a man better suited to embody the mysteries of Caravaggian shadow?

“Don’t move,” you say softly, and begin to draw.

[night-night-stories-before-bed]

You Truly Are A Merchant of Death.

Warning ⚠️; mention of human sacrifice, mention of the future end of the world, blood, grief. 🔞

Pairing; Tony Stark/ Cult!Leader!Male!Reader

Summary; You were an enigma, a mystery that Tony never really understood. That was made your charm. That was what made him fall and allow you to pull him in the dark.

Note; How the hell did I write that Mastodon??? I think that is the longest story I have written until now. I think I am like around 3k words if not more but that is because I love Tony ❤️

~~~~~~~~~~

The coldness was infiltrating the armour and Tony could feel his fingers and toes going numb. His body shivered, trying to keep him warm to no avail. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't move. He was stuck in his amour waiting to die.

No one had come for him and Tony doubted anyone would.

That was until he heard his armour cracking as someone tore it open. Tony blinked, trying to adjust to the sudden light when his mask was taken off before his eyes fell on you. Leaning above him, he could see the sparkle of joy in your eyes behind your own mask. Your gloved hand rested on his cheek for a second before you spoke to him.

- “Who did that to you, Tony?”

Your voice was soft, gentle like always but there was an edge to it like you are trying to hide your anger. He tried to talk, to tell you everything, but Tony only managed to cough, his throat way too dry. You hushed him like a scared child, fingers brushing off the blood on his lips.

- “Okay, don’t talk right now. I’ll get you out of that thing in no time, and will speak when you are better.”

Tony wanted to ask you how you were going to free him but never had the chance to open his mouth. With your bare hands, you ripped apart his amour, being so careful around his ark reactor. Once he was free, Tony sat, panting while you petted his back telling him to breathe deeply.

His eyes stared at what was left of his armour and noticed it had corroded as if you had used acid. No, not acid, Tony corrected himself mentally, but magic. How could he forget that you could use fucking magic, something he didn't understand, to do even more weird shit.

Tony had so many questions, among which why were you here? You were his enemy, a villain that he had tried so many times to stop and failed to. You had no reason to help him. But here you were, taking off your ceremonial robe to put it on him. Tony couldn't hold back the sigh of relief when he felt the warmth from your robe enveloping him.

You helped Tony to stand up and he leaned against you, feeling frail. Which wasn't a surprise when he had passed the night in the cold and was probably suffering from hypothermia. Yet, Tony felt his body turn to ice when his eyes landed on the dozen of silhouettes standing around the two of you. They were wrapped in the same kind of ceremonial robes masks, but of a different colour than yours.

Your followers.

The members of your murderous cult.

Tony tensed as he felt your arm wrapping around his waist as you kept him close to you. Your body radiated heat, more than any human should be able to. You looked at him and Tony felt all his fear and worry disappear. He was safe. Which was a weird thought since you had murdered more than a hundred people. Sacrifices for those things you called your Gods.

- “Come on. Let us bring you home, Tony. You went through enough for now, you need to rest so you can tell me all that happened.”

Your velvet voice was hypnotic and Tony found himself nodding before he followed you. Your followers began humming something he couldn't understand as all around you things began to transform. The walls melted and the ground cracked. Slowly, everything transformed and before he knew it, you two stood in his lab.

You helped him sit down before going to grab him a bottle of water. Without thinking about it, he took it from your hands and drank it almost all while you sat by his side. It was the first time you two weren't fighting and Tony didn't know what to think about it. He was supposed to stop you and make sure you couldn't kill more people, but instead here he was, being cared for by you.

Tony groaned when he saw you summon the first aid kit. You patched him up, without a word but your eyes spoke for you. He could see sadness and anger flashing in your eyes. After what felt like an eternity, you were the first to spoke.

- “Tony. What happened?” You asked with a honeyed voice. “Who did that to you?”

- “Roger.” He croaked, his eyes staring at the floor as he felt tears building in his eyes. “It was Roger and Barnes.”

And just like that, he told you everything. From the botched mission in Sokovia to the murder of the Wankada’s king to the Accord, without forgetting the tensions in the team. Tony closed his fists as he recalled Steve’s betrayal and the battle that cost Rhodney his legs. He chocked telling you about the video of the Winter Soldier murdering his parents and then his battle against Steve and Bucky.

He told you how Steve hit him in the chest with the shield and then abandoned him.

You sat next to him, hand gently caressing his back as you listened to his story. You squeezed his shoulder when he finished his story.

- “I am sorry, Tony. Very sorry about your parents, they didn't deserve such an end. You were right to be angry at Steve for hiding it from you.”

Tony could only nod, chasing the tears from his eyes with the sleeves of your robe. It smelled like you with a touch of blood and sea. A bit fishy too.

- “Anyway, how did you find me? Why do you care?” He asked, blunter than he intended, but you only chuckled.

- “The hows aren't a mystery, I simply used magic to localize you. And how couldn't I care? We are friends after all.”

This time it was Tony who laughed. Friends? Friends? He had tried so many times to catch you and even fought you, severing your limbs and hurting you, yet you called him your friend?

He looked at you only to see honesty in your eyes. Gods, you were serious.

He snorted and looked away, wondering how in hell did you managed to see him as a friend after everything. You were sicker than he thought.

- “So what now? You expect me to stop trying to conter your plan of world destruction and just stand watching while you butcher and sacrifice people?” Tony asked, sarcastic, making you chuckle.

- “No matter how hard you try, you cannot stop me Tony. You could throw me in a bottomless pit and the end will still come. The fate of our world was written a long time ago and there is nothing we can do to stop it from happening. If it isn't me who will free Them, then it will be someone else.” Your voice was sweet as you finished cleaning his cheek. “But fear not. You’ll be long dead when it happens. The stars won't align for a few more centuries.”

Tony sighed as he felt a cold shiver run down his spine. Your words sounded like a dead sentence, like there really wasn't anything to be done and that opposing you was useless. So many death. None that could be avenged.

- “I don't expect you to stop, Tony. I know you won't, but I wish you would pour your energy into something more rewarding.” You added when he didn't answer you. “You have the greatest brain I ever met and you put much of yourself into everything you create. You could do so much more if you didn't focus on me.”

Again, you were right. You knew him more than he thought.

Sighing, Tony shook his head, feeling anger rise in his heart.

- “Yeah, and what did it get me? Ultron was a terrible mistake that took too many lives and even destroyed a whole city. The Sokovia Accord? It tore the team apart and got me a fucking shield in the chest!” Tony snapped and threw the empty bottle of water against the wall. He felt tears fill his eyes. “Whatever I do, whatever I make it only leads to destruction.”

- “You truly are a merchant of Death, Tony.”

Your words were like a slap in the face and Tony fought back a sob. No matter what he did, he would always be stuck with that title right? Burying his face in his hands, he ignored yours squeezing his shoulder.

- “Don't be sad, my friend. Some of us are cursed with a terrible fate, it is not your fault.”

- “Shut up. Just fucking shut up! You are not helping.” Tony hissed, fingers digging in his scalp.

And you did. You fell quiet but stayed close and Tony knew it because he felt your eyes on him. He tried to fight it, but failed as tears rolled down his cheeks. He was an idiot. A moron who destroyed everything he touched and always disappointed his friends. He couldn't forget what Barton had told him, couldn't forget Roger choosing his parents’ murderer over him. After everything, he had been thrown away like a dirty tissue.

He sobbed as he felt your arms wrapping around him. His first reflex was to try and push you away but instead melted in your embrace. The warmth of your body sank into his, chasing away the coldness from the hypothermia and your smell was familiar, like stepping on his balcony facing the sea. Except you also smelled like fresh blood.

Tony tensed slightly when he felt one of your hands on his as you slowly forced him to let go of his hair. Then, you passed your finger through them, massaging his sore scalp.

- “Don't hurt yourself, Tony. You don't deserve this, you didn't do anything wrong.” You whispered, making Tony scoff.

- “Everything I do is wrong. I’m a walking disaster.” He hissed, looking away as you held him closer against your chest.

- “That is false and we both know it.”

Tony didn't reply. Instead, he rolled his eyes before closing them, resting his cheek against your chest. He sighed when he felt your chin on top of his head, but decided to allow it. It has been so long since he was held like that and since he felt like someone actually cared for him. Which was weird coming from a psychopathic murderer like you.

But Tony couldn't deny that you never hurt him. No matter how much he wounded you, severing your limbs and tearing you apart with his beams, you never used your magic against him. You would talk, tease him about your immortality and then disappear with your goons and sacrifices. Sometimes you would take the beating while talking about your beliefs and Gods, not caring that Tony had his hand right through your stomach.

You truly were an enigma, a mystery that Tony didn't truly understand and a part of him didn't want to.

After what felt like an eternity, you gently nudged him, forcing him up. Tony didn't have the strength to fight you, so he simply followed as you led him up. He sighed as you pushed him into the bathroom and he understood immediately; that he had to shower.

After you got him clean clothes and left the bathroom, Tony took his shower. He stayed longer than necessary under the warm jet, trying to forget everything that had happened but couldn't. The damn video kept replaying in his mind with such accuracy that he threw up a few times, bile burning his throat. Yet you never intruded on his privacy.

When he left the bathroom, he found you had pulled a chair to face the door. You sat with your legs crossed reading one of Tony’s books about engineering. Behind your mask, he could see your curious eyes moving with each word you read and the joy in them. You were enjoying the book and didn't knew how to feel seeing you so… human.

After a few seconds, you raised your head and Tony threw your ceremonial dress at you. It landed on your head and you laughed, thanking him before putting it back on. He ignored you and went to his bedroom, guessing where you wanted him to go next. His wounds burned as he had taken off the bandages, yet didn't want to go through making them again.

He was surprised when you didn't follow him as Tony had expected you would make sure he was resting. Getting under the cover, he sighed realizing you really weren't going to intrude in his private place. He didn't notice when he fell asleep, but Tony hadn't had such a restful sleep in a long time.

He woke up hearing a soft knock on his door. Blinking, Tony sat on his bed and frowned as silence filled the room. There was no light as night had fallen. Through his window, he could see the moon. Large and round, it was almost hypnotic. He shivered has the knock repeated and coughed as he tried to speak. After a few seconds, he managed to call you in.

You entered, your ceremonial robe dancing around your feet as you walked in the moonlight. Like a cat, your eyes reflected it and for a second Tony thought he was facing a predator.

You sat on his bed and rested your hand on his forehead. Tony slapped your hand away, only making you chuckle softly as you were amused by his childish behaviour.

- “I am happy that you rested, Tony. You look already better, even tho those bruises seem painful.” You said, voice gentle and low, as if you thought speaking louder would give him a headache.

You would be right. His whole body was sore as if he had been hit by a train. Groaning, Tony passes a hand on his face, wondering what you wanted, and why you woke him up. As if you could read his thoughts, you laughed before offering him your hand.

- “Come with me. I want to show you something.”

In the dark of the room, Tony stared at your hand, weighing the good and bad of following you. For all he knew you could lead him to his dead. Maybe you had decided he would be the perfect sacrifice tonight. Maybe you planned on devouring his corpse after stabbing him in your unholy altar of debauchery.

Yet, Tony thought, nothing you would do could be more painful than what he had experimented on lately. With a sigh, he took your hand in his. He almost shivered when you squeezed his hand as you got up, waiting for him to do the same.

Tony wondered if he had lost his mind. He followed you as you led him across his house and then outside. Barefoot, Tony shivered as he felt the cold damp sand against the soles of his feet. The sound of the waves crashing had something calming and eerie at the same time.

You stopped close to the water, close enough for the tide to tickle his toes. Your thumb gently strokes his hand, making small circles before you let him go, entering the sea silently. Tony can do nothing but stare at you. Under the moonlight, your ceremonial robes seemed to glow slightly. The broderies at least. They formed strange designs, some alien to him and others weirdly familiar as if they were memories from a dream he had since long forgotten.

He watched as you pulled out a round piece of golden metal from your sleeve. You murmured something, like chanting, but so low Tony couldn't understand anything, then dropped the piece of metal. The sea swallowed it up and a soft light began to glow from the water. A pulse of energy disturbed the waves and water while a soft buzzing sound rose like a bee flying around his head.

- “Fear not, Tony. I won't let anything happen to you, you are safe by my side.” You said and Tony almost wanted to believe you, even tho he didn't know what you were protecting him from.

In the distance, Tony saw a small boat rocking with the waves. There were flickering lights coming from it and Tony recognized them as coming from lanterns or torches. He opened his mouth, ready to ask some questions, but before he could chants broke the silence. They were loud and made the air vibrate. Turning his attention to you, he watched as you moved your hand. A maelstrom began to form, becoming bigger and bigger until a tunnel formed.

- “I am not bringing you in for the choir, Tony, but for something way more exciting.” You said, offering your hand once more in an invitation to follow you.

For a second, Tony hesitated and almost stepped back, but his feet moved against his will and he grabbed your hand. The sea was cold and he felt the water soak the bottom of his pants. Normally it would bother him, but right now he didn't care. His eyes stared in awe as the tunnel closed between them while the current made them move like a treadmill. They move without walking.

Around them, Tony can see the fish swimming. For a quarter of a second, he even spots a great white shark killing its prey. He is so fascinated by everything that Tony doesn't even realize that time and space fold around them. Before he can understand what is going on, the tunnel comes to an end as everything turn black.

The water took a gloomy greenish tint and seemed to even glow slightly as if a few glowsticks had been thrown in it. Stepping out, Tony realized you had taken him into some kind of cave. But it is not really a cave as he looks up and sees the night sky. No, not a cave at all, more a crater. The moon is hung above them, enormous, so big Tony thought it was about to crash on Earth. The strangest thing was that some stars seemed to be black and yet shined brighter than Northern Star.

- “Where are we?” Tony asked, his voice wavering as he walked around, not looking where he was going occupied he was staring at the weird stars. “I’ve never seen stars like those. How are they black and shining? That doesn't make any sense.”

- “There are things in this world that don't make sense, Tony, and which would make you go mad if you tried to understand them. As for where we are, we are still on Earth. I just took you home.” You replied to him, walking by his side and looking up too. “What you are seeing are the stars of Carcosa.”

- “Carcosa…”

The name rolled on Tony’s tongue, but he couldn't pronounce it right. He heard you clearly yet his tongue refused to cooperate. He frowned as it almost felt familiar. Yes, Tony had heard that name before, he was sure.

- “Along the shore the cloud waves break, the twin suns sink behind the lake, the shadows lengthen in Carcosa. Strange is the night where black stars rise, and strange moons circle through the skies but stranger still is lost Carcosa. Songs that the Hyades shall sing, where flap the tatters of the King, must die unheard in Dim Carcosa. Song of my soul, my voice is dead; die thou, unsung, as tears unshed shall dry and die in Lost Carcosa.” You sang before turning your attention to him and Tony plunged his eyes into yours. “Cassilda’s song describes it pretty well in a beautiful poem. You might have heard it from The King in Yellow, a play from around 1895.”

- “Maybe… I don't know, but the name is familiar.”

Without another word, Tony began exploring the place. There are desks and bookshelves filled with books and scrolls and even school boards covered in a language Tony doesn't understand. It's primitive and yet complex.

Something else caught his attention.

An altar of black-greenish stone covered in offerings of incense and meat surrounding an idol. The thing was made of a green stone and looked terrifying. It had the appearance of a mix between an octopus, a dragon and a parody of a human. Sitting on a throne of the same colour, the creature seemed to be looking directly at him with its many eyes.

- “Cthulhu, Priest of the Great Old Ones, he who sleeps in R’lyeh dreaming, waiting to be free once more.” You said as you walked up to the altar, fingers brushing the idol almost lovingly.

Tony approached as well, his gaze drifting to the mural behind the altar. The gravure represented aquatic creatures as massive as the whales they hunted. They looked oh-so human and yet so far from one. The gravure had the same style as the idol and seemed almost as old.

- “Those… those are the things you are worshipping, aren't they?” Tony asked, feeling sick. How could such abominations exist? How could they be real?

- “Indeed. This mural represents the Deep Ones, inhabitants of the bottom of the seas and oceans and servants of Dagon.” You explained pointing at the creatures. “Sometimes they pass a deal with mortals. In exchange for gold, they get to reproduce with humans. When they reach maturity those offspring then join them underwater where they live and serve Dagon.”

Tony didn't know if he was supposed to be horrified or impressed that people were ready to fuck those things for gold. How far were people ready to go for money and riches? Even he would never stoop so low, not even to save the world.

As if you had read his mind you laughed and shook your head before signalling him to follow you. Again, Tony did. Why? He didn't know, but something, like a little voice in his head, was telling him to just do it. You showed him around, presenting more idols and gravures, even books and scriptures.

Tony’s curiosity and scientific mind won over his disgust and mistrust as he listened to you speak about your cult and its history. You had the books and scrolls to show as proof and Tony felt overwhelmed when you mentioned that your Great Old Ones were extraterrests. Memories of New York flooded his mind and Tony felt dread fill his head. He barely calmed when you rested your hand on his shoulder. Tony grabbed your wrist, holding so tight he knew he was going to leave marks on your skin.

- “Everything is fine Tony. They aren't the same kind and you have nothing to fear from my Gods. They cannot hurt you and I promised you to keep you safe, didn't I?”

But Tony couldn't answer. His lungs refused to work, preventing him from breathing and his heart was racing so fast in his chest that Tony thought he could feel every single piece of shrapnel around it. Gasping for air, Tony fell to his knees, tears threatening to escape his eyes. When you wrapped your arms around his trembling body, Tony grabbed you for dear life. A gasp and whine escaped him when he finally could breathe again.

- “That's it Tony, deep breathe. Do not stop breathing my dearest, you got it. I am right here, you are not alone and you are safe.” You whispered in his ear, gently rocking him and trying to help calm his panicked state.

Your hands on his body burned his skin through his clothes, but Tony didn't care. It had been so long since someone had held him like that and it felt just right. Your body fitted his just perfectly like the missing piece of a puzzle. Closing his eyes, Tony focused on you and your voice.

After what felt like an eternity, Tony finally calmed down. He felt so tired, his body empty of any form of strength or energy. He could fall asleep in your arms if he was given the chance, which was strange because he didn't fully trust you with his life. Even tho you were the only one who never hurt him.

- “If you feel the need to rest, do so Tony. I will carry you back home and lay you to bed.” Your breath tickled his ear and Tony shook his head, not wanting to embrace Morpheus. “Hush now, I won't abandon you my dearest. I will be only a whisper away from you and who knows? Maybe you shall have good dreams tonight.”

Tony rolled his eyes when you called him your dearest. What a flirt you could be some time.

After that, you took him home with the same trick you used earlier, but this time you held him against your chest. Your hand rested on Tony’s hip and he swore it was burning his skin through the pants of his pyjama. The walk back to his place was quiet, but the good kind. Tony didn't feel uncomfortable or anxious, but fine and relaxed.

As he went to bed, he watched you put some books on his desk for him to read later. It was strange how in your place you seemed as if you belonged in his room. Tony quickly chased the thought away as you turned toward him.

- “If there is anything I can do for you, just ask me, Tony. I will happily help you in any way I can.”

Tony looked down, away, almost ashamed of what he wanted to ask. The video of his parents’ murder and his fight against Roger kept replaying in his mind. He couldn't forgive Steve for lying and keeping such information a secret or for choosing a murderer over him. Especially after everything they went through and what Tony did for him.

- “I want Roger… I… I want you to find him and Barnes and bring them back to me.” Tony said, closing his eyes and turning his head away.

Silence fell between the two of you as you took in his request. For a moment, Tony feared you would refuse to help, but then he heard your footsteps then felt your hand on his shoulder.

- “If this is what you truly want, then I will. Rest my friend, I will contact you once I get my hand on them.”

Tony opened his eyes the second you moved your hand away, but you were already gone. He was alone in his room.

The night passed, then days which soon turned into weeks. Tony had no news from you and he didn't dare call or even whisper your name. He regretted asking for Roger and Barnes, not knowing what you were going to do to the two men. You weren't the kind type after all. Well, except with him.

Tony also took the time to read the books you gave him. They were theologic and historical about your cult and its beliefs. Tony was surprised at just how old it was, not expecting it to be as old as the Mesopotamian era. But here it was.

He also had to deal with Ross. Tony didn't want to expose you, to tell the world about your existence and that you stood by his side. It was selfish of him and for once Tony didn't care or feel bad. He didn't even care that Pepper wasn't around anymore, too focused he was on thinking about you.

But Ross bothered him day and night, so Tony finally admitted being in contact with you. Explaining to Ross what you were and your capacities wasn't an easy task and convincing the man that you were on his side was even harder. Yer he managed it. Someone like you was a dream come true for Ross surely.

Then he had the most surprising visitor, someone he never thought he would see again; Doctor Stephen Strange. Unlike before, Strange has changed his tuxedo for weird clothes that reminded Tony of yours. The second Tony laid eyes on Strange, he had a bad feeling.

- “Stark, we need to talk.” Strange had said with such a serious voice that Tony thought he had committed a war crime… again.

- “What do you want, Strange? Money? You clearly must be desperate to come to me wearing that. I pity the poor clown you stole it from!” Tony had replied, unable to content his sarcasm.

He didn't expect anyone to come find him as he admired the sea. Ever since that night, Tony couldn't see the sea or ocean the same. How could it when now he knew what swam deep under the surface?

- “Your friend, that's why I need to talk with you before you do something stupid again. Do you even know what he is? What he plans to do?” Strange asked, voice harsh almost angry as he stepped in front of Tony.

They've just started talking, but Tony already wants to punch the man in the face. Who does Strange think he is to come to his place and talk to him like that? He did nothing wrong. It's not his fault he can't stop you.

- “Yes I know who he is, I know what he can do and what he plans to do. What do you want me to do about it? I literally can not kill him or even cut his limbs, I know I've tried in the past.” Tony snapped, walking away and turning his back to Strange, who kept following him.

- “If you know all that already, then how can you stand there and let it happen? How can you be friends with such a monster?” Strange asked, raising his voice as his anger exploded on Tony.

That was enough for Tony to snap. Before he thought about it, Tony turned on his heels and the next second his fist collided with Strange’s jaw, knocking the former surgeon to the ground. They both groaned in pain and Tony held his hand, massaging his bruised knuckles.

- “Son of a bitch! You know nothing, nothing, about the fucking shit I've been through and why I do what I do! And who the fuck care? It's not like people expect me to do anything else than fuck up and blow shit up! Right?” Tony snapped, kicking a rock with his shoe and sending it flying away. “I just make mistakes and get people killed all the time! That's why they call me the damn Marchant of Death, right? So yeah, I ain't doing shit because it will among to nothing!”

Panting, heart racing in his chest, Tony stared at Strange as the man sat, spitting blood on the floor. God, Tony thought, he really hit the man harder than he wanted. Not that he had wanted to punch him! Yet, Tony didn't regret it.

- “Now, leave me the fuck alone and go back where you come from. I owe you nothing, Strange.” Tony spat before quickly going back to his home.

What wasn't his surprise when he found a letter resting on a tuxedo in his bedroom. It was written by you, an invitation to join you for a surprise. After so long, Tony knew what it was; you had gotten your hand on Steve and Barnes as you had promised. For a second, Tony stared at the letter and the clothes, wondering if he should join you. Why not? He had nothing left to lose and Steve wasn't his friend anymore, the veteran had made it clear.

After changing his clothes, Tony put on his armour and went to the dress you gave him.

The address him at a church facing the ocean. Made out of stone, it seemed to be centuries old and yet still stood proudly. As he landed and approached the doors, the bells began to ring above him as if announcing his arrival. With a deep breath, Tony opened the double doors.

The first thing he saw was you, maskless and standing proudly behind the altar. You opened your arms in an invitation for him to approach, which he did. Every banc inside the church was filled with your followers. All of them had taken off their masks and hoods, some looked at you while others had their head bowed and prayed in a language Tony didn't understand.

Then he saw them.

Steve, Barnes, Natasha and Clint were kneeling, tied with what looked like slimy tentacles and looked beaten up and starving. Roger had lost the spark in his eyes while Barnes had his eyes turned so far away, that Tony wondered if he was still sane.

- “Our most important guest had finally arrived! Welcome, Tony. As promised, I have found your former friends and your parents’ murderer for you.” You said, voice echoing in the church.

His former teammates raised their heads, staring at him in confusion and surprise. Especially Steve who looked both hurt and betrayed. Bastard. After everything, he dares act as if it was Tony who had stabbed him in the back?

Swallowing his anger, he ignored the rest of his former team and turned his attention to you. You circled around the altar and walked up to him, arms still open as if you were going to hug him. Which, thankfully, you didn't. No. You just rested your hands on his shoulders and squeezed them gently.

- “I am happy you joined us, Tony. It wouldn't have been the same without you my friend.”

- “I asked for Barnes and Roger, not Clint and Natasha. What do you want to do with them?” Tony asked without looking at them.

- “Tony, you know him?” Steve’s voice was weak and harsh as if you had him swallow a galleon of sand. “Why…”

- “I haven't decided yet, but after all the pain they caused you? I will find the perfect punishment.” You said as you both ignored Steve.

Your words filled Tony with warmth as he sighed softly. It was still so strange to him that you cared so much about him after everything. You were doing more for him than anyone else ever did, being ready to hurt his former friends just because they hurt him. They were the true heroes, he was just a mistake and yet you choose to stand by his side.

Tony looked at Steve, feeling only anger and betrayal. Gone were his softness toward Captain America, replaced by hate and disgust.

- “My father was your friend, he believed in you and knew you were alive. He tried so hard to find you and how do you thank him? By siding with his murderer. You are disgusting.” Tony spat, voice filled with more venom than he wanted.

- “Tony, you don't understand…” Steve tried to talk, but Tony shook his head, stopping him.

- “I don't care. I don't give a fuck if he was brainwashed, used against his will. He still did it. Why does he is forgiven when none of you ever forgave me even when the same happened to me?”

There were no answers. Of course. What did he expect? They never cared, only saw him as a mistake and a liability, wasn't worth their forgiveness.

He was about to jump on Steve when you squeezed his shoulders again, catching his attention. Your benevolent eyes were filled with compassion as you stared at him and Tony felt like he was about to cry. Why did he find a friend in a fanatic murderer?

He looked away as you touched his cheek before you turned your attention on his former teammates.

- “Shame on all of you for the hell you put your friend through. You who used him like a puppet, like something not alive, see what you did to a man who only tried to do good. Did he make mistakes? Yes. Yet where you can find the strength to forgive a brainwashed assassin, you cannot do the same for a friend.”

- “Tony, what are you doing? Why…” Natasha tried to speak, but the tentacle wrapped around her moved to her mouth, gagging her.

- “Tony, you gotta stop this madness!” Clint snapped as he tried to untie himself only for the tentacle to constrict tighter and tighter around him.

Tony could only remember Clint’s last words, how he was a backstabber. He didn't feel anything toward Clint. Nothing. In fact, as he looked at all of them, he realized he had stopped caring. They meant nothing to him anymore. He was just tired.

- “Why? After all, that all I can do right? Stabbing people in the back once they trust me.” Tony said coldly tilting his head as you cupped it in your hands.

They all looked at him, their face twisted with shock and surprise. All, except Barnes. The man was crying silently, eyes staring absently at the ground.

- “I am… sorry.” Barnes said, voice croaking as he had difficulties talking. “I am so sorry. I never meant to do any of this, but please, take your anger on me, not them. They have nothing to do with us, not even Steve. He is just trying to protect me like I use to do with him.”

Tony didn't know what to say and just looked while Steve argued with Barnes, refusing to abandon him. It filled Tony with pure rage. Why wasn't he worth such love and loyalty too? Why was he always abandoned?

- “Really, what do you have planned for them? Are you going to sacrifice them to your Gods?” Tony asked, ignoring Barnes.

- “My, yes! They would make a great sacrife I think.” You said, letting go of his face.

Tony sighed and shook his head, for once not agreeing. He could accept any other kind of punishment, but death? No. For Barnes, death would be mercy.

- “No. Don't kill them, it wouldn't be a punishment. They are veterans and assassins, they are expecting it.” Tony whispered his eyes on them.

- “What would you have me do then?” You asked softly, taking his hand in yours and kissing his fingers. “Whatever you want, I will do my dearest.”

- “Make them read that cursed book of yours. You have it, don't you? The Necronomicon.”

You fell silent, gently squeezing his hand in yours as his fingers were still against your lips. He felt you sighing before you nodded your head.

- “As you wish, but you must know, Tony, that their mind won't survive it. They will go mad and won't ever go back to normal. That book isn't a toy and even I read it with causion.”

- “I know. That is what I want, that is what they deserve. Except Barnes. Let him watch, let him live with his guilt since his mind had already been destroyed.”

Tony turned his head to look at you. He felt tired, and empty and even revenge wasn't making him feel better, but looking at you did. There was so much understanding in your eyes as if you knew his pain. You had accepted him even with all his flaws and errors, calling him your friend and dearest when he had hurt you horribly. You had forgiven him without him giving any kind of excuses.

You were all he had ever wanted, except for the cult and sacrifice thing, but Tony could look the other way. After all, he too had blood on his hands and he knew that with you, whatever the future held, he was going to be fine. You would keep him safe and sound no matter what.

He didn't care about his former friends pleading. No. The only thing that mattered was the taste of your lips on his as he abandoned everything, choosing you as his future.

[anonymous-dentist]

From the Doctor Who au I keep meaning to write:

-

Roier’s husband disappeared into the midst of the Time War just over 350 years ago.

Today, Cellbit wants to meet Jack the Ripper, so he and Roier are pushing their ways through the foggy, smelly London streets, and it’s fine. It’s just Jack the Ripper, it’s fine. It’s the British, it’s fine.

Roier can take care of himself. He’s a veteran! He’s one of the few Time Lords to actually have made it out of the war with more than one regeneration cycle to spare.

But Cellbit? He might have a very solid build and some very nice biceps, but he’s also kind of a nerd. He claims to be able to take care of himself in a fight, but Roier’s been the one saving him from all the aliens (and humans) he’s been pissing off, sooooo…

“We could have gone to the beach,” Roier grumbles.

“The beach is boring,” Cellbit huffs. “Jack the Ripper isn’t at the beach.”

“You don’t know that. Nobody knows who that guy is.”

“Not yet.”

Because that’s what they’re here: Cellbit- strange, beautiful Cellbit- has decided that he’s going to solve the mystery of who Jack the Ripper is even though, really, it doesn’t even matter.

(But what else is new?)

Roier rolls his eyes.

Once upon a time, his husband went by the title of ‘the Captain’. He was a police captain in one of Gallifrey’s smaller towns, and his sister worked by his side as the Detective.

Cellbit is a conspiracy theorist who throws bricks at police cars and criticizes serial killers not because they’re evil but because their “knife techniques” are “wrong”.

The irony is not lost on Roier, but he keeps his mouth shut.

Cellbit, despite having an entire time machine at his disposal now, wants to find Jack the Ripper, and he wants to kick him in the balls and throw him into the Thames and watch him drown.

Roier agrees. Fuck that guy.

“Fuck that guy,” Roier declares.

Cellbit nods in agreement. “Fuck him. He had so much potential.”

Roier blinks. “What?”

“Uh, I mean. He had so much potential… to get arrested and die in jail?”

Uh-huh, sure.

Roier rolls his eyes. “I think they still do public executions here, actually.”

“What, don’t you know? Aren’t you supposed to be some kind of alien super genius?”

Cellbit’s smile is sharp as a knife. (He’s soooo proud of himself. Dumbass.)

He elbows Roier in the side.

Roier elbows him back. “Not everybody can be an ‘alien super genius’. Some of us are just guys who slept through Earth Class in school.”

Cellbit shoots him a look, his smile and eyes softening disgustingly.

“Don’t sell yourself short, man,” he says. “You’re smarter than you give yourself credit for.”

He goes quiet for a second before quickly adding on: “Especially compared to us humans!”

He coughs into his fist and looks to the side, his cheeks red from embarrassment.

Oh, Cellbit…

Roier elbows Cellbit again. “Hey, be nice to humans! They can be smart as hell sometimes!”

“Yeah, sometimes,” Cellbit says, still turned away. “We can be really dumb sometimes, though. Like, with cars. And TikTok.”

“Fuck you, I love TikTok!”

“You would.”

Mildly outraged and somewhat offended, Roier gasps, “What is that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing, just that you look like a TikTok guy.”

“What happened to calling me a genius?”

Cellbit bites back a laugh, not answering. Asshole.

Pouting only a little, Roier crosses his arms and kicks a pebble and tries not to step in a river of alcohol and mud going down the side of the street. Ewwwww….

Once upon a time, Roier used to go on trips with his Captain all the time. They’d hop into the Captain’s TARDIS and set the destination to random and go on at least a dozen dates a week. They’d hold hands walking down the streets, and they would kiss quite literally whenever possible.

Cellbit doesn’t hold Roier’s hand. Their fingers brush, but that’s it.

(Roier misses him so bad…)

Roier’s wedding ring feels so cold. He can only imagine how freezing the chain necklace around Cellbit’s neck is.

But they keep walking, and they keep talking, and Roier can almost pretend it’s the same as it was before the war. He wasn’t on the last of his set of 12 lives, his husband wasn’t… a fucking idiot.

Cellbit trips over a loose paving stone and almost falls, but Roier catches him by the arm and pulls him back upright- their first real physical contact since Roier picked Cellbit up for that first trip away from Earth.

Just for a second, Cellbit looks like he’s going to break. His eyes water, and his mouth thins, and his lip threatens to start wobbling pathetically.

But he pulls himself together, and he pulls his arm away.

“Thank you,” he quietly says.

He holds his body close to himself and looks anywhere but at Roier.

Roier sighs, but he smiles, anyway. Of course he does. He’s Cellbit, how could Roier not smile at him?

(This, at least, has stayed the same.)

___

If you liked this little excerpt, please reblog and comment/ask/Whatever! It really does mean a lot to me, and it lets me know that people want to read more!!

[marvelmaniac715]

I want to see more of Webby and the Lords in Black as just regular siblings, with dynamics like Pokey suffering from forgotten middle child syndrome (which is why I think he wants the loudest voice to be his own) Wiggly trying to act as the peacemaker because he’s the oldest brother (he’s their leader, of course he’s the oldest), Tinky cackling in a corner and being given the side eye by his confused brothers, Nibbly eating everything, Blinky watching all the drama go down and Webby just trying to exist whilst her brothers are mean to her for no reason. Here’s an example of what could go down in the Black and White on a weekly basis:

Tinky: Have any of you seen my Bastard’s Box? I put it down right here and I can’t find it.

Blinky: I haven’t seen it, and I see everything-

Tinky: I know, Blinky, you tell us every day.

Pokey: I think I saw-

Tinky: Shut up Pokey, we’re trying to solve a mystery here.

Wiggly: What’s the problem here? I’m trying to focus, Wiley had a new scheme he was trying to tell me about.

Tinky: Talk to your boyfriend later, we have a crisis here!

Wiggly: He’s not my- never mind, what’s going on?

Tinky *crying*: I lost my box! Teddy Bear’s in there and now he’s all alone with nobody to torture him!

Wiggly: Don’t cry, Tinky, we’ll find it.

Tinky: I bet it was Webby, that stupid bitch is always taking our stuff! I’m gonna go find her-

Pokey: It wasn’t Webby-

Wiggly: Pokey, could you shut the fuck up? Tinky’s upset.

Webby *teleporting into the Black*: I heard you say my name, what do my darling brothers want today?

Wiggly: Did you take Tinky’s box?

Webby: I’m not a monster like you, but now I wish I had because torturing humans is bad-

Tinky: You’re so stupid! Torturing humans is fun, what else is there for us to do?

Webby: Save humanity? Be benevolent gods?

Wiggly: This is why we disowned you, get out.

Webby *disappearing*: Can’t say I didn’t try…

Nibbly *casually strolling in whilst sucking on his lollipop*: What’s going on? I went to get a snack and missed everything. Fill me in, won’t you Blinky?

Blinky: Someone took Tinky’s Bastard’s Box. It’s been a lot of fun watching this, even more fun than Watcher World.

Nibbly: Oh, the box thing? I ate it, sorry.

Tinky *in shock*: You… ate it? How… why… just- what?

Nibbly: It looked like candy, I was hungry, you do the math.

Pokey: Not that any of you care about what I have to say, but someone from Hatchetfield is trying to summon us again.

[elysianightsss]

Limerence | Two

C H A P T E R T W O

limerence / lim-ê-rêns / (noun)

“Obsessive romantic attraction towards another person”

Summary: In which the owners of Jujutsu Incorporated, the Ôgami brothers, are suddenly interested in you.

Pairing: Alpha!Sukuna x reader, Alpha!Itadori x reader, Alpha!Gojo x reader, Alpha!Geto x reader, Alpha!Nanami x reader, Alpha!Kenjaku x reader

Status: Ongoing.

Genre: werewolf au, soulmate, polyamory relationship, angst, fluff, omegaverse, a/b/o dynamics.

Warnings: smut, violence, mentions of knotting, heats, ruts, insecurities, some descriptions of reader’s body, mention of possible ED, omegaspace, domdrop, swearing, blood, depression, suicidal thoughts, possessiveness, obsessive thoughts, Alpha tendencies.

Chapter Warnings: reader described as worryingly thin, Sukuna is mad, Kento is feral. Omegaspace, swearing, Sukuna being kicked in the nuts, self deprecation.

Masterlist | Chapter one | Chapter three

Taglist: @better-imagination-9 @tiredjuniper @jjkz @honeybeeboobaa @cherryblossomdelusion @dependsonthedream @alluresenses @qardasngan @imcamboaf @ondragonhonour

Taglist is open.

————————————————————————

Previously on Limerence:

You stumbled over every question, your hands shook as you wrote down his answers. You weren’t scared just so incredibly nervous, no one had ever made you feel this way before. Sukuna asked you if you had anymore questions, all you longed to ask was if his heart was beating as fast as yours but you were too afraid to hear the answer.

“N-No I don’t,” You stuttered, “that was the last one.” You looked relieved but he looked disappointed. Quickly you stood, bowed to him and rushed out of the room, you were basically jogging to get back to your office when you felt a strong hand on your shoulder spin you around, he pulled you in close, you began to tremble all over. You felt his warm breath against your lips, red eyes staring at yours intensely.

“T-This is highly inappropriate.” You tried to look anywhere but his beautiful eyes as he spoke.

“Maybe for regular people.” He nodded in agreement, then his voice took on a deeper octave, “But certainly not for my mate.”

-

“So? What was she like?” Yuji asked his twin with curiosity sparkling in his wide eyes, his breath uneven as he waited impatiently to hear about his mysterious mate. Sukuna had headed straight back to Jujutsu Incorporated headquarters after you had kicked him straight in the balls and ran like hell.

He was definitely humiliated as he lay on the ground groaning in pain, however once the pain had dissipated he was up on his feet but by then it was too late. You were gone, even your scent was disappearing too quickly for him to track.

“She was so fucking gorgeous..” he pauses because it seems too weak of a compliment to describe you, though by looking around at his brothers he could tell that they already knew that, so he continued.

“She was worryingly thin, unbearably self conscious, anxious, dangerously overtired and dehydrated.” Sukuna answered, his body vibrating with anger. He was mesmerised by you, how you managed to get the jump on him was astounding. But by the looks of you, how you managed to even be standing was astounding.

Kento cleared his throat, his body stiff making ridged movements as he tried to control himself. His mate wasn’t taking care of herself, that was his job and he was failing before he’d even had a chance to begin. Possessive and protective thoughts ran through his wired brain igniting a primal part of himself he had long thought dormant. His eyes glazed over, slowly fading to obsidian, his entire being cementing itself like a statue.

“Umm Kento?” Yuji bit his lip in worry as he examined his pack leader, he himself was worried for his mate but he knew his older brother took things to an extreme level when it came to worrying. And that was with his brothers, he can only imagine how Kento was feeling considering it’s their mate.

All six brothers felt the mate bond snap into place through their brother bond, each of them felt how Sukuna did when meeting you. Like their entire world had just become complete, like everything had fallen into place.

You on the other hand felt like you were drowning, like someone had you by the leg pulling you deeper and further down to the depths. How were you supposed to be someone’s mate, and not just anyone’s. Sukuna Ôgami one of the six most reputable brothers who essentially saved the world.

You were not worthy enough, not reputable enough to be with one of them. How would he ever be okay with just you. You weren’t okay with just you.

You had raced back home only look back when you got to your apartment building, your frantic eyes flitting about to see if you could spot him in the street, while panic clawed its way up your body causing a shiver to rack down your spine.

Everything was so overwhelming and too much stimulation, today had not been what you had expected and certainly not what you had wanted with the little sleep and no food, adding in the stressful morning.

You were practically being pulled into a stupor as you let yourself fall onto your bed. Your only safe space. You had slumped into a state of torpor from which nothing could rouse you, but that was okay if you had to let yourself fall into the depths of your blank mind for a few moments peace, you’d do that.

Sukuna could feel it, a haziness falling over him like a sweet cloud making him feel all warm and fuzzy. These weren’t his feelings there were yours and if he were to find you right now he bet his life he’d find you in omegaspace. Snuggled up in your nest looking all cute and small as you waited for you Alphas to soothe you, to make things better.

That was just the problem. He couldn’t find you, he didn’t know where you were. It seemed that Satoru had the exact same thought. “She works for Panda right? Let’s get her information from Mr. Panda then.” There was a sternness to his voice, his veiny large hand pushing through the white strands on his head, the hand itched to grab hold of a chunk and yank in frustration. But he let it fall back down to the table and scrunch in a fist instead.

“Fucking idiot.” Sukuna cursed under his breath because that’s what he was. He should’ve stuck around and got your information from your workplace. God he truly was an idiot.

“I’ll do it.” Kento was almost robotic as he moved from his seat at the table to his desk. He grabbed Mr.Panda’s personal contact number and pressed call after urgently punching in his number. Phone to his ear, he swallowed away the tension rising and trying to get the better of him as the phone rang one too many times before his friend answered.

He rushed out his words, stumbling over them as he pressed the issue at hand. You were his mate and he required your address, phone number, bank details anything the man could give him. He’d take it.

Kento listened to him talk and wrote down all the information with haste, his fancy fountain pen scratching on the paper irritatingly. The pack Alpha could feel stress start to pour into his body, swirling around him in a way that had his shoulders tense and his brows furrowed. Pushing some of his blonde hair out of his face he thanked his friend and hung up the phone.

He could feel the stares from his brothers, he knew this next part would be tricky but it also had to be done. “Only one of us should go.” Kento said, with a look saying it should be him. Instantly the rest of the pack argued with frowns before Sukuna but in.

“It should be me. She already met me, she might feel a little more at ease.” Sukuna wrung his hands together, he wanted desperately to see you again. He could feel you still in your fluffy cloud of softness, and fuck if he wasn’t itching to see you in your nest, to join you.

“He has a point actually.” Kenjaku voices his opinion, “This isn’t about what we want;” he cuts off Yuji who was about to complain, “this is about what’s going to be comfortable for her. After all our mate’s comfort is what’s most important here. Right?” He raises his eyebrow daring someone to question him. It’s times like these that Kento knows if he wasn’t born pack Alpha, Kenjaku would have been.

“Right.” Everyone in the room agrees.

“Then it’s settled. Only Sukuna will go collect our mate.”

-

A loud thump pulls you from your stupor yet there is an echo of it that tries to lull you back into the darkness. You try to let yourself sink back into the haze but the loud thumping persists pulling you out of the safety of your nest. Even in your current haziness your heart ricochets in your chest when you open the door to find two large men staring down at you.

You recognise Sukuna instantly, it’s hard not to. But the other man, though he seems familiar, is a stranger to you.

“Hello bunny.” Sukuna’s word have your breath hitching in your throat. His entire presence seems to put your body at ease, a rather big contrast to his darker aura. It almost pushes you back into your haziness, further down the deep rabbit hole you’re now desperate to climb out of.

“This is my brother Kenjaku.” He says it so casually like you’re familiar with one another, like you’re in a conversation and had happened to ask. Yet in reality, this large pink haired man stood in your doorframe taking up all of the space and his brother stood behind him, brown eyes never leaving you even for a second, are both uninvited guests.

Though Kenjaku wasn’t even supposed to be there, he’d followed his brother and popped out of the shadows just before Sukuna was about to knock on your door. “What happened to just me?” Sukuna scoffed at his brother who simply shrugged his shoulders and rapped his knuckles against your door.

“Hello Princess.” The corner of his lip turn up, only on one side. It looks like he doesn’t know how to smile, the thought almost makes you sad. Almost.

“Why…w-whys yer here?” You try so hard to not stumble over your words but fail miserably while giving your tired eyes a rub. It makes both men coo at you, it’s not condescending yet somehow feels as though it is in your daze. So you pout, annoyed that they have simply come to mock you. The more awake and stoic part of you wishes that you were coherent for this conversation.

“For our mate of course.” Sukuna smiles cheekily stepping forward, catching you when you step back only to fall. His words startle, have you looking back up to where his eyes stare back into yours. The fall and fact your back in his arms doesn’t compute, you’re too busy with the other thing.

“Our?” You swallowed hard, the word heavy on your tongue, leaving a weird taste in your mouth.

“Yes bunny. Ours. Me, Kenjaku and our brothers.” Sukuna confirmed with a sharp nod, helping you stand steady on your feet but the room kept spinning. You stumbled away from the door towards your big grey couch, you dropped down on it lumberingly, fingers sinking into the soft blanket gracing it.

You felt as though a bucket of ice water had been dumped on you at the realisation that not only was Sukuna Ôgami your mate but so were his five brothers. You could barely come to terms with the fact that one of them was your mate let alone six of them.

“S-Six of y-you.” You were breathless as you tried to come to terms with it. Sukuna and Kenjaku looked at each other, worry sparkling in their eyes even when they fixed their expressions.

“I realise this is alot to take in.” Kenjaku spoke softly, it had Sukuna’s eyes animatedly popping out his head. His brother had a soft side to him? Since-uh-when. Kenjaku was trying to keep his wolf at bay, his control not as strong as Sukuna’s or Kento’s. He didn’t understand why you weren’t happy about having six Alphas to take care of you.

But he was doing his best to soothe you in the way his wolf was telling him to. It is too much for pretty mate. This had Kenjaku’s eyes flashing black for second, why was it too much?

“I can’t do this!” You screeched hands gripping at your hair in frustration, “why would I of all people be gifted six alphas?!” You cried desperately wanting to know the answer. Gifted. He guesses that’s a good sign, at least you thought of a mate as a gift rather than a curse.

You blink up at both men and realise, your living room has never looked so small, they take up so much space. With just two of them the place is tiny, how’s it going to look with six of them? Your mind bounces around, worry still present and spinning you into a tizzy, yet you practically preen when Kenjaku’s eyes travel over you like he can see underneath your clothes. It makes a tense feeling in the pit of your stomach start to form, a feeling you’re not familiar with.

You suddenly wanted to be wrapped in their strong arms, you note that they both look like the warriors the news makes them out to be. Huge, brawny and very attractive. How were they yours? How were you worthy of this? And how were they going to ever love you when they find out what you did?

[brucebocchi]

Ranking 2024 anime, Pt. 2: #40-31

hey, this post is also available on my ko-fi, so please check it out and consider tipping/donating as i do this for free and am currently between jobs. you can find part 1 of the list here. thanks!

Alright, on we go to the list proper. The first post was probably whiplash-inducing, going from a bunch of shorter stuff I loved to whole seasons I hated, but we can only go up from here. I watched a lot of anime this year, as the numbers indicate, so there's a little positivity to be found even in the lower rankings.

As always, OPs are linked in the series titles. Watch them, they're almost all great.

40. Metallic Rouge

One of the biggest disappointments of the year, one which I didn’t think could be outdone (and I’ll get to that one shortly). Metallic Rouge had so much going for it as a Studio Bones original for its anniversary, and managed to fumble all of its promise and goodwill in slow, agonizing fashion. 

It’s a shame, too. Metallic Rouge still looks awesome; the character and mech designs are excellent, the space-cyberpunk aesthetic is undeniable, and the animation can be terrific when it counts. The story, on the other hand, is so completely asinine that I was sick of this show before it ended. I’ve mostly forgotten what even happens, partly because it was that infuriating to keep up with, and partly because I feel like the writers forgot too; the bulk of any actual story felt backloaded into the last two or three episodes because they focused too hard on vibes for a while. I think they were trying to go for some “G-Witch by way of Detroit: Become Human” something or other, but all of it rang hollow. I’m still not sure whether it needed more runtime or better writers. Probably both.

Not worth your time. Just watch the OP and imagine a better show than what we got.

39. Mysterious Disappearances

I’ve thought so little about this show since it went off the air that I don’t really have anything new to say. Looks pretty lousy most of the time, not that interesting, oddly horny, and the plot structure gets kind of cloying after a while.

I know I harped on that last point when I reviewed it at the end of the spring season, but something funny happened after I did. Back in July, I mentioned that I took issue with the formula of “we encounter a paranormal anomaly, it’s identified as a yokai or urban legend, we learn its tragic backstory, our protagonists give it closure, and we move on” because it felt manipulative after I realized that it happened with every arc, and then I went ahead and read DanDaDan, which basically does exactly the same thing but a hell of a lot better. Comparing a middling work like this to DanDaDan of all things feels unfair, but they cover pretty similar ground. Maybe it’s sharper writing, or maybe it’s just a more engaging work. Who’s to say?

I’d also said in my review that Mysterious Disappearances unintentionally gives off the vibe of a poorly-archived mid-2000s series, but I hadn’t realized just how right I was: It turns out that studio Zero-G just went ahead and made up its own ending even though the source material is still ongoing. Better shows did the same this year, but the studio and I seem to have the same level of faith that this anime’s ever coming back.

38. My Deer Friend Nokotan

Honestly? Fuck this show.

I’ve already gone into what I did and didn’t like about Nokotan after it went off air a few months ago and I don’t care to revisit that while it’s still relatively fresh. Not nearly as funny as it pretended to be, yet still not even confident in its own sense of humor. The OP's still a bop (calling it "Shikairo Days" was a genuinely great joke), and a small handful of gags do land, but not enough to prevent this from being a massive disappointment.  At the same time, Nokotan was still somehow not the biggest letdown of the year.

37. Uzumaki

This was the biggest letdown of the year.

When an anime adaptation of the legendary Junji Ito horror manga was first announced in 2019, it was hard not to get excited. Even when I’d mostly fallen out of anime fandom, I knew damn well who Junji Ito was and I knew Uzumaki. Adult Swim was funding the project, a prestige studio in Production I.G. was handling the animation, and they even nabbed Hereditary composer Colin Stetson for the score. Ito’s manga is famously very difficult to adapt well, and it looked like we finally had a project being taken seriously. Delays and radio silence in the ensuing years were disappointing, but I was willing to be patient if it meant everything was being handled right. When the trailer dropped this summer, it looked like it would be worth the wait.

And for one glorious episode, it seemed like everyone’s patience paid off. Uzumaki’s debut episode was one of the most visually arresting pieces of animation I’ve ever seen: The entire look and feel was faithful to Ito’s inimitable style, from the meticulously detailed linework to the stark black-and-white color grading of his manga’s pages. On top of that, the animation itself was absurdly good; the process of rotoscoping 3D motion capture seemed arduous, but the end result was beautifully lifelike for a story where that quality could only serve to instill further terror. Several of the most iconic images from the early chapters looked incredible in hi-def motion. Sure, the pacing was a little fast, but this was a four-episode miniseries. We could deal. This was just too good.

And then came the second episode.

I’m not going to over-elaborate or relitigate every single thing that went wrong here, because it’s a lot. Uzumaki was in development for a long time, and that five year gap between announcement and release included several detriments to the production process, not the least of which being COVID, animation production changing hands between several studios, and new leadership for Adult Swim’s parent company that now favors profit over product, especially when it comes to animation that doesn’t involve DC characters. Plenty of us figured that all of these delays and a run of only four episodes meant that they had the time to hammer out all the issues and give us the best possible product. That, unfortunately, was not the case.

Responding to complaints about the decline in animation in the second episode, executive producer Jason DeMarco (who, to be blunt, has overseen several mediocre-to-awful anime products released under the Adult Swim brand, including my bottom-ranked anime of 2023) claimed in a quickly-deleted Bluesky thread that there is indeed a higher-up to blame and that they were left with an ultimatum to either drop Uzumaki after just one episode, let it go the way of so many other Warner Bros non-releases under David Zaslav’s disastrous leadership, or release the whole miniseries in its half-baked state. They went with the third.

So, what we got was an uneven, often sloppy work; another mediocrity to throw on the pile of failed Junji Ito adaptations. All goodwill established in the first episode is soon undone by wonky character models, uncanny walk cycles, and movement that looks like PNGs being dragged across a background at the most inopportune times. Plenty of viewers, myself included, were willing to overlook the accelerated pacing after the first episode, but that issue was thrown into stark relief by the second when entire chapters of the manga began playing out simultaneously, and one was even reduced to an afterthought for a cheap “scare” at the end of episode three. 

Not that I thought Uzumaki necessarily needed a full 12-episode season for a proper adaptation or anything; Ito’s output can often be light on story, and dragging it out too far risks losing interest. What makes Ito’s stories actually work, though, is a proper sense of setting and space to let tensions rise. That didn’t entirely happen here; while the atmosphere of Kurozu-cho does plenty resemble what we’ve seen from Ito’s pages, and Stetson’s atonal saxophone does a lot of work to raise the level of unease, things just kind of happen. Few things really get the chance to land as intended, in part due to the production quality cheaping out at climactic moments.

This was the last anime I finished this year even though I’d watched the first two episodes after they aired and it went off the air in October. I was looking forward to the last two episodes that little. There are still bits and pieces of great animation and faithful adaptation here and there, but not enough to regain any goodwill from the second episode’s wheels visibly falling off. Maybe it’s finally time to declare Junji Ito’s works unadaptable once and for all. 

Definitely watch that first episode, though. At this point I kind of wish that’s all we’d gotten.

36. Hokkaido Gals Are Super Adorable!

Straitlaced Nice Guy moves to a new town, laid-back gyaru from his class immediately takes a liking to him, a couple other girls enter the picture, shenanigans ensue, and a slow-burn romance begins in parallel. Nothing special on paper and nothing much more special than that in execution. The setting is lovely, though, and it really made me want to visit Hokkaido one day. Nicely done, tourism board.

If you watched this and were put off by it, I don’t blame you; I probably would’ve been too if I hadn’t decided to read ahead in the manga. I will say this, though: If you liked Hokkaido Gals even a little, read the manga. It’s a minor investment, but if you can get over the halfway mark, it gets surprisingly good and has a really lovely ending. 

The anime, on the other hand? Meh. Doesn’t look super great and didn’t have enough time in 12 episodes to overcome most of the issues the source material had to move past to get to what made it worthwhile. It would take another season or two to get there, and that probably isn’t gonna happen. Great OP, though (I'm starting to repeat myself, I know). Just read the manga.

35. No Longer Allowed in Another World

Boasting one of the most audacious premises for an isekai I’ve ever seen, No Longer Allowed in Another World doesn’t shy away from the implications of an Osamu Dazai isekai, has the dark humor to match, and provides some fascinating commentary on the type of person who tends to consume wish-fulfillment isekai. Unfortunately, the presentation was a little lacking and threatened to lose my attention several times. I think the idea is much better on paper, to the point where I might test that theory and go read the manga.

34. The Wrong Way to Use Healing Magic

The next dozen or so anime in the rankings fall into a category of either “well-made anime that I found kind of frustrating” or “middling anime that I kind of enjoyed.” The Wrong Way to Use Healing Magic is very much the latter. It’s a standard isekai on paper; demon king, special powers, what have you, but it has a likable cast and laid-back vibe for much of its runtime that made it pleasant enough to watch.

As I said after the winter season, I really liked that Wrong Way spends a lot of its early story ensuring that the protagonist expends the time and effort necessary for him to become the hero he’s meant to be instead of the narrative just handing it to him from the start, which instantly sets it apart from most other wish-fulfillment isekai. It’s far from the best-looking anime I watched this year, but it has a mid-00s throwback look and feel to it that works more to its benefit than in Mysterious Disappearances. Nothing groundbreaking and a little too backloaded, but an enjoyable enough experience and one I’m looking forward to seeing come back. 

The only really upsetting thing about this show is that Atsuko Tanaka (Major Kusanagi, Bayonetta, Kainé), who was tremendous as the intimidating Captain Rose, is no longer with us. She was an exceptional talent with an iconic voice who will be sorely missed, and future seasons of this show won’t be the same without her.

33. Go! Go! Loser Ranger

Though not a bad anime by most metrics, I still consider Loser Ranger a minor disappointment. It mostly looks great, and “what if The Boys was a sentai series” is a killer premise, but the story so far is extremely frontloaded. Almost too much happens in the first four episodes, and then the bulk of the last arc of the season takes place in a goddamn parking garage. I’m still annoyed by that. Still looking forward to season 2, but I wish the debut season had been 24 episodes to avoid the sour taste in my mouth.

Did you hear that echo? Yep, that's me telling you to watch yet another OP. Easily the best part of the show and one of the best of the year. Tatsuya Kitani can't keep getting away with it.

32. Astro Note

2024 turned out to be a banner year for Rumiko Takahashi’s older works making their way back to modern screens, and one of those entries wasn’t even hers.

Astro Note is an overt homage to Takahashi’s less-famous romcom Maison Ikkoku, which ran parallel to Urusei Yatsura for most of the latter’s run. Like Ikkoku, Astro Note follows a down-on-his-luck young man living in a boarding house full of bizarre miscreants who only stays because the manager is super pretty. Unlike Ikkoku, and unbeknownst to our protagonist, said manager is actually an alien who is practically turning the house over to find a secret alien MacGuffin.

This show looks lovely and has a delightful cast and some surprisingly moving subplots, but it’s nothing too special otherwise. There are some fun creative flourishes here and there, like the alien stuff shown in flashback being made to look like an older space opera anime, but aside from a very fun turn near the end of the season, Astro Note rarely rises above the level of simply “pleasant.” And that’s fine, but it doesn’t quite live up to the material it’s aping, and what we’ve ended up with is just a nice distraction. 

I’m so glad I finally decided to read Maison Ikkoku though.

31. Shangri-La Frontier, second cour

It’s been a running joke for me that the more I watch Shangri-La Frontier, the less I’m sure whether I like it or not, and now with 25 episodes in the tank, I’m less sure than ever. The back half of the debut season improved on a few of the things that annoyed me about its first cour by focusing more on the high-quality action and introducing minor stakes to the proceedings, and then everything else surrounding it made it feel no less like I’m just watching a guy playing a goddamn video game, and the stakes still mostly seem to amount to "he wants to be good at it."

You may notice that I didn’t include the second season in this review, and that’s because I flat-out didn’t care to pick it back up. I’d been busy during the fall season and continuing a show I didn’t enjoy that much just wasn’t a high priority. It’s continuing into January, so there’s time to catch it while it airs, but I’m still not in any hurry.

[schrijverr]

Batman Fatale

While on a mission with the Justice League, Batman (who hasn’t revealed his secret identity) pulls out his Brucie voice, shocking the others.

Inspired by Head Problems by That_One_Curly_Haired_Fangirl on AO3.

On AO3.

Ships: none

Warnings: none

~~~~

The Justice League is going for stealth, something Bruce didn’t think they were capable off, but so far he’s been pleasantly surprised. Though, maybe the promise of a good brawl later is what is keeping them quiet.

They’re infiltrating into Luthor’s office, underneath which he is building a robot army to overtake the world in the name of peace. Hacking in to disable them means sounding the alarm and Bruce has already calculated that it will take too long for him not to get swarmed by them, before he can take them out. Hence, the League, who will keep them off his back while he works.

However, they’ve run into a bit of roadblock in the form of the security guard, who is manning the front desk during the night shift.

Everyone has thrown out ideas to take him out, but Bruce wants to attract attention as late as possible and there are likely human operatives further down as well. They’ll notice if the guard were to disappear.

Besides, the guy, Amir, cleared his background check when he was planning this mission. He doesn’t know what he’s guarding and is just trying to make ends meat.

So, he holds up his hand and the whispered deliberation quiets down. As he pulls out his phone, he says: “I’ll handle this. Wait for my orders.”

They all shoot him confused and wary looks as he sets to dialing on his phone, keeping the screen away from them. He can say that it hurts that they don’t fully trust him, but he doesn’t care. He has his own family/team back in Gotham and if being a mysterious prick keeps his kids safe, he’ll gladly play the part.

He knew this roadblock might come up, so he prepared in advance. So, within seconds he is bringing the phone to his ear, while the others continue to look between him and the guard that’s on the other side of the glass doors.

Bruce mentally laughs, they probably expect assassins to swoop down and drag the man into the shadows.

Which is the opposite of what happens, because instead Amir startles then looks down at his now ringing phone. He smiles, then looks around a bit, checking that the coast is clear and completely missing the League, before picking up.

As Amir looks around, Hal hisses: “What the hell are you doing, Spooks? You don’t call the guy you wanna sneak-”

He shuts him up with a hand over his mouth, because Amir has picked up now. “Hey, hi, uhm, how are you doing, John?”

John is the fake name he used on the dating profile with the doctored photos. He feels a little bad about catfishing him, it’s slimy and Amir is actually cute too. Still, can’t be helped, so he puts as much Brucie charm into his voice as he flirty replies: “Hi, Amir, I’m good, just lonely. Would be better if you were with me. I’m practically indecent here for you.”

Immediately all the League’s heads snap his way, but he ignores them in favor of observing Amir. He is blushing, but looks pleased, before he sags a little. “I would love you, you’re so handsome-”

“I’d prefer pretty,” Bruce interrupts. “If you’re letting me down, at least call me pretty so I’ll know what it’ll sound like from you.”

Now Amir’s darker skin gets even more dark as he continues to blush. He stammers: “No, no, no. Not letting you down. Fuck. You’re so pretty, John. Of course I’m not letting you down. I’m just working, pretty boy, just working.”

“Booo,” Bruce whines, knowing how to sound appealing instead of annoying, albeit a little spoiled. “Can’t you just have a little break? Where do you work? I can come over, little blowie in the ally on a smoke break never hurt anybody.”

Amir groans at the offer, leaning back in his chair and looking at the ceiling, feeling a little despair by the look on his face. “I could get fired,” he protests, but it’s weak. Got him.

Bruce knows that he’s going to get fired anyway for letting them pass, but at least like this he’s out of harm’s way. He’s planning on offering him a job anyway. So, he insists again: “Promise I’ll get you off before they notice. It’ll tide me over until they let you go and you can show me what a proper good time is.”

Now Amir is looking around, no one except the League (who are all still staring and he wishes they’d stop) to see. So, he relents: “Alright, I work at the Luthor office. Uptown, you know it?”

“Oh my god, you’re kidding?” Bruce laughs in his most ditzy Brucie voice. “I’m literally at one of the bars down the street.”

“And what are you doing there?” Amir asks, trying to sound flirty, but coming across as a little insecure. It’s cute on him.

Bruce imagines himself twirling the phone cord at this point as he bats his eyes through his voice as he says: “Feeling lonely and thinking about you.”

Amir looks relieved at that, straightening up again as he asks: “Well, I can change one part of that for you. How fast can you get here?”

“Like two minutes,” Bruce answers.

“Meet you in the alley on the left then,” Amir says. “See you soon.”

“See you soon, handsome,” Bruce greets back, before hanging up. The second the line is dead, he reverts back to Batman’s voice and grunts: “Get ready to move.”

“What the fuck was that, Batman!” Hal is unsurprisingly the first to break. He never does know how to keep his mouth shut during stealth missions.

“Are you still Batman? Please tell me you’re still Batman. Because if you’ve been replaced by some alien, shape shifter or pod person, I don’t know what to do with myself. So you have to be Batman, even though Batman is creepy and mean and stand-offish and not flirty and-”

“Flash, quiet,” Bruce cuts of the rambling of the speedster. He’s not in the mood.

“You can at least tell us how you know the guard,” Clark speaks up, going for firm leader. Bruce can respect him for trying to lead these people who are all obviously not used to working as a team nor good at it. But the boy scout act sometimes gets on Bruce’s nerves.

He’s sure his kids and Alfred will have something to say about it, pointing to his trust issues that makes him perceive everything as an interrogation, but they aren’t here right now. Plus, he knows Damian at least will be on his side. He has people in his camp.

… Though that might not be a good thing. Hm, should he talk to Damian about it?

“It seems familiar somehow,” Oliver comments and Bruce hopes Amir moves soon. The last thing he wants is for Ollie to figure out who is under the cowl, the man is insufferable enough as it is.

“Batman?” Clark prompts, apparently he’s been quiet for long enough.

Falling back on one of his contingencies, he says: “Everyone should have skills in the acting and grifting department. Contact is sometimes unavoidable. I study people and I plan ahead. This is planning ahead.”

Right at that moment, Amir finally moves. Bruce feels a little bad about standing him up, but is glad to grapple away from the rest of the League. He hopes there will be a fight soon, because that way no one can ask him more questions.

[fiendishartist2]

im not fucking around anymore. here's the full "Paul is Care" essay i've been working on:

“Alright. So there's uh, nothing out here, as far as I've seen. But actually, I think there is something out here. I just haven't seen it yet.”

In Petscop, the story is told between the lines. When you feel like you have a grasp on it, a single colour or date throws off everything you’ve built up. That’s why I like to look at Petscop in another way; not as a series of events, but an exploration of a single character: Paul.

Some people like to map everything out in a single timeline; when did Care go missing, when did the family get the game, when did Lina and Mike die. I think that every interpretation of Petscop has its own value, because Petscop means something different to everyone who watches it. But, when I look at Petscop, I don’t just see a series of events wrapped up in the mystery of Care’s disappearance. I see a video game used as a device to explore and understand the connection between the past and the present. I see the ways in which Paul Leskowitz is Carrie Mark.

I know that to some that notion might seem crazy; the broader discussion of Petscop is different to the niche ones held by crazy people in the tags of a Tumblr post . Obviously, this theory is personally significant and I hold it very near and dear to my heart. But, I want to share this theory in a way that makes sense to the general audience of Petscop because I genuinely believe you guys are missing out! So, keep an open mind and enter my Petscop mind-palace…

“...were signs along the way. Um, that I ignored. Because it would have been a completely ridiculous idea to me. Um. But when I found my room, it made, uh, well, I was shocked at first, but it made sense, especially considering where I found the game in the first place, um, that it would be tied, in some way, to me through you. Um. And I'm trying to think, when was the last time I saw any of you at all? It had to have been in like, 1999. I was a kid, I was a small kid. Tiny kid. Um. And after that, just, you know. But, it would make sense in the timeline.” (Petscop 11)

A lot of Petscop theories surround the actual textual proof found in the videos, so that’s where I’ll start. There’s many instances where Paul makes the connection between himself and Care, but one moment continues to stick with me. In Petscop 11, Paul finally enters the house and takes a look around. He’s on the phone with someone, presumably Belle. Paul goes up to the calendars and starts talking about Care, “Yeah, on that topic... I don't remember meeting this girl at all. Um, I don't remember knowing her at any point (…) Um, and I remember you saying that we were, that we, we are, um, exactly the same age.” (Petscop 11). He points out that he and Care share the same birthday, down to the year. We get further confirmation of this in Petscop 14, when Paul’s conversation with Jill that he had on his own birthday is superimposed onto Care’s. The next part though, is what really gets the theory started, “I do agree there's a resemblance. Um. Very strong resemblance between us.” (Petscop 11).

Faces are incredibly important in Petscop. Marvin thought Care and Mike could be rebirthed into Lina because they had similar features, and Care had to be given Mike’s eyebrows specifically to change her room. So, for Paul and Care to have such similar facial features that someone else pointed out the resemblance is significant.

They also happen to share the name “Leskowitz”, which is both Anna and Lina’s last name. We know this because his Reddit account is “p_leskowitz”.

If he’s a Leskowitz, then that explains his complicated feelings towards “the family”. “The family” is a foreboding presence throughout Petscop. Their meddling isn’t outright malicious, but even Paul admits that he’s intimidated by them. And it makes sense, as “the family” (comprised of Anna and Jill) each have a major role in the core mystery of Petscop. Anna is the mother of Care and the wife of Marvin, while Jill is Marvin’s sister and the mother of both Rainer and Mike. To be a Leskowitz, Paul would need to be blood related to Anna or Lina in some way. Paul shows that he has this relation to the family in Petscop 22, when he’s talking to Belle about finding the windmill, “And, I don't th- and you don't have to worry about it, right, 'cause... 'cause you aren't, you aren't family, so you wouldn't... have a room, that's the thing.” (Petscop 22). In this context, Paul is asking Belle whether Jill has contacted her. When he tells her she doesn’t have a room, this is in reference to the Child Library explored in Petscop 3 and 7. This means that in order to be part of the Leskowitz-Mark family (and in our case, related to Care), you have to have a room in the Child Library, something both Paul and Care possess.

Paul being related to the family is also supported by his casual mention of meeting Rainer as a child, “‘Rainer’... I saw him at a birthday party once. All the older kids were down in the basement playing video games, to hide from everyone. He was down there, too. He was older than the rest of them, though.” (Petscop 11), and his confusion of not knowing Care, with the implication that if she was real, he would have met her through the family.

A rarely discussed aspect of Paul’s character is that he can’t tell his left from his right. When he’s doing the disc puzzle in Anna and Marvin’s room is Petscop 11, “Um, we can see what the room looks like in that recording, um, on the uh, right? ... Left? Left? Right ... side.” (Petscop 14) and before he even enters the house, “And, I mean, I still get confused about that. Because, I mean, well, I know it's always the top, but, um, I still have to think. I have to think.” (Petscop 11), we can clearly see that he has trouble with directions. In a similar fashion, Care is described as “dizzy”, most notably in the end credits of Petscop. She is also described as blind by Rainer in Petscop 17, “You were blind. At some point, your movements stopped making sense.” (Petscop 17). In the counsellor’s office, the counsellor says to Paul, “Are you right handed, or left handed? You don't know? Really?” (Petscop 22). I’ll get more into it later, but this sequence is presumably a real conversation that the game is recreating. If this scene is taken from Care’s real childhood, then it confirms that she also had problems with her lefts and rights.

Now, this is the base level of the theory. It’s easy to figure out that Paul is a Leskowitz, he literally calls them “the family”. And while I think the bits about faces and birthdays and directions are significant to this theory, I wanted to get all of the textual evidence out of the way so that I could get into the fun part of this essay: the subtext.

”Some things you can't rewrite.” (Petscop 14)

Petscop is nothing if not a collection of symbols and metaphors. Ask me what Petscop is all about on any given day and there’s a non-zero chance I will start explaining why the car is orange. While it is necessary to analyse Petscop as a real series of events, I think that another approach can be taken; what if we analysed Petscop as a series of events that are happening to Paul specifically? That the game is creating meaning by placing Paul specifically in these snippets of the past. By looking at each moment as “Why did the game make Paul do this?” instead of “What is happening in the game?”, we can see everything through a new lens.

First, I want to discuss colour. Colour plays a huge role in Petscop; almost every character is assigned their own colour. This is most often used to denote who is speaking in text, but it’s also used for other things like the tool. You are probably aware that Care’s colour is yellow, as all of her text is yellow. What you might not know is that Paul’s colour is red. Paul has exactly one instance in all of Petscop where he has coloured text and that is in Petscop 22, when he gives the counsellor his name. The calendars in the house are also colour coded, as the one showing 2017 is red.

One of my favourite moments in all of Petscop uses colour in a way that supports this theory perfectly. When Paul takes Care out of the rebirthing machine, she has been transformed into an Easter egg. A red and yellow striped Easter egg. I will get into this egg later on, but for now, I want to point out how Paul and Care’s colours have been used here. Of course, it’s significant just that they've been put together, but it's more than that. Care’s final form, the egg she has been placed in to keep her safe from all of the trauma she has suffered, that she will spend the rest of the series in, is painted a combination of her and Paul’s colours. In the same sequence, when Paul is playing the Needles Piano for Care B, the “wrong” notes he plays to turn her into the Easter Egg are all red. There’s a joke about eggs and transness in here somewhere.

Right after Care’s rebirth into the egg, Paul places her in the locker with the purple egg and the “new life” letter. If we abide by the established colour theory, this second egg would be Belle’s/Tiara’s egg. By putting them together, alongside the letter, it symbolises Care and Belle’s transfer to Lina’s care; this can also be supported by the ending of Petscop. In the final scene of the soundtrack, Belle recounts when she and Paul were adopted, “There is Boss waiting for her son. Pall do you remember being born. Smuggled away driving to your new house. Boss in driver seat me in back.” (Petscop Soundtrack). “Do you remember being born” is a question posed over and over again throughout Petscop. It’s meant to be a reference to rebirthing, but here it’s Paul being asked if he remembers being born, not Care; you can also connect this to the “new life” letter, making it apparent Belle is asking if he remembers when he was given his “new life” with her and “Boss”. There’s also the implication of the wording “smuggled away”, implying that there was something stopping Paul from being taken to his new home. Paul and Care’s final scenes parallel each other; Care is placed with Belle’s/Tiara’s egg with the “new life” letter, while Paul is taken back to “Boss” by Belle. Care and Paul are both asked if they “remember being born”.

Another, smaller piece of colour theory in Petscop comes from the board games in the counsellor’s office. The board game “Accident” features red and yellow puzzle pieces that fit together, but are broken apart. Remember that Care’s colour is yellow, so assume that she symbolises the yellow piece; Paul’s colour is red, so assume that he symbolises the red piece. The red piece is bigger and fits into the smaller yellow piece, like it’s missing the beginning of it. The yellow piece comes before the red piece, as if it adds context to the red piece. When we think of this in terms of Care and Paul, we can see that Care is the “missing piece” of Paul; the small part of his past that adds the context that completes him. Paul’s piece is bigger because he’s been Paul for so much longer (if we interpret the counsellor’s office as a real event the way it is shown, then that could be the moment he changed. Or, if we consider Care’s rebirth into the egg as the moment Care turned into Paul, then that would be the moment instead), meanwhile Care’s piece is small because she was only a small part of his life.

Taking colour into account, we can get into the meat of the symbolism in Petscop. When we view the events of Petscop through our new lens, many things become significant. Paul is placed in the role of Care many times throughout the series; on Care’s birthday, in the counsellor's office, and in Rainer’s “you are Carrie Mark” monologue.

During the “strange situation” birthday scene, Paul carries around a yellow balloon, symbolising that he is standing in for Care. This is further cemented by Anna’s dialogue addressing Paul as if he is Care on the day she came home, “You made it. Happy birthday! (...) Why are you covering your face? (...) Of course I recognize you. Those eyes. That nose. That’s still you.” (Petscop 14).

This next dialogue from Anna is particularly interesting to me; she doesn’t just tell Paul that she’s happy Care is home safe or ask him where she’s been, but instead she says this, “I sure hope you’ve realised by now. It doesn’t matter how long you’ve been gone. It doesn’t matter how much you’ve changed. You aren’t lost. Stop wandering and come home.” (Petscop 14). When we talk about Petscop, we have the urge to deny any supernatural involvement in the story. Whether through AI or predictive programming or alternate timelines, we want Petscop to be plausible. Understandable. Easy to digest. But, we often forget that Paul poses the question of a literal “ghost in the machine” in the first few episodes. I want to consider this quote– Anna talking to her child who has been “lost” for many years– as an act of this ghost. The game is talking back to Paul, telling him that no matter how much he has changed, he still has the same eyes, the same nose that made him Carrie Mark. And we know how important eyes and noses are in Petscop. Also as a side note, consider how Anna didn’t specify eyebrows; we know that Care’s lack of eyebrows is in some way due to Marvin, but when she tells Paul she recognises his eyes and nose, she doesn’t add on eyebrows. Paul said it himself in Petscop 7, “Um, and why am I doing that? Well, because eyebrows seem to be important.” (Petscop 7). I like to think that she couldn’t have said that Paul has the same eyebrows because, since Marvin isn’t in the picture anymore, he wouldn’t have any reason to pluck them.

Another scene that mixes up Paul and Care is the counsellor's office. When Paul finally enters the “girl wall” in Petscop 22, he is placed into a school’s counsellor’s office. Again, they talk to Paul as if he is Care, apologising for taking him out of class and saying he needs to “catch up”, implying that he’s missed a significant amount of school. As they start to play Graverobber (Jesus Christ, Rainer), the counsellor is confused about Paul’s name; they ask him if they have the wrong name written down, as his save file is currently “Strange Situation” and when they called out the name on file, Paul didn’t respond. Now, the connection here is a little more nuanced, but it still comes to a conclusion that I think greatly supports the theory. “Strange situation” is in reference to the Mary Ainsworth Strange Situation Experiment, a test in which an infant is deliberately separated from their mother to test their level of attachment. This is a very base level understanding of this concept, but when applied to this specific scene, it becomes apparent that this “strange situation” is another reference to Care. Care was separated from her mother for about half a year, only returning during the birthday party scene; the counsellor’s scene was accessible once Paul started using the “Strange Situation” file. Care stopped recognising the name she used before the seperation, considering herself to be “Strange Situation” instead. She has literally stopped recognising the name Care, and picks out her own name (which in the game Paul sets to his own).

Also consider the implication of the “girl wall”. At first, it’s an absurd joke, meant to lighten the mood using the same roundabout humour the rest of the series has. But, the counsellor asking if they have the wrong name, listing Paul as “Strange Situation” instead of his name, combined with the fact that when Paul is placed in front of the girl wall, he can’t walk away from it, it becomes a bit of an analogy; The game keeps forcefully showing Paul the word “GiRL” over and over and when he finally enters the “girl-world” as Strange Situation, he is called the wrong name and once again placed in Care’s shoes.

Let’s revisit the “ghost in the machine” idea. In Petscop 17, we are shown a past recording of Petscop; we never find out who was playing at this time, but it’s easy to assume Paul is the one watching the recording. The footage is less interesting than the dialogue, but it is notable that it’s a recording of the player running backwards in a very deliberate pattern. The actually relevant part of this sequence is Rainer’s monologue; in particular, the way he frames it, “You are a girl named Carrie Mark, and you were born on November 12th, 1992. You have a mommy named Anna, a daddy named Marvin, an auntie named Jill, an uncle named Thomas, a cousin named Daniel, ......I know what you must be thinking. Have these statements always been true? Or have I cursed you? Is there such a thing? A curse that changes your past?” (Petscop 17). There’s something about the forcefulness of this dialogue, “You are Carrie Mark,” as if Rainer is trying to make it so just by saying it. The inclusion of the birthday is also notable; we have been shown time and time again that Paul and Care share a birthday, and that this is an important part of both of their characters. So, when Rainer asks if these statements have always been true, or if it’s “a curse that changes your past”, we’re meant to interpret it as such: some of the statements are true, but the “you” being addressed is not currently “a girl named Carrie Mark”. Rainer casts a spell to make the player retrace their steps and although he might not be playing, the use of the word “you” and present tense language makes the statement pointed towards Paul. There’s something to be said about Rainer’s position in all of this; he isn’t the only tangible “ghost” in Petscop (Marvin and Tiara fit Paul’s definition established in Petscop 6), but he’s the only one to be fully dead. It truly feels, in this moment, like Petscop– like Rainer– is talking directly to Paul. The “curse that changes your past” is the part that ties it all together. This past that Paul doesn’t fully remember, where Anna and Marvin have a daughter named Care, where someone in his family went missing for months– by learning about this through the game, Rainer is essentially changing Paul’s version of the past. Your memory and physical evidence are all you have of the past; when your memory tells you one thing, but physical evidence tells you another, what version of your past is true?

“You’re the Newmaker. You can turn Care NLM into Care A, and close the loop.” (Petscop 9)

Finally, I want to explain why this theory is supportive of the themes of Petscop. Of course, there’s the obvious link between rebirth and the change from Care to Paul. But, there’s also themes of blood family versus chosen family, breaking the cycle of abuse, and of healing from your past. I want to provide an explanation of each of these themes and how the “Paul is Care” theory fits into them.

Let’s begin with the family point, since I already expanded on the family’s role in Petscop earlier. There’s a story behind the scenes in this series; the conflict between the chosen family versus the blood family. Anna and Jill against Belle and Lina. Anna and Jill are restrictive– they take over the channel and block certain things from the audience. Paul admits that he’s intimidated by them, and he’s concerned when he thinks Jill could be in contact with Belle. When we get the only dialogue from Jill, Paul is hostile and aggressive with her, something we don’t see from him otherwise. Alternately, Anna comes off as dismissive in most of her dialogue; when Care shows up at the birthday party, Anna treats her like no time has passed, like they haven’t been searching for her for months. We don’t get direct contact between Anna and Paul (except for a phone call in Petscop 11 that you could interpret as being with Anna), but the way she talks to the player through Care during the birthday party is still dismissive, “I sure hope you’ve realised by now. It doesn’t matter how long you’ve been gone. It doesn’t matter how much you’ve changed. You aren’t lost. Stop wandering and come home.” (Petscop 14). There’s a level of distance between Paul and the family, which is evident from the name alone; Paul identifies himself as part of the family, but he still calls them “the family” as opposed to “my family”. When you pair that with the fact that he calls them all by their first names instead of any term of endearment (like how Rainer calls her “Auntie Jill” in his spell), it paints a clear picture: Paul does not want to be part of this family.

In direct contrast, Belle is shown a significant amount of affection from Paul. Not only is he on the phone with her for a good handful of the episodes, but Belle also has a familial connection to Paul. In Petscop 2, Paul is talking to Belle and he says “When you come home next month, and uh, hopefully you're feeling a little more enthusiastic about that now, we can investigate this together, and maybe you'll find stuff that I can't find here.” (Petscop 2). I think the casual use of the word ‘home’ to describe where Belle is staying implies a certain closeness, maybe even that they live in the same household. That’s not the part of this line that is important to me, however. Take a look at Belle’s final speech at the end of Petscop; Belle says “I could not wait too be your friend,” and Paul responds, “Family”, to which Belle says, “We can investigate this together.” (Petscop Soundtrack). After distancing himself from the family, as well as directly telling her she’s not part of the family (following it up with “Uhh... I didn't- I didn't mean it that way,” (Petscop 22), implying they have a similar connection that she’s defending), Paul calls Belle family. She states that they’re friends and Paul corrects her by telling her that they’re not just friends, but family. The most gut wrenching part of this dialogue is the use of ‘we can investigate this together’. It’s like a ward, a promise that Belle is making to Paul. He doesn’t have to go through this alone, she’s promising to be there for him. She’s going to investigate this with him, like he asked her to in the second episode. Paul doesn’t call his blood relatives family, but he tells Belle that they are his family; her and the “Boss”.

How does this connect to Care? It’s not hard evidence, but when you take this theme of family into account, it makes more sense for Paul to have a strained relationship with the family if we apply Care’s story to him. Think about it; Paul was ‘smuggled away driving too [his] new house’ and he hasn’t seen the family since he was a child, and Care’s egg was (metaphorically) placed with Belle’s and the New Life Letter when she would have been around 5, since that’s the age she was when she was kidnapped. Care went through an extremely traumatic event in a toxic environment– why wouldn’t someone step in and take her out of that family? To me, this theory extends the same closure Paul gets at the end of Petscop to Care; it tells us that even after everything she went through, she finds people who love and take care of her.

Abuse is a huge focus in Petscop, both as a plot point and a major theme. Rainer’s main motivation is to expose Marvin’s abuse of both Mike and Care to the family– whether or not that’s successful is not important. Because years after Rainer’s attempt, Paul is back doing the exact same; although, his playthrough of Petscop is less of an expose and more of an attempt at solving the mystery. Now, I think it’s a little pedantic, but in this context, I think the “cycle of abuse” in Petscop refers less to a generational cycle, but a continuous cycle that happens every time Petscop is played. Care is stuck in this version of the past that Rainer has created, forced to live through it as many years as Petscop is left on. Paul doesn’t continue this cycle though; as far as we know, Paul is the only person to reach the good ending of the game, where he’s rebirthed Care into the egg and reconnected with Belle and ‘Boss’. Paul is the only person who could understand what Care needed, because it’s exactly what he needed.

Care’s trauma is replayed for us throughout Petscop. Every knowable aspect of it is shown, leaving behind a raw feeling; like somehow, Paul and Rainer have made a spectacle of her abuse. But, I don’t think that’s entirely true. Rainer, although he is bitter and vengeful, is ultimately the person who finds the truth about Care and Mike and (if we are to believe him) is also the one who found Care at the school. In the beginning, it’s obvious that Paul is playing the game to see the mystery and is slowly engulfed by it throughout the rest of the series. When the game tells him that, “Marvin picks up tool hurts me when playstation on,” (Petscop 3), Paul proceeds anyway. The same happens when Care is caught in her room; Paul sees what is obviously a child being kidnapped and continues to solve the puzzle anyway. He picks the flower, catching Care NLM, and leads Marvin to the house. Paul follows through on everything he can to ‘solve’ the mystery of Carrie Mark, but in the end, he defies what the game has told him to do and saves Care. He does what Rainer couldn’t do: he breaks the cycle of abuse in the Mark-Leskowitz family. It’s kind of poetic, the idea that the person Care grew to be is the same person who confronts and lays to rest her trauma. The fact that playing his own theme would be the key to changing Care into the egg (a symbol of birth and potential) is beautiful.

The last thing I want to talk about is the theme of healing. This concept is more nebulous; we don’t see much of Paul post-Petscop, but the final scene does always leave me feeling hopeful for him. I think the reconnection with Belle and ‘Boss’, alongside the reassurance that, “[they] can investigate this together,” shows that Paul is out of the mindset and environment Petscop put him in. I’ve always thought that throughout Petscop, we see a deterioration of Paul; in the beginning, he’s intrigued and confused, but we see him become more and more disturbed, irritable, and frustrated towards the end. This is first evident with the CD puzzle in the house, where Paul is so out of his depth and confused that he stops acting with the same calm rationality shown throughout the earlier episodes. Then, when Paul is messing about with the demo recordings, he stops speaking in the videos entirely. When Paul sees the final blacked out object, which are coordinates to the real life windmill, he is the most stuttery we’ve ever seen, “Hm. Y- y- yep, yep. Yep... yep. N- we would- we would have to find out how big... like, we'd have to find out how big a tile is..? One of the tiles..? Like, if we could- if we could figure out how big... one tile is, in... u- in, umm... Like, feet. Or... Uhh, yeah. Meters.” (Petscop 22). He’s frazzled and excited and a little bit scared, evidenced by how he talks about the family, “They didn't... I don't like talking to them. They intimidate me…” (Petscop 22). All of this changes by the end; Paul is no longer stuck playing the game and he’s free to return to the people who love him most. This freedom is summed up in a single image: the final one we see in Petscop. Paul’s chair is empty and the blue sky beyond the desk is brimming with hope.

All this to say, Paul choosing Belle and ‘Boss’ over the game as well as saving Care by doing what’s best for her instead of finishing the final puzzle, alongside his final scene where he is welcomed home by his real family, shows us an interpretation of Petscop that paints it not as a tragedy, but a story of chosen family, breaking the cycle of abuse, and healing trauma through connection.

Thank you so much for hearing me out.

Bye-bye!

[diazsdimples]

WIP Wednesday

Look at me posting two days in a row! The beans are slowly returning from their disappearance, I can feel it!

This snippet of Frostpunk AU is a little longer and I probably shouldn't be sharing all of it because remaining mysterious and all that, but fuck it. I'm just proud of myself for having written something lol.

There’s a slight rustle as his tent flaps are pulled back, and Buck’s legs jostle as a weight sinks onto the end his bed, a firm hand curling around his shin. “Hey Bobby,” Buck croaks, his voice rough and frayed, like a well worn piece of material. “Hey kid. You doing okay?” Buck opens his eyes and is met with the warm, brown eyes of his adopted father, full of care and concern. Bobby cocks his head, waiting for a response. “No,” Buck says quietly, and he rolls onto his side, curling his legs up towards his body. He wraps his arms around his knees and lets out a shaky sigh. “No, I’m not, but I don’t know why. I can’t get them out of my head, Bobby! Why can’t I let them go?” He angles his head up towards Bobby, looking at him with pleading eyes, and Bobby sighs, moving to stretch himself beside Buck. It’s reminiscent of when he was younger and was plagued with nightmares. Bobby would bring Buck into his and Athena’s bed and the small boy would cling to Bobby’s chest as he whispered stories into Buck’s hair, until the trembling stopped, and his breathing evened out. “I never did tell you how I found you and Maddie, did I? You were so young, I wasn’t sure if you remembered…” Bobby says, shifting beside Buck as he gets into a comfortable position. His muscles must be in a similar state to Buck’s if not worse, so it’s any wonder it takes him a moment to settle. “C’mere.” Buck turns, his body relaxing as he sees Bobby’s outstretched arm, and he settles into his father’s side, head resting against his chest, just like the old days. “I understand how you’re feeling,” Bobby begins, his hand skimming up Buck’s arm as he squeezes him closer. “We never meant to find you and Maddie. I was out on a scouting mission with Athena, and we were looking for my fa– for some people who were lost in a storm. We’d barely made it a day out of the city before we found you two.” Bobby shivers, as though the memory were transporting him back in time. For Buck, he has flashes of his childhood before Sector 118, small moments of discomfort as he remembers harsh words, cold looks, and lonely nights. He nods, signalling for Bobby to continue. “We found you two wrapped up together. Maddie had tried to dig you into a drift to conserve heat but had gotten too tired, so she’d stopped. If we hadn’t found you –“ Bobby’s voice breaks and his grip on Buck’s shoulders tighten, pulling him in closer. Buck lets out a small noise in the back of his throat and allows Bobby to pull him in, chin digging into the top of Buck’s head. They lie there, both shaking slightly as Bobby relives the past and Buck fears for the future. Bobby takes a deep breath before he finally continues. “I didn’t leave your bedside for a week. Athena had to drag me away to eat. I barely slept. You were just some kid I’d rescued, but for some reason I couldn’t leave you. Either of you”   Bobby hums out a small laugh and Buck feels it reverberate through his chest, reminding him of how Bobby used to laugh as Buck would try and tickle him after he’d calmed down from his nightmares. It’s oddly comforting. “So I know exactly what you’re going through. There’s no rhyme or reason for it, Buck. You just have to let yourself feel it. Be there for them. We’ll all support you.”

No pressure tagging @theotherbuckley @hippolotamus @watchyourbuck @puppyboybuckley @daffi-990 @exhuastedpigeon @disasterbuckdiaz @spotsandsocks @rainbow-nerdss @wildlife4life @buckbuckgoose @bucksbackwardcap @evanbegins @cal-daisies-and-briars @fortheloveofbuddie @spagheddiediaz @steadfastsaturnsrings @loserdiaz @giddyupbuck @aroeddiediaz @jesuisici33 @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove @kitteneddiediaz @elvensorceress @thekristen999 @actuallyitsellie @wikiangela @smilingbuckley @epicbuddieficrecs @underwater-ninja-13 @shortsighted-owl @loveyouanyway

[theemporium]

idk if this counts as a little blurb or not-

4. “This doesn’t change anything between us.” (but it really does)6th year..? with muggleborn gryffindor reader x sirius.

she cant stand james and sirius and peter(Even remus sometimes) shes not a quiet person and stands up for everyone including herself. and maybe she gets attacked by Slytherins (Snape & the gang) after defending some kids in a different house.

or if you have a better idea write whatever you feel like writing<3

thank you for requesting!🖤

.

You did not like the marauders. 

You didn’t care what people said about them, you didn’t care about the praises they sang. You didn’t care how charming James Potter was. You didn’t care how pretty Sirius Black was. You didn’t care how Peter Pettigrew was a sweet boy. You didn’t fucking care if Remus Lupin was the best of the bunch. 

You did not like the marauders and being in the same house as them—the same year as well, to add to the pain—only solidified your feelings for them. You didn’t like them in first year and you certainly don't like them now.

And despite the little fan base they accumulated over the years, you didn’t keep your distaste about them silent.

“I just don’t get it,” a friend of yours had once said to you, a witch from Ravenclaw who you shared a few classes with over the years. “How can you sit in the common room and not just swoon over Sirius Black?”

You flashed her a look. “Because unlike some people, I can see past looks.” 

“But he’s so dreamy!” she had insisted as if many people hadn’t said the exact same thing to you before.

“He’s an arrogant pig who thinks he’s a fucking comedian,” you grumbled with a shake of your head, already done with the conversation topic. 

“Pigs are quite a beloved species, sweetheart,” a voice had sounded from behind you and you didn’t need to turn around to know exactly who it was. If anything, you were hoping that as long you didn’t turn around, he would disappear. 

But that was never the case with Sirius.

“They are also beloved to the slaughterhouses,” you deadpanned. “You wanna take a visit, Black?” 

His eyes glittered with amusement. “Only if you’re there with me.”

And it was never a mystery to the boys themselves just how you felt about them. However, whilst James and Peter and Remus tended to either keep out of your way or try be kind to you on the off chance you would change your mind about them, Sirius went out of his way to poke the bear.

It only fuelled the hatred you held for him. 

Maybe that’s why it was a shock to you, to see Sirius Black—of all fucking people to have found you, to have stumbled onto the situation you were currently in—to see him defend you when you had so openly hated him for years. 

You had been returning from a late night visit at the library, your book bag holding the heaves of herbology textbooks you planned to use for the essay you were going to start during the weekend. You were feeling restless, not quite ready to head back to the chaos of the Gryffindor common room and had decided to take a longer route to the tower. 

That was your mistake.

You had never really bothered with the likes of Severus Snape and the group he surrounded himself with. They were never on your radar, maybe because you had bigger concerns than whatever superiority complex they liked to push onto themselves—and maybe that was exactly why you were the best target for their anger. 

You had stumbled onto the scene when you rounded a corner on the fifth floor, finding Snape and his goonies pointing their wands at a kid who was years younger than them—maybe even a first year. 

You saw red.

You don’t remember dropping your book bag or rushing over until your wand was in your hand and you were standing in front of the young Hufflepuff boy who looked like he was doing his best to hold back his tears.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” you sneered at the leader of the pack, eyebrows scrunched in disgust. 

“Get out of our way,” Snape snapped at you, not lowering his wand as it was less than an inch from your face. 

“Or what? You can’t handle someone your own size, Snape?” you taunted, standing your ground in front of the young boy. “Need to fight someone younger to have a fighting chance?” 

“Shut up, you filthy mudblood,” Snape sneered, the young boy behind you gasping as the slur rolled off his tongue. “You don’t know shit.” 

“I know your big words are overcompensating for something,” you snided before you turned to the boy. “Go on, they won’t bother you again,” you told him and he didn’t need to hear another word before he was scrambling to get away. 

However, what you weren’t expecting was for the spell to hit you from behind. 

Snape always was a dirty fighter. 

Your ears were still ringing as you lifted your head up, your body feeling achy and sore from where you had hit the wall but you remained mostly okay. You blinked a few times, gaining your bearings before you noticed a body standing in front of you. 

“You’re a no-good cheat, Snape,” the angry voice hissed. “You don’t even have the bloody honour of duelling properly!” 

“What do you know, Black? You’re just a blood traitor, kissing up to every mudblood ass you can—”

CRACK!

“Get the fuck out of here before I decide to break more than just your nose, you prick.” 

Your vision was still a little blurry when a figure kneeled in front of you, cold palms touching your cheeks as Sirius lifted your head to meet his gaze. 

“What?” you mumbled out because it was all you could say.

“Easy there, sweetheart,” he murmured with a soft frown on his face, eyes glancing all over you to make sure you were okay. “He got a good hit on you.” 

“What are you doing here?” you managed to get out, trying not to focus on the way his thumb felt gently caressing your cheek.

“Midnight stroll,” he said before snorting. “I was setting something up for Slughorn’s class tomorrow when that wee Hufflepuff ran into me. Told me what was going on.”

“Oh,” you murmured. 

“Oh indeed,” Sirius grinned.

“This doesn’t change anything between us,” you blurted out as he stood up, offering his hand to you. And you took it, stumbling towards him from the sudden movement but his hands gripped you and kept you right.

“I would never think something so preposterous,” Sirius nodded with a grim smile before it melted into his usual smirk. “Let’s get you to bed before you decide to play hero to anyone else, sweetheart.” 

“Thank you,” you murmured after a few moments, quiet enough that he almost missed it.

Sirius grinned widely in response. “Anytime, sweetheart, anytime.”

.

[f4iry-dvst]

Crack Rock

a/n: i saw @recklesssturniolo post about something like this and i knew i immediately had to post ;)

pairing: Matt Sturniolo x fem!reader

cw: degrading (kind of), spanking, daddy kink as per, it’s all consensual!

summary: Matt likes to take whatever pent up anger he has out on you; it’s all you ever want

Matt’s grip on your wrists is tight, maybe too tight you think as your skin starts to burn under his fingers. It’s a mystery to you why he doesn’t just tie you up or something, all he does is complain about how difficult it is to keep you from running away.

“But it- It hurts it hurts!”

This evil grin takes over his face hearing you whine out like that, using everything in you to get even the smallest words out and struggling to simply take a breath. He chuckles, and you wonder how he does it so easily when he’s the one putting in all the work — you haven't moved a muscle unless to get away from him and every breath is a drag on you. You know he doesn’t care, not one bit. He fucking loves telling you all about it: how useless and pathetic you are, no purpose but to stuff his cock in and how you don’t get to decide. It’s fucking scary hearing how worthless you are to someone, but the fear that floods you doubles the heat pooling in your stomach until you’re dripping with it.

“Look at you huh…such a fucking mess”

Even as he spits in your face, you can’t deny how right he is. You’re a mess of your own fluids: sweat, tears, saliva, not to mention the grool. It’s hard to differentiate each thrust of his hips from the next, but each punch of his head to that spot deep inside you draws a flood of wetness as he retreats, so much so that it’s starting to pool beneath your ass on the sheets. Matt’s obsessed with it because even though you’re so tight, the amount of slick engulfing his cock inside makes him glide in and out of you so easily it’s enough to make him want to cum from that feeling alone. He doesn’t necessarily care that it shows how good he’s making you feel — this isn’t for you, it’s all for him. Despite that, he buries his face in the crook of your neck and peppers a few kisses along your shoulder. He may be using you as a toy to dump his cum in, but he’s still your boyfriend after all and he’d be dammed if he didn’t get just a little taste of your sweet skin. His beard scratches against your jaw and the sensitive parts of your neck below your ear set alight with it. A whine slips out, even though Matt specifically instructed you to ‘shut the fuck up’ but you can’t really help it when he makes you feel so good.

The hand holding your wrists together above your head suddenly disappears and you find yourself missing the ache you complained so much about, until that same feeling stretches across your face instead. He gripped your face in his hand, holding your mouth shut and forcing you to look him in his sadistically crazy, sexy, eyes

“What did I fucking tell you? I don’t want to hear it”

He lets go of your face and then plants a swift slap on your cheek. His thrusts have slowed down as he continues to stare into your eyes, face cold and unreadable. He’s probably just scheming what he’d do next to you, but you wouldn’t know, you’re too focused on the obscene squelch that rings every time his cock pushes into your hole. It’s gross, but you find yourself getting hotter the more you hear it. You start squirming around again, but instead of trying to get away from the abuse to your body now you’re chasing it — you miss the burn of your wrists and hips from his grip on you and the way you can physically feel him so deep in your stomach so much more than you should. He’s been so horrible to you, so neglectful of your needs but you love it, it just makes everything so much more electrifying.

Your squirming must’ve jogged his brain: suddenly he pulls out of you and sits back a little to watch all that grool and his precum drip out of you, waiting rather impatiently for you to turn over. This isn’t new, you know exactly what he wants from you yet you’re frozen in place now. You’re not sure what has you stuck like this, but when Matt’s hands aggressively grab you and flip you over himself, you’re a little relieved. The way he manhandles you gets you all fired up again in a matter of seconds, your hips push back searching for him the second your knees hit the mattress. He continues to sit back for a moment longer, breathing heavily with his cock in his hands, slowly jerking himself to ease that needy feeling in him too. Matt knows you love when he treats you like shit in bed, so really, this is more punishment to you than him right now. You try to call out for him, but with your face stuffed in a pillow, it's a little hard, so you lift up onto your elbows and try again.

“Matt-”

You don't even get a second to breathe when his hands slams down on your right ass cheek, the sound ringing in your head and bouncing between your ears with how loud it was.

“Fucking slut…that’s not what you call me, is it?”

Without warning, his cock surges back into you, hitting something so deep inside it stings. The tears that’d built and threatened to fall long ago finally spilt, a sob tumbling out of your mouth without a second thought and now all hell breaks loose in you. Matt’s thrusting so fast and hard, hitting that deep spot inside with almost every one, dropping his hand down to spank you every few moments and pulling you back onto him with his hand on your waist. You truly are a mess now, no denying it with tears dripping down on the pillow and how wet your thighs are. He loves you like this; he’s broken you and it's the dreamiest thing in the world to him.

“S-sir…”

You don’t even have to say it, he always knows.

“Mhm, go on, cum all over daddy’s cock baby”

[rougepancake]

Desire

Akaza x Afab!DemonSlayer!Reader

A/N: Zesty?? (Yes.) Borderline smut?? (Maybe??) Language will be used along with sexual themes. Mentions of character death (minor characters), gore, and violence. Minors and ageless blogs please do not interact, I will have no choice but to block you if you do. Not proofread (because that’s a thing I do-). And with that, enjoy!

Summary: You were sent out on a mission to investigate the disappearances of local men in a mysterious village with nothing but a handful of tsuchinoto by your side. But soon your tsuchinoto are taken from you and you’re left facing an upper moon who wants nothing more than for you to become a demon with him. And he refuses to leave you alone until you do so.

“Hey Y/N, what do you think the demon here is going to be like?” One of your pupils, Suzume Takagi, asked excitedly. You and your small group trudged through the most dense forest you’ve ever seen while on your way to a local village. Apparently, there had been a large reported number of men going missing in the area and Ubuyashiki had thought it was a demon’s doing. So here you were, entertaining a bunch of tsuchinoto while constantly getting hit in the face by random tree branches.

“Oh well I don’t know,” you sighed, ducking underneath some vines. “But I do find it incredibly odd that it’s only targeting men…” you trailed off and Suzume looked at you, her eyes wide. “Maybe the demon has a grudge against them? Something that happened during their human life that they want to get revenge for in their demon one?”

“Oh Y/N!” She exclaimed, clasping her hands together. “That’s the best idea ever! You’re so smart!” Suzume giggled and ran over to where the other tsuchinoto were to tell them what you had just told her. You didn’t know why, but they seemingly worshipped you. Maybe it was because you were a kinoe? The fact that you were roughly their age and bordering being referred to as a hashira definitely had something to do with it.

They were a great bunch though, they each had the potential to climb up the ranks as you had done. You just hoped they lived long enough to get there.

Once you had arrived at the village, you gave the tsuchinoto permission to separate and ask locals about the disappearances that had been happening. Suzume was ecstatic to be able to work on her own, mainly because she wanted to show off for you, but as long as she was working, it was all good.

Hours had passed since your group had split up and the sun had just set, meaning that the demons were coming out to play. From your hiding spot in the trees, you could even see a couple of them prowling around. You hummed, those demons weren’t the one behind the disappearances. You put your back to the tree and lifted your head up, slowing your breathing so you would be able to sense when this demon arrived.

A nearby scream snapped you from your thoughts. It sounded like it was a- woman! “Oh my god Suzume!” You frantically spun around, desperately looking for your tsuchinoto. “Suzume?!” Just then, another scream rang out, almost in response to your call, but it wasn’t Suzume. It was another member of your group. “Oh my god.” You mumbled to yourself, falling to your knees in horror. You brought your hands up to your hands and buried it in them. “Oh my fucking god.”

You screamed at the top of your lungs in pain. This was the first time you had ever been sent out with a group and you failed to protect them. They looked up to you. They respected you greatly. Hell, they trusted you to keep them safe, and you failed to do so. Your newfound rage was overwhelming you, and it led you to make a promise to avenge them.

In a split second, you took off into the forest with the same speed as a hashira and slayed any demon that crossed your path. Your rage had turned you into a heartless monster. You killed them, and with a smile on your face. You didn’t care about their pasts, the troubles that they had endured before they became demons. You didn’t care when they begged for mercy when you attacked them, you didn’t even bother to hear them out. In fact, you left a good handful of them staked to the tops of trees so they could get a final glimpse of the sunlight before they died for good. You didn’t care that they had called you horrible names before you lopped off their stupid little heads, it made no difference to you. You didn’t care because those demons didn’t care when they killed your comrades.

You stood in silence, wearing a deranged smile as you watched the last demon’s body fade away into nonexistence. Even after it’s body had gone, you just stood there, your blade in one hand and part of Suzume’s uniform in the other. Your exhaustion was beginning to catch up to you, forcing you to resort to using your katana as a cane.

Your entire body was shaking, making it even harder to maintain your balance. Panting heavily, you made your way over to a nearby tree so you could rest. But you didn’t dare to let yourself fall asleep, since you were being watched.

You had felt the burning stare of this stranger since you had been standing in the tree, but yet they were masking their presence, practically in hiding. “Coward,” you hissed, grabbing your side in pain. In the state you were in, you wouldn’t be able to stand your ground against whoever was watching you.

“Pardon me?” A man’s voice asked, his voice coming from the same direction as the stare. “Did you say, coward?” He slowly emerged from the bushes as he spoke, finally revealing himself to you.

“I did,” you glared, quickly getting to your feet. Sure it hurt like hell, but you weren’t about to look weak in front of your opponent. You channeled your breathing and stood tall. “But I guess you aren’t all that cowardly if you rose to the challenge.” You taunted.

His yellow eyes glimmered mischievously in the moonlight, which was about the only thing that you were able to see other than his muscular form. His eyes read “upper six”, which meant that he was a hashira killer, and a real threat to your life. “I can see that you’re injured terribly,” he feigned empathy with a smirk, crossing his arms and observing your reaction.

“Just a scratch,” you shrugged.

“It’s a shame, I’ve been wanting to fight you for so long and by the time I get to you, you’re injured.” He sighed, mocking you. “You poor thing.”

“Watching me?!” You were surprised that you hadn’t noticed sooner. You rolled your eyes, annoyed at how he was trying to mess with you. “Yeah right, I would have noticed that.” Your tone was overconfident, causing the demon to chuckle.

“Then why didn’t you?” He tilted his head, smirking. He took one step closer to you, moving to take another, but you stopped him, your blade poking at his neck.

“You’re bluffing.” In a swift move, you disappeared, appearing behind him and making your move to lop off his head. He turned around to meet your gaze with a smile and stopped your katana with his hand.

“Wow wow! You’re so much stronger than I had imagined!” He said excitedly, looking at his injured hand sadistically. He brought it up to his tongue and licked away his trickling blood before it could heal. “I simply must know, what is your name?”

“If you’ve been watching me for some time then how come you don’t know it?” You questioned sarcastically. You were doing your best to keep your strength, but your legs were beginning to shake and you were beginning to sway slightly.

“Now Y/N I don’t need you dying on me,” he smirked, catching you when your legs gave in. The demon bent down so you could rest your head atop his lap, and since you were now immobilized, you couldn’t run from what he was about to tell you. “I have no intentions of killing you, it goes against my personal standards,” he began resting his palm gently on your forehead, recoiling at how warm you were.

“Then why are you here? What do you want from me?” Your voice was weak and shaky, you were afraid of what was going to happen next. Clearly this demon was unpredictable if he wasn’t going to kill you.

“Oh don’t be too worried,” he sighed, his tone arrogant. “I just wish for you to become a demon.” You saw his eyes light up and his smile grow at the mention of such a thought. “Just imagine how strong you would be! And you could fight me as many times as you’d like! Maybe you could even become an upper moon like me!” His eyes met yours, the excitement fading from them as he saw that you weren’t as happy as he was.

“I would rather die.” You laughed, right in his face, proving your loyalty to the demon slayer corps, which annoyed him. He dug his fist into your ribs, causing you to cry out in pain. You tried to grab your sword, but he got to it first and threw it to the side.

“Are you sure about that?” He teased. You could see the malice shining through his yellow eyes, it was practically blinding.

You coughed, blood trickling down your chin as you smiled confidently up at him. “Of course. If you had really been watching me, you would have known that I wouldn’t fall for it.”

The demon snarled, pushing your head off of his lap and rising to his feet. His aura had changed, no longer showing pure hatred, but rather slight sadness. He avoided your eyes and clenched his fists in false anger.

“I can promise you, Y/N, you will see me again. I won’t stop until you give in to my request. And if you happen to change your mind while I’m not around, call out the name Akaza, and I’ll be there in a heartbeat.” You saw him vanish before your body gave in to your exhaustion, leaving you unconscious on the forest floor.

“Hello? Hello can you hear me?” A kakushi called out to you, their voice frantic. “Ma’am?!” They shook you into consciousness, eyes lighting up with relief when you returned their stare. They looked behind them and called out to another kakushi excitedly, “She’s alive! We should take her back to Lady Kocho right away!”

“How badly is she wounded?” The other kakushi came over to inspect you.

“A handful of broken ribs and some scars here and there, it really is a miracle that she survived.” They turned to face you, eyes gleaming. “When we saw that you had taken out every demon in this area, we were all amazed! Even Lady Kocho was surprised!” They continued to tell their story, but you were far too out of it to pay attention.

“My… head… is… killing… me,” you spoke, voice barely above a whisper.

“Oh don’t worry ma’am, Lady Kocho is on her way! She was just inspecting the damage to the area, once she’s finished up, she’ll take you back to her estate and you’ll be feeling better in no time I’m sure!”

You sighed weakly, closing your eyes to rest once again. You had used too much energy and ended up overestimating your abilities.

You heard the light footsteps of who you assumed to be Lady Kocho, she spoke to you in a gentle tone, explaining sweetly how you were going to be taken care of, and instead of being at her estate, you were going to be taken back to yours since she no longer had any room in her infirmary.

It was the last thing you remembered before you blacked out again and woke up in your own bed.

Your abdomen was bandaged and wrapped tightly, and you were already starting to feel better, but it was just bs because you had broken multiple ribs and obviously needed more time to recover. But as soon as you found yourself recovering, you took it upon yourself to train heavily.

You had even created new moves for your breathing style, ones that were much more powerful than your last. You were sure that these ones would take out that demon the next time he appeared.

Now, it was dusk, and you were still perfecting your 12th form to mist breathing, sweat dripping down your cheeks. You had taken a little break so you could observe the sunset, and it was simply beautiful.

You had finally cleared your mind, and now you were free to enjoy the beauty of the life around you, but your enjoyment was cut short when you saw the yellow eyes of Akaza in the distance. He was still watching you, hoping that you’d join him as a demon. You thought he was crazy, since he was literally watching you train to kill him and he still wanted you to be his gal pal.

You rolled your eyes and ignored him, putting away your training gear before heading back inside your estate. You felt his burning gaze as you did so, but thankfully you were inside the confines of your house.

“What the hell?!” You wiped your brow and cautiously peered out your window. His eyes continued to gleam in the moonlight, which only made you nervous. “God take a hint.” You went to your bedroom and began to undress so you could bathe in a nearby pond, even if he was watching. It made no difference to you, as long as you were nice and clean.

It was far from safe, but you couldn’t have cared less.

“Maybe the sight of me naked will scare him away,” you laughed to yourself, sliding your robe over your bare shoulders and sliding on some decent slippers before walking out the door. You kept your katana with you, making sure Akaza could see that even if you were vulnerable, you still bore a weapon. And your weapon made you a threat.

Once you were emerged in the water, you felt yourself relax, the weight of your troubles finally lifting off your shoulders. You lifted your head, admiring the beautiful stars above you. You were thankful that you were still able to admire them, unlike Suzume and the others. A tear fell down your cheek at the memory of your comrades.

“Oh? What’s wrong Y/N?” A familiar voice pulled you out of your thoughts. In the water, directly across from you, sat Akaza, wearing nothing but a shit-eating grin.

You glared at him before you returned to your stargazing. “What do you want?” You were pissed, but you couldn’t run out because of how vulnerable you would be. Plus, you had to pretend like him being bare ass naked didn’t bother you.

“I’ve come to see if you’ve changed your mind at all.” He shrugged, running a hand through his hair. The sound of water swishing around reached your ears, he was moving towards you. You shuddered when he wrapped his arm around your shoulder gently, leaning in so he could whisper in your ear. “Have you~?”

You quickly pushed him away, laughing in his face. “You’ve got some nerve. You do know that I have the power to kill you, right? I’ve recovered since our last meeting.” You sunk deeper into the water, trying to keep yourself covered while maintaining your threatening aura.

“Then why don’t you?” Akaza leaned forward, chuckling when you stumbled back. “I’ve been watching you, and I know you’ve seen me, so why haven’t you killed me yet?” He was clearly mocking you, doing his best to provoke you into fighting him. It was working.

You were furious, and it looks could kill, the one you were giving him right now would send him six feet under. “Fuck off. You’re making me regret sparing your life.” Your mind was racing with all the possible ways you could get to your sword and keep your dignity at the same time. Thankfully, there was one form of mist breathing that didn’t require your blade.

“Mist breathing: eighth form!” You called out, staring into Akaza’s eyes. “Steam!” This form was one that bordered both the water and flame breathing styles, and it allowed you full coverage so you could hop out, slide on your robe, and prepare for battle.

The eighth form of mist breathing causes any nearby water to boil intensely, causing steam to rise and the victim’s skin to burn. It was a form that you yourself had come up with, one that no one else knew. It demonstrated your undeniable abilities, only making Akaza desire you more.

You heard him cry out in pain, along with the violent sloshing of water. “What’s wrong?” You taunted. “Does it hurt?”

“Just a little~” He whispered in your ear, placing his hands on your shoulders. “You’re so strong Y/N! I can’t wait to fight you!” The demon hugged you from behind, resting his head in the crook of your neck.

“Fuck off, you god damned perv!” You shouted, widely swinging your katana. He smiled at you, easily dodging your attack. You continued to chase him, not yet ready to use your mist breathing. You needed to be sure you’d be able to get a hit in before you could do so, and he was making it incredibly hard to do so.

Before you knew it, you had cut off his arm and he was on the ground, your foot on his chest.

You didn’t dare to look anywhere but his eyes, but you couldn’t ignore how muscular he was. He had to have let you win just now, because there was no way that you would have beat him otherwise. It was painfully clear what he was trying to do to you, a demon chasing after a woman after being deprived of sex for so long, it only made you hate him more. But it did strike curiosity in you.

“Why exactly do you want me to become a demon?” You questioned, the blade of your katana pressed against his throat.

Akaza laughed, his eyes lighting up as he stared at you. “I can’t believe you’re actually considering it no- ack!” You put more pressure on the katana, causing blood to trickle down his neck onto the grass. It was a clear sign for him to get to the point, but you could see something else in his eyes that definitely wasn’t pain. In fact, if you hadn’t known any better, you would have said that he had moaned at the contact.

“God damn it, why am I wasting my time on you,” you rolled your eyes, and instead of putting pressure on your katana, you put all your weight onto the foot holding him down. It knocked the wind out of him and you heard another moan pass through his lips.

“S-say my name.” He smirked, bringing his hands slowly up to your bare leg, caressing it gently. “M-maybe then I’ll tell you.”

The feeling of his calloused hands on your calf caused you to shudder in a way that you didn’t know was possible. It seemed that whenever he handled you he was gentle, despite his demonic being. You found it incredibly odd, but you couldn’t help but want to see where this was going to go.

You could feel the tension in the air grow, nearly suffocating you. With a sigh, you looked at him and shook his hands off of your leg. “What if I forgot it? Am I just signing up for something blindly then?”

“Oh I know damn well you have yet to forget the name of the demon who has you strung up like this.” Akaza smirked, propping himself up onto one elbow. His response took you by surprise, allowing him to knock you off your feet and trap you underneath him this time. “I mean, look at you, I’ve been driving you crazy, haven’t I?”

You swallowed thickly, a heavy blush rushing to your cheeks. His arms were on either side of your head and he had one knee in between your legs, and to make things worse, he was still naked. You had done your best earlier to avoid looking past his waist so you wouldn’t end up being scarred for life but with the way you were laying it made it very, very, hard not to do so.

Of course, your self control wasn’t the only thing hard to keep in check. You could feel his large cock against the side of your leg, which only made you more embarrassed.

“Oooh~ is something wrong Y/N?” He leaned in close to your face, his warm breath hitting your neck. You shivered, squeezing your eyes shut. “You know, if you became a demon,” he started, reaching out his hand and forcing you to look into his eyes. “We could be together forever. I’d always be there to protect you and provide for you when you’re…” he looked you up and down, licking his lips. “Frustrated like this. You’ll never have to worry about death ever again, and you’ll be strong enough to beat me if you do so desire.”

You could feel your heartbeat going wild with every word he spoke, he sounded so damn convincing, and what the hell was he doing leaning in so close to you anyways?! You were convinced that he was going to use you, leaving you out to die somewhere when he was done.

“Y/N, I want you- no, I need you. I’ve felt this way since I first saw your true strength.” He rest his body against yours, embracing you tightly in his arms. Akaza buried his head in the crook of your neck and sighed heavily, you could almost feel the sadness in his tone. “And I won’t leave you alone until one of two things happens: you say yes and we live the rest of our lives together, or you continue to refuse and you die naturally.” His arms tightened around you, making it hard for you to breathe.

“I don’t believe you,” you whispered harshly. While his tone sounded genuine, he was still a demon and could not be trusted. Akaza pulled away, pain showing in his eyes. You did feel a little guilty for allowing him to be so vulnerable and shutting it down. You sat up, your robe falling off one of your shoulders, making you look like even more of a mess. “I think you’re just trying to seduce me, and that once you get what you want you’ll be out of here faster than a deadbeat dad.”

“Y-Y/N-“ you interrupted him by glaring at him.

“There’s no way in hell a demon as powerful as you would go after a literal demon slayer. It makes no sense to me. It doesn’t matter how long you’ve been watching me or whatever, you just wanna use me because that’s all anyone wants to do.” You fought back the sudden tears and looked away in shame. You didn’t know why you were getting so emotional, maybe it was the emotion that he had put into his little speech for you that had you feeling like this. You weren’t entirely sure, but it made you mad.

“Would you let me show you?” Akaza reached out for your hand, bringing up so you were sitting on your knees. “I mean if my words can’t convince you, then maybe something else can.” Your eyes widened at his request, he must be crazy. “Let me touch you Y/N~. I know you want me to~.”

You blushed again, knowing damn well how he knew. The damn bastard could smell your arousal and he was using it against you. “No- you’re si- ah~” His hand grabbed your thigh tightly, the sudden pain causing you to moan out.

“Oh my, how I love that sound you make,” Akaza shivered, bringing his head back to the crook of your neck and biting down. Another, louder moan slipped past your lips, despite how hard you had tried not to. He giggled and did it again, but harder, though he was careful not to break your skin. As his tongue tasted your neck, his hand moved further up your thigh, stopping before it became too far. Akaza may have been a demon, but he knew that consent was a thing, and wouldn’t take things further unless you wanted to.

“A-Akaza,” you panted out, looking away to hide your tomato-red face. “T-There i s-said your na- a-ah~ Akaza~!”

That was all it took for Akaza to dive into his meal, and all it took for you to have one hell of a sleepless night.

“Lady Y/N, you’ve got someone here to see you,” your wonderful maid Suzume informed you as you dressed yourself for the day. You looked into the mirror, smiling at your new, unique appearance. It was quite the change from what you used to look like, but you liked it better. You winked at yourself before turning around and heading out of your bedroom, on your way to meet your new guest.

In the halls, several of the servants bowed and greeted you happily, to which you waved and told them it wasn’t necessary to do so.

Suzume showed you to the lounge, where your guest was awaiting you. She had long, white hair with green tips, and what looked like the remains of a traditional oiran’s uniform. A large pink belt lay atop her waist, which was tied neatly into a bow behind her and when she turned around you saw that she had two striped of fabric down her chest that barely covered her breasts.

She greeted you with a smile and explained to you why she was there, saying how she had heard that her friend had gotten a woman and she wanted to see for herself if said woman was good enough for him. To your surprise, she had told you honestly that you had the aura of a kind and noble woman, one that indeed deserved to be respected and loved.

“I wish you a long and prosperous life with Akaza, I can tell that you deserve him as much as he does you, so I’ll leave you be for now.” She turned around and headed for the door, but before she left, she gave you another smile. “Just don’t tell him I stopped by or else he’ll be furious!”

She called herself “Daki.”