#invitation to Deceit

[autisticfoxgirl333]

Has anyone else got an invitation letter? Because I just got given one......

[scrumptiouslytooarcade-blog]

Milk Cream: I am the JESTER ^^, My job is to entertaint~♪ **performing for Pure Flour**

Pure Flour: **smiling**

But it seems like soon enough~♪

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IT TOO WILL BE MY JOB TO REIGN :)

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Over all that you SEE, Over all that you KNOW

Milk Cream: As the King is slowly DYING, at moment he could GO ^^ **with to strange tickets**

YES THE KING IS SLOWLY DYING, AND ANY MOMENT HE WILL GO~♪

[Shadow Milk's update is so close that the strange Milk Cream knows it...I wonder if he has some type of relation with all of this]

[bloomingsalma]

i think one of the most disappointing things is to see that your childhood friends have grown up to represent the kind of people you're disappointed in

[swordmaid]

having shri’iia thoughts as one does bc GUESS who’s save file completely died when the new patch came out nooo we have to replay her again 🤭 alas. just stewing on the thought of how she never got to fuck her Mistress even though she wanted to…!!!! like she was out there getting psychologically tortured and mind broken but she was just like WHY won’t you fuck me im literally doing everything for you. which is so bad for her, woman who already has an excruciatingly low self worth because she missed the mark on the standard for lolth’s children (and that’s worse than not fitting in the standard at all) by something out of her own control btw (not being born in a noble house) but she’s been recognised and blessed by her goddess, and she’s been invited to join a drow house so everything should be good right?? she should be desirable right?? finally everything is correct and well and good and the way it should be right????? but no..!! it’s not..!! and so she’s doing everything for this woman, no dignity left, literally doing anything to get her approval, to be told that she’s finally enough, and she’s finally fitting in - and she gets it sometimes, she gets ignored most times tbh and it’s just this painful excruciating stew of self loathing and insecurity that she’s in, and she’s in there for a century but the thing is she can’t even give up. it’s not in her nature to. and she’s done too much to just give up , and she’s been doing this for a long time that she can’t give up and lolth didn’t raise no quitters so she sticks by it, trying to achieve that hopeless praise. but then one day she gets dropped like nothing, everything she’s done and suffered and worked towards and sacrificed gets thrown out bc her goddess isn’t pleased with her and good luck going home btw you’re not welcome here anymore bc ur pathetic. the rug gets pulled under her feet and she’s left in this strange world that she can barely navigate in let alone speak the language and u expect her to b fine with that…?

[leynaeithnea]

What if the story starts out with a trojan horse situation

[hexxedcore]

What would Yandere Viktor be like in this 2nd season? Of course if you want, I don't want you to feel uncomfortable making this yandere topic

not an uncomfortable question at all, anon! in fact i love viktor and i love yandere tropes even more ❤️

WARNINGS: YANDERE, unhealthy / toxic relationship, manipulative behaviour, delusion (mostly religiously fuelled if i’m being honest), codependency

I’m a firm believer that Viktor wouldn’t be a yandere who imposes him physically. This is a man who is speculative and used to hiding away in the shadows — he demonstrates everything with well planted seeds of deceit and doubt.

Now, Season Two Viktor? With what we know, it’s up to so much speculation regarding what his motives are and what’s going to happen next — but this specific trope is so rich in the potential it has depending on who you present yourself as to him. A devoted follower? An estranged lover who sought him out after he abruptly left? A Zaunite attempting to stop the hold he has on his vulnerable disciples?

I’ll be covering the disciple trope below but will gladly create more posts for the others.

DISCIPLE READER:

You come to him in a moment of desperation, having heard of the whispers scattered through dark alleyways of Zaun that there was a mage who possessed the capability to heal any wound he was presented with. A miracle worker in the flesh.

It was a opportunity impossible to pass up. Everyone had been scrambling for an opportunity to meet him, have him cure their lung ailments or their Shimmer addictions.

Despite being tentative going into the belly of Zaun, you were admittedly shocked by the abundance of life in what had once been deemed the slums. People who were rumoured to be disfigured and marred purple were walking around, regarding you with inviting smiles, soft skin, full eyes.

When Viktor first spotted you wandering his growing compound, lost, he was absolutely entranced. For a moment he was left wondering why everyone was so adamant on worshipping him, when the obvious miracle here was you. You’re just so pure, so perfect, that even the Hexcore is adamant in prolonging your visit.

You approached him with hopes of a cure to the infection that had been riddling your lungs due to the Gray being released to the Undercity. Viktor wasn't in a state to do anything but oblige.

For as much as you heard of his cures being instantaneous and life-changing, yours had been painfully slow. Viktor reassured that due to the unique nature of the Gray, the Arcane was reacting in unpredictable ways. Therefore; you should make yourself at home. Stay, for the time being.

It wasn't difficult to settle in with how amiable the other 'followers' were, as they enjoyed calling themselves. It also wasn't surprising, considering how reverently respectful Viktor had been treating you. As though you were a deity of his own, despite your lack of impressive actions.

It almost made you forget about the swelling cough that persisted in your chest, or the fact you’ve forgotten how long it’s been since you’ve even begun your stay.

Needless to say, you don’t plan to leave this routine anytime soon. He doesn’t plan on allowing you, either.

[thesacrificialdove]

the idea of a YAN!WITCH speaks to me because you know that fucker is going to act like your friend, trick you, fuck you under a spell, and lock you with a magic collar to keep you in his fucking hut.

patreon | masterlist | inbox | taglist | home | req. & comms

witches aren't always deceitful. actually, maybe most witches would want to help you get out of this haunted forest. their choice to live there is only because it has the most ingredients to potions that they could profit off of.

but this witch? he stays in the forest because he is the danger. he knows he's obsessessive. the pile of rotting corpses and frayed bones in his storage room is proof of it. he finds someone lost, takes them in like a good witch, use magic on them, and play with them until they eventually rot in their mortal body.

and he sees you. you're different. you're a different breed. you're innocent, but not quite clueless. you're trusting, but not naive. you can stand up to him but you say it so fucking meekly he doesn't know what to do to you!

well, that's a lie. he does know. you come in here, like any other human, and he invites you in as always. but this time—you refuse. it's cliché and typical of him to be so hung up on someone like you. still, its effective. he tries everything to get you inside: threats of monsters, the impending true darkness, the coldness of the night, everything.

it's only when he promises you food do you actually come in. he should've tried that in the first place.

so you come in, all wide eyed at his cabin and loving all the decor inside. you, of course, don't notice the potion he slipped in your drink. you even compliment the taste—so fucking helpless.

what's a wonder is that he didn't even need to give you some sort of love potion (love potion is a tacky name. he prefers elixir of submission). before you even pass asleep, your eyes drift down his body and blush a hot pink when he notices you staring.

you're lustful and needy. it doesn't take you long to open up to him because he learns you're so touch starved. but your eyes close as he kisses down your neck and fondle your body.

it's a shame that you're asleep. but then again, you asked for this. he continues to fondle you before you even wake up and beg for his cock, unknowing your lips already enveloped it.

his playthings really only last the mortal's average lifespan. but you, he would like to keep you a little longer. once you drink from him again, your body will regenerate and allows you to live just a few years more in this beauty of an appearance you have.

he can't wait for eternity.

UPDATE ! 📢 @wiltedpoison @elloredef @alureasoley

[choerypetal]

Their Princess / Billy Loomis x Stu Macher

Summary: Billy and Stu have one motivation for their killing spree: to make you theirs, regardless of whether you realize they are Ghostface. They will stop at nothing to achieve this.

ps; english isn't my first language so i apologize for any grammar errors xoxo

Being close to Sidney meant enduring her gossip, endless talk about boyfriends, and tantrums over the next party at Tatum's house. Now, with a serial killer on the loose and a mandatory curfew in place, you had to deal with Stu constantly trailing you. Clutching your books to your chest, you tried to focus elsewhere, only to bump into the talk of the town—Billy himself.

"Y/N..." His voice sang in your ear, just enough for Stu to rush to your side, his silhouette eclipsing your own. He leaned in close, nestling into the crook of your neck. You were fortunate that neither Tatum nor Sidney was there to witness it—unless their initial motive was evident from the first glance they shared. A glance of deceit, perhaps, when Stu’s pouty lips appeared as Billy spelled out your name, letter by letter. "Coming to this weekend’s party?" Billy asked, raising his brows while barely breaking his gaze. Stu’s sly fingers brushed your shoulder, tempting you not to react, especially under Billy’s intense stare.

You were taken aback by the question. Yes, Tatum had invited you—practically begged you to come because one of Randy’s friends would be there, and she wanted to set you up with him. Naturally, this information made its way back to Billy, thanks to Stu, who had overheard the entire conversation. His clingy hands were all over Tatum’s, trying to resist thinking about you the whole time.

"That would be great for Y/N, don't you think?" Her innocent question nearly made Stu choke on his drink that night. It was clear, the plan was to make you the grand finale. Not you with someone else. Someone who couldn’t satisfy their girl. Tatum smacked Stu’s chest, startled by his reaction, and nodded innocently with a chuckle. "Right, right," he said, obviously annoyed. "It sure would be great for Y/N." 

“Yes,” you said, your voice as soft as he expected. His lips curved into a smirk, and he bit his bottom lip, resisting the urge to devour you on sight, especially with the new skirt you had bought– thanks to Tatum. “Loving the new skirt,” he whispered, making you blush. Stu eagerly agreed. “Maybe our girl should wear that skirt this weekend,” he purred from behind you, his breath almost touching your skin. Billy quickly snapped Stu out of it with a sharp tap on the back of his neck. “What did we say about public intimacy?” Billy’s voice was almost a threat. 

Stu gulped silently. "Right," he said, smirking in perfect sync with Billy. Billy nodded, his gaze fixed on you, the main topic of this weekend's party conversation. "So," he paused, his eyes scrutinizing you in a way that made you shift uncomfortably—it was the same intense look he gave Sidney. Which you weren’t. "You'll be there?" You had almost forgotten the main question and quickly nodded, feeling vulnerable. Your swift response made him chuckle, clearly enjoying how small you felt between them. “Yes..”

Billy huffed in silence, ready to leave. Stu slid his fingers around your waist. "See you this weekend, princess," he said. Billy, anxious to avoid suspicion, muttered something under his breath, careful not to make any devious stares around the school. Despite hating the idea, he couldn't help but steal glances over his shoulder as he walked away, thoughts of you on top of him driving him nearly crazy. Unlike Stu, though, he had some boundaries when it came to sharing. 

The week flew by faster than you had expected. With the curfew in place, days ended earlier than usual, with bedtime set at 10 p.m. School was canceled until the suspect was caught, leaving you eager for some fresh air and the chance to join the Tatum’s party. The boys, especially Billy, were particularly impatient for your arrival. Particularly him, struggling to keep himself sane through the night, especially with Sidney wrapped around his finger. And you with another guy. 

"Jeez, man, if you keep pacing like this, our plan won't work. You look way too obvious right now," Stu's voice echoed in Billy's mind as he moved to the living room, leaving Sidney waiting in the bedroom. Mistake number one was to be as inconspicuous as possible around everyone. Kill, then execute plans A and B, and finally claim you as theirs. Easy, right? Billy thought to himself. But then your name was called out, and Randy’s arm was a little too close for his liking. He reconsidered. "Randy won't always have her around. Soon enough, she'll come begging for her hero’s to save her," Stu had said, and Billy appreciated the comment. After all, why would you be with a complete nerd?

He nods silently, feeling his friend’s hand squeezing his shoulder. “Deal with Sid. I’ll deal with her. Treat her like the princess she is.” And he wasn’t entirely wrong, focusing all his attention on you. While he noticed Randy welcoming you with open arms and the others happily handing you a bottle of beer. Tatum back at the garage to grab some extra beers. Billy couldn’t help but steal glances in your direction before finally trying to distract himself. He immediately needed a distraction, one with Tatum, then moved on to Sidney. “Just don’t scare her yet, okay?” Even though he was the mastermind of his own plan, he didn’t want Stu—or you—to mess things up. And he definitely didn’t want you to know they were the Ghostface. 

In a way, you kind of messed up their whole plan. Stu was doing everything he could to keep Tatum distracted and maintain Sidney’s obliviousness, as planned. Until you were completely out of his sight. Right after Randy had told you to go check up on Tatum. ‘The beers won’t be coming on their own’, he had said to you with a cocky grin. It wasn’t until you arrived at the garage yourself, hearing some muffled sounds, that you couldn’t help but smirk. With a party full of alcohol, girls, and boys, you didn’t think much of it. That is, until you heard the door swing open and came face to face with Mr. Ghostface, himself.

Billy's knife almost slipped from his hands as he saw you this close to him. Stu had just enough time to catch you, blinking twice to make sure he wasn't imagining things—Billy, and you. You, on the other hand, had a look on your face they both expected to see. "Y/N—" Stu’s voice was cut off by Billy’s stare from beneath his mask. You stood still, but the second you heard Stu’s voice, you wanted to run to him, hoping he would save you from this killer everyone was talking about. But then Billy’s grip tightened, catching you right into his trap.

“No, no, no…” Stu purrs, his sickening chuckle filling the air as he approaches you. Now in the middle, Billy had no pleasure of covering for himself. Because he knew you’d be on their side, meaning you’d do anything possible to avoid getting caught. Starting off with a proposition. “The game, only just started love,” Billy’s voice, unmistakably familiar, came from beneath his mask as he spoke and gently removed it. His face was covered in sweat, his eyes darkening as he glanced down at you. With a slight chuckle, he said, “Love the skirt,” as the knife gently touched the fabric. You could feel Stu’s breath on the crook of your neck. Just like at school, but now away from prying eyes.

You managed to exhale a few whimpers as Stu’s tongue traveled down your neck. Billy watched for a moment, sensing you had something on your mind. “Go on, spill it,” he demanded, his voice hoarse and threatening. Your muscles tensed as he gently pinned you against the wall. “Tatum—” you began, but Billy’s fingers traced down your waist and then touched your bottom lip. The tension between Stu’s pants and your skirt was unmistakable, the obvious bulge appearing beneath his pants. The friction among the three of you was undeniable. Your cheeks flushed with a shade of pink, which only made Billy enjoy it more. “I think she’s enjoying it,” Billy remarked, clearly trying to change the subject. Stu agreed, purring, “Oh, she does.” 

"Boys, boys..." Your voice sounded so vulnerable to their ears that it took them by surprise. Initially, they thought you were afraid of discovering their true identities as Ghostface. However, as you spoke, it became clear that you didn't mind at all. In fact, you might have found Billy in the costume, with a slight droplet of blood on his cheek, somewhat attractive. Stu couldn't help but comment, "Princess doesn't seem to mind?" His remark, tinged with a mix of offense and confession, revealed his surprise at your attraction. Billy's eyes widened slightly, reflecting both shock and amusement as he watched you eyeing him up and down. "Oh, I bet she doesn't, does she?" 

You hummed quietly, drawing chuckles from both men. Billy's knife glided gently down your body, stopping at your skirt to reveal a hint of your red underwear. "Loving the red on you," he remarked with his trademark smirk. Stu, unable to resist, let his fingers travel under your skirt to grip your rear. "How about we treat our princess the way she deserves?" he suggested, his tongue now exploring the crook of your neck, nuzzling and licking every inch until your soft whimpers filled the room. The sounds of your pleasure spurred them on, making them crave more. "Stu..." you murmured his name, and Billy, watching with slight hesitation, hushed you with a gentle touch to your bottom lip before leaning in to kiss you hungrily. 

"What?" Stu's obvious teasing wasn't enough. Billy soon caught your lips in a kiss, one he didn't want to end. He wanted more, more than just your lips, resisting was difficult, especially after seeing you with another boy at the party. "More..." you whispered through the kiss, and Billy, catching only a fragment of your plea, paused midway, leaving you breathless and wanting. Your face was flushed with lust, your eyes begging for more. Before you could voice your protest, Billy scooped you into his arms, gripping your arse, his fingers digging into your flesh. Stu's chuckle echoed as he followed you both to the nearest bedroom.

"What?" Stu's obvious teasing wasn’t enough to satisfy him. Billy soon caught your lips in a kiss, one he didn’t want to end. He wanted more—more than just your lips. Resisting was difficult, especially after seeing you with another boy at the party. "More..." you whispered through the kiss. Billy, catching only a fragment of your plea, paused midway, leaving you breathless and wanting. Your face was flushed with lust, your eyes begging for more. Before you could voice your protest, Billy scooped you into his arms, gripping your rear with his fingers digging into your flesh. Stu's chuckle echoed as he followed you both to the nearest bedroom.

Billy’s fingers then traveled around your inner thighs, his thumb gently brushing on your clit. Which he couldn’t stop admire. “Look how tiny it is,” he pouts with a mockery, licking his bottom lip with the resisting urge not to devour you on the spot, which he does completely the contrary. Leaning in to eat you out, his fingers now gripping on your arse, as you moans his name out. His lips curving into a smirk the you felt his tongue gently brushing your clit. “I think she likes it, Billy…” 

Stu's voice echoed in your mind as he settled beside you, his large fingers trailing down your body. He leaned in, nuzzling his head into the crook of your neck, his tongue tracing your skin, coaxing more moans from you. "Come on, doll. Don't be afraid... Tell me. Tell me how you like it."

"I like it..." you paused momentarily, caught up by another whimper, your back arching as Billy's tongue thrust inside your vagina. "I like it a lot!" you then exclaimed in a high-pitched voice just before Stu leaned in, cupped your chin, and kissed you hungrily.

Billy growled with a pout, “Randy will have to find someone else,” he said, his eyes filled with hunger. His thumb brushed your clit while his tongue devoured you completely. Your eyes watered, pleading for more.

"You belong to us, princess," Stu said, savoring the sight of your now-exposed breasts. He couldn't resist caressing them, pinching your nipples to hear your cute moans. Billy nodded in agreement, both of them murmuring, 

"Our princess."

[astra-ravana]

Cartomancy

A tarot styled divination method using standard playing cards. This oracle first appeared in Europe in the 14th century and is still used sporadically today. Practitioners of this divination are commonly called cartomancers. Cards can be laid in a variety of spreads and functions much like a tarot deck. As such, cartomancy decks should be designated and regarded with all the respect of a deck of tarot cards. The meanings of the cards are as follows:

Hearts

• Ace: Love, beginning, happiness, friendship

• King: Fair-haired man, affectionate and generous, but impetuous

• Queen: Fair-haired woman, trustworthy

• Jack: Fair-haired young person, good friend

• 10: Good fortune, joy

• 9: Desires fulfilled

• 8: Invitations/partings

• 7: Someone unreliable

• 6: Unexpected good fortune, generosity

• 5: Jealousy, indecision

• 4: Changes, travel

• 3: Need for caution

• 2: Friendship, success

Clubs

• Ace: Harmony, property, achievement, love

• King: Dark-haired man, honest, open

• Queen: Dark-haired woman, strong, helpful

• Jack: Reliable friend

• 10: Fortune, abundance

• 9: New romance

• 8: Opposition, danger of recklessness

• 7: Prosperity, potential romantic interference

• 6: Business success

• 5: Help from a friend/partner

• 4: Bad change of fortune

• 3: Good partnership

• 2: Disappointment and opposition

Diamonds

• Ace: Money, a ring

• King: Fair-haired man, stubborn

• Queen: Fair-haired woman, flirty, witty

• Jack: A relative, unreliable

• 10: Journey, wealth

• 9: Financial opportunity, surprises

• 8: Declarations of love

• 7: A gift

• 6: Reconciliation

• 5: Successful meeting

• 4: Change for the better, an inheritance

• 3: Domestic/legal battles

• 2: Important love affair

Spades

• Ace: Conflict, infidelity, stress

• King: Dark-haired man, successful, ambitious

• Queen: Dark-haired woman, seductive

• Jack: Dark-haired youth, well meaning

• 10: Grief, despair, imprisonment

• 9: Bad luck, delays, quarrels

• 8: Disappointment

• 7: Possible loss of friendship

• 6: Improvements

• 5: Anxiety, setbacks, interference

• 4: Jealousy, business troubles

• 3: Bitter parting

• 2: Scandal, gossip, deceit

Note: You may choose to include the joker to represent folly, new beginnings, the Universe and to also signify the person receiving the reading.

Bonus: Using Playing Cards to Detect Baneful Magick

This technique relies on reading either red or black cards and nothing else. It can technically be used to answer any yes/no question.

Shuffle the deck and ask, "have I been hexed or cursed?" -while you are shuffling. When ready, stop shuffling and deal out five cards in a row, face down. Then one by one, left to right, turn them over. Black indicates a 'no' response, while red indicates 'yes'. You can see the degree of the curse by the presence of red cards. All black is a clear 'no' and all red is a clear 'yes'. The spread can be read as follows:

5 Black - 0 Red: No curse or negative energy present

4 Black - 1 Red: Blip of dark energy, natural defenses can ward it off

3 Black - 2 Red: Dark energy present, possible jinx

2 Black - 3 Red: Sufficient dark energy, possible hex, cleanse immediately

1 Black - 4 Red: Significant harmful magick present, likely hex or curse. Do a purification/protection ritual

0 Black - 5 Red: Curse confirmed, take serious action to uncross/cleanse/protect. Someone has intentionally tried to harm you with magick.

[sugar-grigri]

Nayuta wasn't killed by Barem, she's his ally 

Poor fandom, you're disorientated just when your compasses should be working properly. 

Let's learn how to eat sushi properly, step by step. Or rather, how about reading Chainsaw Man in the right order? By calmly superimposing everything we know in the right order 

So let's not panic, let's get on with it. Dry your tears, clean your snot and let's get back to the introductions. 

First layer of sushi: Denji and Pochita are made for each other 

Who is Chainsaw Man? It's a question we've been asking ourselves a lot, but how about a simple answer - we're not here to mess around. Chainsaw Man is the combined result of Pochita + Denji. Do we agree? Why have they become so close? Because they look alike, don't they? Alone, hungry, in need of a little warmth and a little love. 

Second layer of sushi: birthday, despair, amnesia...

If we take the stories in outline, Denji meets Makima and then bonds with his siblings. A sibling who eventually dies, and whose final breaking point is his sister, cut in two. On top of that, it's his birthday, isn't it? Makima invites Denji to open the door that confined his traumas, including the death of Denji’s father? 

You see, I've already missed it, I went too fast. Let's resume calmly, birthday... Denji had forgotten it was his birthday, hadn't he? His birthday is the day you're born, it's one of the few pieces of information we don't really question, but Denji forgot it. But haven't you ever really wondered...

If Denji had celebrated his birthday? And why, how, he wanted to eat a cake? His father was violent and his mother died when he was very young, so is it really safe to say that Denji celebrated his birthday? 

I had another question, why does Fujimoto always seem to accentuate the cakes so much?

I really think that cake is one of the keys, because it's a tunnel of memories that resurfaces in Denji, the cake, his birthday, then Power's death, then his father's death. It's a sushi within a sushi (we're slowly taking things back in order), I think it's about layers that need to be taken back in chronological order, yes chronological 1) the death of Denji's father 2) the death of Power 3) Denji's birthday 4) the cake. Which brings us to this scene.

Was this scene shown not just metaphorical or symbolic, but actually happened? Denji having contracted with the control demon whose power is to control memory, in order to reshape him perfectly so as not to be happy and to do whatever she asks of him later. Why couldn't Denji open that door? Why does Aki's death sound so abruptly like Denji's absence, with a mini ellipsis that doesn't show us in concrete terms how Chainsaw Man killed him? I'm going too fast again, let's start again...

Makima hasn't made Denji unhappy, she's created a being made for unhappiness.

This scene refers to an anniversary, amnesia and despair, all ingredients that enabled Pochita to take complete possession of Denji and show us the most complete version of Chainsaw Man.

Which means Barem isn't lying, is he? Same here, I'm going too fast!

Third layer of sushi: the closer Denji gets to happiness, the more he doubts...

Denji manages to become himself again and succeeds in killing Makima, by devouring her. In a very simple and concrete way, Makima was devoured and this put an end to her existence. Keep this in mind. Nayuta is reborn, becoming Denji's little sister, lots of dogs surround them, Chainsaw Man becomes extremely popular and it's in this part 2 that Denji will feel the least like himself, the least like Chainsaw Man. Strangely enough, it's when he approaches a semblance of happiness that Denji pulls away from himself.

Barem really doesn't seem to be lying, does he? But once again, I'm going too fast, let's get on with it!

Fourth layer of sushi: Barem never lies 

This is something I quickly came up with, and it's so precise, I think his character is thought of that way, and it's his narrative role. Even though he's deceitful, manipulative and devious, the bro does NOT LIE. He didn't lie about the weapons attack, he didn't lie that he looked like a Chainsaw Man fan, and he doesn't lie in the last chapter. But same, I'm going too fast. 

Fifth layer of sushi: Nayuta betrayed by Chainsaw Man 

When Denji made the choice to become Chainsaw Man, the house, his source of happiness, was falling to ashes, his dogs, his cat were dying. Denji went through with his dream and abandoned the little sister who made him happy. Barem didn't impose misfortune on Denji; it was Denji who chose misfortune, despite Nayuta's fears. The happier he was with her, the more he lost himself. He left her in Barem's hands and provoked an existential crisis in her. Which made her reconnect with her old self. 

Sixth layer of sushi: an unblocked memory. 

The aftertaste that sticks to your palate is a piece of information I mentioned earlier. Makima has been devoured. What defines the Knights of the Apocalypse from the rest of the demons? Their memory. What if Nayuta had now understood how Chainsaw Man's power worked? 

Seventh layer of sushi: chapter 170. 

This explains Nayuta's severed head, a macabre mise-en-scène to make her brother lose his mind a little more. As for Barem, he doesn't lie to us and gives us instructions on how to read Chainsaw Man. He knows how to read Chainsaw Man, since he knows the two conditions for him to regain his full power because Nayuta gave them to him. For all this is nothing more than their death. 

Layer zero of sushi: the unknown. 

Now I'm entering the quintessential madness of my analysis. Makima contracted with Denji at a very young age, and gave him several orders: survive at all costs, remain miserable, and one day kill Power and Aki. Above all, she ordered him to contract with Pochita, hence Denji's reflex to hand his open wound directly to the demon. This misfortune, this amnesia due to the contract with Makima, this survival on his own, finally allowed a weakened Chainsaw Man to find a kindred spirit, a loved one. Believing in happiness, then destroying it, kept Chainsaw Man's power in check, those vain dreams only a human could imagine. Denji was a kind of Russian doll, holding back Pochita and his over-power. That's why these two conditions exist. 

To be unhappy, or to break this Russian doll. 

To be feared by all, or to be alone. 

Or kill Denji. 

To save Pochita. 

Layer - 100000 of sushi: did you think I'd finished losing my head? I don't think so. What if everything I've been telling you all along, taking things in order, were to be done in reverse? Take them out of order. I'll ask the questions so you can understand. Why is Makima so obsessed with Chainsaw Man? Why did the Knights of the Apocalypse fight Chainsaw Man in the underworld? How did they manage to retain their memories? Why start the story with a parricide? Why was Denji finely polished by Makima to welcome Pochita when Makima never saw Denji, the reason for her own death? How could she enter into a contract with someone she has never seen? 

Because someone is controlling the control demon itself. Just as it controls the way the story is presented to us. How can we trust an antagonist who controls memory? And an amnesiac protagonist? 

Why did Pochita do what he did in the underworld? Why this sudden fury? Why do demons hear chainsaws at the moment of their death? 

Because we've come full circle. More precisely, what you're reading is not part 2 but part 1, or to be more (MORE) precise, the end of Chainsaw Man will lead to its beginning. The desire to create a better world, to kill death, will lead to a temporal loop in the world that will never cross the apocalypse, blocked just ahead. 

Makima herself is controlled by her future self, which allows her to make references to the future and know the recipes for unleashing Chainsaw Man's power without understanding why, her future self knows Chainsaw Man, she loved him. So Makima also loves Chainsaw Man without really understanding why, amnesiac like Denji.

Denji doesn't kill his father, it's his old self who is killed. 

But another Denji tries to put an end to this... 

Spiral. 

Stuck between two worlds, two temporalities, morning (Asa), night (Yoru), someone is trying to put an end to this endless world, before dawn.

[anyamaris]

Morning Glory

Summary-Your best friend comes over after an unexpected visit from your cheating ex, and a night of comfort produces something unexpected.

Pairing-BFF!Yeosang x F!Reader

Genre/Trope-Smut, non idol au

Word count-4.5k

Warnings-Mentions of cheating (ex), some emotions due to break up, vulgarity, adult language, unprotected sex, dirty talk, creampie, some iffy touching while you're both half asleep, NSFW 18+

A/N-This is for the Language of Flowers event for CultofDionysusnet! I hope you enjoy, I've been struggling a bit with writers block so I'm happy to put something out for this event! Make sure to check out the other entries!

Tags- @cultofdionysusnet @ksmutsociety @wooyoungmybelovedhusband @yoonguurt @shinestarhwaa @stardragongalaxy @kpop-stories-21 @starlitmark@millennial-fangirl @ericssmile @wooahaeproductions@changbinslovelylegs @yeosxxx @millennial-fangirl @starillusion13 @duchesskaren @minki-moo @woosanbby

@cafekitsune Thank you for banners and dividers! 🤍💜🤍

It’s been three months. 

Three whole months…

Three months full of shock, pain, sobbing, anger, guilt, and finally, acceptance.

A quarter of a year of your life spent lamenting the almost two years spent with someone who threw away everything without a second thought.

They say time is all you need to move on, but what they don’t tell you is the amount of regret that is left lingering.

How the hindsight can hurt you more than the breakup itself.  

How you blame yourself for the time wasted, for the signs you never saw.  

How you start to rethink the things you thought you knew.  

Words like, “I love you” and “I promise” become both fleeting and weighted.  

All of these thoughts swirl in your mind as you stare into the face of the man who caused this turmoil.

No, that’s wrong.

All he did was cheat on you, lie to you and walk away without batting an eyelash.  

Suppressing a cynical laugh, you just stare into the face of your betrayer.  

His eager smile doesn’t evoke the tickle in your tummy like it used to.

His handsome, sheepish face doesn’t make you want to rush into his arms like before.

“Hi.” 

Once upon a time, that simple line would have you opening the door further and inviting him in, your deceitful mind telling you that he must have a good reason.

Unfortunately for him, the you that used to cave to his ridiculous lies and excuses doesn’t exist anymore.

“What do you want?” Your voice is harsh, a frown tugging at your lips.

You’d be lying if you said he didn’t evoke any emotions in you.  

You feel the hand on the door shake as you grip it harder, anger coursing through you.

“I…I missed you.  Can I come in to talk?” He asks, the arm behind his back slipping around to present you with a small bouquet of flowers.

“Look, I brought your favorites.”

Frowning at the offering, you can only blink at them. 

Not once has he given you flowers. 

Not one time.

Scoffing, you stay where you are, blocking the entrance.

“My favorites? Do you even know my favorite flower?” 

Though they are pretty, the roses are far from your favorite flower.  The very fact that he chose red roses too was so cliche.  

You wince at the rage making your voice shake.  

Dear god, please don’t let him think I’m getting sad over him.

“Uhhh…flowers are flowers, right?” He asks, shrugging a shoulder and brushing his hair back.  

“Look, I don’t know why you came here of all places.  But you’re not welcome.” 

You begin to close the door in his face, but he lunges forward, stopping you before you can escape him.

“Wait-I know we didn’t end on the best of terms-” 

Your laugh halts him momentarily, rolling your eyes at his choice of words.

“-look…all couples take a break-” he’s continuing but you’re done listening.

“Stop. One, we are not a couple.  We broke up.”  You hold your hand up to halt his retort.

“Two, you cheated on me.”  

He frowns at your fingers as you hold them up, counting his mistakes.  

“But-”

“Three, there is nothing you could possibly say or do that would have me opening this door to you.  I suggest you find someone else’s door to go knock on, because you’re not welcome here.” 

You give him a good shove to remove him from the doorway and slam the door, leaning back against it as you hug yourself.

Jumping at his loud pounding, you can only let out a shaky sigh.  

“Go away, seriously.”

“Look, I made a mistake, we love each other-” 

You snort at his words, cutting him off. 

“The only person you love is yourself, so fuck off.”  

Walking away from the door and his ridiculous protests, you make your way to your shower to wash off the ick from seeing him again.

Emerging from the bathroom, you listen for a few and smile as silence greets you.  

“Finally.  Idiot.” you mutter, but you sigh as you feel your body shake from the encounter.  

The sheer audacity of him, showing up with roses like that would immediately evaporate all of the pain and hurt he caused-

Your mind whirls as you clench your fists.

Your thoughts are interrupted by a ding from your phone.

Hesitant to check it, you slowly make your way to look at the screen.

Letting out a soft sigh, your body relaxes slightly as you read the text from your best friend. 

“If Wooyoung asks, I have absolutely no idea what happened to his favorite hoodie.” 

Your lips curl as you shake your head, drying your hair as you remember the fate of said hoodie.  

“Sure, you definitely didn’t use it as a mop when you spilled that drink last week.”

“I have no idea what you mean.” You get back and you just sigh, tossing on some pajamas. 

“Sure thing, no idea.” you respond, chewing your lip as you ponder if you should tell him about your unwanted visitor.

Yeosang had been there through everything, through the relationship, through the breakup, through the aftermath.  

He’d been your rock, and now….

Now you selfishly wanted to vent at him, to have him comfort you and calm you down.  

“Is everything okay?” he sends and you blink at the text.  

“I swear, he reads my mind.” you hum as you stare at the phone.

Giving in to your instincts you just send him one word.

“No.”

A moment passes, then your phone lights up, ringing with the familiar song you have set to him.

Before it can ring twice you answer, holding the phone to your ear without a word.

“What happened?” His voice washes over you like a warm blanket, the deep tone seeming to uncork the stress, the distilled pain you’ve been holding in.

Instead of answering, when you open your mouth, all that comes out is a sob.  

“Hey-hey-what happened? Are you hurt?”  His words are laced with panic and you collect yourself enough to reply.

“No…I’m okay, I think.  He showed up.  At my door.”  

Silence greets you from the other end, and a slight rustling is heard as you do your best to try to calm down, covering your mouth with your free hand.

Before the call cuts out, he utters a simple phrase that has relief flooding through you.

“I’m on my way.”

“Shh, it’s okay.  It’s okay to cry, really.” Yeosang is saying, his hand rubbing your back as you both sit on your couch.  

He’d gotten over to your place in record time, so quickly that you thought the pounding was him coming back.

“I’m sick of crying, Yeosang.” You get out, leaning into him as he nods at you.  

His eyes are full of concern, and what you hope is care and not pity.  

Of everyone, Yeosang was the last person you wanted to pity you.  

He meant far too much to you for that.

“What the fuck did he even want? Showing up at your door-” he blurts out, clenching his fist on his thigh.  

“He…I think he was trying to crawl back here, his other girlfriend must have kicked his ass out.” You tell him, wiping at your nose with the tissue in your hand.

You smile as you watch Yeosang purse his lips, not saying a word.  

He’d never truly expressed what he thought of your ex, and you had a feeling he’d never actually liked him much.

At least one of you was smart, you think.

“He even brought flowers.  Fucking roses, like they would fix everything.  Fucking asshole.” 

Yeosang just listens, taking the tissue to replace it with a fresh one.  

“The first time he ever brings me flowers, and he brings me roses after three months of silence and cheating and-” you just shake your head, irritated at the whole situation.

“He said they were my favorite too.  I wonder if he even remembers anything I like.”  You continue, finally feeling a bit of relief after venting to your friend.

Yeosang just sighs, reaching out to brush a tendril of hair back, holding up the glass of water he’d gotten for you when he arrived.  

As you drink, he just watches you, finally speaking after you set it down.

“Come on, let’s watch something.  It’ll help you relax.  How about your favorite? Princess Bride?” He asks, grabbing the remote to scroll through your many apps on the television.

“You’re sick of that one, aren’t you?” Eyeing him, you can’t help but smile.  

A small stirring of your old crush on him teases your mind, but you push it down.

Must be my stupid emotions, you think, watching as he puts the movie on.

He holds out his arm, allowing you to snuggle against him as you normally do.  

“If it’ll make you smile, I’ll happily watch it twenty more times.”  He grins, tossing a blanket over you as you make yourself comfortable on him.  

Watching the beginning scene, you look up at him.

“How come you never say anything about him when I complain? It must get old.” You ask, blinking at him.

Yeosang just looks at you, his honey brown eyes studying you as he seems to think about his answer.

After a moment, he just shakes his head.

“I want to hurt anyone who hurts you.  So anything I have to say isn’t going to help what you’re going through. Now pay attention, Buttercup.” 

He boops your nose as he gestures to the screen, smiling as you let out a soft laugh.

His words have an effect on you that seeing your ex doesn’t and you push them down as you get lost in the movie with your best friend.

The first thing you become aware of is the distant rumble of thunder.  

Then, the soft pattering of rain upon glass, soothing you as you inhale deeply

Stirring, you adjust as you try to get comfortable.

The blanket over you is soft and warm, as is the body underneath you.

With your eyes closed and sleep hazing the edges of your brain, you snuggle deeper into the strong arms around you.  

Drawing your leg up, you nuzzle your face into the soft material beneath it.

A familiar scent tantalizes your senses as you inhale deeply. The light scent of blackberry, bay leaves and sandalwood soothes you, and you can’t help but cling to the fabric of his shirt as you bury your face into his chest.

Yeosang.

Your sleep addled brain whispers the name as you press closer to him, your body moving instinctively before you can think anything through. 

Was he always this…built? Where did these muscles come from?

Your hands seem to have a mind of their own as they skim down his side, splaying out over his stomach.  

A soft murmur greets your ears, a deep humming stirs beneath your cheek as his arms tighten ever so slightly around you.  

Was he awake? 

Your hand stills, feeling your cheeks heat as the fog slowly clears from your brain.  

Slowly, you take stock of where you are, how you ended up here.

You’d fallen asleep on the couch watching the movie, you realize.

You were laying half on his chest, his arm wrapped around beneath you with your leg draped over one of his own.

His other arm was tossed over your side, your cheek pressed to his chest above his heart.  

The rhythmic thump under your ear is calming, and your lips twitch as the soft sigh that escapes him as he slumbers.  

Pervert, were you really trying to feel up your best friend? You think to yourself.

In his sleep, no less.

It’s been far too long since you’ve been intimate with anyone, and your body seems to have a mind of its own.

Traitor. Perverted, horrible traitor.

It’s fine, just errant thoughts.  Nothing you hadn’t thought before of him.

As long as they were just thoughts.

But it was different right? Being pressed so close to him, feeling the way your bodies fit together. 

How if you just slipped your hand down-

Your mind takes a moment to command you to stop, freezing you as his breath hitches.

You close your eyes, trying to calm the racing thoughts in your mind, the throbbing need that seems to be increasing the longer you lay like this.  

You stiffen as he shifts slightly under you, his hand splaying out on your side.  

A heat flushes your cheeks at how he lifts his leg, his thigh pressing between your legs as he adjusts, drawing out a small involuntary whimper from your throat.

Dear lord, you think, this is NOT helping your plight.

It didn’t help that the sleep shorts you were wearing had shifted slightly during your sleep. 

Not to mention that you weren’t wearing panties… 

Now the thin fabric was riding up, the way you were laying on them teasing at your core as your hips instinctively rock against his thigh before you can stop yourself.

Your heart seems to beat in your throat as you glance up at him, the angle you’re at allowing you to see his pretty lashes in the moonlight.  

Was he sleeping? Did he know how you were reacting to his innocent movements in his sleep?

Did he know what a bad friend you were, thinking about getting off on him as he slept beneath you?

You study him as his lips part, his tongue darting out to wet them.

At the way his adam’s apple bobs as he swallows.  

At the curve of his pectoral muscles…

Your gaze just slowly takes him in, raking down his body.  

You just need to extract yourself from him, make a quick exit to your room.  

To take care of this aching need that is driving you to these depraved thoughts.

Decided, you shift to pull back from him, slipping your hand up his chest to find the outside of the couch, intending to crawl over him.  

Before you even find a spot for leverage, his hand slips down the curve of your side, your hip, grasping your ass gently.  

“Mmm…” he murmurs and you freeze as he shifts again, causing you to bury your face into his neck.  

“Yeosang?” You manage to squeak out, inhaling sharply as his hips tilt.  

“Uhh…?” His sleep rasped voice brushes in your ear as he seems to come around.

Dear god, he’s not even awake and he’s-

The sharp intake of breath is paired with his hand slipping along your ass as he hikes your thigh up over him.

Fuck…you were straddling him.  

Double fuck, you were definitely very aroused from this and you needed to get away quickly before-

Suddenly, as his hands grip your cheeks to rock you against him, you realize how very hard he is.  

“Fuck-” He hisses as you draw back, your lust clouded brain screaming for you to wake him completely, to tell him that it’s you; that he’s-

Every thought following flies from your mind as his hand slips between your ass from behind, his fingers taking advantage of the way your shorts have shifted to expose your very wet core.  

There’s no time to muffle the moan that leaves your lips, no time to stop your legs from parting eagerly; no time to stop your hips from jerking against him, rubbing your naked sensitive nub against his rough jeans. 

Your cheeks burn with a mixture of lust and shame, knowing his body is likely reacting instinctively.  

“Yeosang-” You try again, pulling back slightly to see if you can wake him, to stop this-

His dark brown eyes meet yours in the dim moonlight, his lips parted as his fingers slip further down, fingertips dipping daringly into your now clenching cunt.

For a moment, all you can both do is look at one another as you hold tight to him, his eyes searching yours.

The silence is broken by your shameless whimper, your hips grinding down against him as he gives you a little grin.

“Should I stop?” He asks, his voice hoarse from sleep, though he continues to tease at your hole with shallow dips of his fingers.  

The hand on your ass squeezes gently, making it extremely hard to think.  

“Yeosang, I-” you try to say but then one of his fingers slips further into you, causing you to moan softly.  

“Is this because of me…or were you having a wet dream?” His eyes dance as he watches your face, seeming to enjoy the fact that you can’t form proper words.  

“You-but…oh god…” you whine as the hand on your ass slips over to yank your shorts farther from your crotch and you can hear a slight tearing noise as the material gives.

Something about the hungry look in his eyes, the soft rip of your flimsy shorts, the way his finger curls as your walls pulse around him tips you over the edge. 

His eyes widen as your mouth smashes against his, but they flutter softly as his tongue meets yours eagerly.

Your fingers twist up into the soft strands of his hair, tugging gently as a small growl leaves his throat.  

“No-don’t-fucking-stop-” you manage between breaths, your free hand slipping down to tug at his shirt.

Desperation suddenly takes over, and before you know it, his fingers part from your aching cunt and he’s lifting your hips, both of you clawing at the button on his jeans.  

You watch him as he watches both of your hands, his chest rising and falling rapidly.  

Following his gaze, you can’t help but bite your lip as he manages to finally unzip, then push down his pants.  

You can’t help but reach eagerly for his thick, rigid length as he tugs his boxer briefs down.  

All logical thought is gone as you hear his low, deep groan as your fingers slip along the silky skin of his cock.

There’s nothing slow or tentative about the way he grabs your hip, the way you guide him to your throbbing entrance.  

The way you cry out as he pulls you down, the way you stretch deliciously around him.

The quiet room fills with the combined sounds of your moans, the slapping sound of your bodies meeting as his hips tilt and thrust, guiding your own as you reach up to grab his shoulder.

“That’s it, that’s it baby,” he groans, and you can feel the material of his underwear gathering your arousal as you leak down on them.  

You shudder as one of his hands yanks up your shirt, awkwardly trying to help him shed the offending garment.  

Tossing it to the side, his lips waste no time latching onto your nipple, his teeth scraping the sensitive flesh as he licks and sucks.

“Oh my god-” you cry out, feeling the tight knot in your abdomen ache. 

His mouth leaves your breast with soft pop, his breathing harsh as he looks up at you, his hips never faltering to meet yours.

“Yeah, baby? You like my cock?” His voice is deep and shaky, his pupils blown from lust as he grips your hair to force you to look at him as he thrusts even harder up into you.

“Fuck-Yeosang, I fucking love it-please-!” your brain fogs as his arm slips around your waist, holding you tight as he begins to set the pace.  

“Please what? Hmm?” He rasps out, his own moans peppering his speech as his fingers dig into your hip.  

“Tell me, baby.  Tell me what it is you want, hmm?  I’ll give you everything you want, you just have to ask-”

His words pause as he dips down to take your other nipple into his mouth, sucking harshly at the bud.

“Harder-” you cry out, “Feels so fucking good, I’m gonna-” 

At your words, he suddenly sits up, tipping you onto your back as he follows, guiding your legs around his hips.  

He somehow manages to keep himself deep inside of you, his form hovering over you now in the dark room.  

He tears his own shirt off before he’s pressing himself against you, your breasts squashed between you both.

“As you wish, Buttercup-” He growls, slipping his hand under your ass to tilt your hips up, his own setting a pace that leaves you breathless.

The sight of him above you, the feral gleam in his eyes as his cock seems to drag your quivering walls in all the right ways has your vision blurring at the edges.

Crying out, you rake your fingernails down his back and the way his eyes roll at the sensation has you rushing quickly towards alleviating the ache slowly bubbling within you.

“Yeah? Right there? You look so fucking good taking my cock, baby.” His deep voice paired with those words begins the first quiver of your impending orgasm.

“Right fucking there, harder-please-don’t stop, Yeosang!” You scream as you feel his body react to your words, to your slick walls pulsing around him.

“Come for me, that’s it-” he moans, the motion of his hips beginning to stutter, each thrust punctuated by a word. “Let me-see you-come around me with that-tight little cunt-” 

Your mouth opens on a long wail as you clamp around him, your entire body stiffening as you quake under the sensation.  

Your fingers grasp at his back and shoulders frantically as you chase your high as his pelvis grinds down into your clit, every nerve ending in your body seeming to fire all at once.

“Fuck, you look-so fucking beautiful-” his erratic breathing and moans suddenly hitch as he thrusts hard and deep, a long whimper escaping his throat.

His body stiffens as you feel his cock pulse over and over as he spills hot come within you, your name falling from his lips like a mantra.

Slowly, all of the noises die down as the early morning silence creeps back in.  

The thunder and rainfall from before has quieted.

Only the sounds of your labored breathing, of his muted pants and grunts as he slowly collapses on top of you hang in the air.

Bringing a shaking hand up to comb through his damp locks, you lean your cheek against his.  

“Yeosang?” You murmur, greeted with only a small whine in reply.

“Don’t say it.” He finally whispers, burying his face into your neck.

Confused, you pause your movements through his hair, your hand stilling on his back.

After a moment you merely reply, “Say what?”

“That this was a mistake. That you’re sorry.” he responds quickly, pulling back to look in your eyes, his own shifting and studying you.

“But I-”  you start, frowning but he cuts you off.

“I don’t care if you need comfort, I don’t care if you need to get your ex out of your head.” his eyes are pained, and you can only listen as he rambles.

“It doesn’t have to be anything if you don’t want it to be, but I’ve-” 

His throat works as the morning sun starts to illuminate his beautiful brown strands, kissing the honey of his skin and making him appear as glorious as any fictional god.

“-I’ve loved you for as long as I can remember.”

His words take your breath away, and you can feel tears pricking your eyes as you blink in shock.

Brushing back his hair, you swallow back  a small sob as you bring his lips to yours, reveling in his confession.

The soft yellows and oranges start to light the room even as time seems to stop, the night's events culminating in this wonderful revelation.

By the time you part, the day is fully upon both of you.  

Clothing litters the area around you and you can feel the mixture of your releases leaking out from where he’s finally slipped out of you.  

His brow is furrowed as he takes you in, and you can see the hint of worry in his eyes as you begin to speak.

“The only thing I’m sorry about…” you say, feeling your cheeks heat, “...is getting touchy with you in your sleep….”

The silence lingers between you for a moment before it’s broken by his silly little giggle.

He leans down to peck your lips, rolling you both to the side as he cradles you in his arms.

“Is that all?” he asks, his voice deep and low as he nuzzles your cheek.

You close your eyes, your heart surging as his words finally seem to actually hit you fully.

“You…you love me?”  you ask him, pulling back to look at him fully.  

His cheeks stain with a hint of red as he nods, his eyes darting away.  

Cupping his cheek, you tilt his head back so his eyes meet yours once more.

“My ex has nothing to do with anything, Yeosang.  Long before him….it was you.”  

He blinks as he processes your own confession, then his lips are on yours once more.  

Not many words are spoken after, throughout the day and into the evening as you both finally express the long held back emotions for one another.

When you get a delivery of morning glories the next day at work, you swear everything you’ve gone through has been worth it.  

Of course, you think, wiping your eyes.  Of course he knew your favorite flower.

Pulling out the card, you can only let the tears roll down your cheeks at the words that stir your very soul.

“From the moment you came into my life, I knew it was always going to be you.  From your favorite food to the way your eyes dance when you laugh, I’ve memorized every aspect of you.  The good, the bad and everything in between, it’s always been you.  I’ve weathered the dormancy of winter while I waited for you; now that the spring has begun, let’s tend this garden together and watch our love bloom. As the flower implies, this is my promise.  Whether your petals are open to warm yourself in the morning sun, or withered by the evening, you will forever be my morning glory.”

[brittle-doughie]

Late Arrival (Dark Cacao Cookie)

“Dark Cacao Cookie. Now that they have awoken, they will attack us to reclaim their lost Soul Jams. During the fight, Shadow Milk Cookie had taken Y/N Cookie under his control through his deceit. I fear that with Shadow Milk Cookie pushed back for now that he will alert the others to Y/N Cookie’s existence.”

“White Lily Cookie and I were barely able to bring them back from Shadow Milk Cookie’s control, they need the time to settle down. Please, for their sake, do not bring Y/N Cookie with you. I understand how much we all value and cherish them, but it only puts them in danger of the Beast Cookies.”

“There’s no telling what the other Beast Cookies will do to keep Y/N Cookie for themselves…”

Dark Cacao only sighed as he looked away from the letter, seeing Y/N Cookie prepping alongside Caramel Arrow and Crunchy Chip Cookie from the distance. It looked like he had ALREADY invited Y/N Cookie to come along with him for the expedition to Mystic Flour Cookie’s temple.

He was too attached to them for his own good….

But…he shook his head as he gripped his blade and headed over to the cookies.

He…he can protect them. It won’t be like what Pure Vanilla described back at the Silver Kingdom.

He’ll make sure you’re safe…

“Have the preparations been made?”

“Yes, my King! I have ordered the troops to be ready at the gates.”

“Your Majesty! Everything has been ready and set for our travel to Beast Yeast! I’m worried about Y/N Cookie though, they look uneasy…”

Crunchy was right, you had that shaking feeling in your legs….

Going back to Beast Yeast so soon….

You really wanted to stay at the Cookie Kingdom, where it was safe…

But when Dark Cacao Cookie practically pleaded for your aid, you didn’t want to let him down…

“Will you be okay, Y/N Cookie? I know it was such short notice to ask for your help. Especially after your recent arrival back to your kingdom, but I will do my best to protect you…”

“As will I.”

Dark Cacao Cookie had placed his hand on your shoulder, giving you more reassurance as you collected yourself.

He was right, as long as you had him and the others backing you up, things won’t go south…like before…

———————————————————————

“Foolish Cookies..! You simply have no idea what’s waiting for you! How long can you protect Y/N Cookie before they fall into our hands! HA HA HA HA HA!”

———————————————————————

You shake your head to try and forget his words. You can trust Dark Cacao. With the others in the kingdom, there shouldn’t be any cause for concern.

Definitely…

[liliwritin]

"WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS?!" - E.W

- Summary: Y/n appears with a hickey on her neck, Ellie is pissed, and Y/n's breasts are beautiful.

- A/N: HAPPY NEW YEAR!! This is really short but I liked it lol

Men, leave our lesbians alone!

"Oh my God, he's so cute!" Y/n says feeling the baby lay on her neck and "bite" with his gums.

"He liked you Y/n." Maria says smiling seeing the baby totally at ease with the young woman.

"Yes, maybe I'll quit patrols and start taking care of the children." Y/n says jokingly.

"Ellie would like that, she goes crazy every time you go out on patrol without her."

"I hate it when she goes on patrol without me too." Y/n says smiling and patting the baby's back.

"By the way, you two can come over for dinner tonight, Joel is coming too."

"Oh, that's awesome Maria, thank you."

"I better get going, Ellie should be home by now, I'll talk to her about dinner." The young woman hands the baby to Maria.

"Be careful on the streets, dear, I'll see you tonight." Y/n smiles and leaves, humming, heading towards her house with Ellie.

"Ellie?" Y/n says taking off her sneakers and placing them next to her girlfriend's converse.

"In the kitchen!" Y/n smiles and goes towards the voice.

"Maria invited us to have dinner with them, Joel is going too." She says arriving in the kitchen, and seeing Ellie with her back turned washing some dishes that were in the sink.

"Really? Do you want-WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS?!"

"What?! What the hell happened?!" S/n says, already taking out her gun and looking behind her for danger.

"What the fuck is this Y/n?" Ellie says approaching her and looking terrified at her neck.

"What?" Y/n says practically motionless.

"Are you cheating on me?" This makes Y/n's eyes almost pop out of her head.

"Why would you say something like that?!"

"You have a fucking hickey on your neck!"

"What? That's definitely yours Ellie." Y/n says Putting the gun back and with her hand on her neck, going to the bathroom where there is a mirror.

"No, that's not mine, that wasn't there this morning." Ellie says following her girlfriend to the bathroom and almost crying.

Y/n looks at her neck in the mirror, and sees that there really is a hickey there.

"Ellie, I didn't cheat on you, trust me.

"There's a fucking hickey on your neck, how am I supposed to believe it?" Y/n stands there speechless, looking at her neck in the mirror and trying to understand where that came from.

Until suddenly she smells vomit and her eyes widen.

"Ellie... it was the baby!" She says going to her girlfriend and holding her by the shoulders.

"You're fucking crazy." Ellie says in disbelief.

"No, it was the baby I was holding, Maria saw." Y/n says taking off her shirt almost too quickly.

"No no no, if you think seeing your beautiful breasts will make me forget this, you are very wrong-" Ellie is interrupted by her girlfriend putting the shirt on her nose.

"Smell that, it's the smell of baby vomit."

"Are you telling me... that your lover has a baby?" Y/n rolls her eyes and throws her shirt on the floor.

"Fuck Ellie, I was holding a baby and he did this, I swear." Y/n takes her girlfriend's face in her hands and is only inches away from her face.

Ellie analyzes her girlfriend's face looking for any sign of deceit and lies, but finds nothing, she seems desperate to fix this.

"Do you promise?"

"All over Jackson." Y/n responds immediately.

Ellie closed her eyes and sighed,

"What a fucking scare."

"I love you, only you." She pulled Ellie into a kiss, which she returned gratefully.

"Who would have thought a baby would cause all this mess, huh." Ellie said, kissing her girlfriend's cheek and resting her forehead against hers.

"And it's not even ours yet." Ellie smiles wider at that.

"So you wanted to distract me with your beautiful breasts?" She says, placing her hands on Y/m's waist, and moving up to her bra.

"Did it work?" Y/n asks, biting her lips.

"Oh it sure did."

[weebsinstash]

I'm not typically a fan of pregnancy au stuff for hazbin because it introduces a hell lotta new questions, but anyways, I DO find it absolutely entertaining thinking about a Reader who did the nasty with Alastor and had kind of a friends-with-benefits situation with him and he does his whole 7 year disappearing act without warning you or telling you anything at all (assumedly because he did not have a choice or opportunity) and he comes back, knocking on your front door, "say, doll! What's say we mosey on over to our old favorite jazz club to catch up on old times?"

and suddenly peeking out from behind your back is just the cutest little fawn with a head full of curls who is very clearly Alastor's son, clutching at your apron, "Mama, isn't he the man you listen to those old recordings of? He sounds the same"

Alastor feeling this, this WARMTH in his chest as you invite him inside your home and it's completely different from the last time he was there, filled with everything your son could need, his drawings and report cards from that nice school you break your back to afford stuck lovingly on the fridge and a hot home-cooked meal currently cooling on the stove as Alastor's invited for some food... if he feels comfortable. You and him discuss privately where your son can't hear as you get all weepy, "I'm sorry, but when you disappeared, I couldn't... ASK you what you would have wanted... I didn't want to have some kind of, of PROCEDURE and you hate me for it... and even from the very first scan, I loved him so much... he's my entire world... I couldn't even CONSIDER... getting rid of him. He's my beautiful smart baby boy and i would die for him"

Genuinely I think it would be real funny if Alastor is initially quite jealous actually for having to share you with a CHILD, but the more time he spends around the young boy, the more he realizes, oh, this is quite the upstanding young fellow! His mama raised him right and he likes to help around the house, likes to read lots of books, loves all kinds of music, helps his mother on all the crosswords and word searches and puzzle books, and he's smart enough to suss out pretty quickly, "sir are you my father"

and the second your son receives an answer, just, KICKING THE RADIO DEMON IN THE SHIN, "You're a horrible man!! You call yourself a gentleman but you left my mama to raise a baby all by herself!! You're terrible! Incorrigible! Disrespectful! Untoward!--" Your young son is breaking out the goddamn dictionary and synonyms on this man, "you lying, deceitful, devious, DEPLORABLE--"

And Alastor is watching this little kid threaten to beat his ass and not even caring that he's up against The Infamous Radio Demon, just shouting at Alastor until the young boy is absolutely changing colors in the face, getting SO SO upset for his mama that he's ready to FIGHT OVER IT, and Alastor is just, essentially, breaking out into laughter, "oh, so you ARE my son!! Aren't you a gutsy one!! Put JUST a little force behind that next one and it might actually sting a bit!" and pats the boy on the head. That settles it; he's accepted as Alastor's son like THAT

Of course, Alastor now caring for this boy does not come without its... complications. There might be some 'incidents' if you, for example, have other positive role models for your son, other men who are regularly coming around, making Alastor's new position as the boy's father and your not-quite-husband (yet) feel threatened and unstable and encouraging the Radio Demon to 'act out'. You're so happy to have Alastor back in your life that you don't even notice things are a little off until your son starts mentioning things like "Mama where did Mr Thomas go? He used to come by every Thursday to play chess but I don't remember seeing him for a while?" "Mama I know Benson has bullied me and pushed me down and stolen my things but I saw his mom crying outside the bookstore earlier saying he's gone missing and I think we should help look for him" "Mama I know Mr Alastor said we don't need her and he can teach me but I also like my old piano teacher. Could I have some lessons with her and some with Mr Alastor instead of just all of them with him? I miss Ms. Mason"

But like... you don't want to deny Alastor a relationship with his child after they both have already lost so much time and you don't want to deprive your son of his father without a good reason, so you stifle some of your suspicions. It's all for your son's sake, isn't it? And you can't help but, get a little selfish when Alastor insists on taking you and your boy out, going to see live bands, going to local events, taking your son to the county fair and you feeling tears in your eyes as, your boy finally gets to spend time with his father. It's like... it's like you're a real family... you've always wanted something like this, for him, for them, for yourself--

But... Alastor doesn't... see you THAT way, does he? He displays his emotions much differently than you, and there were even times in the past where Alastor himself drew the line in the sand that, oh yes you two were quite close friends, he has such a deep affection for you, but... romantically? Sorry, sweetheart, but no

... or so he thought. Now that he's back, he sees how deeply you love his son and sacrifice so much for him amd how much your son absolutely adores you and how, completely by yourself, without any of Alastor's help, you raised him into a fine young man that... the Radio Demon could see himself helping raise, a boy he can't help but feel a little pride in helping make and, can't help but feel a little sad he missed all sorts of important milestones for. And of course, of course of course of course, he missed YOU ever so much, and when Alastor looks up from his paper to see you at the stove, hair all out of place and your hands messy as you cook a meal for your son and his father, your little boy dutifully helping clean as you go, he can't help wish that THIS was how he spent his last 7 years.

Lucifer have mercy on anyone who tries to disrupt his new utopia of peace and tranquility. Could you even imagine, could you even fucking imagine you and Alastor are walking with your son and nearby TVs snap on and it's fucking Vox, showing your family on TV, talking shit to Alastor, using HORRIBLE language in front of your son--

And Alastor feels his love for you grow all the more as you use your own magic to surge through the television and begin strangling the newscaster right on the air, "DONT YOU DARE SHOW MY SON'S FACE ON TV YOU FUCKING--" and Alastor starts lovingly conversing with his son about how important it is to stand up for your family and your values as the pair of them watch you throw Vox around his recording studio in a frenzied rage, "You and your disgusting Vees always trying to peddle your worthless garbage to kids, you CREEPS!! BABIES DON'T NEED IPADS, RETINOL CREAMS, SKEEYEE DANCE ROUTINES, AND ATHLEISUREWEAR LEGGINGS THAT GO UP THEIR ASS, YOU CONSUMERIST IMMORAL SHELL OF A HUMAN BEING--"

Snapcut to you rejoining your family on the sidewalk with your hair a mess and visible blood on you while Vox is facedown on the floor in his broadcast unable to move before it cuts to a "technical difficulties, please stand by" screen. Alastor is oh so genuinely joyfully smiling, "Now who wants to go and get some waffles? I say we should celebrate any victory over our enemies with some tasty grub!!" and he takes you and your son's hands and is all but skipping down the sidewalk while his hated rival is bleeding out in his tower somewhere. Oh, Alastor will give the Television Demon his own revenge for daring to try and shame the lovely beautiful mother of his child and his beloved boy on that disgusting show. What kind of degenerate uses children for content, let alone threatens their safety? Alastor will be back for him later and do much, MUCH worse than you did.

For now, though? Alastor just wants to enjoy the sight of you and his son sitting in a booth with him while you all scarf down some hotcakes. A family of his very own, huh? How wonderful. If only his own mom were here to see it...

[yandere-toons]

I know this is a little early but can you do a Book of Life headcanon for Dia De Los Muertos? It can be La Muerte and Zebulba or Maria, Manolo, and Joaquin. (I love your writing so much!)

Yandere La Muerte & Xibalba (Platonic & Romantic Headcanons)

Warnings: Death, Toxic Mindsets.

A.N. – ¡Feliz Día de los Muertos!

While the candle of her chosen mortal is aflame with life, La Muerte dons it proudly in a prime spot among her dress or hat, close enough to where she can always feel its heat and wince at the exact moment it goes cold. If so exists even a whiff of foul play, it is her husband Xibalba who punishes the living with a sudden uptick in fatal snakebites.

Hot boils the resentment of Xibalba, who never so wished to eradicate the Law-Maker as he does watching his own helpless reflection in the window of a home where his favourite mortal lay despairing. Decades of deceit and contrivances just to share a few words, forced by ancient law to conceal his true name and nature, have worn his patience to a thread. At the same time, Xibalba is inclined to thank this purveyor of death in person, to offer a taste of what the latest victim endured and send the slain soul to rot, as he did, in the Land of the Forgotten.

La Muerte, for all her power in death, can in life offer only words of encouragement from the mouth of a kind stranger. She often observes their day from the secrecy of terraces and distant roofs, watching to ensure their happiness and step in with bits of wisdom should they seem lost. She refrains from direct intervention until the day they wander inside her castle, at which point she cannot help wondering how much longer it may have taken to meet them this way had they lived the life they wanted. Such rumination is channelled into action as La Muerte focuses on bringing them more comfort with their new arrangement than ever they found with the living, seeing it as a way to make up for all the strife she was forbidden from preventing.

La Muerte is happy to join their visitation for Día de los Muertos, believing it will help them grow more accustomed to her and accept her as someone deserving of a higher role in their existence. Xibalba gripes the whole time while wondering where he went wrong to make them so opposed to his presence that they would choose the company of mortals over a night spent drinking and feasting with him and his wife, even questioning whether La Muerte is behind all of this to punish him for some ancient crime.

Xibalba muses that, for a bond so strong as this, he could use his deathly touch to kill their relatives all at once, feigning the promise of a reunion — while keeping to himself that such a deed would only eliminate the last of their tethers to the living and thus send them straight to his realm in perpetuity. Xibalba has one finger outstretched to do just that when La Muerte slaps it down and swears she will never forget this should he go through with it.

Xibalba wilts at her wrath but soon grows restless with spite and decides a more clandestine approach will net him his petty vengeance. If simply snatching away a few lives is too vulgar, then perhaps he can make a wager of it. La Muerte, her inner child intrigued, listens as he spins the age-old tale of a fair trade: if their spouse in life leaves town; if the kids down the street go on to marry one another — Xibalba will claim hosting rights, and if not, he will stop cursing their mortal attachments.

Neither are too moved by sympathy plays, having heard every plea imaginable from souls desperate to live and reunite with those up above. A bet, however, draws from both gods the memory of a younger time, a splash of excitement in an otherwise predictable system.

La Muerte's conditions are more palliative: not protesting when she requests a day spent with her, not trying to breach the living-dead barrier before its time. When others or perhaps even the soul themselves begin to question these once-thought agape embraces and invitations to dine, the goddess admits to a more personal interest. She has walked beside them for much of their life and feels they were cheated by it, seeing the bad side of the world too much and the good side too little, and so has taken it upon herself to show them what could have been.

Xibalba's conditions revolve around staying with him for longer periods, say a millennium instead of a century, or granting him explicit permission to kill some mortal companion of theirs who stokes his envy. Such a blessing is by no means necessary to carrying out the hit; rather, it serves as a colossal show of deference as well as a convenient method of claiming the person's blood is now on their hands.

La Muerte can generally be relied upon to act as a restraining influence on Xibalba, keeping him from wiping out whole droves of mortals in a fit of cruelty; however, even she will leave them to their fate if the terms are clear and both parties have agreed, for a wager with a god is all-binding. By refusing to fulfil one's end of it, the winning side is bound no longer to the stipulations set forth in the agreement and may exact any price as recompense.

Only one path to victory remains: accuse Xibalba of rigging the bet, which La Muerte will be inclined to believe given his history, assuming a trip to lodge this complaint with her is even feasible. Xibalba may suspect this intent to oust him and cancel the next dinner date in haste, professing to La Muerte that he and his new roommate are getting along splendidly.

La Muerte laments their absence and voices her desire to see them again, to which Xibalba pleads that she has hosted them long enough and to give him a chance. Despite a winding series of lies and broken promises to consider, La Muerte is committed to forgiveness and thus gives her word that she will not try to ferry them back to her land, at least until the next bet is up.

Xibalba's lonely heart is all too eager to drag them down into the Land of the Forgotten, where souls hardly move or speak, having lost all sense of self. Immortals and mortals alike who spend any significant amount of time in this realm incur some degree of degeneration and start to lose touch with what made them human, a process Xibalba endlessly chatters about to fill an otherwise eternal silence.

La Muerte, once content with this tenuous sort of balance, finds the scales tipping when they express a disinterest in reconnecting with the living world. Chaos erupts as La Muerte challenges Xibalba to return their soul, convinced he is poisoning their heart with his own bitterness for humanity. Xibalba deflects at every opportunity, suggesting that he merely speaks a harsh truth and offers an escape from the drudgery of mortal life.

A deep frustration ignites within La Muerte, less now at the dark turn of her husband, which she has begrudgingly come to accept, and more at the threat of losing her chosen soul to exactly the kind of existence she strove so hard to separate from them. Even though the march of time will one day condemn the soul to what comes after, La Muerte sought to enrich their short journey and give them the taste of true happiness they could never afford.

While she has walked this path with many and knows the weight of her title demands she overcome her grief, cursed objects of half-formed immortality and interjections of the soul's name into increasingly unrelated projects and movements are the desperate final scratches of Xibalba. A god who chases off the inevitable, Xibalba scrambles to build this entire false history in those last few years, only to watch it crumble when his actions force La Muerte to banish him for upsetting the natural order.

[facts-i-just-made-up]

Writing Advice From Various Authors!

Writing fiction isn’t easy but it can be fun and rewarding once you get the hang of it. It’s helpful to look at the advice of popular authors to find your groove. Here are various writers and their advice on writing:

Ernest Hemingway

“Write drunk and edit sober?” I never said that. Do both drunk, wimp.

William S. Burroughs

Just goddamn write and don't damn censor yourself or you should be hanged like a twink what's set aflame as he’s hanged on rope made of the lies and deceits of the city, the cursed city, the lugubrious city.

Yukio Mishima

You cannot capture beauty in words. Instead, die very painfully on someone's office floor, in that alone there is beauty.

Stephen King

Write six pages a day and don’t cut anything, even if everyone says “Stephen, for the love of god don’t write that, the rest of the novel is great but please don’t include that, what are you thinking?”

Cormac McCarthy

do whatever you want dont even use punctuation then people will think youre brilliant for some reason for each writer is the writer of all writers who suffers the sins of all men

J.K. Rowling

It’s critical to teach tolerance, understanding, and compassion in your books. Then and only then will people believe you when you tell them to hate and harm the people you tell them to.

E.L. James

Put your pen to paper so hard it can poke past that thin membrane page and plunge hard into your imagination. Write with strokes gentle and firm that make the reader soaked in their own gratification and struggle to close the book back up again, so hard did they break its spine in the throws of their perusal.

Hunter S. Thompson

The hell are you asking son don’t you dare YOU GET OFF MY PROPERTY! I invited you? Maybe but it won’t make you less dead THIS IS THE TIME WHEN THE WORD IS MADE FLESH! Republican meat needs no salt.

Ari Bach

Writing fiction isn’t easy but it can be fun and rewarding once you get the hang of it. It’s helpful to look at the advice of popular authors to find your groove. Here are various writers and their advice on writing.