#i would rather try my luck in a lottery

[einsatzzz]

i hate ju/mp fes/ta!!! why do you have so many k/hr merch sets in your lineup?? how dare these sets look all so good!!! more than that, i hate hiba/ri kyo/ya!!! im a hbr anti now!!! he broke into my house and took everything from me, my room space, my soul, my money, EVEN MY WIFE??!!!

[hazbinhazmeinachokehold]

The gang + powerful overlord reader who is trying to reform

A/n: Tbh I don't have the strongest grasp on what makes an overlord an overlord but I tried. Everything here is platonic!

Warning: Very slight alluding to suicide. It's in one sentence and not supposed to be about suicide but I just wanted to warn y'all in case.

(Not beta read!)

You honestly didn't want to be an overlord. But if you had some power maybe the citizens of hell would leave you alone. And you were admittedly powerful. Which wasn't by your own doing, just like in the living world everything was down to luck. And you won the lottery. So you decided to spend the money and became an overlord. Just to lower the chance of demons pestering you.

It worked. It worked too well. You took out a few overlords, it was dirty. You caught them off guard in the middle of going about their life. You don't keep up with politics. To your surprise, you took out two heavy hitters. Which did result in people not pestering you. But not just that it resulted in them outright avoiding you. You didn't feel good about killing them, you just killed as many as you thought would need to make you noteable. If you had just killed the two it would have removed more unnecessary deaths that you caused.

People would literally light themselves on fire rather than be near you. Out of fear of what gruesome way you would kill them. Not that you would kill them but rumors spread. It went from you just stabbing the overlords to torturing them in the most messed up way possible. You being this insanely powerful and sadistic being. That was the only way they could imagine you killing some of the most powerful creatures in hell.

So it was like that for years. As you were walking around the death and carnage you didn't mean to cause. Amidst all the screams you heard a TV playing. You check it out and it was some sort of ad. You recognized Angel from Val. Whenever Velvet was the one to show up at meetings she would always manage to bring up her and the other Vee's social media presence. Which with Val would involve his pornos. At least he's able to escape from that prick sometimes. Despite the glitch he was somehow causing and his face being hidden you also recognized Alastor.

You didn't know much about your colleague's personal lives. You barely showed up at the meeting but this piqued your interest. But it was quickly cut off by the news.

"Breaking news in hell today!" One of the broadcasters, Katie, spoke, "We have just received word from the Heaven embassy that the next extermination is happening sooner than ever before!"

Well fuck you guess. You were never worried about exterminations. Not only did you have a safe area then none of the angels seemed to visit, if they killed you you'd be out of this dumpster fire. Granted you could go to an even worse dumpster fire but you didn't know that for sure.

But you were interested in whatever that first ad was for. Granted everyone was panicking so it wasn't like you could ask anyone about it. However, the news cut right back to the ad.

"Welcome to the Hazbin Hotel!" A woman with an x over her eye spoke.

It cut to Husk (Who you've only heard snippets about from Alastor.) and Angel.

"Welcome to the Hazbin Hotel." Husk's eyes lingered below him. Clearly reading a script. If his eyes didn't give it away his monotone voice certainly did. "Can I help you with anything?"

"I've been a bad boy. And I need a big strong daddy to put me in my place." Angel moaned. There was a slight sigh coming from behind the camera. Okay ew. You were not trying to see porn while going for a walk. Just as you were about to walk away Angel spoke up again, "On the path to redemption!"

Oh! That sounded... quite nice actually. You didn't exactly believe in the idea. But a chance to get away and even a chance to redeem yourself was a very nice idea.

You went to the hotel's door and racked against the door. Which was kind of stupid. Hotel doors don't need to be knocked on but it still felt like the right thing to do. The fucking princess of hell herself opened the door with a somewhat panicky smile plastered on her face.

"Hello-" She bit her lip "One second." She left but left the door open a creek, "Vaggie it happened again!" She yelled you could hear the rest of what she was saying but you saw a red glow approaching the door.

Before you knew what was happening your hand (and whole body was being shaken by the Radio demon himself, "Why hello y/n!" His staticky voice greeted, "Are you here to watch this wayward adventure fail as well? Or perhaps you aim to entertain it?" Alastor unnerved you. While you were the same on power level he was unpredicted any vengeful thoughts he had were hidden behind his smile.

He was gently pushed away by Charlie. "So sorry about the wait, just wasn't expecting another powerful overlord." She vaguely gestured to Alastor, "So do you want to check in?" Her voice was cautiously hopeful.

"Yep!"

Her eyes turned the size of saucers, "OK! Great so um sorry I'm just so excited! You can go choose your room! A few are already occupied by our guests and staff! But it's pretty easy to tell which rooms are taken." She rambled. As she guided you through the hotel the woman with an x over her eye pointed a spear at you as you passed by.

A short one-eyed girl scattered around. The exact opposite of how she was in the ad. She stabbed a bug with a whole knife getting dangerously close to Husk being at the end of her knife in the process.

Angel glanced at you and any color his already pure white face had drained. Uh oh.

"One minute." You said and walked over to the spider demon, "Fyi just to let you know I also want to kill Val. Just say the word and I might finally be able to go through with it." You said in a hushed voice. He was still tense but visibly relaxed.

You soon found a room and got somewhat set up. You'd have to bring some stuff from your house tomorrow. But today you decided to just collapse onto your bed. While your first impressions weren't of a super chill place, it did give the impression of a family. Maybe your life wouldn't be so much of a living hell here.

[theproseshechose]

I am so over getting over you. I've been doing it for years and honestly, I'm starting to think it's one of the things I'm just naturally bad at. Every morning I wake up and think, this is the day I'll be free, and then I see a toothbrush or a shadow or my own stupid face in the mirror, and I'm right back where I started. t's embarrassing how little I've moved on.

You're it. The person. Like the capital-letter kind. There's no denying it anymore, even though I've tried. God, how I've tried. You're the person I measure all other people against, it's unfair to them, really. They walk in and say something like "I prefer dogs over cats" and I think Well, she would never say that. I can't stop doing it. You're the standard, the ruler, the whole damn measuring tape. And I am so tired of pretending otherwise.

I'm tired of pretending I haven't replayed every glance, every half-smile, every second of us that felt like it might have been real. Tired of pretending I don't ache for the sound of your voice and the way it softened when it was just us. I'm tired of pretending I didn't see the way you looked at me. - That look wasn't nothing. It just wasn't. You didn't look at anyone else that way. - Tired of acting like I didn't notice the way you stood closer to me than you had to. Tired of convincing myself your laughter around me wasn't different, wasn't softer, wasn't ours, and of convincing myself I was just imagining things. Because I wasn't. I was someone to you and I know it. I'm done acting like the way you looked at me was just a coincidence. Like we weren't a little bit extraordinary, even if only for a moment. You've always been the person, no matter how many times I've tried to swap you out for someone else — someone easier.

When you disappeared, it felt final. Like a door slamming shut, a light going out. I thought, That's it. That's all I get of you. I cried in grocery store parking lots, in bed, in the shower while the conditioner sat too long in my hair. I cried so much I got bored of crying, which is a weird thing to feel. But now? Now you're back and I don't know if it's luck or destiny or just dumb coincidence, but I want to believe it means something.

I thought you were gone forever and now you're here, or at least close enough to count as here and I get to hope for you again. Do you know how wild that feels? Like winning the lottery and finding out it's not cash, it's something better — time with you. I'm so grateful - stupidly, deliriously grateful for it. And yes, maybe it will hurt. Maybe I will embarrass myself, but I want to hope now.

Honestly, what's left to lose? I've already made every mistake in the book when it comes to you and maybe I'll make a hundred more. But I'd rather make those mistakes, one after another, than sit here wondering what might have been. Hope, when it comes to you, feels like the highest, purest thing I've ever touched. If humiliation is the price of trying, then fine: Here's my dignity. Take it.

If it hurts me, it hurts me. If it crushes me, it crushes me. I don't want to be practical or logical or whatever else it is people tell you to be when the person you love doesn't love you back. I want to hope. For you, I'd fall flat on my face a thousand times and then I'd get back up, knees scraped and teeth gritted... because I know you're worth it.

I just want the chance to show you who I am now. Even if it's only once. Even if it breaks my heart all over again. Even if it's just for one day, one conversation, I want you to see me. To see who I've become. The real me. The one who never stopped looking for you, even when you weren't there. I've become someone you'd recognise and also not recognize, someone you'd be curious about. I've been out in the world and now I have stories and scars and things I know you'd find fascinating, if you'd just let me tell you. You'd look at me and see someone you could sit on the floor with - our knees touching while we talk about everything and nothing until the world fades out.

I'm not a little kid with too many feelings and nowhere to put them. I think you'd be impressed by the way I walk into rooms without apologizing anymore, the way I know things now, the way my hands look now when they're doing things that matter. I wish you could meet the person I became without you, for you. A person who loves you so much it's ridiculous. And you'd probably laugh at me, but that's okay, too. I like the sound of your laugh. Even when it's not for me.

Maxi Merlin

[luveline]

You probably won't see this because your inbox must be overflowing but I have always wondered how you got started here? I do requests as well and for nearly two years I have been practically begging for them and no one really wants to ask for anything and if they do and I fill it, no one really reads it. I know the first response for many is probably well maybe my writing is the problem but being modest, I have posted plenty of fics in my time that get a lot of positive attention. It just seems to be requests that are the issue. I have all but given up on asking for them at this point because it feels embarrassing to keep begging and even more mortifying to post them and have the notes not hit 20. I've noticed people tend to inundate the same authors (like yourself) with requests rather than spreading them throughout blogs. Did you ever have this issue at the beginning? If so, how did you overcome the sadness and disappointment and continue to want to give to others and the community? If not, do you have any advice? Because the lack of response is so disheartening that it makes me not want to write for others anymore.

Hello! Just to preface, I’m worried my answer isn’t very helpful, so before you read please know I’m absolutely not trying to be an idiot or insensitive, I hope this doesn’t read that way! pls think of a /gen tag the whole time lovely

omg no I would honestly never assume it’s down to writing! I fear with tumblr it’s sort of like a lottery for if your fic will get seen cos of the tag system, like if it’s not a super popular tag then you have to hope it gets reblogged enough to get into the TOP section but that barely ever happens especially for requests! I got started writing fics just by writing them, but I do remember of course the early stages of my blog where I didn’t have many followers and didn’t get many requests, and I remember too how disheartening it was!! But, that being said when I first started writing fics I had no idea just how popular they could get, so I think I was saved from becoming too upset because I literally didn’t realise more than 200 people could like a fic if that makes sense? I remember my first Remus fic, baby fever, got like 100 notes in a few days and I just was so happy, so whenever I’m feeling disheartened by a lack of response I try to remember how grateful I was back then for much fewer interactions, and at the same time, a lot of my works I was writing because I was lonely and desperately wanted company, so sometimes it didn’t even matter to me if people read them because I was writing them as a sort of self indulgence, so I think that helped me not feel too down. I feel worried saying this because you say that your requests aren’t hitting 20 notes so I really don’t want to sound tone deaf suggesting you try to keep your head up, because I do think if my fics were not reaching my audience I’d feel just as disheartened. I’ve found that my fics do better now because I have more followers that see the fic/request, and I’ve collected them over time through many many fics and I have to assume much luck with the tags! Like, I believe whole heartedly that you write well, and if you’ve been doing it for two whole years, the only reason I could think of that you’re not getting the attention you deserve is bad luck, it’s really not nice to spend a lot of time and energy on something and have it go unseen. I think when I first started I just kept thinking, if I keep writing, this next one will be the one people like, and I still feel that way now, and I still feel disappointed sometimes when not many people comment on one cos it feels like a reflection of the quality of your work, but I think there are just so many factors so try not to blame yourself for it, I think it’s just a weird algorithm or something. I wish I could tell you why some blogs get more requests than others but I’m honestly not sure why it happens!! And I think it’s okay to not want to write for others if you feel unappreciated genuinely, it must feel really awful to put effort into things and then wonder if the person who asked managed to read it!! I hope whatever happens that you can find joy in writing and find an audience, and I think you know already that your writing isn’t the issue !!

[seyoonlgc]

GROWING UP.

Or trying to. Just a little.

Seyoon's motto had always been live fast, die young. We must thrive off the excitement of our present and worry little about the future. If there was no room for concern over what was ahead, then certainly, there was no need to consider the bygones.

Yet this part of his past kept on following him. It would borrow other people's lips and hands to reach him. A constant reminder. A persistent shadow. A ghost that refused to be forgotten until properly addressed by his name. Seyoon got the message and was ready to finally cave into the silent demand.

"I am five years older now."

He sat down crosslegged and flipped open the worn pages of the journal. The icy wind stung his cheeks and stiffened his fingers, a sharp contrast to the blazing hot summer featured in this diary entry. Simple, crooked words filled the pages, innocent and hopeful. The affection laced between each one cut deep.

Seyoon knew this was his fault and that not everyone would be or could be readily harmed by love. Every clench of his chest and twist of his stomach happened because of his own inability to digest what should come naturally and be greatly treasured by people. He was the one born sort of empty and raised to become even more hollow.

"I miss swimming together too," he said softly. "I still have the acorn collection," he whispered, voice so low he could barely hear it himself. The smile tugging at his lips was a bitter one and ordinarily, this would be where he tossed the journal and fled.

This time he pushed on, letting the blade of memories sink deeper.

Over time the writing became neater and more complex vocabulary was introduced. The writer's personality changed and his style did too. The only thing that failed to alter in these entries was the precious fondness.

"You've always been too good for this world, Ash. This is why it's easy to become disappointed. You should have known better than to lean on me." A press-dried four-leaf clover fell out of the pages. "Haven't I tried my best to dissuade you? Come on, all those questionable behaviors? Recklessness. Shitty grades. I was trying to show you I had no future and that I was going to be a loser. A to-be-forgotten nobody who's not worthy of being liked or trusted by you."

He closed his fingers over the fragile clover and felt it crumble against his palm.

In their barely separated backyards, there were patches of clovers. Vibrant green and soft to lay upon. Seyoon seemed to be able to find a four-leaf every time he bent down while Asher could spend hours and come up with nothing. It was luck, but seemingly useless as Seyoon would much rather just win the lottery instead. Here, he handed the one he found that Sunday afternoon to an irritated, luckless Asher, pinching at the boy's flushed cheeks and laughing over his frustration. Don't worry about your lack of fortune - we'll just share mine! I will always be here anyway.

"Had I known..." Seyoon's lips trembled. "Had I known." He shut his eyes and went back to that night. Once again his cell phone was ringing, the sound increasingly louder against his ears until it became an accusatory screech. "I would have picked up the call." With his admission, the ringing stopped.

Finally.

Blessed silence.

"It does no good to look back. No good to regret."

He unclenched his hand. The clover had survived surprisingly well, its edges mangled but overall shape held. It even managed to stubbornly keep all four of its leaves.

"But let's just say that I do...And I am sorry for breaking my promise." Seyoon raised his hand with his pathetic offering, crushed clover covered in a thin layer of green dust. "Would you forgive me?"

He looked up at the night sky, searching for the moon between the dark clouds. The wind howled, and the breezes circled. Seyoon kept his hand steady...and waited for an answer.

[baphometaverse]

Saw the name Kevin three times today from three different sources, don't freak out I'm a youtube lurker also. Hope you're well king <3

Thank you and you too, friend.

All-time favorite quote:

"But then I viddied that thinking is for the gloopy ones and the oomny ones use, like, inspiration and what Bog sends." - Alex DeLarge

The other day I wasn't dealing with numbers in any way, not even eg. license plates or billboards etc, but saw the same 5-number sequence, twice on my two receipts that day (I could have subconsciously made this happen but my subconscious would have had to have planned it for several months). I said fuck it and bought a lottery ticket for the first time (wish me luck but I don't think I'll win- had to do something with those numbers tho I guess).

Honestly in the past several years I have been trying to get in touch with "weaponizing schizo mode" to put that in a joking way, I mean exercising one's intuition or tuning to synchronicity or whatever it could be called, symbiosis between self and the other. I don't necessarily believe there's reason we can fathom to the unseen we anthropomorphize, but there is often "rhyme" - or at least irony which can even be truly bitter and troubling, something like Loki trickster aspect when it's sinister.

But yeah, if it's a muscle just trying to get it in shape. That line in the blues song "I should have listened/to my second mind" - one thing that could be powerful is realizing how often second guessing or third guessing is or isn't the way to go, as a habit. I think the best thinking is something more like openness or listening rather than talking. Debate/dialogue is mostly so gross on the 'net, conscious logical thought is often extremely useless, and a facade masking the emotional and unconscious, which is vastly more tricky/intelligent and sophisticated.

(Recently there's the talk of people having no internal dialogue, and therefore being intellectually inferior or even "NPCs". Barf. Does a surfer catching perfect waves have to think in dialogue, or someone making genius plays in a sport, or an artist or musician...)

The "flow state" is a state to try and get, to have as much of in life as possible IMO.

All that said, some vigilance to try and keep purely in good tune (not to sound all new age-y there) is to your benefit. I'd tell you with caution from experience watch out for trying to be in tune with the schizo mode when in duress or high emotion. (Or under the influence haha.) I've taken a lot of risks in my life doing dumb shit but no more pushing luck/statistics so much personally. It can lead to trouble wanting it so much and being forceful I guess. Not me but I know a dude who the chick he was seeing, often told him she had fantasies of him breaking into her place with a ski mask on and forcing himself on her. When they were going through a breakup he got stoned and thought fulfilling that scenario would be the way to win her back. Didn't work out good for him, that dude went to jail! (Not for seckshual assault tho thank Christ it didn't get that far, just the b&e)

So yeah, sorry for this being super long but this is something I'm interested in and didn't know how to put all this more succinctly.

TLDR: I think it's like a muscle or skill that can be honed, and to have fun with it in lighter things, and for heavy things sleep on it!! and to not fuck around being heavily influenced by toxins or dark shit- could end up just an urban legend, a story of someone who did something stupid, and jah always deserve more than that.

[christophercolbath]

I try so hard not to fake who I am around those that I love. But there are versions of me that are older than the one that's noticing this now. And I haven't met all of them yet.

Let me explain. No there's too much. Let me sum up.

I use Parts Therapy to help me identify my trauma and learn to speak to it. I've identified at least 5 parts that exist solely to protect me from potential danger/trauma similar to previous trauma.

The oldest part is simply named Monster, my main protector. He protects me from actual threats, verbal or physical. He's feral and overly protective, jumping to the fore with any perceived attacks.

Following right behind is Timid Mouse, my fear response. If Monster can't handle it, or isn't *supposed* to handle it, Mouse takes over and ruuuuuns away! Ultimately, he's looking for a place to hide.

Grumpy IT guy is the one that knows all the computer things and would much rather be doing anything else.

Rockstar is the performer of the group. If I have to speak or sing in front of others, he takes over and takes it up a notch.

Finally, I recently found the Bouncer, who stands between me and any negative things my parents might have done. I won the parent lottery, so that kinda makes sense. He keeps me from blaming them for *anything* They might have done. There are some things that I remember that qualify as "abuse" but they were so few I often didn't remember them unless prompted.

Those are my primary parts and what they mean to me. They are more, but they are very specific or personal. I expect your next question is: What do you do with them once you have them?

The amygdala, your animal brain, is capable of taking over your entire body to react to any stimuli you face. If you're scared or angry or lustful, your amygdala can Do Things Without Your Input.

I use my parts to help me identify and classify my emotional reactions to things. I know when certain things happen, one of them with come up to handle it unless or until I spend some time on that emotion.

If I blow up at someone with no real provocation it's likely that Monster has appeared.

If I don't respond to messages and just go silent until someone reaches out, Timid Mouse is likely in charge.

Learning to calm the animal within to avoid hurting others is my primary goal and Parts Therapy combined with EMDR (Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing) have helped me immensely. It took focus and their was lots of crying and pain, but I'm far more capable of being a decent human now without all of those automatic reactions.

That's enough for now. I'll just leave you with a few questions.

What are your parts?

Why are they there?

How can you learn to help them to only respond to actual danger?

Good luck. See you in the world!

[allthingsdarkanddirty]

Reeled into a fake marriage with a merman...

How was I supposed to know my new boss was the owner’s nephew? Now, I’ve been fired for speaking up about his roaming hands. And if that isn’t bad enough, I get home early to find my boyfriend bumping the girl next door!

With nowhere to go, I decide to join the Starlight Lottery. The promise of fresh air and a job on an alien planet where no one knows me sounds just about perfect. I’m ecstatic when I’m accepted immediately.

But when I arrive at Aquaria, it’s not a job as a marine botanist that awaits me, but marriage to a triton! Cetius has a powerful tail and an upper body that puts the best bodybuilder to shame. But there’s a catch.

He doesn’t really want a wife. He just needs me to pretend to make his aging grandsire happy in his last days. After, I can choose between a pampered life under the waves or trying my luck on a small human settlement at the surface.

Too bad not everyone’s happy with the arrangement. Some would rather I end up as sushi for the sharks of this planet. And worst yet, I think I’m falling for my pretend triton mate.

Welcome to the Starlight Brides – where luck is optional, but the hot alien is guaranteed!About Lynnea:

Lynnea Lee is a recovered serial monogamist who now lives in her forever home with the man of her dreams. Still hopelessly addicted to the feeling of falling in love she now feeds her habit with a routine prescription of romance novels and rampant imagination. When she is not dreaming up fantastical stories of love, lust and romance, her hobbies include talking to her plants, putting on a full face of makeup to stay home on Saturday nights and hugging her dog longer than is appreciated.

Find Lynnea Online: Amazon: amazon.com/LynneaLee BookBub: bookbub.com/LynneaLee Facebook: facebook.com/LynneaWrites Goodreads: goodreads.com/author/LynneaLee Instagram: instagram.com/lynnea.lee.writes TikTok: tiktok.com/@lynnea.lee.writes Web: lynnealee.com

[jones7thavenue]

2024 Diary Entry No. 2

I'm so done for today, man. I wish there weren't anymore lottery tickets, to begin with, number one. NUmber two, I wish I didn't have the time to slave walk to the 7 and bitch about the shit the whole way there and the whole way back, because I'd rather raise Maxi than anything else at this point. But, since the state is being s big dicked bitch, the best thing I'll do is to not think about it. Like, ever again. Otherwise, should I ever see her again...

I'm on Tekken 7's online mode again, waiting until the elders are sleeping like babies and not acting Bickerson like again. I'm so sure that picking a fight with others has cost me everything, except the privilege to live in my parents' abode and abding by them and doing chores for them, even when it's my red flag and I'm so calm, even though I'm in excruciating pain. I'm replacing everything I lost, too, because men who drug and drink are pigs, so voting and dating are no longer priorites, well, because I no longer give a fuck. Like, never again. Until God appoints and provides. I no longer give anymore fucks about dating. Period.

I'm just not going to dayhab tomorrow, I'm feeling. I can't wait to just watch a movie on my PS4 alone in peace. I got demoted back to expert as Claudio. It pissed me off so much I quit my online session quietly. I'm going to go on my ex's PSN profile and see if I can do better there, just to be fair, at least. Oh, and change my player labels and shit, too, before I forget to again, now that Christmas is finally over. I'm not gonna get my hopes up without a fucking fight.

I already got to Tekken God Omega on my side of the fence, so let's fucking go! Glad I got Tekken 6 to relive the action, but Azazel is a bitch to defeat, so good luck wiith that.

I've also done a bunch of Esperanto lessons on the Duolingo app, too. I wish a motherfucker would even try to take my third place spot from me. *winks* *chuckles* Maybe I should try to write future entries in other languages to expand my photographic memory box a lot more.

[mysticstarlightduck]

Thanks for the tag, @rickie-the-storyteller!

Your question (for whoever does this next): How would your OCs react to being stranded in a blizzard while far away from civilization? Who would be most likely to die and who would be most likely to survive?

How would your main OC react if they found out they won the lottery?

(For the sake of doing something different today, I'm going to use some of the character cast of my Gothic Victorian Fantasy WIP Enchanted Illusions to answer this one!)

Valentine Concordium (a.k.a my beloved 200-year-old teenage vampire OC with isolation issues, who is one of the many vampires in this story) - The thing is, this vampire boy is actually already insanely rich (as in, a millionaire doesn't come close to the amount of money he's got), but that is all inheritance. (For reference of what I mean by "insanely rich", he literally lives in a castle - it's a small chateau but same difference) He has like, 0 idea of how human customs work, and the lottery is one of our inventions. So, he'd be endearingly (and utterly) clueless about it. Like, "What does this mean? Is this... a human thing? So you're saying this means they're giving me the amount of money that's written in here? Why? I don't need it, why are people giving me money? What did I do? I'm so confused. What am I supposed to do with this? You humans are weird, I'm going home. You... can keep this, I think."

Thaddeus Lockhill (a.k.a my street urchin OC who is deeply indebted to the local mob) - Lets out an inhuman squeal upon seeing the lottery papers and realizing he is now a millionaire. Might pass out, or start jumping around in glee, it depends. Maybe both. "Finally! This is the fucking day of deliverance, baby! Take that, Reaper Felix! You're working for me now, and I'm free. I can't believe this, oh my goodness!"

Harriet Sharppe (a.k.a my OC who happens to be a strange young girl from a disgraced House trying to uncover the truth about her family's secrets - which includes trying to find her parents, whom she firmly believes/knows are still alive)- Would be surprised, but otherwise not think much of it anyways. She already lives with her cousin in the family mansion, and though they are technically outcasts from elite social circles for personal and secret reasons, they are still incredibly rich, so winning the lottery wouldn't matter much to her anyways. She would likely donate it to charity or give it to a friend in need because she knows that there are ways to put that money to better use rather than to forget it in the mansion's full coffers.

Philip Kershaw (a.k.a Wilhelmina Tallow's love interest who is looking to make things right in the city, now that he is aware of what is happening unseen around them) - Philip would be thrilled, honestly. Though he lives in a mansion with his many siblings, they're like, sinking in all kinds of debts possibly known to man and their long-lost grandma is thinking about taking back the estate. Which is not good, like at all, especially with his older brother getting sick (basically he has this fictional world's version of tuberculosis, but it's oh so much worse). Winning the lottery would mean that he has a chance to pay their debts and keep their old miser of a grandma from kicking them to the streets for the house, and likely find a cure for Lewis before his illness gets much worse. So yeah, winning the lottery would be a pretty great thing to happen to them.

Cailean Seabroke (my newly created Selkie OC, who is trying to recover his stolen magic coat from a monster hunter that is hell-bound on killing him) - Would be like "Great, now I have a bunch of useless money I don't need and still haven't found a way to get my coat back from that maniac. Someone tell me what I'm supposed to do with this now? 'Oh, At least I'll be rich and fashionable when that hunter inevitably finds me and hangs my head on her wall' - this some bullshit right here, I'm telling you that. Just my stupid luck - I finally get rich, but only when am still in an absurdly high danger of a very painful death. Amazing.

Tagging (gently with no pressure) - @writernopal, @tabswrites, @elshells, @aziz-reads, @cabbojage, @clairelsonao3

OKAY!

WRITEBLRS if you're seeing this, you're legally obligated to reblog with an answer, and then a new question for the next person!

Here's the start:

Which of your OCs is most likely to punch somebody in the face?

[popopretty]

Pandora Hearts 15th Anniversary Museum

I went to the Pandora Hearts museum the other day and even though I don’t think about the series any more now, it brings back so much memory because it was the first manga I ever got into.

It is called a museum but the venue is rather small, more like an art gallery. Because of Corona, they only allow about 20 people at the same time, and you will have to win a lottery to go in the first few days, aka the busiest day.

The inside is beautiful. There is a greeting from Jun at the entrance and each character featured this time has their own little “corner” that showcase their introductions, their remarkable scenes, and special comments Jun wrote for them. (I took a lot of pictures but bcause of Tumblr’s limit, am just going to share a few of them)

Walking inside, there are the standees of all the anniversary art that you can take photos with.

On the left side is a board Q&A board with Jun, and it has her hand drawing on some of the questions which is really cute xD The content of the Q&A is included in the “Usui hon” that are sold in the museum shop.

And of course, more beautiful arts.

There are also Jack, Vincent and Gil on the floor. While Vincent’s one says “feel free to step on me”, Gil’s is like “if you are going to step on Vince, then step on me instead!” 🤣 So cute <3

The museum goods sell all the stuff related to Pandora Hearts, including the goods from the Pandora Hearts & VnC cafe last time. If anyone is interested in any of the goods, please let me know because I might be able to help you get them (can’t promise because there are countries I cant ship to now. But I’m gonna try my best). You can check out the goods from the following links and send me a message if you are interested (please note that some goods are sold out or not available anymore).

https://magazine.jp.square-enix.com/gfantasy/special/PH_Museum/goods.html

https://pandora-vanitas-cafe.com/tokyo/goods.php

I tried my luck with the random items too and didn’t get Leo or Elliot as I hoped but all of them are so cute 🥰

My favourite item from the shop must be this “usui hon” which translates into “thin book” in Japanese but it is packed with information, interviews and illustrations. There is even a page where Jun sketches out everyone preparing their outfit for this 15th anniversary.

Elliot telling Leo that he looks better when his eyes are not hidden 🥺

Another wholesome activity in the museum this time is that you can listen to nine letters that Oz wrote to each character at the venue, if you purchase the voice guide service. And when you buy the goods from the shop, for every 2000 yen you will receive a random bonus card showing each character’s reaction when they get the letter (and one Oz’s reaction when they write back to him too).

The contents of the letters are also printed in the usui hon and all of them are so lovely and endearing and packed with Oz’s feelings to each of the characters that I feel like crying reading them TvT

And I know I’m not allowed to do this, but let me just put the translation of Oz’s letter to Gil here, just so you can get an idea of how nice it is… And if you are interested in the other letters I would be so happy if you buy the actual book. It is very cheap for its quality (about $15 - shipping not included) and I will gladly help you get it from the museum if you want to.

“Dear Gil,

Do you remember when we first met?

Back then, you were so small and frail that I thought I had to protect you.

But now you are older than me, you have grown much taller and your face has become cooler too.

Wow, somehow I am getting angry here. It is such a pain to look up at you, you know?

But inside, you are still the same Gil. The same crybaby, the same worrywart, the same person that cherishes me more than anyone else. Nothing has changed at all.

I was so happy.

When you went so far as to sacrifice your left arm to rush to my side.

When you told me “As long as you are Oz, it is fine.”

I bet you don’t know how much you have saved me, right?

I’m sorry I always keep you waiting.

You are my proud servant, family, friend and an irreplaceable precious existence to me.

Thank you, Gilbert.”

[takerfoxx]

Another day, another year. Afraid I'm still chugging away at that damned RD chapter and will do so for some time yet, but hey, let's kick things off on a positive note! Here's the next installment of WN girls watch The Rebellion Story, this time taking place from when Homura's labyrinth dissolves to the birth of Homucifer.

And yes, I know last time I said that the next update would be the last, but c'mon. When has my predictions ever been in any way accurate?

Reminder:

G=Gretchen

H=Homulilly

Op=Ophelia

Ok=Oktavia

Ca=Candeloro/Mami

Ch=Charlotte

...

=Homura’s labyrinth dissolves=

Ch: So, is that it? Is this finally the real world?

Ca: I think so.

H: Well, I guess that’s my corpse.

Ch: I don't think you’re dead yet.

H: It’s kind of an inevitability.

Ca: You know, for someone who just learned that the last several months of her life were a complete lie, I seem to be taking things rather well. I mean, what do I even do now that it’s over? Just go home?

Ch: Hush. Not the time.

...

Op: And here’s everyone in that fever-dream that was actually real, all safe and sound!

Ch: They’re in for one hell of a rude awakening.

Ok: Okay, I see Hitomi and Kyousuke, that tweaking teacher, some random dude, and Madoka’s family. Again! Where’s my family?

Ch: Who knows?

H: I suppose I just didn’t know them.

Op: I’m more interested in that random dude. Who was he?

Ok: Who the hell knows? Homura’s second cousin, twice removed?

G: What about Hitomi and Kyousuke’s families? Were they brought over?

Ok: Guess not.

G: You’d think that they’d notice how empty their houses are.

Ok: I guess. Maybe they were there, and they’re just sort of offscreen.

Op: That still doesn’t explain that random dude.

Ok: Babe, let it go.

Op: I know, I know, but now that I’ve seen him, I can’t stop thinking about him. Like, who is he?

...

Op: Well, this is kind of tragic.

H: Everything about this is.

Op: I mean, I get my girlfriend back from the dead, but now that’s it’s over, she’s gone!

Ch: I’m sorry, Ophelia, but I for one am very glad that I’m now out of the picture.

G: It wasn’t that bad, was it?

Ch: A nightmare doll and an idiot child. Face it, I drew the short straw in this.

...

G: Huh? Wait? What’s going on?

H: You’re coming to take me away, I suppose. Thank God.

Ok: Literally. Thank Madoka.

Op: Godoka.

Ch: There’s that Law of Cycles thing again.

G: Oh, yeah. They never did explain what that was. Hey, do you suppose that their afterlife is like ours? Like, do they have a Freehaven and everything?

Ca: I don't think so. I think whatever witch-erasing wish you made, it changed things.

Op: Nothing stopping the new afterlife from making a Freehaven.

G: Maybe it’s a...a real afterlife! I mean, one that doesn’t try to be like the world of the living, and instead is all...spiritual with...clouds and halos?

Op: No offense, but that sounds boring as fuck.

G: Yeah, I realized that when I said it.

Ch: Well, maybe in going there, you’re changed on a spiritual level? I mean, you lose your mortal body and become one with some kind of all-seeing consciousness or something?

H: You mean like Nirvana.

Ok: The band?

Op: BORING!

Ch: You wouldn’t get bored in that state, since boredom is a mortal concept!

Ok: And I’ll have you know that Nirvana’s music was absolutely revolutionary and not boring at all-

Op: No, babe. She means Nirvana as if in the religious concept, not the band. The band was named after the concept.

Ok: Oh. Uh, now that I think about it, that’s kind of obvious.

...

=Madokami descends=

G: Oh, wow.

Op: Jesus. Talk about rolling out the red carpet.

Ok: Pink carpet.

Op: Pink is a shade of red. Just...lightish red.

G: Is that me? Is that what my...uh...

Ok: Goddess.

G: I’m not a goddess!

Ok: Oh, yeah? What do you call that, then?

Ch: You do look pretty godlike.

Op: ...was that a green elephant?

...

G: Oh. My God.

Op: How can it be ‘your God’ when you are God?

G: Don't call me that. Please.

Op: So, hey. How many prayers gets us holy luck in the lottery?

G: I’m not God!

Ch: Yeah, but it looks like you would’ve been. Regretting things now?

G: No! I don't want to be God! Why would anyone want to be God?

Op: Omnipotence?

G: And do what with it? Like you said, it would all just be so boring!

Op: Yeah, I guess you have a point. Also, care to explain the green elephant?

G: No.

...

Ok: Well, there we are again.

Ch: Oh goody.

Op: So, you’re like Shinigami or something? Come to take Homura away?

Ca: That would leave the two of us...yeah.

Op: Yup.

=awkward=

...

G: What’s going on with my hair?

Ok: No matter what, you get the stupidly long appendages.

G: At least with the legs it makes sense!

Ok: ...no, it doesn’t!

Op: Do you think they’re prehensile? Like, can you use them to pick things up or something?

G: If I’m God, why would I need to?

Ch: Oh, so now you’re okay with being God!

G: I’m not, she is!

...

G: Well, I guess this is the end. Homura gets taken away.

H: Believe it or not, this is actually kind of a relief.

Op: I’ll say. You get...basically what we have now. Together with your honey-bun in the afterlife.

G: Did you just call me honey-bun?

Ch: Kind of dragging this out, aren’t they?

G: I’m starting to get a weird feeling.

...

Op: Um, why did it suddenly get all sinister?

=Homura grabs Madokami’s wrists=

H: Wait! What?

Op: HOLY-

Ch: What the fuck?

=stares in silence for a bit=

Op: Is...Is Homura turning evil?

H: What. What. What.

G: What’s going on? Why is this...

=more silence=

G: Please. Stop.

Ok: On it!

=pause=

Op: Uh...well, that was a plot twist.

H: What in the name of all that is holy is going on?

G: Homulilly, please remember, this isn’t you, you didn’t do this.

H: I know. I know. But...clearly I would have gotten to a point that...but why?

Ch: What is she even doing, though? What’s going on?

Op: Yeah, I mean, this is what she wanted, right? To...be with Madoka with no Incubator bullshit?

Ch: You would think!

Ok: Um...hey, who’s up for a break?

H: No.

Ok: No?

H: No. I’m not leaving this hanging. I need to know what she does and why. Play it.

Op: Lilly, you sure about this?

H: I am. I need to know.

Ok: Okie-dokie...

=plays=

...

G: Wait, so she pulled me out of...me?

Ch: Oh.

H: Oh, what?

Ch: I’m starting to...never mind. We’ll talk about it after.

Op: Jesus, look at this mess! What’s she becoming?

...

H: So they save me from being a witch only for...I don't get it!

Ca: I don't think she’s becoming a witch. This is something else.

G: Am I...is she trapping us together or...?

...

Ok: Did she just eat the world?

H: More than that.

Op: There goes the solar system.

Ch: Galaxy.

G: She’s taken over the whole universe.

Op: This is...Wow.

...

Ok; And, okay! Random-ass knitting spool!

Ch: These animators just can’t help themselves.

H: Please. Let’s stay focused.

Ch: Sorry. It’s just...okay.

...

H: Well. There I am. In the void, and...

=frustrated noises=

Op: You okay?

H: I guess? I’m just...Wow.

=Homura crunches soul gem=

Ok: Like an egg.

Op: Finger-lickin’ good.

G: Guys...

Op: I’m sorry, but what else are we supposed to do?

G: Not crack jokes!

H: It’s okay. Let them.

=Homucifer soul gem created=

Ch: Okay, that doesn’t look evil at all!

H: What do I even need it for? What’s even the point?

...

=Kyubey’s face appears=

Op: AND NOW THIS FUCKER!

G: Times...a lot. That’s a lot of Kyubeys.

Ok: A lot, a lot! Seriously, why’s there so many?

Ca: The Incubator possesses an infinite number of physical bodies, spread out through several worlds. That’s how he manages so many Puella Magi at the same time. That is why fighting against him is ultimately futile. He cannot be destroyed or even beaten.

H: Oh? Would you like to place some money on that?

Ca: What do you mean, Homulilly?

H: I think I see where this is going. And if I’m right, this might redeem this whole movie for me!

Ch: You know you get fucking terrifying when you’re like that, right?

H: I do. And soon, so will he!

...

Op: Oh, he is scared!

H: Good. He should be.

Ok: I’m lost. So, what, your love for Madoka...broke the universe?

H: The way I see it, if my repeated looping through time gifted Madoka with the magical potential to rewrite reality with a single wish, then surely an equal, yet opposite amount of potential must rest within me. Er, her.

Ok: Opposite how?

=Homura turns into Homucifer=

Ch: Oh, wow.

Ok: DAAAMMMNNN! Homulilly, not gonna lie, but that is a look!

=Gretchen is suddenly very interested=

Op: It’s the black swan.

G: What?

Op: That new dress. It’s the black swan. From Swan Lake. You know, the ballet?

Ch: Oh, shit. Suddenly, that dance-off from earlier makes sense.

H: Does it? Does it, really?

Ch: Well, okay, no, it doesn’t. But it was still foreshadowing!

...

H: There. The Devil. If Madoka became God, there must be a Devil

G: Stop it! You’re not the Devil!

H: She is. Or at least, I would have been. The equal opposite, the shadow to God’s holy light. Restoring balance.

Op: You’re...awfully okay with all of this.

H: I understand, now. Why it’s called the Rebellion Story. This is the story of Homura’s rebellion. Against everything!

Op: And you get to fuck up Kyubey. For real.

H: Yes!

...

G: I don’t see how you can think of this as a good thing!

H: It’s the only way.

G: To do what?

H: The Incubators know about you. About the wish that you made. And they almost got you. Yes, I could have just let myself be taken away, but that wouldn’t stop them from trying again until they trapped you. This prevents that. They will never get you now.

G: Yes! Because you trapped me first!

H: I-

...

Ch: Okay, pause it.

Ok: Don't need to tell me twice...

Ch: Guys. You’re getting too into this. Remember: this is a what-if. None of this happened. Gretchen, you never erased the witches and became God. Homulilly, you never did...whatever the hell that was and became the Devil. It’s not real.

G: I know that! I just don't understand why you all are happy that this happened, that Homura did this to herself!

H: Because I just spent a whole movie learning about all the creative ways the Incubators would have psychologically tortured me to get to you! Forgive me for being glad that Homura found a way to get to them!

=a pause. And then Gretchen runs off. A moment later Homulilly rushes after her=

...

Op: So, um...

Ok: Do you think they’ll be okay?

Ch: Give them time. It’s...a lot to take in.

Op: You didn’t take how you ended up very well, either.

Ch: No, actually, I’m still fuming about that. But this is a bit different.

Ok: Yeah...

=beat=

Op: Hey, um, Candy? Hope you don't mind me asking, but what’s your take on all this?

Ca: All of what?

Op: You know! Let’s put whatever it is that Homura’s doing aside for now. Which way would’ve been better? All of us dying together and coming here while the world carries on, or Homura keeps looping until Madoka makes her big witch-erasing wish?

Ca: Why me?

Op: Well...

Ca: It’s because I’m the only one who remembers what witches are like before coming here, right?

Op: Kind of.

Ca: Well, honestly, I don't know. I don't have an answer for you. Do I love the life we have together and wouldn’t trade it for anything? Yes. Does having Madoka come down and peacefully take girls away instead of letting them become witches sound so much better? Yes. Would I give up what we have here, just throw away everything we’ve gone through and experienced together to let that happen? I don't know. Probably not. Would I think someone would be in the wrong to erase everything we have and replace it with whatever she created in its place? Maybe not.

Ok: Yeah, it’s just...I don't even know if whatever she has is even better. I mean, sure, our deal is really weird compared to what we had when we were alive, but at the same time...it’s not that different? Things still kind of work the same way? We just can’t really die or even get permanently hurt, and everyone has magic, and there’s all the other species of Magical Girl, but it’s not that different. But who knows what Madoka’s afterlife is even like?

Ch: I would say no. Honestly, the idea kind of terrifies me. What if it changes us completely? What if we become something that isn’t even human anymore?

Op: I mean, becoming a witch kind of does that?

Ch: But it’s not the same thing!

Ok: I don't know. I mean, you and I got taken away by Madoka in the movie, and we still seemed pretty human. Um, mostly.

Op: Yeah, I’m with Char on this one. I don't wanna be an angel or become one with everything or whatever the hell it is. Maybe I’m not really Kyoko Sakura anymore, but I still kind of am. Eternal peace or bliss actually sounds kind of boring. So, no Nirvana for me.

Ch: But not the band.

Op: I mean, they’re fine, just not really my thing.

Ch: Heathen.

Ca: Let’s not forget that we don't even know what Madoka’s version of the afterlife is even like. For all we know, it might not be all that different than what we have.

Op: Maybe. But would you take that risk?

Ca: Well, fortunately I don't have to. Like Charlotte said, this is a what-if. It’s not going to happen.

Ok: Does make you think, though.

Ch: Maybe a little too much.

Ca: Yeah.

=pause=

Op: Hope things are okay upstairs.

...

The door to the room that Homulilly shared with Gretchen was shut tight. Homulilly had already tried the doorknob and found it unlocked, but whether that had been because Gretchen was okay with someone following her or if she had been so upset that she had simply forgotten to lock the door wasn’t clear, so Homulilly had ended up leaving it be.

She just felt so twisted up. Watching The Rebellion Story had been one of the most emotionally harrowing experiences of her life, behind only her first few days of existence and that period of time in which Gretchen’s friend Homulilly had shown up out of nowhere and wreaked absolute chaos. Who would have known that watching a simple movie could be traumatic?

(the answer was Charlotte. Charlotte had known, and had advised against it, but of course everyone’s collective curiosity had won out, to their collective regret).

However, for as upsetting as the movie had been to her, it was now upsetting to Gretchen most of all. And Homulilly couldn’t just let things stand. Taking a deep breath, Homulilly raised her hand and rapped her bony knuckles against the door.

“Gretchen?” she said. “Can I, um. Is it okay if I come in?”

The silence that answered her question filled her heart with dread, and all of the whispering doubts that had plagued Homulilly her first few years, the same that she had worked so hard to push back and ignore, suddenly found their voices strengthened.

You screwed up.

She doesn’t want to talk to you.

You hurt her.

You don't deserve her.

You-

“Okay,” Gretchen said softly from the other side.

Sighing with relief, Homulilly opened the door and stepped inside.

[rviner]

"Wouldn't actually do it again. But it would be funny if it became a new tradition every ten years." Tarquin laughs, making a slight face to Felix's recollection of the event, or...incident. "We were climbing it, weren't we? Who's bloody idea was that, anyway? Idiots." he says about themselves, lost in amusement and nostalgia. There aren't many memories he's managed to rack up with his cousin over their lifetime, especially when his life rooted itself in England. But there was always a constant thread of connection wherever possible. Mainly Tarquin thinking how Felix had rather rotten luck in terms of the parents lottery. He keeps his attention as Felix speaks, giving a small hum in acknowledgement. "Can't she just...unbotch it? Get another one? That's what they all do, isn't it? Why they end up walking around with...piggy noses." his words turn into an absent mumble as he gets his phone, trying to find the elusive long lost nosejob Claire. "Could swear Tavi's had one or two." he adds in a mutter, only catching Felix's last words faintly and bopping his head up with a grin. "What was that? Orgy? What, this lot? Oh, yeah. All gets rather close in the end, doesn't it?"

Tarquin laughs again, offering his arms out in a shrug and the best smile he can muster that only ever reads as mischievous from the gleam in his eyes. "I can't control being sociable, Felix. People like me. Not much I can do about that, I'm afraid." but Tarquin can acknowledge that it's been easy climb for him over the previous years, especially considering the connections are pre-existing and in many ways either link back to his sister, mother or the rest of his family. He hasn't needed to try, but he's certainly enjoyed it. He hears Felix's little interjections, giving his cousin a small tilt of his head and a playful deadpanned expression. "You know what I mean. England is just all...hills and valleys and sheep and fields. But a countryside hike, means popping in the car and going somewhere worth hiking." Tarquin explains the nuance, tapping Felix on the shoulder with a proddy finger. "Anyway, point was that it did me the world of good. Cut down how much I wanted to put that stuff up my nose." he adds even if he's already been caught out as a hypocrite, and Tarquin's mischievous smile lights up his face. "Impress is the wrong word." but Felix is right, he'd rather there not be a plethora of people able to say they saw him snort up a few lines. Even if they were doing the same thing, that part is always conveniently left out of certain conversations. "Why? Can't I want to do drugs in the comfort of my own home like a real gentleman?"

"Oh, that'll go down a treat." Felix chuckled, able to form a slight grin at the flash of memories. He never thought he'd see the day where before seemed like a lighter time but he supposed his life had been split into two. Before and after, a clear separation happening through his own memories. "There were several of us leaning against a two hundred year old wall. Wasn't our smartest moment." he laughed the once, muffling the sound with a sip of his drink. His gaze swept through the party, landing back to his cousin at the question which was answered with a prompt shrug. "I don't know. Last I heard," Unwillingly. "She had a botched nose job and stopped posting on her social media. But yeah, she was fun." he mused, memory slightly hazed from ten years ago and as for the other more relevant Claire, Felix's expression said how much he was invested in knowing about her endeavors. "Makes sense if she did. Everything's a fucking orgy but with clothes on." he muttered with a clear edge to his words.

Felix's grin returned and he laughed to Tarquin's response. "Okay. Well, I was being kind when I called it networking. But fine, is schmoozing a better word?" And even that was a kind replacement for kiss-ass, but Felix refrained from stoking any uncomfortable fires as he took another drag from his cigarette. He ended up shifting in his seat, angling more towards Tarquin with nothing but forced intrigue swept over his features. "I'm not sure cocaine is supposed to agree with anybody but go on." he nodded, now amused by the entire story. "That's a comedown." Felix interjected politely as his cousin retold the events, a grin winding itself over his lips as he paid close attention. "Sounds great as opposed to a city-side hike." he interjected again, an amused mutter seeping into his tone. As he finished his drink, there was a small countdown to Tarquin's inevitable response which was equally as humorous to Felix. "Oh, I get it. Want to impress them?" he nodded his head to the party. "Not run the risk of a few "We did coke together" stories." Felix mused sardonically.

[devildomdoofus]

Lemon Dreams: Part 1

[NSFW]

Lucifer, Mammon, Leviathan, Satan

a bit of spicey lil dreams the brothers have of MC. If requested, I’ll add the undateables (minus Luke) into a Part 3.

Gender-Neutral as always.

MINORS:

DO NOT INTERACT

DO NOT PROCEED

Be smart, have common sense.

I’m not responsible for your irresponsibility.

You see the warnings. I put them out plainly. Adhere.

‼️WARNINGS‼️

NSFW, mature theme, mature content, implied intercourse, nudity, swearing, light bondage, BDSM, tidbit of pet play, wet dreams,

IF I MISSED ANY, PLEASE INFORM ME

Author’s Note (Sorry, I’ll try to be brief):

Trying my hand at some “light” N S F W content to see how I do and see how it goes.

Thank you all, once again, for the love and support and positive responses!! You’re enjoyment is the reason I keep doing what I love to do✨ Please: stay healthy, stay safe, stay you, and stay ruling them all, MCs 💕

- DevildomDoofus

💙Lucifer:

Regrettably, it has been nearly a millennia since he’s had any amount of a decent shuteye due to his brothers’ antics, his oversight of R.A.D., and obligations to Diavolo so you can only imagine the amount of fatigue that he felt in his mind, body, and soul. But because of his image and his own personal desire to be nothing short of perfect, he couldn’t simply rest whenever or wherever he pleased. It was outlandish to even consider the idea. Unfortunately, the side effects of denying himself any form of rest were starting to show. It was causing him to make mistakes he wouldn’t normally make and Diavolo had to personally intervene, using his authority on behalf of his dear friend’s health or lack thereof and demanded that he take a day off. He was the only one in all of the realms that could try and convince this workaholic to put on the breaks. You, yourself, have tried before but Lucifer was as stubborn as the days of summer were long and you felt like you were talking to a brick wall. But because Lucifer could not deny his prince’s demands, he reluctantly obliged... but not without absolute confirmation that nothing would go wrong while he was absent and as soon as he felt rested enough, he would return immediately.

Locking himself away in his room while putting a soundproof spell on the outside of it, he finally sits down at his desk and leans back in his chair as he sluggishly closes his eyes. The silence was both mildly relaxing and extremely uncomfortable as it was so rare for the world around him to be so... quiet. so undisturbed. So peaceful.

It was a bit unnerving.

He sighs deeply. This whole resting thing was going to be a lot more difficult than he originally thought. He stands up to go grab a vinyl record, places it on the antique gramophone and turns the device on. The orchestra makes their way through the metal funnel and the melody of the instruments echo beautifully throughout his room. “Much better,” he hums to himself. He tosses his coat aside, unbuttons his vest and drops it to the floor, removes his button-up shirt, kicks off his shoes, and does away with his belt while his pants follow suit. He dons his nighttime robe and finally slides into his bed. As soon as he hits the mattress, his eyes shut and his mind turns off, allowing him to drift swiftly into a deep slumber.

The dream started out like any other dream he’s had in his life; it’s mundane and not much is going on. It’s practically the same as ‘bringing work home with him’ but in his dreams. He’s at his desk, crossing his t’s, dotting his i’s, finalizing some paperwork, and the like, while the stress from his waking hours begins to find its way back to him like a boomerang.

Then, as if by magic, all of his stress melted away as soon as he heard a knock on his door along with your voice calling for him softly on the other side. He smirks. “You may enter.” He kept his head low as you stepped in due to the fact that he was finishing signing a particular paper. “Just a moment,” he instructs, as the last cursive letter finds its place on the paper. He begins to lift his eyes to meet yours. “Now, what can I do for yo-...” He freezes.

There you were, standing before him, in nothing but one of his ties hanging loosely around your neck. His jaw clenches and his fist tighten into a ball so firmly that his knuckles turn white under his gloves.

‘Like a lamb to it’s slaughter,’ he quotes, internally.

Needless to say, the dream takes a more DRASTIC turn and he’s got you bent over the desk, hands tied up with his tie that you so graciously considered to bring with you, and his name pouring out of your lips like a faucet. He’s taking you all for himself, piece by divine piece, with every snap of his hips, bite of your skin, and claw of your flesh. What a sight you were beneath him.

The moment he wakes, his body is covered in a ‘morning’s dew’ of sweat and the sheets of his bed have become painfully heavy on his lower half. His heart is still thumping wildly in his chest and his eyes are darting everywhere in his room, ensuring that he’s alone and no one can see him in such a disheveled state. He uses part of his robe to dab away the sweat from his brow and then rubs his eyes as he collects himself.

Spends the next many few hours calming himself down and hoping that he is blessed by some unholy miracle where NOBODY walks in...

especially you...

with nothing but his tie hanging loosely around your neck and-...

Ah shit.

The following morning at breakfast, he is eyeing you rather heavily from across the table and his brothers take notice but never dare to say a word. They just assume that you’ve done something to piss him off again and want no part of it.

They are not entirely wrong, though. You had unknowingly irked him quite a bit.

You entered his dreams without permission, made such a delectable spectacle of yourself in front of him, and caused him to feel things that no other demon, angel, human, nor any other soul for that matter, has been able to make him feel. And now he has to deal with these explicit thoughts and feelings, especially when you’re around or in his vicinity, along with many other things that demand his attention and it’s all just so irritating. Delightfully irritating. The kind of irritating he secretly enjoys.

The next few days, you never really get the sense that anything is off with Lucifer for how well he carries himself, no matter his circumstances, and yet... he seems to be less physical with you. Normally, he would give you the occasional hand on the shoulder or upper back when you needed guidance, allow you to lean on his shoulder when your days had been particularly rough and you needed to rest, or pinch your cheek when he teased you but lately... he wouldn’t even keep eye contact with you for very long without turning away and- was that a hint of pink in his cheeks? No, surely you are imagining things. Lucifer, blushing? Has the devildom froze over?

💛Mammon:

This poor, sweet and a little bit sleazy man was just SO exhausted from having to get up early that morning when he’d normally sleep in, to go to a school he doesn’t ever really pay attention to, as well as constantly keep lower demons from getting anywhere near his precious MC, bribe Levi to do his homework in exchange for an exclusive Ruri-Chan figurine (which he went into further debt to obtain), keep his overbearing fanbase from his modeling jobs happy on social media... it all was simply too much for The Great Mammon to be doing when he could alternatively be doing something better. Like being lazy sleeping off this R.A.D lag.

He had skipped his last few remaining classes and told you he was headed to your room to crash before school let out and you two could hang out later. He plopped onto your bed, nuzzled his face into one of your pillows, and fell asleep shortly after to your sweet aroma surrounding him.

His dream began as they typically do, with him gambling his Grimm for higher payouts or watching the Devildom stock market fluctuate in his favor... or more often times than he’ll ever admit, it’s just the two of you spending some quality time together alone for a change.

Only this time, his dream didn’t end up the way it typically did.

In his dream, he was sitting next to you on the sofa with his arm resting behind your head wanting to wrap it around you so fucking badly and watching whatever you had put on when it was interrupted by the winning lottery ticket read out. He leapt from couch with a big yell and the winning ticket in hand, and rushed to hug the tv and to kiss the demon inside of it, thanking him, Lady Luck, and anyone else involved in his incredible fortune today. As he turned around to come squeeze you tight with excitement and have you share in his celebration, his whole body tensed and he stopped in his tracks. He had become a deer in the headlights.

You were now lewdly postured on the couch, bare and exposed, excluding how you were practically dripping in gold jewelry/accessories whilst surrounded by enormous piles of Grimm. With one finger, you beckoned him over.

To say that this is one of his all time favorite fantasies would be THE understatement of the millennia.

He was in front then over you in a matter of milliseconds, his demon form taking over his body and stealing noises from you that the entire House of Lamentation- no- the entire Devildom could hear and FUCK he loved that thought almost as much as he adored you he cared about you; the thought that the entire Devildom could hear that you were his and his alone, that no other soul could make you feel like this.

And just as it was about to get really good, he wakes up.

Red faced, breathing heavily, and a thick coat of sweat all over his body. Not to mention the newfound, painful tightness in his pants.

He’s jerking his head around the room to confirm hoping to deny that is was all simply a dream, and to be certain that you hadn’t come back from school early or something and found him like this.

“Unholy shit.” He wipes the sweat from his face and then takes his phone in his hand to check the time. “UNHOLY SHIT!!” You had texted that you were on your way back home 10 minutes ago! He had to be quick.

He replaced the sweaty sheets and pillow cases with new ones, adjusting them so that it looked as it had before he slept on them, tied his school uniform coat around his waist to disguise the ‘friendly neighborhood bachelor,’ and darted like a bat out of devildom to his room, avoiding major hallways and doors to ensure that no one could stop him or chase him down and see him in his predicament.

You can be sure that for the next few weeks, he’s avoiding you like the plague. He sends texts that he is “paying off a debt and can’t make it,” or “Sorry MC, I’m a little tied up at the moment. This Grimm won’t make itself.” and to you it was a little odd, but nothing he hasn’t exactly done before, so you go about your days as normal. Poor Mammon has once spent an entirety of four months working a few jobs to pay off one big loan.

If only you knew how often he was reliving that dream in his head, over and over and over again. For such a thing to become reality? Well... he feels he’d have better luck winning the lottery. But just as he gambled, he wouldn’t give up so easily.

🧡Leviathan:

It is not uncommon for Leviathan to have certain dreams about certain individuals he enjoys, be it anime characters, video game characters, idols that he fawns over, etc. It’s normal. Quite often, in fact, but he would rather LITERALLY DIE before he ever admits to such a thing, much less have anyone think he has a crush. With his brothers as they are known to be, he’d never live it down. Which is one of the reasons why he keeps himself locked away in his room and goes on binges of whatever it is he’s invested in at the time. He’s left alone to do and be as much of himself as he pleases without judgment. It is one particular episode of an anime he had been bingeing for several hours that has him with his head resting upon his keyboard and ever so slightly snoring away as the characters converse in the background. It wasn’t boring in the least, it’s just that his eyes refused to stay open any longer and his body decided for him that it was about time for a proper nap.

His dream began as normal, with him on a quest to save the renowned, royal heir from the ten-headed beast that guarded the tower in which they were kept. The journey to the tower was extensive and not without its obstacles, the battle was epic, in every sense of the word, and the reward for it’s heads would match the gratification of the victory that ensued it.

Little did he know that in that tower, it wasn’t just any royal heir lying in wait for their prince to come, as they had always been. It was you.

You, in all of your glory, draped across the bed and adorned with the finest of cloths that were barely covering your most intimate of skins.

As he entered your bedroom chambers, expecting to find a fictional character he adored in his waking hours, he stops dead in his tracks and his entire body turns red hot in matter of seconds. You could easily hear the thumping of his heart throwing heavy blows at his ribcage, and, if you looked close enough, you could see the steam trickling out of his ears. You could also hear the clinking of his amor, the metal plates shaking against one another as he trembles before you.

Leviathan.exe has stopped working.

Yes, he’s had plenty of dreams like this before but.. fuck.. they were never of you. Much less like this. Believe him, he’s tried on many occasions to at least see your face or hear your voice, ANYTHING. But inevitably, his anxiety and shyness won in the end and you never came passing through his dreams... until now.

You leant against one arm, your lips curling into a smile, and then beckoned him silently with one crook of a finger.

Anxiety and shyness who?

He quickly does away with the heavy armor, tossing them aside, and crawls across the bed to you, to your face, to those precious lips.

He takes a hold of them in his own and seemingly devours you as he strips you of what little cloth covered you and then pushes you back down against the bed. The dream continues with your bodies intertwining in every way that earned him the lewdest of noises from you.

Until he jerks awake with his face a deep shade of crimson, body covered from head to toe in a mist of sweat, and a heartbeat that could put a drum solo to shame. He quickly scans his surroundings as he’s coming back to reality, making sure he’s the only one within a mile’s radius. If anyone thought he was a hermit now, you can only imagine what it would be like if he was caught looking the way that he did. The anime that he had fallen asleep to was now on a screen that was asking for confirmation if he was still watching. He presses the power button on his computer and wipes away the sweat on his brow before leaning back in his chair, eyes glued to the ceiling as he’s recollecting the dream. He sees the faces you were making in pleasure pass through his mind once more and it makes his face turn 30 shades redder and increases the painful tightness in his snug sweatpants. He shakes his head, no longer wanting to continue digging this grave of overwhelming lust, and plants his head back onto the keyboard. Lord Diavolo, please, just kill him now.

The following months, Leviathan stays locked away in his room and avoids you as if you were the final boss of a game he never wants to stop playing. He knew that if he saw you, got near you, or even heard your name being mentioned, there would be no way of stopping his thoughts, his body’s reactions to those thoughts, nor his brother’s comments about how he’s “acting awfully strangely.”

As much as he wishes that he never had the dream in the first place because of all of the trouble it’s causing, he can’t help but relive it over and over again, putting it on repeat in his mind. But to admit to you these powerful feelings and attempt to bring it to reality? Only normies do such a thing... right?

💚Satan:

Line after line, chapter after chapter, book after book, he simply could not put the new series he had discovered down. He was so invested, he’d finish one book and immediately pick up the next. His mind was reeling far too fast for him to stop now and nothing in all of the three realms could do so. That is until his own body waved it’s white flag and begged for him to shut his eyes, even if for just moment. Satan bargained, internally, that he’d allow himself roughly thirty minutes of rest before he’d pick back up where he left off. He sets the book on a nearby desk, settles down onto his loveseat and closes his eyes.

As a man of many talents and faces, his dreams were known to be as heavily diverse as he was, and often times reflected whatever book he had been reading, philosophy he had been pondering, or stress he had been managing. No one particular type of dream frequented more than another.

That being said, in the past few weeks, you had been a bit more physical with him. Whether it was a simple brush of the hands as you two reached for the same novel, late night study sessions ending up in late night study and cuddling sessions, or the occasional linking of arms as the pair of you walked the length of a museum and studied its inhabitants. It goes without saying that you were making an impression on him and his mind, leaving little to no room for any other thoughts than the ones involving you. Naturally, you had found your way into his dreamworld and you were the one constant in the ever changing slumber visions.

The dreams that you were involved in, which were now a majority of them, were mostly sweet; the most intimate being the one time you had placed a chaste kiss upon his cheek. If you were to ask him about these dreams that had him chipper than usual, he would smile and tell you that “they were simply pleasant hallucinations but nothing more.” And he’d be lying through his teeth, desperately trying to keep his cheeks from reddening in front of you. If you were lucky enough that his gaze lingered, you’d catch the tint of pink making its way across his face. The poor inner romantic in him couldn’t help himself. He’s mastered the art of poker face in its entirety, but when it came to you, his willpower and calm demeanor waned into nothingness and he was like putty in your hands. Just don’t push it or there will be Devildom to pay.

This particular time around, though, his dream would take a more unforeseen turn.

In his dream, he had invited you to join him on an outing over to the Royal Library and you two were now making your way to your favorite lone table in the farthest back corner, hidden behind the many shelves of books. After claiming your usual spot, he went to gather the books he wanted to go through and planted himself in the chair to finally open them up and get started. Meanwhile, you had wandered off, presumably, to find and create your very own mountain of novels to conquer.

An hour or so passed and he had made his way through five of his books when he felt a tap against the cover of the one he was currently reading. “Forgive me, MC, but I’m almost done with this paragraph and I need just one more moment to do so.” Another tap against the cover. “May it wait, MC? I’m nearly finished.” This time, you gingerly grabbed the tip of his book and tilted it away from him (a pet peeve of his). Just as he was about to give you his trademark glare of warning, his eyes widen and his jaw clenches, with his fingers letting go of the book and tightening into a fist taut enough to turn his knuckles white.

There you stood before him in little to no clothing, fluffy little cat ears and a tail to match, with a leash and collar adorning your precious neck. You took his stiffened hand, ever so slowly opened it up, and delicately placed the end of the lead into his palm, flashing him your cheekiest grin.

Now you’ve gone and done it. He snaps.

He jerks the end of the lead so that you’re aggressively pulled forward, bending over the table and sending the piles of books to the floor with audible thuds, and your lips crash into his. He uses his free hand to trap cradle the other side of your face as he devours your lips, devours your taste. Impatient and hungry, he soon lets you go with a low growl before standing up and dragging you behind him, forcefully, by the lead, coming to the front of a shelf that leant against a wall and grabbed your waist, lifting you up to push you against it, having more books tumble to the floor with a sound thud, while once again, taking your lips with his. Something about the way you looked, the way you sounded because of his actions, drove him completely mad.

Before it could go any further, he jerks wakes to the sound of someone knocking on his door. He quickly scans his surroundings and when he finds it empty, he breathes a heavy sigh of relief. The knocks continue and from beyond the door, a familiar voice requests his audience. “Satan? It’s Solomon. My apologies, but I just wanted to return a borrowed book.”

He reaches for a nearby cloth and dabs away the sweat that covered his face. He steadies his breathing and in the stablest voice he could muster, he answers back, “Alright. One moment please.”

“Take your time,” the sorcerer replies.

He gathers himself quickly, as the master of his own emotions does, hoisted up from the loveseat, straightens himself out and starts to head for the door but with a quick glance downwards, he pauses. There’s no way he could greet Solomon with such a visible... display...

He takes his coat from the coatrack, wraps it around his waist and finally opens the door with a welcoming smile.

“Thank you kindly for the recommendation. It was a pleasant read,” Solomon tittered in recollection then immediately shifted into a frown of concern. “Satan... are you alright? Forgive my intrusion, but you seem a bit disheveled.” The disheveled man in question nods, chuckling in hopes of deterring Solomon from pressing any further by lightening his aura. “Yes, I’m fine. Thank you for your concern. I simply had a bit of a nightmare.” Solomon raised a brow and Satan continued in his tall tale. “It had been so long since I’ve had one, so I’m sure you can imagine how unnerving it’s effects had on me.” Moments passed like molasses as Solomon pondered what Satan had said and the uncomfortable silence was wearing down on Satan’s last minute, makeshift composure. “Thank you for returning the book,” Satan’s voice firmly interjecting the fellow wise man’s thoughts as he received the book from his hands, “and I’m delighted that you enjoyed yourself.” He holds the book in front of where the coat covered his waist. “If you wish for more recommendations, I’ll be happy to share them with you. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some tea to drink and a book to read to calm my nerves. Good day, Solomon.” Before Solomon could get a final word in, Satan slips back into his room and shuts the door. For good measure, he locks it and turns the deadbolt. He shuffles back over to the loveseat where it all began and dropped down, pinching the bridge of his nose and letting out a heavy sigh. The blush that wanted so desperately to creep it’s way into his complexion the moment he’d awoken was now set free and his entire face turned red. He knew how to keep a tight grip on every other emotion he’s ever had... but love? Lust? This was going to be a challenge.

Outside of the door, not having moved an inch, Solomon stood with his chin snug between the crook of his forefinger and thumb. “Can demons have nightmares...?” He audibly contemplated as he waited a moment, following his train of thought before asking himself aloud again, “If so... then why did Satan have an erection?”

A pair of delicate hands found their way to Solomon’s shoulders and he glanced over them to see Asmodeus leaning in close to his ear. “It’s called a kink, darling.” Solomon politely shoos away the embodiment of lust with a gentle wave of his hand before starting down the hall from which he came, with the demon practically skipping in tow. “Kinks, we both know, I’m aware of. I had just assumed that his.. situation.. would be more relative to Belphegor.”

“Well,” Asmodeus chirped, “that’s what you get for assuming.”

[karmic-vibes]

Two of Us

5 - We're On Our Way

cw: mentions of rape

1987

“O-Oh my god, Claire, I’m so sorry,” Steve panicked.

“Does Eddie know?” Robin whispered.

“God no,” Claire scoffed, “he would kill him.”

“Eddie wouldn’t hurt a fly,” Dustin said.

“He would if it hurt his family,” Claire sighed, “I just figured I’d rather give my daughter a life where she doesn’t know her dad and gets to be with her uncle, rather than a dead dad and an uncle behind bars… I’m a big girl, I can handle my own shit, as bad as it may be.”

“What’s this sack of shit’s name?” Steve grit his teeth.

“Billy… don’t remember the last name.”

“So, you don’t get any child support from him or anything?” Robin asked.

“Nope, completely self-made.”

“Holy shit,” Steve whispered, “good for you.”

“You still haven’t earned your right to talk to me again. Keep it shut, Harrington. But thank you…”

“What do you even do? Because…” Robin scoffed and smiled in disbelief, “for a twenty-year-old that’s a single mom, who fully supports her child and an ex-fugitive brother and has her own house… you must’ve won the lottery or something.”

“I’m actually a nurse. Trying to become a midwife—not anytime soon, obviously, but that’s the eventual goal.”

“How?” Lucas chimed in.

“Well, when I had Edie, I dropped out of school and took a few months off. I honestly lucked out, because my mom works from home, so she was able to watch Edie while I studied for my GED, then again while I was in college. And now that I’m fully certified to work, she’s off at school. It was definitely a struggle, but I made it work.”

“Jesus,” Mike started, “what the fuck happened to Eddie?”

“Dude!” Dustin yelled.

“What! She’s insanely smart and Eddie was held back twice!”

“Oh, I like you,” Claire smirked, “but in all seriousness, I probably would’ve ended up in the same boat as Eddie if I didn’t have a child to support, so cut him some slack. The Munson’s haven’t exactly had it easy.”

“Holy shit, I just realized something,” Dustin gasped. Claire crossed her arms and raised a brow at the boy.

“Well, spit it out, Henderson!” Steve said.

“You said Edie’s dad’s name was Billy, right?”

“Yeah, so?” Claire shrugged.

“And you were in California visiting your mom when it happened?”

“Yeah, wh-why does that matter?”

“You got a Hawkins High yearbook?”

“I don’t, but I think Eddie does.”

“Then why are you still standing here? Go get it! Go, go, go!”

“So far, you’re my least favorite,” Claire muttered before retrieving the yearbook from her brother’s room. “Here.”

“1985, perfect!”

“Why? The dude is from Cali, why on earth would you need a Hawkins yearbook?”

“Claire, if I showed you a picture, would you be able to recognize him?”

“Unfortunately.”

Dustin began flipping through the thoroughly vandalized yearbook before reaching the dedication pages for all those lost in The Battle of Starcourt. At the very end of the dedications, there was an entire page for the hero of it all: Billy Hargrove. Dustin handed the open book over to Claire.

“This him?” he asked. Claire looked at him skeptically before investigating. Her eyes popped out of her head as all the color drained from her face.

“Holy fucking shit…” Her eyes welled up with tears. “You’re shitting me, right?”

“So, it’s him?”

“Y-Yeah, that’s uh… that’s him… that’s Edie’s dad…”

“Then do I have some good news for you.”

“What?” Claire cried, “that my rapist is in the same town as me again?”

“What? No, did you not read the yearbook page?” Claire shook her head before glancing back down at the book. A faint smile creeped its way onto her face. “He died in ’85.”

Claire smiled from ear to ear before stumbling back into the wall. Tears streamed down her face as she tightly clung the book to her chest. She began sliding down the wall while sobbing and laughing. Her head hung back as she tried to control herself, but she couldn’t contain her emotions. She had never been happier that such a disgusting and vile person was already six-feet-under, but at the same time, she mourned that her daughter would never know her father.

“He’s dead,” she finally whispered, “he’s fucking dead.”

“Who’s dead?” Eddie asked, emerging from the basement. “And why are you sobbing on the floor? Munson’s don’t cry, now get up.”

“Edie’s shit-bag of a sperm donor is fucking dead.” Claire held her hand over her mouth, trying to hold back her giggled sobs.

“Whoa, what? You knew who her father was this whole time and never told her?”

“Eddie, he didn’t deserve to know that sweet little girl. I would rot in hell before I let him meet her.”

“Why is he a shit-bag again? Because y’know, he did give you the best thing in your life. Well, second best thing,” he smirked.

“None of your business.” Claire sniffed as she extended her arm to be pulled up.

“When it involves you or Edie, it is my business.” Eddie lent a hand to hoist her up—Claire subtly handed the yearbook back to Dustin so her brother wouldn’t notice and see who she was talking about.

“He just wasn’t a good guy, okay?”

“Who wasn’t a good guy, mommy?” Edie asked.

“An old friend of mine,” Steve said. He pushed past the teens and crouched down to meet Edie’s little bug-eyes. Claire let out a relieved sigh and mouthed thank you—Steve smiled back at her before nodding reassuringly. “He was on the basketball team with me in high school and he was super rotten to me. He would push me and call me names and make fun of me. Super not cool.”

“You’re not talking about that ass-wipe Hargrove, are you?” Everyone simultaneously shot daggers at Eddie. “I’ll take that as a yes, then. So glad that asshole isn’t around anymore.”

“You and me both,” Claire sighed, “so, how was your lesson with Uncle Eddie, sweet pea?”

[askaborderline]

I have bpd comorbid npd and a few aspd traits (tho def not enough to fully have aspd) and one of the things I struggle with when it comes to anyone but particularly my FP, is like the weird sense of ownership I feel entitled to. “This is MY person and I shouldn’t have to share or compete because I should be the only one important to them and if they care about anyone who isn’t me, then they’re disloyal and untrustworthy and need to be punished until They Fix Their Shit.” Obviously, this is not conducive to a healthy relationship and outside of *that* constant, nagging feeling, I otherwise feel “normal” (as in I do everything the way I should, treat people the way I should, etc).

I don’t act on this feeling but it does cause a lot of splitting and narc-crashing when I feel like they even want to spend an iota of time with someone who isn’t me because “why am I not good enough to be the only thing”? No matter how hard I try to unlearn that feeling of entitlement, no matter how hard I try to see them as a person rather than an object I own or property, it’s like my brain and feelings won’t Sync Up. It’s not even that I see them as an object, they’re one of the few people my disorders see as Equal and because I see them as Equal to me, the fact they want to spend any time with anyone other than me feels like a weird sort of insult or abandonment because I have a hard time seeing other people as Equal (which I also really try to work on).

I just don’t know what to do with this feeling because I keep crashing and splitting because, like a normal person, they happen to have interests in people outside of me. And I would really rather just be able to have healthy feelings for someone I care about. (They’re also the only one I feel empathy for but that empathy runs dry rather quickly when it comes to this particular trigger and it becomes harder to empathize).

BPD/NPD/ASPD comorbid here (yeah I really won the lottery), and I know exactly what you're talking about, gods. It's so much for me to deal with my "FPs", as I experience it, even wanting to spend any time with or appreciate anyone else. It feels sort of like an attack, and like you said, abandonment, and I totally understand what you're going through. It sucks so much.

I think it's important to try to diversify your friend group and support web a bit, even if you don't really care nearly as much about the other people, it can help you feel less reliant on the one or two people you really favor and see as exceptions, and it's also good for bits of supply if you feel like you're gonna crash soon. I also like to look at my "FPs" interacting with other people and then coming back as some sort of proof that I'm "better" and loophole my brain that way. With NPD especially I've found it's generally easier to try to steer your thought process into a different direction that conveniences you more instead of trying to change it entirely, if that makes sense? (Another example: I deal with the manipulative impulses by reminding myself that just being nice to people and treating them well with full honesty will achieve the same goals with less effort, and that kind of appeals to the weird "logic" my brain is running on while helping me not feel like I'm being a shitty person).

I wish you a lot of luck with this, it sucks so much.