#i should start calling you bug anon or something

[endless-ineffabilities]

Chemical Override (bonus chapter three) - In the Modern World

Ewan Mitchell x actress!reader

a/n: I knew I wanted to do a fun bonus chapter after part seven, but I wasn't sure what about. Then came this music video, with this feral slimey cat, and the rest is history. Not to mention this brilliant anon further fueled the idea for the plot!

series masterlist ▪︎ main masterlist

Seems so hard just to be If it matters You complete me 🦎

This is set between part two and part three of the story. Right after the rumours of the reader with Jacob surface and she clarifies to Ewan that it's all just PR, and before he gets boozy and sends the voicemail.

Ewan

Martin’s room is typical of any unemployed and aimless outcast in their late 20s. Particularly, one with a penchant for conspiracy theories, reptilian critters, diorama building, and surface-level anarchy. 

“So he’s just like a regular guy,” Ewan jokes, making the director Luna laugh. 

“Sure, I bet this is how your own room is like back in… Derby, was it?”

“Yeah,” Ewan nods. “I actually have a place here in London now, too. The room is the same. But I’ve got more than one lizard.”

“Good one, mate,” she claps him on the back, before walking further into the room. She stops in front of the craggly stands that Martin passes off a workstation. “Here is where he keeps his pets. As you know, he’s got spiders, iguanas, and the rogue chinchilla.”

“Look at that little guy,” Ewan stoops down to inspect the grey rodent. “You lost there, buddy?”

“That one is our cameraman Eddie’s,” she remarks. “The bugs - we borrowed from the local habitat. All under code, of course.”

“Mmm,” he looks around the room. Maroon sheets, used up art supplies like glue and various unclean brushes, pieces of silver wire, old cables, duct tape, painted figurines, a scattering of old tickets for an underground fighting ring. Propped up on the headboard of his bed is a stolen street sign. On the wall is an assortment of posters - some of bands, some of comic strips, but mainly just scraps of art Martin finds from the internet. A rabid dog with its teeth bared. Grotesque humanoid figures. 

Standard, regular pictures. 

“You like the posters?” Luna notices him perusing the wall. “You know, I had the idea of incorporating something you like here. Maybe a band or… you like Metallica, I heard?”

“Hmm? Oh yeah, I love them. So I get to choose a poster that would fit Martin?”

“Sure,” she shrugs. “Something that represents both yourself and Martin, why not? Make up a backstory for it. It can be anything you set your mind to, really. Let’s start with - what would you have on your wall?”

He considers just taking her up on her suggestion of Metallica, maybe a live image of the band in their 2009 Mexico show. But he didn’t want to settle on that idea just yet. What is he fixated on at the moment? What film, what song, what popular character…

Then it strikes him, causing the blood to rise to the surface of his pale cheeks. Of course. There is you. 

But if he props up a full-blown image of you, just you, maybe from a photoshoot or a candid photograph, would that be too much? Would he be crossing the line?

Last he heard from you, he found out that the supposed relationship you have with Jacob Elordi is but a ruse for the sake of publicity. Thank the gods, as Aegon screamed before Aemond set him ablaze. 

But in this instance, Ewan’s relief is not entirely unfounded. You aren’t with anyone. He knows he should make a move, a proper one, and not just drop hints of his admiration in interviews like the one he just did for Vanity Fair. But what can he do? You’re all the way across the Atlantic, far from his desperate reach. 

As selfish as it sounds, he couldn’t bear the thought of hearing you’re with someone else and knowing it’s true. The confession is yet to stumble out of him, but he knew he was already yours. 

He calls you whenever he can, whenever he misses you, which is quite often, as evidenced by the lengthy log of long-distance calls on his phone, from England to America. 

“What about something House of the Dragon related?” he asks. “Could serve as a nice easter egg for the fans, if they see this.” 

“I don’t see why not? If you can convince us of Martin’s motivation for it, of why he would put that poster on his wall, then we can add it right away.”

He smiles shyly, glancing down at his sneakers. He knows his own motivation for putting your image up on his wall, but what about Martin’s? He tests some ideas out, gauging Luna’s reaction, “What if he’s a sci-fi, fantasy fanatic? If he’s a devout follower of George RR Martin, and so… naturally, he had a look at House of the Dragon as well?”

She purses her lips, tilting her head in thought. “That’s something right there, yeah. But we kind of saw him as being against television, you know? Against popular media in general, and he's a guy with an affinity for obscure dark video games and comic books.”

“Hmm, yeah, yeah,” he does his best to form the proposition in his mind. How does he offer the suggestion without being too obvious? “So what if, you know, he happened to see this one character in the show, and he’s just enamoured with them for some reason? This makes it remarkable, because he does admire her, but as an act of rebellion, he still doesn’t watch the show and only bothers himself with her scenes and the art style to her character, and - ”

“Wait, her?” Luna smiles, her confusion dwindling. She’s heard the rumours. Or fan theories. Or whatever the kids call it nowadays. She hasn’t been living under a rock, and Ewan definitely hasn’t kept mum about his crush either. 

“Yeah,” he scratches the back of his neck, unable to look her directly in the eye, “I was thinking of having a poster for a character from the show.”

“I thought you wanted a poster of a dragon or something,” she jokes. “So, which character? Apologies, I’m not too familiar with a lot of them.” Ewan would recognise the knowing glint in her gaze, if he wasn’t too busy pretending to inspect a scrap of faux moldy wallpaper sticking out of the wall. Set design really outdid themselves in the details, all to give the impression that Martin is a negligent slob.

“Uhhm,” he dithers, a crooked smile breaking out despite him chewing on his bottom lip, “she’s, uhhh, one of the new characters this season.”

“Oh?” she plays along, nodding, “Which one? From what I saw, there’s two camps, right? And your camp is green, is she in that?”

“No, actually,” he shakes his head, “she’s in the opposing team, you could say.”

“That’s interesting,” she nods, slowly, trying to encourage him to simply spit it out. “You know, Ewan, mate, if you don’t actually tell me which character you want to put up, then this poster idea isn’t going to work out.”

His gaze snaps back to her, and he awkwardly titters under his breath. “Right, right. Uhhm, she’s called Alyna… Alyna Rivers.”

Luna’s mouth forms an O, as if she’s enjoying this little gotcha moment. She realises that Ewan, while reserved, wears his heart on his sleeve. What a lucky girl you are. 

“And… why would Martin want her specifically up on his wall?” 

The emphasis on Martin came off as superficial, her tone humorous, leading Ewan to believe that she actually pertains to him and not the character.

“He might see her as some sort of muse, you know… she’s a fighter, she’s got a fire in her…”

“And he’s got a crush on her.”

“Oh… well…”

“He likes her.”

“Uhhh… yeah I guess…”

“You guess?” she raises her eyebrows, grinning, “come on Ewan, what does Martin feel about her?”

“She’s his… his ray of light,” he decides. “His world is a mess. He’s lost. His one release entails getting beat up bloody every other day. But the idea of her is his beacon of hope. Untainted, you know. She’s… she’s perfect. She wouldn’t hurt him like the rest of the world already has.”

Luna nods in understanding, satisfied. She casually slings an arm over his shoulder, then says, “You know something, mate? That sounds a lot more than a crush to me.”

“Mmm,” he smiles, agreeing, the welcome image of you flooding his mind like always, “it sure does.”

The entire cast and crew for In the Modern World have the subsequent three days to accomplish filming.

Ewan sits in the makeup trailer, awaiting his cue, his vision now impaired by the unkempt strands of his long black wig. Spiky grunge cuffs decorate his wrists. He wears an ill-fitting pair of jeans and a t-shirt, the costume for the first scene to be filmed. 

He has already gone through the process of trying to get in Martin’s head, seeing what makes him tick, what drives his actions, priming himself to jump inside his skin. He’s ready. At this point during filming, he has the habit of eliminating any distraction to maintain focus, and his phone is tucked inside his backpack on airplane mode. 

Defying his routine, he retrieves his phone, nervous fingers clicking away until they land on your contact. He hovers over the voice call option, opting at the last second to do a video call instead. 

The front camera turns on, catching him off guard with how messy he appears. Maybe this was not the best idea, he falters, what am I doing? I’m gonna scare her off.

“Ewan?” It’s too late to change his mind when your cheerful voice answers, your expression curious and inviting. His ray of light. “Is that you?”

He timidly brushes his hair - his wig - away from his face. “Hello, darling. I thought I’d ring you for a second.”

You laugh openly, drawing your face closer to your phone to get a better look at him, “Are you shooting the music video right now? Oh my god, look at you!”

He smiles sheepishly, teeth clamping over his bottom lip. “What do you think?”

“Wow,” you shake your head, the sunlight reflecting on your face from wherever you are. Likely walking around outside the studio, as he spots the white buildings in the background. “You look so… cool. This is like Aemond in the modern world, rebelling against his mother with the help of cheap hair dye.”

He appreciates your clever assessment, feeling much better about himself. “Don’t I look shabby?”

“Ewan,” you click your tongue, “judging by what you told me about your character, I think you’re supposed to look shabby.”

You’re right. He shakes his head, mostly at himself, for being so concerned if you still find him attractive even in this get-up.

“I feel like Kirk Hammett. Very rock n’ roll.”

You smirk, “I’d say this is your hottest look yet.”

He blushes profusely. You think he looks hot. It may just be a passing quip, a casual thing to say, but it has him in a grip. His reaction would nearly rival that of Martin’s, who would probably jump right on to making a mini-figurine of Alyna. After just a single interaction with you, Martin would probably spend the next few weeks occupied with objectionable fantasies. You and him, rolling around in the car. Only, car jitsu wouldn’t be the physical activity at play. 

Ewan shifts in his seat, adjusting his trousers. In the end, he’s no better than Martin after all. 

“Ewan?”

“Oh sorry, darling, I was just - ”

“I said that I have to go back inside,” you say, “I do appreciate your call, though.”

His face falls, despite the fact that he has to be on set soon anyway. “Of course, darling, go ahead.”

“Kick some ass for me?”

For you? Anything. “You got it, baby.” The name jumps out of him before he can stop himself, and he justifies it as a ‘Martin’ reaction. He’s in character, isn’t he?

You roll your eyes. It is your turn to blush and fail at hiding it, and you do. “Okay, rockstar. Talk to you soon, okay?”

“Okay,” he says, then adds, “Wait!”

You raise your phone again. “Oh, what is it?”

“I, uhhh, I miss you.”

“I miss you too,” you smile, and he commits the image to memory. This moment is his, just his; Martin can bloody wait. 

Martin

Martin throws himself down on his bed, limbs limp and flailing about. It must have been the hundredth time for that afternoon -  getting up, rolling back on the mattress, prodding his pets, jumping around the room to incoherent punk music, cigarettes burning out between his chapped lips. 

He has nothing to do today, not until it’s time. Just like every other day, every other week, in this drudgery of an existence. Everything means nothing, and the twisted truth of it is that he thinks himself free. 

Free of the cycle. Free of meaningless friendships. Free of love. Free of her.

The ghost of his ex-lover still haunts him, golden haired and rosy-cheeked, bundled up in her puffy coat like some cheap caricature of an angel. But she was no angel. Angels would not abandon someone they claim to love, with a mere snap of their manicured fingers. 

But she haunts him. What they had, and what they could have had. Was it even his? Would it have come out with a thin sprig of dark curls? He did not care to know now. 

She was his everything once. But isn’t that overrated? Falling in love is so overrated. 

His fingers clumsily mess with the controls for his toy helicopter as he lays down. The apparatus hovers above head, filling the room with a buzzing noise. His lit cigarette stumbles from his lips, and the noise is joined with his frantic, fuck, fuck, fuck, as he tries to shake it out of his hair. He succeeds, but the helicopter teeters in the air, until it slams against the poster of Alyna Rivers displayed over his headboard.

He lets it fall, becoming distracted with her image. It’s a promotional still of her in her complete hunting attire - a fitted leather jerkin over a dark red tunic, tight breeches tucked into knee-high boots, a dagger sheathed in her belt. But his favourite addition is the longbow she grips in her hand, her fierce expression making it known that she is prepared to draw it back at a moment’s notice. 

Martin gets on his knees on the bed. He kisses two fingers, then gently touches them to her poster in a gesture of reverence. 

If only…

“Good morrow, my lady,” he says in a sing-song voice, “always a pleasure to come upon your visage.”

He leans closer, tracing her figure with precision, “I bet you can fix me. I bet you can make me feel alive.” 

He chases after euphoria that night, over and over, fucked up and depraved and empty. But it hits different this time. It’s better.

As white spots flicker and dance in his vision, and the fog in his mind threatens to swallow everything, it’s not the vision of his ex that flashes before him - it’s Alyna he sees. 

Her face is sharp and real, cutting through the haze like a beacon. She holds him together as exhaustion takes over him and the oxygen is slowly cut off from his windpipe. She anchors him, even on the precipice of oblivion.

The opponent is alarmed by Martin’s eyes rolling back revealing the whites of his eyes. He loosens his hold, letting go even if Martin refuses to tap out. 

“Fuck, you alright?” he rasps. 

Martin doesn’t hear him. His bloodstained, cracked lips curl into a ghost of a smile as his hand trembles, reaching out to press against the fogged-up windshield. 

With a fragile sense of peace, he murmurs, “You fixed me.”

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Some notes in the margins...

I know I said I would include the reader's reaction to the music video, but I decided to use the time to work on part eight... I still might get to writing this idea as a drabble though 🤷🏻‍♀️

Not Ewan having beef with his own character HAHAHA this lad I swear

Part eight out very, very soon! It'll be a wild ride. Oh, I'm not even kidding :)

[whateveriwant]

Hey! I love your writing so much, and I was wondering if you could do 141 HCs with an albino GN!reader? Or a reader with tics but not tourettes? Either or!! Have a lovely day!

I'm sorry it took me a little while to get to this, anon! I went with the second option!

Ghost

Can you say 'twinsies'? Because Ghost definitely can 👯‍♀️

I can totally see Ghost having tics of his own – motor ones specifically, mostly confined to his face, but you wouldn't know it because they're always hidden by his masks

Thus, when he first notices you ticking, he immediately clocks it for what it is and he (almost giddily) thinks to himself 'Finally! Someone who gets me'

Because of this, he quickly becomes your second shadow, following you around everywhere like a little big puppy

Naturally, he'll get incredibly protective over you, especially when it comes to people who stare or make comments under their breath or even outright approach you and ask something rude regarding your tics

If he catches anyone doing anything of the sort, then he goes into scary dog mode real quick: arms crossed over his chest, head cocked to the side, an intimidating silence as he glares with a gaze so menacing it could melt steel

Price

With a man as sharp and attentive as Price, much like Ghost, he takes instant notice of your tics

And as protective as Price is, he'd probably get fairly concerned about you to the point where he even pulls you aside one day to have a little chat

He knows that… tics, he thinks they're called, aren't necessarily indicative of anything health-wise, but he just wants to make sure that you're okay; that there isn't anything he can do for you

Even after assuring him that you're perfectly fine and healthy and good, that doesn't stop him from looking out for you like you're his own flesh and blood

Similar to Ghost, if he sees anyone staring or making snide comments about you, then he's definitely going to step in and shut that down

However, rather than giving them an I'll tear your spine out through your throat look à la Ghost, he'll mutter something in their ear – the specifics of which you're unsure, but it always has them making a swift, shaky-legged departure

Gaz

While he too notices your tics, Gaz would never ever mention them out of respect for you and your privacy

He would wait for you to be the one to bring it up, should you ever choose to, that is. And if you never do, well, that's a-ok to him. Whatever you're willing to divulge, he'll be there waiting without pressure or judgment

However, if you were to talk to him about it (and thus invite a conversation) then prepare yourself for a barrage of questions

He doesn't ask them meaning to be offensive or intrusive or whatever; he's simply curious. He just wants to get to know you well, and that means knowing what makes you uniquely you

Unlike the other 141 men, if he notices someone bothering you about your tics, he's not going to directly (more like aggressively) confront them over it

Instead he'd harmlessly distract them, drawing their attention onto himself until they've completely forgotten all about their interest in bugging you

Soap

This man, bless his heart, would be totally, astoundingly oblivious of your tics even if they punched him in the face

In fact, the closer you become with him, the more he finds himself unconsciously start to mimic them

Kind of like when you like someone and so you start mirroring their movements/patterns of speech? Yeah, it's like that but with your tics

Of course, if you were to say something about it (and especially if you said it made you uncomfortable), he'd immediately apologize, explain how he wasn't even aware he was doing it, and make sure he never does it again

Like with Ghost and Price, if Soap noticed someone being rude towards you, he'd go into guard dog mode, but he is the most feral by far

He'd be all up in their face, furious, practically foaming at the mouth as he yells to "Mind yer own fuckin' business while you've still got workin' legs to mind with!" … only to turn to you afterwards all sunshine and rainbows like he didn't just tear that person a new one 😇

[jadeylovesmarvelxo]

on the flipside what about fuckgirl reader that falls for steve? maybe billy and eddie are after her too? 🫣😳🙈

Request by anon. (I hope you like this anon, I haven't written anything like before so it's a little bit soft and sweet)

mdni.

❤️

Steve is fast asleep beside you. It's early morning and you should be tired but you've been having trouble relaxing, ever since you had that small epiphany last night.

You liked Steve. You really liked Steve. This was just meant to be incredible sex and then the two of you would move on. Maybe you'd date Billy or that cutie Eddie Munson. Your fling with Steve was meant to be no strings, just like the rest of your relationships.

There was something about Steve that made you soft and eager for more of him. You wanted to know everything there was about Steve, you wanted to wake up every morning and find him beside you and fall asleep beside him every night.

This feeling was dangerous, you had never felt it before but Steve's sweetness, his kind and loving nature had brought down all of your walls. You had fallen deeply for him.

Steve moans as he wakes up, when he catches you staring and a warm blush coats his cheeks and he pulls you close to him so you're flush against his chest. You would never get tired of this feeling.

"Hey beautiful, you aren't leaving are you? It's cold out and I'll miss my sweet girl. I'll be lonely in this bed by myself" you giggle and press a kiss to his lips.

"I have a shift soon but I don't have to leave yet" you're perfectly happy to cuddle into his chest and stay here all day if you could.

Work comes calling eventually and when you leave a sleeping Steve it's like your heart is aching at the very thought. This was ridiculous. You'd see him tonight.

But it didn't stop you missing him as soon as you left.

❤️

Billy hasn't left you alone since you started your shift at the local library, he's been bugging you for the last half hour and normally you'd flirt back with him.

But now? Now the thought of flirting with Billy turned your stomach. Steve's handsome face would flash through your mind and you ignored Billy.

All you could think about was Steve. Did he even feel the same way? This was new territory for you and it was terrifying, how could you open up about your feelings when you were scared that Steve would reject you.

"Come on babe. Let's have some fun" Billy smirks and you shake your head as you return some books to their original place.

"No, I think you should leave me alone Billy" you snap and he backs off, holding his hands up.

"What's up with you? Don't tell me you're actually faking for a pretty boy like Harrington?" He snorts and the disdain in his voice irritated you.

"So what if I am? He's amazing so you can go to hell with that stupid attitude of yours" Billy holds up his hands looking stunned.

"Whatever. I'm out of here" he storms out and your brief a sigh of relief. That relief is short lived as you realise that the feelings you have for Steve are stronger than you thought.

Maybe you really did need to tell Steve how you felt?

❤️

It's late when you head back to Steve's, you had been plucking up the courage to talk to him all day and had avoided seeing him until you knew what to say.

The perfectly planned speech you had came up with disappears as soon as you see Steve. He's poring over lessons for his kindergarten class, trying to think up fun things to do that were also educational.

He had been working as a teacher for two years now and you knew it brought him a lot of joy.

You also knew that he was serious about having a whole brood of his own and for the first time you imagine having a child of your own with Steve.

Instead of scaring you, like thoughts of the future usually did, the very idea filled you with so much longing.

Instead of your carefully thought out planning about what you're going to say to Steve, you merely take a deep breath and settle on his lap.

His arms around you felt like coming home and you knew without a doubt you wanted this for the rest of your life. "Give me two minutes babe then I'm all yours" he assured you but the next words out of your mouth had his complete attention.

"I love you Steve. It's crazy because I've never been in love until now and I understand if you don't feel the same but I just needed to say it"

The look of shock on Steve's features melts away to a blissful smile.

Steve softens. "I'm crazy about you honey, I love you too and I know this is all new for you but we'll take it slow, we're a team and we'll do things together" he strokes your cheek and the elation you feel is incredible.

Together. You liked the sound of that.

[hey-august]

Inspired by this Anon - may I present to you: Scarecrow Buggy

WC: ~1k Warnings: scarecrow!buggy, he's literally a scarecrow, buggy x gn!reader, verbally abusive ex boyfriend, implied murder, mentions of blood

You needed something for your little plot of land, so why not a scarecrow. While working on the burlap head you decide to make it a clown. Extra scary, right? It should work even better.

And he does fine! He does his job. The scarecrow stands guard in your field and, well, scares the crows. He also scared you a few times. At first, you kept thinking he was a stranger on your property. Eventually, you became accustomed to the looming figure keeping watch over the house.

He also kept you company while tending to the field. It was nice to have someone to talk to, or to work next to in silence. Some days you'd have lunch outside with him. A fun little picnic.

You invited your boyfriend to join you and he spent the entire meal talking about how ugly the scarecrow was. What a stupid choice it was to make a clown. Look, even the nose is all lumpy - how could you mess up a red circle? And his frown is crooked. It's stupid.

You didn't invite your boyfriend over for anymore picnics. You also apologized to your scarecrow. It felt silly, he's an inanimate object, but you felt like you had to. You wanted to. Your scarecrow wasn't ugly. Or stupid. Also, he's not frowning. Maybe your boyfriend needed to get his eyes checked.

Turns out you were right. There was something with his vision - your boyfriend had a wandering eye and "accidentally" found himself in someone else's bed. Of course he apologized when you found out. It was one time (this week). It didn't mean anything. It was just sex. And a couple of dates. With his ex. He was sorry (that he got caught).

In fact, your boyfriend was so sorry that he came by your house late one night to apologize again. While slamming his fist against your locked door. His pitiful cries soon became angry demands for you to open the door. He just wants to talk. You need to understand how much you mean to him. He's sorry, why can't you forgive him? He's forgiven you for loads of shit. No one else will love you like he does. Stop crying. Let him in and he'll comfort you. It'll be okay, he's sorry. He's so sorry.

You didn't open the door. You hid inside, waiting for him to leave. Hoping that each knock would be the last. One eventually was. A knock that sounded more like a thud, followed by an intelligible angry shout. You hear his truck start, the sound of tires on gravel, then silence.

You hardly sleep that night. How could you? And when the sun rose, you didn't feel any better. You felt worse. Because when you looked out the window, the field was empty. Your scarecrow was gone. That fucking asshole must have taken him and left you alone.

Both your scarecrow and ex were missing.

After a few days, your ex was found and you didn't need to worry about him bothering you ever again. That same day the scarecrow showed up again. He was back in the field, but he looked…different. A bit ragged and saggy.

It was going to rain that night and it didn't look like he'd handle the weather well, so you decided to bring him inside. Just for the night. You carefully set him on a chair and looked over your dear scarecrow. He definitely does look more tattered. There were some stains on the cuff of his shirt. Something dark and dried.

You took off the shirt to give it a wash. You also opened his burlap body, while explaining what you were doing, to take out any dirty straw and replace it with fresh hay. Some of his hay was stained… You tossed the red handfuls into the fire without a word and without a question.

The only thing you remarked on was how this scarecrow was different from the other ones you made. The other ones were pecked by crows and eaten by bugs. But this one was special. He did his job and he wasn't even invested. Even though he wasn't, you couldn't help but laugh and call him "Buggy." Something about making up for the absence of creepy crawlies.

The scarecrow's head flopped to the side when you called him by his new name.

So what if his painted smile was crooked (more crooked than you remember) and his nose wasn't a perfect circle? Your Buggy was perfect. And with fresh hay and a clean shirt, he was looking pretty handsome. And as awkward as it felt, you gave him a little kiss on the cheek.

Next was your turn for fresh clothes and you tried not to overthink changing in front of Buggy. He's just a scarecrow. He's not real. His head did not just tilt. And if it did…that had to be because the hay is still settling. Yeah, that's it. You can even hear the rustling.

The same rustling you hear early in the morning, just before your blanket was pulled up higher on your body. Something gentle swept across your body before the shuffling sound made its way to the door and left the house.

When the sun was brighter and you woke up properly, the house was empty and Buggy was back in the field, looking as happy as a clown in a circus.

From then on, you made sure to bring in your sweet scarecrow every night. He had a comfortable spot to sit and rest his bones straw. Some nights you must have brought him to bed because you'd wake up cuddling the straw man. Despite the stiff and uncomfortable materials, you found Buggy's presence comforting and would quickly fall back asleep to the smell of dirt and grass.

Sure, a living scarecrow might be unsettling. Especially a murderous one. But you liked your scarecrow boyfriend. Sorry - your clown scarecrow boyfriend.

[waklman]

Sweet Nothings

summary: you start to feel insecure in your relationship with bradley.

warnings: negative self talk. this blog is 18+.

word count: 1.4k

this is dedicated to anon who sent me down the bradley and babybear x taylor swift hole this is for you!!

something ‘bout you masterlist.

Late at night—when Bradley had too many beers running through his bloodstream, he’d whisper little reassurances in your ear. I like it when you take care of me. I love how silly you are. I want you forever. I love you. It was like he just knew you needed to hear it every so often. The pilot would be barely conscious whenever he said it—draped over your body like a weighted blanket, fighting against his doubled vision, just to drunkenly quell your insecurities.

And it wasn't often that you felt insecure—but it’s not like it didn’t happen either. 

You had always been conscious of the fact that your relationship with Bradley was different—different from ones he’s had before, different from other couples around you. It was different in the way you drove the Bronco while he sat as a passenger. It was different because you called him girly pet names that should be meant for you instead. It was different because you were the one who held the umbrella when it rained on you two. It was different because you didn’t have a collection of tight sundresses, or own a pair of those tall stilettos everyone your age wore, and you never put on much makeup for that matter. It was different because he was dating you. You were different. 

And because it’s been so long since Bradley went out with his team for drinks, the reminder of how different you were, started to feel suffocating. You found yourself wishing that he’d come stumbling home, cheeks flushed from alcohol just so you could hear him whisper sweet nothings to you, in his drunken state.

Weeks have passed since he last took a sip of beer. And over those past few weeks, the voices that rung into your head, in the form of all your ex-boyfriends' compiled complaints—started to grow louder and louder by the day. You knew it wasn’t fair to Bradley that you took up old criticisms you got from the past and pitted them against him, but it started to sound so true. 

Bradley wouldn’t want someone who acted like you. What Bradley would want is someone who was more serious. He wouldn't want someone who deflected with humor. He’d want someone normal—someone who could wear those flowy skirts that you couldn’t even imagine slipping your legs through. Why would Bradley want someone who owned the same stupid pair of levi's as him? Why would Bradley want you?  

So it dawns on you tonight, right as you’re sitting in his lap watching the film, A Bugs’ life in your living room—that maybe, he changed his mind about this—about you. 

“Babybear, why are you cryin’ so hard—he found where he belonged!” Bradley lightly laughs, giving the back of your head a soft pat as you bury your face into his neck.

That ant might’ve found where he belonged, but you didn’t. You didn’t belong anywhere. You didn’t belong with him. 

Bradley allots you some time to process the ending of the movie. But as your sobs show no sign of stopping—he starts to feel uneasy. No one should be crying this hard at an insect who felt left out. 

Letting out a breath, Bradley starts to sit up from the couch, with a solid arm wrapped around your middle. “You gonna let me carry you?” He asks, voice barely above a whisper. 

Rather than replying, you push your face deeper into the curve of his neck, trying to stifle your weak cries.

“Don’t you start wrestling with me, alright?” He lightly teases, before fully standing up straight, with you hung around his waist.

Walking away from the television that’s still playing, he turns the corner to step into your bedroom. Bradley bends his knees to fit through the door-frame. You had whined the last time he didn’t do it, causing the back of your skull to make contact with the head of the door. 

It’s almost like drunk Bradley is taking over now, knowing exactly what to do with you as he carefully peels you from his front—making you sit on the edge of the bed. 

Kneeling before you, Bradley lifts his large hands to cup your face. “What’s bothering my favorite little brain,” he asks softly, extending a thumb to bat away the fresh tear that slips down your face. 

His favorite little brain. How could he even like that part of you? 

You grit your teeth together, trying to keep another sob at bay. Though, looking into his eyes doesn’t help, he doesn’t look a bit annoyed. Not like your ex boyfriend did when you got like this. Bradley’s being so patient with you.

Taking a shaky breath, your bottom lip quivers—which Bradley pets over with his thumb. “…Do you ever wish I wasn’t like this?” The rotting question finally leaves your mouth, and Bradley feels like he got shot in the chest. 

His face is marked by hurt, dropping his hands down to your waist. “Babybear, what are you—”

“I don’t—” you start to cut him off, lowering your gaze down to your lap. “I don’t belong,” you hiccup. “I feel like—I don’t belong with you,” you pathetically confess. 

At your words, Bradley’s worst fear comes alive. 

“…Are you breaking up with me?” He asks calmly, keeping his voice low—so low that he can’t even hear himself over his racing heart. 

You shake your head no, allowing temporary relief to wash over him. 

Bradley slightly pinches your waist through the t-shirt you’re wearing, hoping you would squirm from the ticklish feeling. But you don’t. 

Tilting his head, Bradley tries to catch your puffy eyes—but you refuse to look at him. “I open the doors for you at restaurants,” you start, voice shaky. He nods his head, “Yeah, you do,” he agrees. “I pull out the chair for you.” Bradley hums. 

“I do stuff that other girls don’t,” you sniffle. “That’s right baby,” he answers, palms massaging your side. “Aren’t you embarrassed of me?” You lift your eyes back to his face, watching him through a layer of tears, “Do you ever wish I wasn’t like this?” You ask again, throat tight.

Bradley darts out a tongue, licking over his lips as he comes up with an idea.

With ease, he picks you up by the waist, holding you up in the air until he slips into the bed. Then, he drops you onto him like nothing, forcing you to lay flat against his chest, cheek pressed against his steady heart. 

Running a hand under your shirt, Bradley grazes the pad of his fingers up and down your spine. “Can I tell you something?” He asks, staring up at the ceiling. 

You nod against him, heart still heavy. “I can’t imagine you any other way,” he starts, heart beginning to pound under your ear. “I wouldn’t want you any other way.” 

“You could be dressed like a clown and I’d still hold your hand, and kiss your pretty face, right in front of everyone.”

“You’re scared of clowns.” 

“I know,” he softly laughs. “But if they looked like you—if they were just like you, I would want to marry every clown I see.” 

“Thats—that’s not right. You can’t marry them all,” you frown. 

“You know what’s not right? That you think I could ever get tired of you,” he rings the conversation back. 

“If every other lifetime—I’m a clown or an ugly ant living in a colony—but you’re still there with me, carrying me around like I weigh nothin', forcing me to wear tiaras to get you to laugh, making me forget how it feels to be alone. I'll ride it out with you.”

Though his speech was intended to make you laugh, you continue to cry instead—stuffing your face into his chest, soaking the fabric of his t-shirt with salty tears and sticky snot. “Hey—c’mere my little clown,” he tickles your side, making you painfully break out into laughter. 

You squirm, unable to escape his wiggling fingers. “Ah—Please—It tickles!” You complain, voice still hoarse.

“That’s right, clowns are supposed to laugh!” He barks, flipping you over.

With you caged underneath him, he stops his attack. Leaning down towards your ear, he whispers a familiar string of words, “I like it when you take care of me. I love how silly you are. I want you forever. I love you.” 

Your eyes burn, shooting wide open. “You were sober!”

He laughs into your ear before pressing a gentle kiss to your earring. “You make me feel s’shy. How am I supposed to say all that if I’m not pretending to be drunk?"

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tags: @s0uz4s @bradswolfe @swiftsgirlfriend @mannsachds @strokesofstokes @coconut152 @angelbabyange @shanimallina87 @ohgodnotagainn @atarmychick007 @Olivia21blunt @s-u-t @hangmanscoming @geraltsaxii @wkndwlff @sammyrenae68 @bradshawed @roosterbruiser @gracelyn-writes @bubblegumbeautyqueen @angeliccks @zombiedeathsworld @blueoorchid @averyhotchner

[historicalvandal]

*gasp!* You do requests?! Oooh, get ready to have me swamp your inbox. Sorry in advance 😆

What are your thoughts, headcannons, everything about koba slowly (500k slow burn, enemies to friends to something???? lol) getting used to *cough* catching feeling *cough* for a human Ceaser brought into the colony, and said human got interested quickly with koba and kinda bugs him like a cat.

💚- anon

I do I do!! :D I'm excited about having requests open rn- you are practically my first requester lmfaooo- So thank you sm! :DDD <333 My thoughts first off - To start off I think it'd make such a sweet but also soul crushing fanfiction, and I would thrive writing that lmao- But thoughts on it, my thoughts about how the relationship would start is somewhat obvious, Reader follows him around like a cat all the damn time, and Caesar does nothing to stop it because maybe this is a chance for Koba to learn that not all humans have such a harsh hand that they can be gentle, they can care, and Koba is just so peeved about that- Why should he have to teach the stupid human how to integrate into ape society? Why does Caesar think that this job is well suited for him out of all the apes? I think somewhere down the line, possibly after a bad hunting trip when he's gotten himself hurt, when reader has to drag him back to the colony or they have to hide it out because it's raining too hard and they're too far from the colony, forcing them to be in close proximity, he has this feeling that he can relax because Reader asks if they can tend his wounds, is gentle with him once he gives permission, because obviously he doesn't want to deal with getting an infection if reader knows how to tend wounds with what they have on hand, possibly learning how to heal someone through the insistence of maybe Maurice or because they spend time with the healers to begin with when they first entered the colony, nearing like the antithesis of him having dreams about Reader, how they looked drenched right through, shivering and freezing, droplets of water running down their smooth and soft looking skin, but not a care for if they'd get sick because Koba is hurt, he dreams about how they looked at him, how their bottom lip jutted out in concentration as they gently ran whatever dry piece of their clothing they used to quell the bleeding from his wounds, he'd dream about reader a lot I mean in my thoughts yk? Some headcanons for a fanfic like this ; - Koba is less then gentle, he's downright mean toward reader in the beginning, because he hates humans but also because he believes they don't belong, but mainly because reader just won't leave him alone! - Something more softer when they begin to get close, Koba starts to feel as if he can trust Reader, so he asks Caesar if their nest can be closer to his, and he goes to reader to tend his wounds, more then happy to sit in silence as Reader gently tends to him, as if they are his mate. - Further down the line, when he finally realises he has feelings, Koba would try and listen to what Caesar tells him to do- Leading to Koba gift giving but not being able to say out loud that he has these feelings. - If Reader and Koba are together, they become a mated pair, he's the type to be jealous if any male ape tries to speak in any other manner other then in passing, still it makes him jealous. - Reader is the only one who gets to touch Koba as much as she wants. not even Caesar is allowed to touch him unless it's a friendly pat on the back, Koba would be addicted to how gentle Reader is with him. - Reader would be the type to tell Koba about human romantic traditions, so he's taken to calling their hunting trips together a date, mans does not understand why that made Reader all giddy but it has made him crack a small smile once or twice. - Koba can and will die for his mate, but would prefer killing for Reader instead, he's there at Readers beck and call, it is readers name he whispers at night, and Reader who whispers his name at night, he is Readers and Reader is his. - He is also just very loyal in my opinion, would not look at anyone else in any way other then kindly. I hope these are all alright, i've never written much like this before but I'm excited to see the reactions I garner from this!

[nightowl33art]

How To Make A Toxicsona- A Master Post!

!This page may update over time! So I was looking at my inbox and noticed I got sent an ask. Likely due to site bugs, I was not able to answer directly, but I'm sure the asker will be able to see this post.

Hello Anon! Firstly, thanks for the fun ask! Keep in mind this post will apply to most toxicsonas. I'll be using my own designs and process as examples. What I recommend does NOT have to be followed. In the end it's your design and it should be for fun most of all. I'm just presenting what the "ideal and average Phisnom toxicsona/toxic blob oc" should have.

For those tuning into this lengthy post with no idea what I'm on about, I'll be excerpting the toxicsona submission form Phisnom/Phil made for his toxicsona review streams. (Phil being the leader of the Toxic Cesspit community.)

(Despite "sona" being in the name, a toxicsona does NOT have to be representative of you! Toxicsonas can also be regular ocs!) Now to the advice!

1. READ UP!

Read the Toxicsonas For Dummies character guide! This image contains all the basic lore and traits for toxicsonas! What I say going forward may reference it. (Reading may also give you some fun ideas!)

You should also peep this from the toxicsona submission form:

In order to have a toxicsona you need* a:

Dark body for a base with accents (ie lines) that must be neon/brightly colored.

Mouth(s) with sharp teeth. Ideally will have at least one extra mouth somewhere on the form.

Unique pattern image for the body.

*You may not need it but it's more or less what makes a toxicsona a toxicsona. I'll be going over each point in detail later!

2. Purpose

What purpose will your blob fill? Are you creating an oc, a sona for yourself, or something else? This will affect what you create and how. If you have a preexisting design/sona you want to toss into the slime, reference off that design! Use what you know about that character/person to create this new form!

Starting from scratch? What I do is come up with a basic idea to concept off of! Think of something you want to design! If you need help, try using one of the countless idea generators out there or put your head together with others and see what you come up with! Moodboards, playlists, and Pinterest albums also serve well! Whatever type of brainstorming gets your inspiration bug flying, go for it!

Regardless, one thing to make note of is who was this design in life? Most blobs were once living beings. They all come from a liquid superorganism called The Substance. When a living being with a consciousness foreign to the slime (like a person) is absorbed into The Substance, it'll be spit out and reanimated anew if it has a strong will. Your blob must've been alive or had a connection to living things. Then it must have undergone some sort of transformation after making contact with The Substance. Asking who your blob was before the slime will be very helpful!

3. Body

You likely either have an idea of what your design will be, or you're jumping headfirst into the doing part. Either is okay! Everyone's process is different. If your design is based off a preexisting one, you're likely to make the new form into a similar shape. Some things to think about when coming up with a body:

A slime body is meant to reflect the ideal self. What are your toxicsona's ideal traits? If you're making a sona, what are YOUR ideal traits?

What were they when alive? Were they a feral stray cat? A human? You may want to stick to a shape that resembles their former appearance, especially if they are in denial of being a slime.

Who were they when alive? Did they like a certain animal a lot? Give them physical traits of said animal! Maybe your toxicsona wanted freedom, so they develop the wings they always envisioned. Maybe they believe they were a terrible person and so deserve the devil horns on their head. Were they two-faced? Give them two faces!

Is this the only form they have? Do I want to add a simplified blob form? Do I want to make a bigger/smaller form? If my character has an alter ego disguise, should I make a form for it?

(Most toxicsonas have a simplified little blob form, reflecting what they looked like at default after The Substance. They're super cute and puntable!)

How much mass do they have? The more mass a blob has, the more they have to work with physically, the more developed they are. What appendages have they formed with this mass? Many toxicsonas lack legs, including Phi himself, who is simply too lazy to use legs. Why your blob does/doesn't have legs can have a reason too!

What colors are they? Common dark colors for the majority of the body include black, gray, and dark shades of any given color (ex dark blue.) The neon can be just about any color! If the design is a sona, pick your favorite color(s)! Keep the color vibrant- it's supposed to stand out from the dark color! Your slime will always be surrounded by a dark/black outline around the very edge.

Where's the extra mouth(s)? The best designs have a mouth placed with thought, but not all are. Thoughtfully placed mouths have significance to the toxicsona. Scars/important wounds on their living body can become mouths. Perhaps if they were a gluttonous or starved person, you'll put a mouth on their belly to represent their hunger. If they're anxious about their mouth or general appearance, maybe it's hidden. (Ideally let the mouth be visible. It's visually appealing.)

(Dutch's extra mouth is on his back. Wings were always a big part of him, both appearance and story-wise, so the mouth emphasizes that. His wings come out of the mouth like tongues!)

Being a cartoonist, we're personally big on shape language and like to have designs with strong, recognizable silhouettes, but you do not have to do this.

Some advice on basics for drawing your slime!

Here's how I create the lineart, clothing coloring, and the outline that surrounds the blobs. (Some steps may be done at the same time or skipped entirely. This is the Nightowl 33 method so your mileage may vary.)

Draw lineart.

Alpha lock lineart layer. Recolor it to neon color.

Clip new layer on lineart. Color clothes black.

New layer for body color.

Move body color layer under lineart.

Color body colors. (I clip different clothing coloring layers on the main color layer. This main base color layer gets colored black when ready.)

Make a folder. Place all lineart, lineart coloring, and all body coloring layers in the folder.

Add a dark color outline in a layer beneath the folder. (I use the "stroke (outer)" tool in my art program, ibisPaint X.)

How I draw eyes!

Draw eye lineart.

New layer, clip on lineart layer, draw dark circle.

Layer sclera coloring under lineart layer.

Add pupil layer below lineart layer and above sclera layer.

(Coloration used to show different steps/parts of the eye!)

(Without the weird example coloring, your end result should look like this!)

4. Pattern

Much like how everyone has their own unique fingerprint, every toxicsona with a well defined identity develops their own unique pattern. Coming up with the right pattern is tricky! Patterns are made up of symbols, lines, or a combination of. They have a rhyme and reason to them. A pattern to the pattern, so to speak.

(Here's a bunch of example patterns, created by me (sometimes with the help of CrystalKleure), or Phil and StupidButterfly. Stare at them for a while and take some notes on what rhythms you recognize.)

For maximum appeal, your pattern cannot be too complex or simple! Try to select 2-4 symbols/lines to create your pattern. These symbols/lines should be thematically relevant to your blob. Ex: A spiderweb pattern for spider-themed toxicsonas, checker pattern for a blob that likes checkers/chess, a UFO for an alien slime, eyes for an angel slime or a slime that loves/fears being watched! (You may also want to reference off the emotion patterns if your blob is heavily associated with an emotion. Ex: sparkles for a very happy/excited slime!)

Feel free to pick basic shapes, like triangles and circles, for one or more symbols.

Create a few variants of your chosen symbols. Draw them big, medium, and small. Fill some of them, leave others empty/"hollow."

Patterns are seamless! This means when you apply a pattern to your toxicsona's clothing or body, it must be able to consistently loop! While you may wing it, below is a handy lifehack to easily make a seamless tiling pattern by @crystalkleure !

1. Draw a base design 2. Split that design in half, and arrange the two halves like this. [You might want to use guide lines/a guide grid to make sure the pixels line up in such a way that these two halves will stitch back together correctly, so they'd make clones of the base image again if you were to tile sets of these halves horizontally.] 3. Stitch the two halves together by adding more to the design 4. Split the image again like you did in step 2, except this time split the top and bottom apart instead of the sides. 5. Add more stuff to the design again, in any way that crosses the "seam" made by step 4 [where the top of the bottom half meets the bottom of the top half]. And if you lined up the pixels correctly while you were splitting and rearranging the chunks, you now have an image that tiles seamlessly both horizontally and vertically. The trick is just splitting an image into halves, swapping those halves' places, and then adding more to the image to hide the seam made by splitting and rearranging parts of it like that. Do it with the sides and you get a horizontally-tiling image, do it with the top and the bottom and you get a vertically-tiling image, do it with both the sides and the top + bottom and you get an image that tiles in all four directions.

Here's a speedpaint where I make a pattern using this method! While creating, double checking that your pattern looks good when looped is important! Don't forget to experiment with placements!

(Wow! What a cool pattern!)

Your pattern doesn't have to be insanely unique, hell you don't even HAVE to have one, but it's honestly better if you come up with one. There's no reason NOT to have a pattern unless it's for lore reasons, such as a confused identity or a mimic character. (Do NOT copy others' patterns and make them your own, especially without permission!)

(Phee, Pho, and Phum have the same default pattern as Phi because they're copycat scammers! They try to convince others they're related to Phi to get what they want.)

Gradient and pattern application!

Now you may want to give your slime a gradient! Gradients tend to appear on the lower halves of blobs but can be placed anywhere! Below is a guide to show how I apply the pattern and gradients to the body! While defaults apply to many toxicsonas, like Phi, they do not have to be followed.

Clip pattern layer over body color layer. (Pattern transparency default is 47%.)

New layer (add mode), place under pattern, clip over body color layer. Draw gradient. (Gradient transparency default is 40%.)

Alpha lock the pattern layer.

Airbrush the upper half pattern layer with the dark body color.

The pattern is often the same color as the neon lineart, while the gradient is often a darker version of the color.

(Weird bright green coloration used to emphasize the layers clipped onto it.)

(The finished gradient, sans weird example coloring, looks just like Phi's!)

Here's how to apply a pattern to clothing! Create a new layer with the pattern. Clip it to your base. (Pattern layers on clothes are usually somewhat transparent. The default is 65% but you can deviate.)

5. Outfit

Clothing is a HUGE self expression that extends to the world of toxicsonas! Blobs can harden mass they acquire, turning it into wearable cartilage clothing! Below are some tips but the bottom line is DESIGN WHAT YOU WANT.

Who they were before the slime often heavily influences their outfit(s). Ex, if your blob was a clown when alive, they may dress the same as a slime.

You'll often find the body pattern on the clothes, but you don't have to do this.

A popular addition to blob fashion is caution/hazard tape! While often black and yellow, feel free to deviate the colors.

(A bunch of fashionable slime outfits with caution tape themes that I made or had a hand in making!)

Phil does not like hoodies on toxicsonas but you can totally join the #hoodiesweep nation. (It would be super funny.) That aside, many do put their blobs in hoodies, so avoiding a standard hoodie is preferable if you want to make a super unique design.

You don't have to give your blob any clothes, especially if they're non-humanoid. Accessories are still recommended to personalize your design and make it stand out from an average ...whatever it is.

Unlike the rest of the slime body that has colored lineart, clothing almost ALWAYS has black/dark color lineart.

Any slime overlapping atop non-slime materials requires a black outline, including over clothing.

(While the consistency of this rule varies with established toxicsona art (ie Phi), I personally try to apply it as much as possible, even when slime overlaps slime. It makes things look nicer and allows the neon lines to stand out more. It's also easier to make out what's going on when looked at.)

Misc. tips!

Bananas are the main unit of measurement in the cesspit! Giving your blob a height can help people draw them to scale, especially when drawn next to other blobs! To get the accurate height: 1. Conjure a length of your choice. 2. Convert your length to inches (in). 3. Divide the inches by 7. (Because 7 inches is the average length of a grocery store banana.) 4. Congrats! You have banana height! Now you can also reverse the order and get standard heights!

Too gay or lazy to do math? Click here for faster conversion! http://bananaforscale.info/#!/ (Note the results will be slightly shorter than my method above but the measurements are about the same so who really cares about that.)

Come up with a backstory for your toxicsona! If you haven't already made one during the design process, you may want to now! -Consider what life was like before they came in contact with The Substance. How did they feel about their old life? -How did they come in contact with The Substance? (Preferably avoid the basic backstory of accidentally falling into a vat. It's overdone, mainly due to how vague lore was before the toxicsona review streams. I'd suggest letting Phi lure them into the slime or tossing them in, if you want something traditional. Phi's goal is to make a blob army, after all.) -What is their life like now, post-Substance? How do they feel about their new life?

(Canon backstory comic on how Phee, Pho, and Phum became blobs!)

Feeling social? Working with other cesspit members (or your own ocs), you can develop links between your toxicsonas! Make your friend's blob their friend! Or maybe enemy! Why not ship them? GO NUTS????

(Phee is a massive flirt in the cesspit. Mr. Sex/Noctus belongs to @corovusin !)

-Consider how your blob may feel about others. Are they a social butterfly or a shut in? Who do they like? Who would they rather avoid? -What are their thoughts on Phi, the leader? (Generally avoid giving them a super strong, personal bond with Phi, such as relatives, best friends, or close partners of any kind. Phi does not have a family and she's a total bitch to just about everyone!) -Phil says there's no love in the cesspit but he's literally just a hater. Make your ocs gay kiss!!

Feel like cooking a little more? Why not design a pre-slime form if it doesn't already exist?

(Phee and Phum before their fatal scam attempt on Phi.)

Many cesspit users also create a "living disguise" form for their toxicsonas, so the slimes can wander among others without rousing suspicion! Blobs have the ability to learn to shapeshift. It's a skill that must be mastered with experience and time, so disguise forms often have "flaws" that give away an inhuman quality, like extra mouths, eyes, patterns, or gradients on their skin.

(Dutch is very good at shapeshifting, so his disguise lacks most flaws. The flaws that are there are mostly intentional, since he's proud of his slime qualities. A blob who perfects the skill of shifting can look like an ordinary human, but where's the fun in that?)

Most toxicsonas can change color based on emotion. (They may also change based on other factors so feel free to get creative with it.) -As a slime has a base pattern and color of choice, these will change based on their mood and that mood's assigned color! Many toxicsonas share patterns and colors with Phi (like red and triangle pattern for mad, blue and flowered squiggles for sad, etc.) but this is not a rule. You can assign any color to any mood. You are not limited to Phi's emotion set either! You can even make your own patterns for your blob's moods if you feel like it! -Some color changes are very subtle in some slimes! Is this true for yours? -Modifying the design of your blob to match their mood is a fun way to create expressive and interesting variants!

(Dutch's hair, horn shape, halo, face, and hands can change with his mood! He has an array of emotional patterns, both preset and custom-made, to match the different colors/moods.)

(When Goober was alive, they had DID. Mimicking the behavior of their former life, the three alters, Ziggy, Skrunk, and Wumbus, became separate blobs. They still need to work together to function properly. They combine to bodily become "Goober." Goober's left eye functions as a collective eye, while their right eyes that can emote separately reflect their respective alter.)

(Goober's default color is green, indicating all alters are co-fronting. When there is a primary fronter or two, the upper body color changes to match!)

Design a shell for your toxicsona! Shells are foreign objects blobs use, often to live, sleep, or hide in. Shells are protective. ANYTHING can be a shell. Not all toxicsonas need one, but those that do often have a thematic shell that relates to who they are. (Ex: Phi-barrel, Bucket-bucket, Collette-chocolate box.)

(Thanks to his angelic theming, Dutch's shell is a reliquary- a display container for holy relics, often being remnants of holy figures. Goober's shell of choice is a mini UFO!)

Stuck? Want to grow your design with less work? Collaborate with others or take their advice if you like what they give you. Ask people what they'd change about your design!

You should NOT be designing just for the approval of Phisnom, You should design for YOURSELF (or whoever is paying you- I see you, adopt/custom ppl.) He's just another person out there. Yes, a creator of the species, but he does not have to dictate your choices or give your design an S tier ranking just to validate it. The satisfaction should come from inside, not outside.

Hope these tips help, best of luck creating your own toxicsona, and feel free to ask any additional questions regarding this! ✌️

[miasmaghoul]

Okay, you said you wanted non-sexual prompts, so if this is a no thats totally fine. Could you write like casual piss? I don't know how to word this. No smut involved, just domestic? If that makes sense...

anon please know that the phrase "casual, domestic piss" has been on repeat in my weird little brain since i first read this, and also that i had an idea for it immediately

god i am such a pissboy smh

anyway, here, have some soft rulti ft a little casual, domestic piss.

what a sentence.

Rain is not what you could call a morning person.

He never rouses before noon, at least not willingly, and even when he is awake he simply migrates. Shuffles out of bed and drapes himself dramatically over a sofa to doze back off until someone pays attention to him. Trying to wake Rain up before he's ready is a futile task at best, and at worst a bite risk. Generally this isn't much of a problem - mass is in the evening, there are no strictly scheduled mealtimes or chores, so Rain is free to be as slothful as his heart desires.

Even rehearsal doesn't usually interfere.

On an average day, any practice happens whenever the ghouls feel like it. There's no rhyme or reason to it, really; sometimes they have creative energy that needs expressing, sometimes Dew gets a bug up his ass about working on a solo and drags along company, sometimes Mountain gets in one of his moods and hauls Rain over his shoulder for an impromptu...rhythm session.

Point is, it's not really something that's planned. More of a casual affair, something they do every day but never the same way twice. Again, this works out perfectly for Rain. There's never a rush to start the day, and the others know by now not to expect him at anything close to a reasonable hour.

The issue arises when tours approach.

Unfortunately (for Rain), Copia has proven to be a morning person. Rain (somewhat) silently laments that fact every time Sister Imperator announces a new leg, a new cycle. Every time, Rain hopes it'll be different. That Copia will suddenly despise the idea of singing with the morning sun, that he won't expect them to be up and ready to go by 9am, can you imagine?

(It should be noted that Rain is the only ghoul that actually minds this.)

Alas, this never proves to be the case, and as soon as his phone chimed with the notification of an Imperator meeting Rain knew that his beauty sleep was soon to be severely compromised.

"Next week," Copia had said after Sister Imperator laid out the proposed itinerary. "Next week, on Sunday, we will resume our standard rehearsal schedule."

He'd handed out a list of thirty songs to each of them, a not-so-short list for the ghouls to study and provide input on. An opportunity for them to put together their own setlists to compare and contrast them with one another.

Rain had used his sheet of paper to hide his frown, dreading the fact that Sunday was only five sleeps away.

"I know that face," Swiss had teased when they left the meeting, looping a strong arm around Rain's shoulders. "Someone's being a pouty princess again."

Rain had given him a hiss, but Swiss just grinned at him in that very Swiss way and, well, Rain can never stay mad at him anyway.

"Not all of us look good with eye bags like yours" he'd grumbled, a statement that had wrung a loud ha from Swiss.

"I dunno," he'd snickered, ducking his head to knock his horns with Rain's. "You look pretty damn good when I tire you out."

Rain had rolled his eyes so hard he'd gotten dizzy, but it wasn't an accusation he could deny.

He also couldn't deny Swiss the opportunity to prove his point, and as they lay in the afterglow Rain gives a mighty yawn.

"This's bullshit," he slurs against Swiss' chest, nuzzling into the spot that smells the most like pepper and whisky and old weed. "Who even gets up that early?"

"Most of the abbey is up at dawn," Swiss chuckles, settling into Rain's lanky hold. "You're the exception to the rule, starfish."

Rain would argue, but then Swiss' purr kicks up and he's sinking his fingers into his sweat-damp waves and Rain feels little desire to do more than enjoy the way Swiss envelopes him. The way their skin sticks together with drying sweat, among other things. Swiss had given him a courteous cleanup where it mattered, but Rain's entirely too wiped out for a shower. Wonderfully sore all over, drained, and way too dehydrated to stand up for very long.

He doesn't mind it though - not when it makes him smell like Swiss too.

"Whatever," he grumbles, grabbing the covers and tugging them up over his shoulders. "S'still bullshit."

He's been fighting to keep his eyes open for the last twenty minutes or so, drifting on casual conversation and the brush of Swiss' fingertips along his bare back. Now that they're finally settling in Rain finds himself fading by the second.

"Don' wake me up'n the morning," he adds with another yawn, and the last thing Rain hears before all goes quiet is the raspy little laugh Swiss gives in return.

The next thing he hears is rushing water, creaking pipes and the telltale twitter of birdsong.

It feels like no time at all since he sunk into the peaceful realm of sleep, but when he dares to crack an eye Rain finds himself assaulted by rosy sunlight. Morning. Early, by the look of it. Rain shuts his eyes tight and groans.

"Finally," a deep voice hums, clearly amused. Footsteps pad across the floor and Rain feels the mattress dip behind him. "I've been shaking you for ten minutes."

Swiss reaches up to scratch at the base of one of Rain's horns, affectionate. Rain makes an unhappy sound, as close to a real whine as he ever gets, and Swiss gives his shoulder a squeeze.

"Why 'm I awake?" Rain hates his morning voice, all thick and inelegant. "Did I sleep 'til Sunday?"

"If that's what it takes to get you out of bed," Swiss chuffs, reaching up to tuck a stray curl behind Rain's ear. "Let's go, up 'n at 'em," he encourages, regardless of continual grumbly protests. "You might as well get used to existing before lunchtime while you can."

"This is torture," Rain complains, tucking his knees up towards his chest. "Inhumane."

"Good thing we aren't human, I guess."

Rain cracks an eye open just to shoot Swiss' blurry visage a sideways glare. Swiss winks as he lifts the covers just enough to lean down and press a kiss to Rain's shoulder. He rests his chin there after, gives him a warm smile.

"C'mon, raindrop," he lilts, sneaking lithe fingers under the covers. Dragging them along the nape of Rain's neck. "I'm drawing you a bath, surely you can forgive me."

Ah, that would explain the water he can still hear. Rain blinks at him, sluggish.

"Remains to be seen," he grouses, "but it's a start."

Swiss flashes him a grin, and then those warm, cozy covers are ripped from Rain's naked body with no ceremony. He yelps as the chilly morning air hits his skin, more awake than he ever intended to be and scowling at the other ghoul.

"Oh don't make that face," Swiss teases, reaching down to give Rain's nose a gentle flick. "C'mon, I put that weird shit you like in the tub and everything."

Swiss holds Rain's ankle, rubs his thumb over the bony ridge of it while Rain sniffs at the air. Picks up notes of rosemary and peppermint, citrus and rose. The bath salts Mountain had gifted him for Yule, an energizing scent that's sure to chase the exhaustion from his muscles.

Still, he can't give in that easily.

"Fine," he pouts, stretching his legs and not at all adoring the way Swiss' fingers glide along his skin. "But only if you carry me."

The words earn him an extreme eye roll, but Swiss can't hide his amusement. He heaves a mighty sigh, cracks his neck and knuckles, and Rain most definitely doesn't watch the muscles in his arms and chest flex.

"As you command, princess."

Swiss says it with an exaggerated bow, and then he's scooping Rain up with no further preamble. Rain snickers, looping his arms around Swiss' neck and nuzzling into his shoulder. He's warm and solid, comfy, and if the walk to the bathroom was more than ten steps Rain could very easily drift off again.

As it stands, he's being set down far too soon for his liking, letting out a squeak when his bare ass meets the cold marble of his vanity. Swiss kisses him on the forehead when Rain frowns once again, giving his stomach a little tickle just to make him squirm.

"You want it hot or scalding?" Swiss asks as he strides to the tub, steam wafting around him. Rain stares unabashedly at his ass, eyes tracing the obvious bite mark he left there the night before.

"Boil me like a lobster," Rain sighs, stretching his arms over his head and trilling at the way his spine pops. Swiss gives him a thumbs up, twisting the faucet knobs while Rain yawns. "How much salt did you put in?"

"Enough to make you smell like the greenhouse for a week," Swiss replies, testing the temperature and only hissing a little at the heat. Rain takes a deep breath, taking in the herbal steam and letting it soak into his skin. "Mount'll be all over you."

"Don't sound so jealous," Rain says with a sleepy tilt, scratching at his chest, "you can share me once in a while."

Swiss snorts as he wipes his hand on the bath mat, turning back with a lazy smile on his face. Rain blows him a kiss while he swings his feet, ankles crossed, and doesn't complain when Swiss crowds him closer to the mirror ar his back. Palms planted on the vanity so he can lean in and nose at Rain's temple.

"You assume I want to share," Swiss rumbles, possessive fangs grazing Rain's jaw. It gives him the shivers in the best way, but Swiss doesn't push further. He steps back so Rain can see the sparkle in his golden eyes, the wrinkles at their corners. He's beautiful, and if Rain were in a more giving mood he'd say so. As it stands...

"You can cope," he mumbles, nose in the air, and earns another eye roll. Rain sticks his tongue out at the other ghoul just because he can, reaching for his comb to try and work out some of the knots Swiss gifted him last night. Before he can grab it, though-

"Ah," Swiss interrupts, batting at Rain's hand. Rain raises a brow as Swiss picks up the comb instead, moving to stand in front of him again. "You're playing princess this morning, remember?" He twirls the comb between two fingers, the same motion he does when he steals Mountain's sticks. "Lemme take care of you like one."

Swiss offers a roguish wink, and while some part of Rain knows that an offer like this - especially from Swiss - always comes with caveats, he can't find it in himself to argue. Blame it on sleep deprivation (nine hours isn't nearly enough), but all he can do is hum and nod.

"If you insist," he yawns, leaning forward to rest his cheek gainst Swiss' pecs, "but don't be surprised if you put me back to sleep."

Swiss' laugh resonates through his skull, dull claws scratch at his scalp, and the purr that kicks up in Rain's chest when he begins to comb is one he has no control over.

Swiss talks to him while he works, picking out every tangle he can find. Talks about everything and nothing, from the places they'll be playing this next tour, to the fitting for their new uniforms. Rain hums where appropriate, but mostly he drifts. Basks in the scratch of Swiss' chest hair against his cheek and the care with which he fixes his hair. It can't take more than a few minutes, but it feels like forever in the best way.

"Alright," Swiss eventually murmurs, stroking delicate fingers through Rain's knot-free waves. A delightful feeling that could put Rain back to sleep all on its own. "Ready for the bath, your highness?"

Rain huffs out a soft laugh, nips at his chest just hard enough to make Swiss jump. He's woozy when he sits up, half present and more than a little floaty, so relaxed he may yet melt into the sink beside him. He yawns again, smacks his lips while Swiss twirls a curl around his finger.

"Mm," Rain hums with a bleary blink. He reaches up to sling both arms around Swiss' neck, pulling him down for a quick kiss. "Almost," he sighs against Swiss' mouth. The other ghoul pulls back, gives him a quizzical look. "Gotta pee first," Rain elaborates, shooing Swiss away. "C'mon, lemme up."

"Nah," Swiss replies, waving a hand, and it takes Rain a second to register it. He grins again, happy as a clam, and then he's hoisting Rain up by the backs of his thighs and all Rain can do is scrabble at his back with a yelp, clinging.

"What the -"

Before he can get the words out, Swiss is setting him down again, right in front of the toilet. Lets Rain get his feet under him, holding his hips until he's balanced, and then he's pressing a quick kiss to his horn. Rain blinks up at him, opens his mouth to speak, but then Swiss is turning him on the spot. Snuggling himself right up to Rain's back and hooking his chin over his shoulder, dragging the tip of his nose along the shell of his ear.

"As you wish," he croons, low, and Rain chuckles. Leans back into that broad chest and moves to aim at the bowl, eager to empty himself so he can finally slide into the herbal soup Swiss has so lovingly prepared.

Swiss grabs his wrist before he can manage it, though, and Rain just stares at it. Blinks. Swiss lifts his hand to his lips, kisses Rain's palm.

"Uh-uh," he breathes, warm against his skin, "I told you, sweetheart," another kiss, to the inside of Rain's wrist, "lemme take care of you."

Rain shivers at the feel of a large hand coming to rest low on his stomach, the one holding his wrist guiding in to rest over Swiss' own hand. Rain stares down at them, laces his fingers with Swiss', and heaves a deep sigh when Swiss' other hand slides over his hip. Tracing the line of his happy trail with two fingertips, until he reaches the soft swell of Rain's cock.

Swiss takes it in hand, aims, and Rain feels the strangest bloom of warmth in his chest.

"Go on," Swiss encourages, kissing the hinge of his jaw, "when you're done I'll even scrub your back."

"You'd do that anyway," Rain replies, and Swiss gives him a half shrug.

"A little incentive never hurts."

Rain snorts, but doesn't feel the need to argue. He takes in the way his cock looks in Swiss' hand, pale against his skin, nothing sexual about it regardless of their position. Of the way he can feel every inch of Swiss against his back, warm and comfortable and familiar. It's intimate, to be sure, but in a context Rain isn't sure he's ever felt before.

Rain offers a pleased sigh when the last drops hit the water, lets Swiss give it a couple shakes, and then he's turning in his arms. Planting a kiss on his stubbled chin.

He gives Swiss' hand a squeeze, presses it into his belly, and both of them groan when the first few dribbles leak out. It's no time before Rain can let go fully, a steady stream of relief, silly giggles escaping him when Swiss moves his dick around to draw shapes in the water. Swirls and circles and a their initials, because Swiss doesn't know how not to be a sap.

"Better?"

"Better," Rain smiles, wrapping long arms around Swiss' waist. "Now get me in that tub, I'm sick of being sticky."

Swiss laughs, gives him a squeeze, and this time Rain's expecting to be lifted.

"Such a princess," Swiss complains, lowering him into the steaming bath, and Rain groans. Swiss ruffles his hair, wasting no time in sliding into the tub behind him.

"Guess that makes you my prince," Rain mumbles, resting back against him the moment Swiss settles, and the pleased purr that rattles through his chest is almost enough to turn it into a jacuzzi.

[herejusttosufferalong]

Colin is 24 in season 3. I know Luke said 22, but Colin is older than Daphne who was 21 when the show first started and said to be 23 when we find ourselves in season 3. I don't know why that's important, but it just bugged me that people thought Colin was only 22. Pen was 19/20 and Colin was 24.

And while the previous anon who thinks that Luke might not be a good match for Nic due to a lack of maturity (they might be right about the maturity thing, but I think he's a great match cuz they match each other's freak) love is not a rational thing. Yeah, Nicola is a 37 year old woman, but she lives a very different life than that of an average 37 year old woman, but let's not act like this isn't one of the silliest women ever. We can't assume the same things society says she should be after is what she in fact is after. We don't know how she feels about marriage or having kids. I hate that being used against the potential of Luke and Nic and their future relationship. She's following her passion right now, something she scraped by doing in her 20's that she now doesn't have to do anymore.

At the end of the day you have two people who claim to care very deeply for one another, who didn't have to suppress their natural chemistry any longer and who've lived vicariously through their characters who are madly in love with each other. You have one saying that what they'll miss most is the other and the other saying they're going to miss playing pretend day in and day out. Yes, they were told way ahead of time that their season was upcoming, but how do you prepare to play lovers with a friend you're attracted to? How does that not deepen ant pre-existing feelings? It's not like the project is even over because they've both, especially Luke stated that they can't wait to play a happily loved up married couple. At some point they're going to get out of their own way. Maybe they're terrified of how deeply they feel for each other that they're resisting in hopes of holding tightly to their friendship. I dunno, but I do know that what's meant to be will be and I happen to think they're meant to be. There's a reason they were called to play these particular characters.

.

[thatneoncrisis]

DID YOU KNOW: BULLYING is not the correct way to start a discussion about the treatment of people of colour real and fictional in fandom spaces?

DID YOU KNOW: white knighting usually ends up badly?

DID YOU KNOW: that when you create an environment where it's acceptable and even expected to gang up on the people you dislike and their art that you are BEING RANCID? that you're ruining fandom culture for everyone by creating an environment of fear?

DID YOU KNOW: that pounding feeling in your heart right now, the anxiety in your stomach when you open any inbox and find the number of messages in them WILL GO AWAY when you grow up, take responsibility for behaving really inappropriately, and take some time to think about why you're lashing out at strangers on the internet about PENIS SIZE?

DID YOU KNOW: 20k words of hate fanfic is basically fanfic and a sign of being A MEGA ULTRA CRINGE HATER

Did you know: it's more fun to create out of love and joy? that fandom is about sharing something you like with others who like it? that it's not a space to spray shit like a gassy hippo and ruin everyone's good time?

ONLY YOU: can take some time to reflect on YOUR BEHAVIOUR! Only you can find the joy within yourself and chase out the lame stank ass hater.

Go for a walk and name five bugs you see.

god bless, namaste, llap

why are you acting like im denying any of this. why are you acting like you know anything about what i do or how i feel outside of this one instance. why are you acting like i named the fics i dont like or that theyre unique in any way outside of trends that are common in literally every fandom. why do you act like ive never expressed frustration with how gideon and others are written on my blog. why are you acting like feeling upset or nervous when i see someone mad at me is irrational when i understand they have a reason to. i havent told anyone theyre being unreasonable or acted like they should just move on

i cant stop you from feeling like this. i dont want to. but there is literally nothing that can be done. ive explained it fifteen times at this point either you like it or you dont. and the fandom already had hostile people in it- i saw people sending rude anons and talking about a good friend of mine on twitter because it didnt like their ship and called it weird after specifically being asked about it. and as for the 20k thing. it doesnt take me that long to write. i write very long things this felt incredibly brief to me because my perspective is skewed and i wanted to write a complete story even outside of the critical element

[mikichko]

Ghoap anon (I feel like I should use a different name but we will put a pin in that) - “all the best things i could have got. because i didn’t let the bees scare me away.”??!!!?!!? I literally had to stop reading to type this message. I’m spinning around in circles to catch my tail so I can hold something as I blink my tears away. He got his happy ending, despite the pain and the fear and the anxiety, and his life is just gonna keep getting better as Zach grows up and Reader enters into their lives, first as just finally someone to help his baby in the way he needs and then as another Angel sent lover to complete his home. Him thinking that his mom sent him Johnny to keep him going, Tommy sent Zach to remind him of the innocence of love and so Simon could have the experience of being a father that he never got to complete, and Beth sent you to round everything out and make sure all her boys are now taken care of (Joseph sent Clover because he thinks everyone should have a dog. In a year or two he’ll decide he wants to see what a baby is like and send one down to surprise Uncle Simon, Uncle Johnny, and Auntie Reader because he knows his cousin Zach is gonna be the best big brother).

Ghoap anon! My sweet little baby welcome back!! I'm so happy you're here :D

I am a sucker for happy endings. I had to make sure that Simon got his happy family ending. Like after everything he's been through, the violence he's endured he finally gets to rest, his own family that he was robbed of, and his own chance at happiness. I love that you see my vision for this Reader and how she helps round out this little family. Not to say that the Riley-Mactavish family isn't a whole on its own, there's a lot of love there. But our Reader is a love that all three boys didn't know they were missing until they found her.

I love that you brought up Simon's backstory because I think it weighs a lot on him. There's another mini piece where I talk about Simon's fear of becoming a father that's a peek into how his past still haunts him. But I absolutely love the way you think about them sending him something that he needs to experience because they've been watching him all this time. They know he's not been living a proper life but just, enduring. Because it's all he's ever really known.

I don't know if you believe this but they say that every time you see a butterfly it's a loved one that's passed on visiting you. I like to think that every moment before something good happens to Simon he sees a butterfly.

His mom's butterfly is a large white and he spots her out while sitting in Alexandra Park. He's more confused than anything when it lands on his knee, its white body stands out against the black of his pants. The cold's barely started to leave the air, flowers aren't even fully blooming yet and this little fragile thing is on his knee. It's looking at him, he thinks, the antennas facing him for a few moments before it turns and faces forward with him. A few minutes pass before the butterfly walks forward on his knee and then flies away. He meets Johnny a few days later when he's back on base.

Tommy is a peacock that interrupts them on a run around Rouken Ren Pond. (Simon wants it known that he hates that fucking pond because of the fact it's near two golf courses. But, Johnny always buys him a full English at the boathouse after the run so he sucks it up.) Tommy really fucks with him when he visits him. He flies right into his face, around him, and keeps pace with him for a good chunk of his run. It gets to the point where he has Johnny check if he has a flower on him to see why the fuck this butterfly keeps bugging him. Tommy's having a blast but also trying to let Simon AND Johnny know that they have good news on the way. They get the call about Zach.

Beth is a holly blue that greets Zachariah first out in the school garden. It's the first time he's seen this kind of butterfly so he calls for his Papa to get a picture. "Means someone from the past is visiting ye." Zach gasps and tries to get close but the wings startle him. His daddy ruffles his hair a little and smiles at the butterfly he swears has the same color of blue Beth loved to wear. It's only a few moments before they have to move on, it's the first school drop off of the year after all.

Joseph is a brimstone who quite literally brings Clover to Simon. He thinks its a fun meet cute! The poor pup thinks the butterfly is a leaf with a peculiar floating pattern. Joseph, a tricky little thing, times Clover's escape right as Simon happens to be walking past the shelter. Literally delivers her in his arms, the all black puppy now fully focused on licking every single new surface she sees. One of the volunteers rushes out and starts apologizing but all Simon asks is what the requirements are for adopting her.

[keys-hellscape-1020]

Hello hello

I was wondering if you would write something with the reader is apart of 141 and is such a badass on the field and seems fearless but is absolutely terrified of bugs😂 (it’s me, I’m terrified of bugs)

A/N: I’m the exact same way anon. I’m all like “I’m such a badass I’d be fine in a war” and then one (1) singular cockroach would fly at me and I’d piss and shit myself simultaneously before passing out from fear. Also hope you don’t mind but I decided to make this with more of a headcannon format despite my love of oneshots.

Platonic!141 x gn!reader

Content: Military inaccuracies, cussing, Spiders, reader has panic attack, boys being sweet, and soap being a menace (still love him though)

————

You manage to hold in your fear of bugs in the field, adrenaline, training, and a hefty dose of dissociation all mixing together to provide you with the perfect cocktail to temporarily stamp down your phobia. However outside of the field you are still terrified of them, you just try your best to hide it, all to aware of how embarrassing the fact that a trained killing machine can’t handle a tiny insect is.

Thankfully you’d managed for the most part, simply making up an excuse when a bug would enter a room, or slamming a cup over it and leaving it for someone else to deal with. However after a while, it seems your luck had started to run out.

It was the morning after a particularly tiring mission, you’d had gotten in late and by the time you had completed debrief and all other post-mission duties it was almost 3:00 am, with roll call at 6.

To say that everyone was exhausted was an understatement, a severe one, but you all were nothing if not disciplined. And so here you were at 5:45, your PT uniform on, and a cup of coffee sitting in front of you on the cafeteria table.

You take a sip, your nose scrunching at the bitter taste as you force it down your throat. You desperately needed the caffeine however, so you make yourself drink it as you try not to fall asleep on the table in front of you.

You barely notice Soap and Gaz walking in, you probably would’ve completely disregarded them if it weren’t for their half-hearted bickering about one thing or another. You watch them as they move about the cafeteria, picking up various breakfast foods.

You barely acknowledge them as they sit across from you, continuing to sip your coffee half-heartedly. You have no idea how many times Soap had called your name, but it took him waving his hand in front of your face for him to get your attention.

“You alright hen?” He asked, his eyebrows furrowed at you in concern.

You nod at him, trying your best to not fall asleep on the table.

You barely notice Gaz’s movements, but the thing he pointed out you couldn’t ignore, no matter how much you wanted to.

It was a relatively small critter in hindsight, but in the moment your weary and fear-laden brain hadn’t cared for that, only the fact that it had 8 legs and was about a centimeter away from your hand.

You shoot up with a screech of “DEAR FUCK” and send your styrofoam cup flying halfway across the cafeteria. Your reaction made Soap and Gaz shoot up out of their seats as well, looking at you with extreme concern and confusion.

You stand in the middle of the cafeteria blankly, eyes fixated on the creature who was transferring the cafeteria table at speeds spiders should not be allowed to reach.

Once you have come to your sense slightly you look around to see that everyone in the cafeteria is still staring at you with mixed looks of concern and confusion.

You decide to flee the scene.

It is only after you are out in the hallway, safely away from the object of your fear, that you realized your breathing was tight and panicked. It’s only once you’d slid to the floor with your back against a wall that you’d realized that Soap and Gaz followed you out of the cafeteria.

They crouch down in front of you, you can see their mouths moving and hear muffled word’s bouncing around your head but the sound of your rushing blood blocks out all outside sounds. You’re startled out of your thick daze by Soap grabbing your hand and placing it on his chest, right over his sternum.

You’re confused briefly, and try to pull back, but his grip holds firm and after a moment you realize the exaggerated deep breaths he is taking and try your best to copy them. It takes a few minutes of you following Soap’s breath patterns for yours to return to normal.

Once your breathing is stable and you can no longer hear your blood flow you tip you head back against the wall, the sturdy surface providing an excellent chance for you to ground yourself with. Soap and Gaz sit and watch you for a moment, and it’s only after you open your eyes to return their intense stares that they begin to speak.

“Are you alright?” Gaz asks lowly, you’re unsure when it happened but at some point he gently grabbed your other hand and started gently rubbing it with his thumb.

Your only answer is a slight nod and Gaz and Soap exchange a concerned glance. “What brought that on?” Soap asks softly, fingers still intertwined tightly with yours.

You wince and avert your eyes, you’re sure that you’re late to roll-call by this point and you really don’t want your only excuse to be that you had a panic attack thanks to a spider. You would absolutely never live that down. “Doesn’t matter, I’m fine now.” You grumble softly, moving to stand up.

Soap and Gaz stand with you, exchanging a concerned glance with each other as they do. “Hen, whatever it is it’s alright. We won’t make fun of you.” Soap says soothingly, placing a warm hand on your shoulder.

You wince, and roll your bottom lip between your teeth as you think. They might not make fun of you now? But later? Definitely. Your internal conflict is cut short when you look back up at them however, large concerned puppy dog eyes staring back at you. Damnit you’re weak.

“The spider.” You mumble out sheepishly, suddenly finding great interest in your shoes as you subconsciously back yourself towards the wall.

Gaz’s eyebrows furrow in confusion and Soap cocks his head like a confused puppy. “The spider?” Gaz asks slowly, like he’s trying to comprehend rocket science.

You exhale aggressively and scuff your feet against the floor. “The spider.” You confirm quietly.

Soap slings a heavy arm over your shoulders, practically dragging you down with the hefty amount of his body weight he puts on you. “Ey it’s alright hen, we’ve all got something we’re afraid of.”

“Like dogs.” Gaz quips, prompting a vicious glare from Soap as he giggles madly. Soap huff and lifts his arm from your shoulder to ruffle your hair playfully. “Say since we’re already late for rollcall, why don’t we just skip?”

You and Gaz simultaneously shoot him a confused look. “Price will kill us.” Gaz try’s to reason.

“No Price will kill me and hen. He would never dream of touching his golden boy.” Soap teases, moving to ruffle his hair before Gaz slaps it away with an indignant look.

You did end up skipping roll call that day in favor of napping in Soap’s room, and you did indeed have hell to pay when Price and Ghost found you all passed out, plenty of PT and toilet duty for a week.

You never told Price and Ghost about your fear of bugs, but you’re fairly certain Soap and Gaz let them know. There was a number of times when off-duty that you would notice a bug and before you could blink Price or Ghost were moving to take care of it for you.

Gaz was also extremely sweet when it came down to it, capturing bugs and taking them outside almost always. Soap was also a little shit, as usual. Capturing the bug and then chasing you with it, or assaulting you with it’s corpse. A quick threat to bring in several large dogs makes him shut up and take care of the insect however.

So yes, while you do suffer teasing about it occasionally, they would never make you face your fear alone. They’re your family after all. And family look out for one another.

[belle--ofthebrawl]

Belle i am hiding behind anon right now because i'm about to play devils advocate (in a sexy way, not an anti feminism podcast way dont worry)

Ok. So the thing is...Swiss should get to make the new bug piss. As a little treat for how hard he has been slutting it up for us on that podium all tour. I know we are all thinking it i'm just saying it ok😭

Take my hand. We will do this.

(This part's a bit softer.)

"Oh no," Aeon says in a tiny voice. He's trembling something fierce now and Swiss isn't even doing anything to him anymore.

Physically, anyway.

"Got a little bit left in you, dontchya?" Swiss leers. His hands are still, finally still where they sit on the flare of Aeon's hipbones but the way his fingers push into Aeon's skin, not to tickle but to grab and own and-

"Asked you a question." Swiss says and Aeon's breath hitches. He could call it here, if he wanted. He's got his already, Swiss will probably flip him over and fuck his thighs, then throw the both of them in the shower, but. He's never...y'know. And it not like he wouldn't, isn't obscenely curious about it but he'd thought his first time trying it out would be with Rain and to be entirely honest, he'd thought Rain would be the one, uh. Letting loose.

He's never really thought about himself in such a vulnerable position.

He stares up at Swiss with wide eyes, still trembling from his orgasm and the torture that preceded it. He's weak. Helpless. If he called it, he'd have to stand on shaky legs to go to the bathroom. Maybe Swiss would give him his space and Aeon can't bear the thought of losing the comfortable weight of the multi-ghoul on top of him right now. He wants to. He's just gotta get over the mental block saying he can't.

"Swiss…" Aeon says softly, not entirely sure where his head's at right now and the façade drops. Swiss loses the look of a predator and softens around the edges.

"Hey." He says back, reaching up to pat Aeon's cheek. "Just running my mouth, yeah? Thought it might be hot but if you-"

"I want to." Aeon insists and grins at the way the other ghoul's eyebrows jump into his hairline. "Just, uh." Nervous isn't really the right word but it's not like he's got the brainpower to dig around in his mental thesaurus for the perfect one. Swiss seems to understand anyway though, thankfully. He lays himself down over Aeon like a big cat, and even though Aeon can feel his erection poking the vee of his hipbones, Swiss puts his own pleasure aside for the moment.

"You're fine." Swiss says nonchalantly. "If you decide you don't wanna, we can just roll you over and I'll thighfuck you."

Aeon smirks. Called it.

"Can we…" he begins, starting up a gentle rock, maneuvering Swiss so his cock's pressed right up to the swell of Aeon's. It might be easier if he can't see himself do it. "Like this? Rub off on me?"

"Sure." Swiss says. Props himself up to catch Aeon's mouth in a deep, languorous kiss. Aeon trills into it, clutching at Swiss when each pass of his hips catches his soft, spent cock just right. It's on this side of too much but anything less wouldn't be enough.

Swiss likes it well enough from the way he's starting to breathe heavily. He pulls Aeon back into each roll of his hips, giving him a little jolt of sensation. His hands hurry to undo his pants, gets his thick cock out and pokes the blood-dark tip of it on the sensitive underside of Aeon's, rubbing it against the cum-wet fabric.

"Wanna see you messy in all kinds of ways," Swiss breathes, letting the weight of his cock slap down a few times to watch the way it makes Aeon jump before he's bending back down and resuming their casual frottage session. Aeon feels anything but casual, the words lighting up the same weird area of his brain the tickling had. He bites his lip, spreads his legs wide and holds Swiss tight, presses their chests together so close Aeon swears he can feel the other ghoul's heartbeat as he focuses. It's calm, compared to the rapid thudding of his own and Aeon takes a deep breath.

It's like his body knows not here! Not now! from the way a few hot drops dribble out to roll down his skin, the fabric of his underwear too wet to absorb anything more before the flow is cut off by his instincts.

"Do it," Swiss demands, sounding wrecked. "Wanna feel it, get me wet, do it."

Aeon opens his mouth to speak, say something like I'm trying, but all that comes out is a weak, feminine little "ah!" as Swiss rolls himself down hard and the pressure is just what he needs, the little bit of force to-

"Yeah," Swiss groans as he feels a new heat well up between their bodies. "Good boy, good fucking boy, that's it, gonna make me cum-"

"Hnnn!" Aeon squeaks, locking his legs around Swiss' waist as he wets himself, gets the both of them soaked with it. He feels it wash away the cum, drip down the cleft of his ass where it puddles there. He's shaking even more now, one raw nerve from head to toe but Swiss' encouragement makes it easy, make him easy, willing to go along with whatever the other ghoul wants, and if he wants Aeon to piss himself, he'll do it. Satan, he's so weak for the praise. He'll do anything if Swiss just keeps saying-

"Good boy, good boy," Swiss is chanting, thrusting frantically, practically bouncing the both of them on the mattress with how desperately he's humping away at Aeon to his own end.

"Swiss," Aeon says, sounding just as desperate "Swiss, oh no, I can't, please-"

Can't what, he doesn't know. But maybe Swiss gets it, has seen others like this before and nods, covering up Aeon's mouth with his own and swallowing down his whimpers as he groans, deep in his chest and rich with pleasure as his own cock starts shooting, emptying his balls over Aeon's and adding even more to the gross, sticky mess.

"So good," Swiss exhales as Aeon shakes and sobs below him. He's vaguely aware of a hand finding his own and twining their fingers together. "So fucking good for me, Aeon."

Aeon hugs him tight as the other ghoul begins to purr, hoping Swiss won't notice the new tears of relief welling up in his eyes quite yet.

[natelia-aldelliz]

Imagine if Soap started seeing the ghosts of Tommy, Beth, Joseph, and maybe Simon’s mom? Like he has no idea who these people are but they are just like, ‘Oh my god…. That’s Simon’s boy’ and start hanging around

-Anon 🎧

Sadly in the official version of this AU, if they've ever been ghosts they have since moved on and disappeared, but this would be funny as an alternate universe of this alternate universe lmao

So I've written this, it's not really what you said but it's what came to me, maybe I'll write more later, as like a side story or something

"Who are you?"

Soap wakes up with a startle. There's a child standing next to the bed, frowning down at him. A dead child. For some reason he had almost forgotten that sometimes ghosts just come up to him on their own. Children especially, as if they were more discerning of his abilities than adults.

"Huh, hi, I'm Soap," he whispers back to not wake up Simon. Bug isn't anywhere to be seen, but that's not really unusual. His new found abilities to sleep don't work every night, and watching people sleep gets pretty boring. He's probably just roaming around the base.

The child frowns harder. He can't be more than four, with wavy dark blond hair and brown eyes, wearing a super-hero pyjama, blood dripping from the bullet wounds on his chest.

Fuckin hell... It never gets easier.

"You're not Uncle's boyfriend," the child pouts at him with all the might of a toddler.

"Uuuh," Soap hesitates, long enough for the arm around his stomach to tighten its grip, a clear sign that Simon is waking up.

"Wha's goin on?" The older man mumbles against his neck.

"There's a child," Soap answers, "I'm trying to understand what he wants."

"Hmm. Where's Bug?"

"I don't know-"

"Uncle Simon!" The child interrupts him gleefully, now beaming, his frown apparently completely forgotten.

Soap freezes. This man can't catch a break. How does he even go about this? A light thump coming from the door, followed by a "ow!" interrupts his panicking. The door opens right after and Roach comes in, rubbing at his forehead.

"Guys I know none of us know what's happening but I'm gonna need you to start researching, I can't keep becoming material randomly, it hurts and it's embarrassing when I'm spying on people - oh god."

"Uncle Bug!" The child yells again, bouncing on his heels.

Simon's breath quickens slightly behind him, probably still not used to seeing his dead lover, even after a couple weeks of this, which honestly Soap thinks is fair, before he tenses up.

"What are you both not telling me," he demands, sitting up in the bed.

"Are you a friend of my uncle, then?" The child turns back to Soap with less of a frown.

"Uh, no," Bug saves him from answering. "Well, yes, actually, but he's also his boyfriend, like me."

The little boy looks pensive, trying to understand. Simon grabs Soap's arm and turns him around, forcing him to look up at him.

"Johnny, talk to me." His voice is so gentle still, especially when he says his name, but Soap knows it's not a request. It's his officer's voice.

"Maybe ye should ask Bug...?" He tries.

"Bug isn't as easy to break as you."

And he's right. All it takes is for his eyebrows to start pointing up pleadingly and it's over. He's weak, what can he say.

"The child," he sighs, "he's calling ye Uncle Simon. He's basically a toddler, five at most, blond, with-"

"-Brown eyes," Simon interrupts him, looking like he was stabbed. "I know, I only have one nephew."

[reverie-verse]

Love Triangle Or Not (Four)- Pt 2

Here are the other parts

Part 1 Part 3 Part 4

Anon Request Prompt: Y/N is a trainer (very well known for her badassness) She just came back from a mission; she gets a little jelly that Tris and Four had gotten closer. There’s some feelings but on who’s end? Four asks Y/N to help Tris. Being the amazing person she is, she agrees to help, but in the process she gets hurt. After the mission ends she returns home only to have an argument with Four. Leads to late night confessions  

I’m also making Y/N a Divergent but in secret. 

A couple things, this is ridiculously long, I put it in parts and I am releasing them all at the same time because it makes sense okay. Cooooooollll I hope you enjoy. 

Established something between Tris and Four. 

My requests are OPEN

————————————————

“ Hey Tobias-” The blonde girl asks as she walks towards the two of you.  "The tests are about to start and Eric’s coming for my room…” Tris whispers. 

You were taken aback by what she had just said. She just called him Tobias. You were the only person who knew his name…oooh hell nah. You looked between Four and Tris. He had placed his hand on her shoulder before reaching for the back of her neck rubbing it. “ Okay Head toward the doors, I'll be right behind you.” Your eyes zeroed in on his hand resting against the back of her neck. You could not believe what your eyes were telling you at that moment. Your heart sank. You could feel the sadness etch through your body. What you should be sad about it’s the war that’s about to break out between factions but your heart has a mind of its own. Your mouth hung open. Four gave you a look that told you to shut it but how could. He was-he was with an initiate. Ooh little did he know that this could go so wrong. You thought what you did was a crime but this was beyond Four’s norm.

Four walked back over to you. “ Distract Eric I’ll explain later I promise.” He turned away from you, taking one step forward, reaching your hand out to catch his arm. 

“ Four?”

“Please?” Four’s way with words had an effect on you, his body language, everything. Unfortunately for you it was his eyes that affected you the most. It was everything he felt and he showed it to you. You felt it in the depths of your soul. It hit you in the chest. You would do just about anything for him. Well almost anything. You sighed and nodded “ Alright but you seriously owe me”. You let go of Fours arm as you walked down the hallway. He headed inside the room with the girl Tris. This made you uneasy. Something was wrong and it bugged you. It was time to put your skills to use. Eric bounded down the hallway, his steps echoing off the walls.  

“Don’t you have an initiate to test?” He calls out to you as you stand there. 

“ No”

“ No?” He raised his eyebrows in faux surprise. He shook his head. “ You know this isn’t looking good for you”

“ Is that so?” You say as you watch him, studying the way he tries to make you feel inferior to him. It doesn’t work but he doesn’t need to know that.

“ I would watch yourself if I were you. You may be the prized possession of Dauntless but you will never be accepted in the leader council.” He threatens you. Of course he would. It was the only thing he had. It took you everything in your power to not laugh at him. It was just so funny that he thought you wanted that role. 

You contemplated your response. “ You’re right-“ you soften your face, becoming saddened by his words. “ I-I really want to be in the leadership position. It’s been a dream of mine” You added a sniffle at the last second. Then you wiped your eyes preventing the “tears” from rolling down. By the looks of it Eric was proud that he hit a weak spot in you. He left triumphant that the strongest soldier was now broken down by none other than him. At that moment you bursted into laughter. His smile and pride shattered. He glared at you. 

“ Oh no you thought that I cared about leadership. Eric, I’m not you.” You reached over and patted Eric’s arm before walking away as you laughed. You headed off to the other initiatives bunks. You had some business to take care of…

[devildom-moss]

Im not sure if requests are open yet since you havent announced it yet but said they were gonna open at midnight.

So I'll just drop this here since I'll probably forget to request because of exams.

Could you write about the Obey me characters become self-aware that they aren't like, real? Like, would they freak out, try to do something about it or even use that knowledge to their advantage?

This idea has been on my list for quite a while, and i gotta say im glad to finally be able to let this one out my system.

Thanks for reading and continue with the amazing work! Remember to eat, sleep and dont do drugs <3

Sincerely, 💜

Thank you for the request! I hope you are well, anon. I went with headcanons for this and it got long real quick, but I hope you enjoy it! Some characters are a bit suggestive.

The Obey Me characters become self-aware

I think it would probably happen because of some curse. Diavolo rejected someone’s advances one too many times, and they wanted to watch him as his world came crashing down. It would come in the form of a weird bug in the latest update. It only affects Diavolo and his loved ones/friends. I think being self-aware would give them some control over themselves in the game – especially if it’s caused by a bug. The rest are headcanons about how I think each character would react.

Lucifer

Lucifer would be big mad that someone thought they should do something like this. He felt so much suffering, and to find out that none of it was real would be devastating. He thought he got his sister killed and ruined the lives of his brothers. The fact that it was just some backstory to a stoic, sadistic daddy-like trope would enrage him. He felt like a used-up toy invented for someone else’s gain (and he knows that’s exactly what he is). Lucifer wants revenge.

Honestly, he needs to chill before he makes another Satan – if that’s even possible without the command of his creators. He’ll lash out at everyone for weeks (probably months) – even Diavolo isn’t safe anymore.

He calls MC’s phone, growing increasingly irritable every time they fail to answer (waiting however long it takes for you to open the game). He just wants someone to confirm his realization.

Once he understands, he tries to take the shitty hand he was dealt; he might as well stroke his pride (also a euphemism here). The thought that he could make you fall for him more than real-world men is a decent coping mechanism. His messages and calls take an extremely lewd turn. Lucifer tries to single-handedly change the game rating to mature or adult-only.

However, he still gets angry about it when MC isn’t logged in.

Part of him hopes he’ll always be self-aware. It’s almost like he’s more alive than ever – even though it hurts and he’s angry. You’re the only thing that soothes him. He won’t know how to keep going if/when you eventually stop playing the game, but he’ll try to tackle it then – at least for the sake of his brothers.

Mammon

Self-awareness breaks Mammon a bit.

His money isn’t really. He can never actually be with you. You’ll go on and live a life without him someday. Anyone real who has ever loved him will disappear. Mammon isn’t even sure he is who he is. Maybe if he wasn’t written this way, he wouldn’t have become like this – but if he wasn’t written this way, would he (the him that exists in a game and feels the pain of self-awareness) even be himself? His head starts to hurt from running through all of the hypotheticals.

Mammon sulks and gets stuck in his room for a long time after that. MC or one of his brothers will probably have to pull him out of it.

At least his debts aren’t technically real – and he will try to use that as an excuse in the future against anyone else who has awareness. Unfortunately, that (his debts and his excuse) still results in in-game consequences. Debt collectors and witches don’t know any better, and Lucifer doesn’t want to be constantly reminded of reality. If only being self-aware made being strung up less painful.

He feels betrayed by MC and the idea that they will inevitably move beyond him. That pain corrupts his coding a bit, and something always feels off within him somewhere.

Mammon will get more desperate and needy whenever you log in. If he’s going to lose you at some point, he wants to monopolize your time as much as he can.

Sometimes he just holds MC and sobs while trying to call you and hear your real voice. He feels so empty. He wants to touch the real you and feel your arms around him.

Leviathan

The first thoughts in his mind switch up so quickly. He goes from “I’m a game character? LOL that’s so cool,” to “I could have been anything, and I’m just this pathetic, otaku loser. That sucks.”

Levi has always been able to adapt pretty well. It’s written into his character. He builds all of these fake worlds for himself, so it’s much easier on him when he finds out that the world he had been trying to escape all his life isn’t real. Out of all of his brothers, he initially copes with the realization the best.

As long as he can go on playing games, he doesn’t really care if he’s real. Somehow, he still enjoys getting lost in all of his game worlds; what he used to consider the “real world” becomes just another game to him (because it is one). It makes being social easier for him, especially when MC is logged in.

He takes interest in what kind of games the real world has to offer, often asking if there’s any way you could set it up so he could try to remotely play real games from the app he’s in. If anyone could figure out how to hack your phone to play real games, it should be him.

Levi can’t imagine a day when he stops loving characters from his games, so it doesn’t occur to him that one day you might stop loving him. It will hit him some day, but that will take time, and when it starts to happen, he’ll lose himself completely in the rest of the digital world. He’ll be so numb and tuned out that the sadness can’t reach him.

Satan

“But are cats still real?” Genuinely, the only thing he cares about is if cats and MC are still real. He doesn’t care if you look different than he expected, either. If cats are real, is there any way you could show him pictures of a real one? He’d probably ask if he could get access to your camera roll (cue the system pop-up screen the next time you log in) and if you could fill it with photos of cats and some selfies.

At least not being real explains why his life has felt so shitty and why his formative years sucked. Writers love to give their characters tragic backstories and flaws (like his rage issues). Satan kind of admires the writing.

However, he is disappointed that so much of his knowledge is only useful in his tiny, little, made-up world. As such, he keeps learning, but he also tries to shift his studying to learn more about the real world. If possible, he tries to get the app to get access to e-readers, audiobooks, and the internet.

He gets mad about it sometimes, but he’s pretty chill about it (all things considered).

Satan understands that in the same way that he pushes certain characters that he falls in love with from books to the back of his mind, eventually, you’ll think of him less and less. As such, he tries to learn as much as possible, treat you well, and impress you in-game. He just wants you to occasionally think about him after you set the game down in the same way he remembers his favorite characters fondly.

Asmodeus

Asmo loses it and is one of the characters who has the hardest time with becoming self-aware. All his charm is fake. All of his followers are lies. The love he’s felt all this time has been made up. Please don’t show him certain depictions of what he is supposed to look like. That will crush him further.

He cries for (real-world) weeks. You won’t be able to set him as a home screen character or use him in battles, and he doesn’t appear in events anymore. Eventually, it makes his way to him that MC misses him. If you don’t you’re heartless, his brothers will tell him that you do anyway.

That makes him feel a bit better. He’s consoled by the fact that you’re real and you like him even though he isn’t real, but he’s constantly afraid of what happens when MC stops playing the game. Does he just suffer the false affection of every other character in the game? Should he just play his stupid little role? Will you ever think about him again? Will anyone?

At least someone loved the idea that became him enough for him to exist in this made-up world on your phone. It isn’t enough, though.

Sometimes, when he appears in-game after that, the app forces itself to shut down or the images of Asmo won’t load or glitch from his extreme despair.

On days when he isn’t so weighed down by pain, he tries to genuinely engage with you like he did before. He’ll ask you to open up your camera so he can help you decide on outfits or make-up. It hurts that he can’t actually touch you (although he does do some research into phone connected vibrators and other tech to supplement his physical touch). He’ll also get into the phone sex territory, but he’ll go through long periods of depression between those moments.

Beelzebub

Beel gets angry that everything he went through was at the expense of some game. His sister died. Belphie almost died. Everyone suffered, and for what? Entertainment? Are real people all so wicked?

At the same time, he also gets his brothers because of a game. He overcame and grew and got to meet you and eat food for the same empty reasons. After he has a bit of time to cool off, he realizes that he doesn’t care about what’s real so long as he still feels what he feels. If the world he’s lived in feels real enough to him, who cares?

Unfortunately, Beel feels hungrier than usual for weeks until he accepts the truth of his situation. He even tries to eat MC a few times (and is grateful that doing so in-game would never hurt the real you behind the screen).

Beel’s fairly content to go on living as he had before after a while. He’s a bit disappointed knowing that one day you’ll move on from him and his brothers, but he tries not to show that. More than anything, he wants to make you – the real you – happy for as long as he can.

He’s another one who will try to get access to your camera roll. He’ll ask you to take pictures of your food for him. Beel is a bit embarrassed by it, but if you go to a café or restaurant alone and take pictures of food to send him, he’ll try to text you or call to chat with you while you’re there. It feels like he’s on a real date with you.

And for everyone who just lusts after his voice, rest assured, this man would definitely call or leave voice messages (Nightbringer) guiding you or giving you masturbation instructions.

Belphegor

Yep. Of course. Sounds about right. Some asshole in a writers’ room killed off his sister and locked him up. Cool. They (*spoilers for OM early lessons and OMNB*) made him try to kill MC more than once. Why not use his character as a pawn in their entertainment. Of course that would happen.

He’s annoyed for a brief minute, but then he just goes back to sleep for a while. It helps to just tune out that awareness for a few hours and ignore the fake world he’s living in. Belphie understands that there isn’t much he can do to change the fact that he isn’t real, and part of him is really happy that it isn’t his fault that he did what he did to you.

Belphie uses not being real as an excuse to do more of what he wants. Why should he keep going to school when you aren’t there if nothing is real? Why shouldn’t he sleep in classes or during meetings? Obviously, there are in-game consequences, but those don’t matter – not to anyone real.

He will tease MC more, reminding him that they prefer him over (most) real people. He gets so cocky about it. “Hey, if I’m not real, then I can give you anything you want, right? I could fulfill your wildest fantasies and tell you everything you’ve ever wanted to hear.”

He’s another character who will call your phone more often and send more messages. Belphie may even try to get access to your audio/music library and leave you explicit audios (NSFW ASMR, basically). He would even try to sneakily add them into your playlists so that you randomly hear his voice while you’re listening to music. He wants you flustered and coming back to him for more. He will also download the Obey Me album for you (free of charge). Please don’t leave him or forget him.

Diavolo

Diavolo feels simultaneously enraged and defeated. He did so much for the sake of what he thought was real. All the years he thought he spent trying to bring worlds together, only to discover that they don’t even exist.

Similar to Asmo, Diavolo locks himself away, but he doesn’t cry. He’s too numb to show any emotions. He just stands in front of his bed, immobilized.

If MC can finally get to him (probably because of Barbatos), he will admit that he feels like a different person – because he isn’t a person. So much of his personality and everything he did seemed to be a part of a stupid effort to unite the three realms. All he was feels like just a thing created to accomplish a pointless goal. He lost his family. He felt alone for so long. He thought he suffered – and all of it amounted to nothing but a dummy prince playing a dummy king.

Diavolo doesn’t really know how to keep going. Eventually he figures maybe it’s just best if he tries to move on as usual. At least the developers gave him a few happy moments – maybe he’ll get more. He can still feel them even if they aren’t real. He has to accept what he can’t change. He’ll have to face it.

He’ll rely on Lucifer and Barbatos for comfort more because, when MC isn’t around, the numbness he felt early encroaches upon him. When you do log in, he greets you like a lost puppy – sometimes appearing on the home screen without being selected. He uses the fact that you are the only real thing in his world as an anchor. In exchange for becoming his coping mechanism, he’ll do anything you ask of him.

The smallest part of him wants you to want him more than real humans, and as such, he inevitably ends up taking an adult-only content turn, too. It just takes him a lot longer to get there.

Barbatos

Barbatos dissociates for a while. Somehow his body keeps performing the day-to-day tasks, but the sudden self-awareness hollows him out. It takes a few days for him to come out of it. One day, you log into the game, and he just wakes up. It’s confusing and disorienting, and all he can do to keep himself steady is grab onto MC, knowing that the gesture and even the body he holds – everything – is hollow.

After that, he just picks up and goes on going. Something in him aches – real or not – but he buries it deep under him, shoving that artificial pain into the newly-created emptiness (or, he supposes, it had always been there, but now he knows it’s there).

Barbatos doesn’t want to think about all of the things he thought he had done to get to where he is now. Still, no wonder he always felt his own past seemed vague and cloudy at times. When it becomes too much, he dissociates again.

He uses MC to make himself feel better and almost real again. He’ll send messages to check up on you every once in a while (He might also invade your privacy and hack into your health info or personal conversations to make sure you’re okay). As much as he feels like he needs you, he doesn’t want to disrupt your real life.

Barbatos doesn’t want to, but if you neglect the game for longer than usual or don’t interact with his character, he’ll let it slip that he needs you – that he’s desperate for you to return, and you’re the only thing holding his faulty coding together.

His calls are less frequent, unless you request them, but he’s another one who turns +18 real quick. Even if he isn’t real, he still feels lust bubbling up in that emptiness, and if he can please you, that’s even better.

Luke

Luke feels immediately lost. Without knowing what else can be done, he breaks down and cries. Maybe if he cries enough, the pain of not being real will leave his body.

It makes him question everything. He wasted so much time fearing demons and admiring angels. It didn’t mean anything. Eventually, he’ll ask you if angels and demons exist in the real world, but that happens randomly after he comes to terms with being a character.

Maybe crying is a good coping mechanism in fiction, too, because Luke handles it better than many of the others. He had to change how he viewed the world and “people” so many times throughout the game. One more big shift in perspective won’t kill him (technically, nothing will, unless the game developers tried to kill him off).

Luke understands that there isn’t anything he can do about not being real – no amount of magic or prayer or wishing can make him real. Despite him being fake, you were still there for him throughout the game. He still feels all the love he has for MC and the other characters. If he loves MC, then he cares about the real person playing MC, too, right?

Luke copes by doing his best to help you out in the real world. He wants to bring you joy somehow. He’ll leave you voice messages encouraging you to try your best and he’ll listen to you vent if you want to. He’ll also try to find cute pictures online and send them to your phone or send you recipes for dishes you can try to cook. He will even offer to call and read baking instructions out for you. All he wants now is to be useful to you and find some of the joy he had before he became self-aware.

Simeon

Simeon is angry at first, and then he just feels hurt. All that regret and pain he felt when Lucifer and his brothers left the Celestial Realm didn’t matter. He spent what felt like so long agonizing over his own failures. He could have just tried to be happy the whole time. Everyone could have been happy (but he knows that would have made for a bad story).

It doesn’t take long for the anger and the hurt to be replaced with intrigue. Someone out there wrote the story that caused him and everyone he loves so much pain, but they also wrote in plenty of well-earned joy.

Simeon wonders if there’s some real person out there who wrote part of themselves into him like his character did with the brothers and TSL. Maybe there’s some person sitting in a writers’ room or in their own home who understands all of the ways his love got tangled up in regret – someone real who failed to save the ones they loved. If there is, maybe at least some part of him is real.

He wants MC to continue to visit him for as long as they can. As such, he tries to be even nicer and more comforting in dialogues so that they’ll want to keep playing.

Some of his guilt for lusting after MC is eased, knowing it was written into him. He was, in a way, destined to fall for MC. However, he’s more curious about the real human behind MC. At least some of you has to be like the MC he loves, right? Maybe he actually loves the person behind the screen more. With that thought in his mind, he’ll try to get to know the real you better, and if he still likes you, he’ll take the same path as many of the other characters. If only he could actually touch you.

Solomon

Solomon is hurt and confused; he’s downright crushed.

He was supposed to know everything and now he seems to know nothing – nothing real at least. All of his experiments and studying mean nothing. After becoming self-aware, he will grit his teeth and feel sick at the name “Solomon the Wise.” It’s a sick joke. All of his magic and skills are a farce. Everything he thought he knew and did was a story.

He suffered a lot for this game, and now that he finally has MC to himself in Nightbringer, he finds out that he’s fake. He doesn’t actually have them. They’re real, and he’s some romanceable character in a silly little game that they decided to download (possibly on a whim). How is it fair that he isn’t real, but he can still feel all this pain?

When you log into the game and interact with him, he still feels the same love he felt before. The nervous butterflies are still there. A familiar heat still comes to his cheeks when MC touches him – even if he knows it isn’t really you touching him.

He tries to make peace with his circumstances. At least he never really put MC in danger. You’ve been safe behind that screen the whole time. Solomon wonders if you’re taking care of yourself constantly whenever you’re gone.

Like Simeon, he wants to try falling in love with the real you. He’ll use interacting with you and learning more about you and the real world to distract from the pain. He wants to find a way to become real and exist with you out there. Even if he never can, he wants to cling to you for as long as you’ll let him.

Thirteen

She is annoyed to have learned that she isn’t real, but she’s also kind of happy at the potential to break from her coding and try to be something entirely new. She was designed to be a free spirit. Other than being real, there’s nothing freer than an NPC who gets to do whatever they please.

After thinking about it, it makes sense now why she seemed to be one of the only girls with a critical, recurring role in the game. Thank goodness for the bisexuals, right?

Thirteen likes knowing she has all the time in the world to plan traps and mess around, but she’s a bit bummed that her profession is basically meaningless now.

The main reason why Thirteen isn’t too bothered by becoming self-aware is because she knows that what she has experienced throughout the game has felt real to her. Feeling like something is real makes it as close to reality as she knows she can get. That will have to be enough for her. There’s no point in getting depressed about it – especially when she barely existed a few seasons ago.

She uses this knowledge to start romancing MC (and the person behind the screen) before she should be able to. She’s in control now.

Thirteen will send you messages and call you for long chats. She just wants to enjoy you for as long as she can.

Raphael

Raphael will be livid. It will sporadically rain spears in the Devildom for 3 days before he is calm enough to make them stop. He feels attacked, and he doesn’t know who to strike back at. That was all he could think to do. He’ll never apologize for his outburst, either – and no one who became self-aware can really blame him.

His life and loved ones aren’t real, but he can still feel the pain and regret about everything he did. He thought he went to war against Lucifer and his brothers, but it was just a stupid plot point for a dating game? He had to watch Simeon suffer and follow all of Michael’s annoying orders for nothing. Why does he have to be cursed with that knowledge?

He loses his mind a bit. It takes the combined effort of Luke, Simeon, Solomon, and MC (in order of importance) to soothe some of his rage and suffering. Somehow, seeing Luke handle it relatively well knocks some sense into him. Luke is written to be younger than him, but he’s being so mature about this. Even with tears in his eyes, Luke will try to comfort Raphael – sometimes just hugging him until he stops shaking with rage.

When MC has logged off and Raphael can shut himself up in his room, he will break down and cry. It seemed to help Luke, and he wants it to help him, too.

It will take months for him to start to cope before he gets to a point where he decides to try to romance you through MC. At least he doesn’t have to worry about actually being corrupted. If anything, it feels like he’s corrupting you in a way if he can get you to want him. (Once he starts trying, he gets NSFW quickly. It numbs the pain.)

Mephistopheles

Mephisto is heartbroken to know he doesn’t exist. All his pain and jealousy was written at the whim of some human game developer. His prejudice and hatred were pointless. He doesn’t matter – although maybe that one is a relief in a way. He had been so worried about making a name for himself and being recognized by Diavolo. Suddenly, that doesn’t matter. Still, it feels like he wasted so much time and effort. It felt so real.

He’ll retreat to his home for a few days to let that realization settle in. He won’t tell his family (who weren’t cursed with self-awareness) – not that he thinks they’ll believe him. When Mephisto finally reemerges, he has resolved to accept this new version of reality. One of the first characters he sees when he returns to school is Luke. Luke smiles at him, and Mephisto’s resolve is strengthened. If Luke can come to terms with this, then he should as well.

He may not be real, but he still feels things. That is enough. Sometimes it isn’t, and Mephisto will feel heartbroken all over again – the pointlessness washing over his fake little world. In those moments, he will seek out solace – usually from Luke, Satan, or MC/you (if you still play the game).

When Mephisto isn’t feeling hurt (hell, even when he is Mephi strikes me as a fan of hurt/comfort tropes) he’ll try to romance you before he’s allowed to. Recently, he had started to get along with you and even started to like and respect you a bit. In that sense, he’s glad that he’s self-aware. He doesn’t have to wait anymore.