#of what the archives crew looks like

[ceaselessims]

this may be an unpopular opinion but i hope tma never gets a visual adaptation

[soupdwelling]

lichtenberg moment

[iiiumihottie]

[Image descriptions available in alt text and under the cut.]

first batch of my character portraits from @late-to-the-magnus-archives' fic This Dark Thing That Sleeps In Me :D the character designs in this fic were so over the top and so! fun to draw! go check it out! second batch

[ID 1: A drawing of Martin from The Magnus Archives. He has a determined look, with one hand in a fist above his waist and the other clutching a dark book. He has glasses with green circle rims and wears gothic historical clothing, such as a long coat and knee-high boots. He is a fat man with light skin and short, ginger hair. End ID.]

[ID 2: A drawing of Mike Crew from The Magnus Archives. He is crossing his arms witha smirk on his face. He wears a lightly colored, loose shirt with a high collar that is unbuttoned until halfway down to his navel, as well as grey shorts and white boots. He has short, white hair, light skin, and a white lichtenberg scar running up the side of his chest up into his chin. End ID.]

[ID 3: A drawing of Sasha from The Magnus Archives. She taps her chin with a gleeful expression on her face, tongue sticking out the corner of her mouth. She wears a long white coat and black gloves reminiscent of a mad scientiest, and a bronze contraption on her head with multiple different lenses and arms to move those lenses around. Sasha has dark skin and dark brown kinky hair tied back messily in a bun. End ID.]

[phynoma]

Since I saw an artist's rendition of Jon as a ginger I can't get it out of my head. It's perfect. Jon as a scraggly sad ginger. Martin is a fat British Indian man. Tim has Central Asian ancestry. Melanie is tiny and Swedish. Basira's family is from France. Sasha is chubby and Black. Elias is still just white middle aged management. Georgie is unidentifiably mixed race with gorgeous black hair. Daisy is literally anything but blonde

Please I'm begging you I need VARIETY

[monstersholygrail]

Alien bf never knew there was even more love and affection to behold than what you had shown him and what he’s seen in the data archives found on their ships computers. But ever since he discovered sex and what it felt like to be so deeply connected to you he had turned into a fiend.

If you thought he was taking up all your time before, you literally cannot take a breath without him sliding up behind you and gathering you in his giant arms. Picking up your plush body with ease and molding it against his hard frame.

He carries you everywhere to the point where you often forget the last time your feet have touched the ground. The rest of your crew looks over at you in pity but you honestly can’t find it in yourself to complain. He views you as his mate, it only makes sense to want to do these things for you.

You can’t even delude yourself into thinking it’s innocent anymore. He knows what he’s doing, especially since he was caught watching porn with a hand around his cock. Moaning your name loud enough for someone to think he was calling for help. And he loves it. Making you squirm as he shamelessly feels you up. Soft chirps leaving him as he noses at your cute blush.

But his favorite noises from you come when he’s gotten six or seven orgasms out of your pretty cunt. Making a total mess of his throbbing cock that’s been wrecking you for hours. Fucking you stupid to the point where you forget your own language and start letting out the familiar clicks of his species.

His clawed fingers curl around your waist, using you like a fleshlight as he slams back down on his cock at a brutal pace. Meeting his own thrusts to hammer up into you even harder. Those lovely clicks that sing your pleasure pierce the air and your pussy pulses around his thick girth.

It brings him more satisfaction than he can express. Above all he relishes in the fact that there’s no doubt by now that your crew knows what’s going on in just the next wing of the ship. That’s right. You’re taken and no human cock could ever compare to what he can give you.

“Louder, sweet mate. L-let them, unngh, let them hear how good I make you feel. Need them to know you’re mine,” he growls, his cock twitching inside you and hitting that spot that has you seeing stars.

You cry out loudly, not wanting to admit how good his possession over you feels. Now that you know it’s intentional it makes it all a million times hotter. You’d be embarrassed by the loud squelch that echos with each thrust if you weren’t so unbearably needy, even after coming so much already.

The coil in your belly tightens so hard you fear you’re about to burst. And the second it snaps your releasing streams of your orgasm all over your Alien bf’s huge lap, soaking his lower half entirely. He only lasts for a few more thrusts before he’s burying himself inside you and splashing buckets of cum into your eager cunt.

He keeps you firmly on his lap, your bodies still deeply joined long after he grows soft again. Both of you panting heavily. His breath ghosts across your burning skin as he nuzzles into you, showing no signs of letting go any time soon.

It won’t take much to get him going again. So you take advantage of the break for as long as you can. Trying to ignore the way your pussy flutters as if trying to get him hard again. You can’t control it, he’s turned you into as much of a sex fiend as he is.

Reaching behind you, you brush your hand against your bfs large cheek until you’re weaving your fingers in his long silky hair. A deep purr rumbles from his chest and he leans contently into your touch.

“You’ve gotten pretty good at this whole human intimacy thing. Is there anything else you want to learn?” You ask teasingly, every inch of your body humming with satisfaction.

But of course he takes your words seriously. Perhaps humor will be next up on the list of lessons to get through. Something to think about perhaps when his cock isn’t creating a bulge in your soft belly.

“I wish to learn everything… so long as it’s you teaching it to me, my mate.”

Though all thoughts of lessons and teachings fly out the window when you feel his long thick fingers slowly making their way down to your swollen puffy clit. That he finds with ease by the way. Your bf already growing needy for you again.

[robolvrr]

f-r-e-a-k !‿⁠✷｡✧

lost light members react to human porn (and develop some preferences of their own.)

ft. skids! megatron! rodimus! swerve! ultra magnus!

nsfw under the cut.

rodimus prime - top-five ranked

when he first heard actual, genuine human content had reached aboard his ship, he had quickly formed a half-assed meeting to announce that he, of course, being captain and all should review with ultra magnus.. and perhaps rewind too, before dispersing it out to the crew.

of course when ultra magnus expressed his surprise at this new leaf turned, eager to scour through intergalactic protocol he simply let one word out the other audial and made some grave, grammatical errors to distract the mech and let the captain do his own decision making.

he spends a lot of time nitpicking. he doesn't like movies as much so he reserves those to swerve nor does he care too much about books.

a functioning computer however....

he's bored. and curious. two demons that never dwell well together in the same room.

clearing browser history? never heard of that!

good thing the previous owner has lots of bookmarks, because he finds it infinitely easier to sift through links there than carefully type.

"porn...hub? what's that? must be some kinda uh.. uhhh... uh."

cue the fan whirring. he's hunched over and slack jawed, staring at the frankly color-clashing archive and almost pushing himself away when the cursor hovers over a video - and the humans in it start moving.

clicked the first video with a bold "#1 ranked". he really shouldn't. he really, really should just toss this tempting contraband out the nearest garbage disposal.

"unhh! harder! haaarder! ♡"

he's focused hard on the spike - cock, he learns, or dick, humans got lots of funny terms - ruts rough into you, forcing you to melt forward and squeak through sheets.

the loud, exaggerated moans make him pitifully decide otherwise. imagine him, all weak in the knees, sliding down to sit as he watches transfixed.

flesh on flesh hitting sounds a lot better when it's this and not fighting.

sooner or later, he's huffing into his servo, jacking off his spike and squeezing the tip so rough he's almost jealous seeing you bouncing away. you'd be so, so fragging soft. he can imagine squeezing your limbs and twisting you around to his liking.

overloads fast. he's almost ashamed enough to be embarrassed.

now? can't reach his climaxes unless there's some raunchy, wet-coated squeals in his memory banks. doesn't bother searching up anything because he doesn't have the patience to cultivate. you just happen to be at the top so he gladly sticks watching your holes get sticky any cycle.

skids - playboy bunny

"oh for prime's sake, chromedome don't make me feel like i'm trading for somethin' illegal."

won a "mystery stash" from a late night gamble. of course, not all of rodimus's finds stayed quiet.

he isn't sure why it's such a big deal. the cardboard box which spills open easily under a digit's care isn't filled with weaponry or bombs.

it's almost funny, this giant picking up a magazine in a pinch, helm tilted and keeping it an arm's distance away like the pages might bite.

he looks at the front cover for a long, long time.

his processor isn't catching up. then he squints. gets reaaaaal close.

there's you! all dolled up, as the humans would say. except you're really not, because half of your squishy aft is out, and your servos are covering up your chest but aren't doing a good job.

neither is the bright, blue bow christened at your pelvic area, where he realizes with a jolt is lacking any modesty panels of any kind.

flips a page. oh, it's you again. curved over a lounge. cheekily spreading yourself with a... gathering of lace twisted around your frame.

another one. you got something round in your mouth. he looks carefully at your lips.

and then he's flipping through all of it, and digging into the box and oh, he's found a jackpot because it's all you.

now he understands why it's got the markered "collectors items" on the side. he doesn't question too much when he spits lubricant down onto his spike. dedicated some of that cotton candy gossamer all over your february edition of playboy in approval.

megatron - classic erotica

a true mech of literature. now, unlike many of the lost light, he's had his run in with humanity before. not that he particularly got or wanted to enjoy their culture back then.

though when he did find his way back onto a possible path of redemption, he did indulge once upon a time.

at his spark, he's a poet. a linguist. enjoyer of golden age, art and craftsmanship.

earthen literature has its.. moments. he reads novellas and lost to the history manuscripts, plays, all of which have almost all been uploaded to more convenient means as upkeep for the paper is a pain.

however, he has found one book. a funny looking book, with a funny looking cover.

he observes, rigidly, the scandalous embrace of what he assumed to be the characters, how clothing lacked in areas it shouldn't and skin was almost.. glistening. "seven nights of passion." a chuff left his dermas.

ah, to pit with it. why not?

megatron finds himself slowly involved with the chapters despite the comedy of its advertisement. the writer, you, no doubt under a penname, push development shockingly far.. for a human.

and the intimacy? interfacing? so descriptive. while he has not seen what he is reviewing, he can imagine it. images of sweaty bodies, grinding and yearning and crying.

cybertronians have no reason or function to. the thought of a human, pushed to the brink overloaded with stimulation is... stimulating.

it is a shame when it comes to an end but he might in his free-time peruse for more. leaves his plating warm and intake dry.

the authors note suggests that your inspiration drives from personal experience.

his ... array fizzles at that. fascinating.

swerve - r-rated movie night

"wowza. that's hh. haha. woah! they all do that.. ?"

first movie he flipped onto the projector was supposed to be an "action and feel-good film with hints of romance, angst and sci-fi elements."

not even halfway through, you, the imaginary captain of the imaginary "roman's ravager" have your uniform shimmied down to your ankles, mouth mashing against your supposed rival, who everyone has been heckling for the past forty-five minutes.

some of the mechs cheer, other grumble and argue to skip, others squirm and grimace. swerve watched you push the other down, head tilting back as the camera zooms to your face.

"it's just acting, ya' degenerates, stop acting like protoforms!"

it isn't until he feels a servo smack upside his helm that he starts fumbling for the remote. too much noise but now he's getting a comm from mags asking about what the rackets for so! fast forward he goes.

at 1x.

while the chaos starts to settle, he peeks between digits. catches glimpses of your open mouth. the goosebumps down your chest. how you shake at the insinuation that someone is between your legs, servicing.

slag. when's the last time he's even played with his valve?

movie night was a hit regardless of the commotion. he has to clean up after, which thankfully didn't result in any expelled energon or skid-marks.

that also means he's alone. alone, in his bar. all by himself, staring at the rest of the discs with your pictures on the front, credits humming in the background.

it'll be good for the economy. (all of it is pirated.)

maybe it's for the best. because now, he's realizing you really are a great actor, in lots of different genres, able to adapt and really grab his attention.

it's not as if his spark pulses seeing you in costumes, or using that soft voice you do in all your roles when you make a point.

not like he's riding his digits and crunching into a fist when you're running on the beach, sand dappled and leaving little to imagination.

ends up on his back, charged up and shaking. hurts to speak, to move or to dab up the puddle of transfluid, laughing deliriously when his panels are even too much effort to close.

ultra magnus - audio praise

"you're doing such a good job. you're perfect. you know that, right? yes you do, so good for me."

when he first heard you, he damn near crushes the auditory device and full-blown shudders in the confines of his hab. he's sputtering, optics wide and there's a million reasons he should report this to rodimus and question just what he's given him.

"to help ya uh... research? take the edge off pal."

half-contemplates storming back to the bridge himself if it weren't for your sugar-coated mumbles still coming through the unpaused recording.

you'd think he was dealing with a ticking blast with how he warily handles the device, gruffly spitting out curses that he'd otherwise never allow in crew vicinity.

"i want you to reward yourself. you earned it, honey. can you do that for me? here, listen."

to his horror - and crumbling interest - a slick cacophony of sound rattles in his helm. there's panting, a shift of material that he assumes is tangled around you and frag, he's able to think up you and a thousand faces.

what's worse? is he's hypnotized. you don't demand. you coo to him, just loud enough to let him know you'd be broken too. if he let himself let down that wall, just for the twenty minutes you sing in his audials, he'll know it's done with you just as weak.

"g—gooood job ahhhh!" that does it. ultra magnus groans, shutting off his optics entirely. his large servo feels up along his frame as you suggest.

"i wish you were here. hah.. mmn! could see me. see me fucking myself to you. let you kiss me. you deserve it, sweetie. deserve me on you."

magnus and the sobbed growl to his motors reminds him just how lonely he's felt. always monitoring. always stressed. hearing the spit collect at your throat as your commands grow hoarse makes you feel real.

would you... would you kiss him? would you let him pick you up, rest you flat on his servo and have his glossa lap up your want?

he towers over nearly all. having a partner so much smaller, tinier than even an minibot, shouldn't run up a charge but it does.

he overloads when he's sticking digits near the casing of his spark, ignoring the spurts of pre sizzling down his thighs.

"w-was that as fun.. for you as it was for me?"

dazedly falls onto his berth. this isn't leaving his dermas unless he's had a drink.

a/n : a little haha funny idea i had. there's just something so funny thinking of these giant old robots realizing just how much porn is out there.

[applecidersstuff]

Things different pjoverse characters had done/had happen to them, with little to no context:

Piper mistook Clarrise for a guy and thought ‘he’ was trying to hit on Drew(she’s 12).

Annabeth and Percy were laughing hysterically over it for 10 minutes straight before they could explain anything to her.

Clarrise and Will stole baby Chuck on multiple occasions.

Clarrise is a token ‘responsible adult in the eyes of most mortal parents of younger demigods.

Mortals with no connection to the supernatural look at her like she’s about to molest their kids and brutally murder their families.

All of the Argo || crew jump up in their seats whenever they hear Clarrise yelling at someone.

Percy and Annabeth did the same thing when they heard Coach Hedge yelling for the first time.

Will, Drew and Clarrise occasionally have true crime watching parties.

In the Myth!Ares AU, Aphrodite has kidnapped Clarrise, as she puts it ‘to bond’.

After that they ended up in jail.

Drew called Piper ‘Silena’ once, the same way you’d call someone ‘dad’ or ‘mom’ accidentally, she didn’t speak to her for a week and just cried because she couldn’t forgive herself for replacing her sister.

Clarrise’s smirk is - chin up, look down at you and smile while curling the sides of her mouth down

Drew’s smirk is - chin down, look up at you, grin and wrinkle her nose.

(I have no idea why you need this info, it’s just how i picture their dynamic.)

Ares and Athena cabins have an archive of everything they know about everyone at camp, that they use for planning of capture the flag.

They have a separate archive for hunters of Artemis.

Percy and Clarrise train together a lot. Percy says it’s because he wants to beat her up.

In actuality it’s because at this point Clarrise is the only person who can beat Percy in combat. And they’re the only people, they can train with, using their full range of abilities and power.

Clarrise threw what remained of her helmet into the attic of the Big House after the battle of Manhattan, she now wears none or on rare occasions takes one that belonged to Silena.

Silena’s helmet is covered with ornaments that she scratched onto it and filled in with silver.

Drew and Clarrise both say ‘don’t be mean’ whenever they hear the other talking to someone they have a tendency to be mean to.

Both of them picked that habit up from Silena.

Will once asked Clarrise and Drew to be ‘more ally’

Those two got offended that they ‘have to tone down their gay’

Will just wanted to introduce them to Nico, and needed them to look less judgmental so he wouldn’t think they’re homophonic.

Piper lashed out at Drew for doing something mean, while in Drew’s eyes it was her attempt to create a better relationship with her

[artsninspo]

"Baby-Girl" - Rio X Reader

» next part

➨ rio's library - good girl nbc

「 ✦ full library & archive ✦ 」

Author's Note: The draft clear out continues. I know these characters aren't my usual subjects but Rio from Good Girls ... love to hate his mean ass. I think I may have a few more with him, let me know what you think 😊

Summary: It's your sister-in-law Ruby's 40th birthday so you come into town to show her and her friends a good time. Only you meet a flirty stranger who screams trouble in her house.

Word-Count: 957

Your step falters as you see the G-Wagon parked in front of yours. This is the furthest thing from the neighborhood you see luxury vehicles in. Not to mention it looks kitted out. You can't remember the last time you saw one of these around and wonder if maybe Stan rented it for Ruby’s 40th. But with all the money trouble they’ve been having it seems like an unlikely expense. Continuing to the door you knock three times. Stan doesn't answer, a stranger with a neck tattoo does. Hispanic, tall, dark hair, olive skin and dark eyes.

“Uh… is Ruby home?” you ask skeptical and the stranger steps back looking you over. He likes what he sees.

“Ruby, you didn't say you have a sister” the man calls and Ruby materializes from the corner looking nervous.

“You’re early” she smiles and it feels insincere when you see her two best friends in the house and wave. They too look uneasy.

“Thought I would get ready here instead” you explain wheeling your suitcase forward. “Oh, and Ruby’s my sister-in-law Stan, her husband is my brother” you explain. The man smirks again, his charm is infections but there's something infectious about it.

“Got it baby-girl” he nods.

“Don’t call me baby-girl, unless you’re gonna treat me like it” you smile flirting with the handsome stranger and the ladies give an audible gasp. You laugh a little at the wives crew’s reaction to a little flirting.

“Anyways Ruby, I’m gonna go get dressed and when I get back downstairs we’re leaving. You only turn forty once” you tell her running up the stairs to the bedroom. When your brother Stan suggested you take a trip to lighten things up you were reluctant at first. Beth isn’t Your favorite person despite being Rubys. But Ruby has been having a tough time and you decide to support however you can. Tonight’s theme is Vegas. You get on your showgirl jumpsuit and do a quick face before stepping into your heels. You head back down to find Beth and Mr. Neck tattoo in what looks like a heated conversation. Minding your own business you head to the kitchen without a word. You procure shot glasses and retrieve your special bottles from your suitcase, still chilled to perfection. You turn to see him standing alone in the doorway.

“Expensive bottles,” he comments.

“Who wants to celebrate with the cheap stuff?” You ask. He looks you over giving a satisfied smile and you smile impressed by his presence. 

“Ruby doesn’t seem like the type,” he shrugs, coming closer.

“Of course not she’s  sensible, they have kids and expenses” you say getting the bottle open.

“You don’t?” He asks and you smile.

“I don’t even know your name, you don’t get to know my business,” you comment.

“I’m Rio” he introduces, making you smile.

“No, that’s not your name. You don’t look Brazilian, so your mom named you something classic, religious” you say knowing people from your years of service work.

“You’re good,” he nods with a smirk.

“And your trouble. I know because you’re not sweating or stuttering around me like all of Stan’s other friends.” You confess.

“I'm not your brother's friend,” he responds, and you look him over again. It makes sense, he’s far too cool to be a friend of Stans.

“No?”

“Nah, Beth and I’s kids play soccer together,” he says smoothly.

“I’m sure you’re a hit with all the moms. I’d be bored of the Deanzies too” you confess pouring tequila into shot glasses and cutting the lime. Tequila before champagne is a surefire way to make sure these ladies have fun.

“You bartend?” he asks perceptively.

“Yup” You nod as Annie enters. Her outfit isn’t to theme and she takes a shot without waiting for Ruby.

“That’s like a $400 bottle of champagne” she says looking at the bottle with watery eyes.

“For Ruby” you justify.

“Who spends that on booze!” she exclaims.

“A lot of people do,” you inform and she huffs.

“You spent four hundred dollars on champagne!” Ruby emerges.

“This guy who’s into me asked me what I wanted and I said a bottle of Ace because I knew I was coming here for a milestone. Why don’t you ladies stop being the IRS and relax” you snap as Beth emerges with a black duffle and hands it to Rio.

“What does he get in return?” Ruby asks unimpressed.

“For a bottle?” You scoff. “A thank you” you shrug.

“Must be the ass,” Annie says, making you laugh.

“It’s my job to know who’s generous. Stan! Nope, Dean well god bless him, I know girls that could get him to spend mortgage money. Annie, you had a good one” you deduce handing the ladies their drinks. Beth sends you a heated glance full of animosity. Rio chuckles seemingly amused.

“What about him?” Annie asks glaring at the tattooed visitor. He raises a brow with a smirk.

“Nope; and he’s got it too. He’s possessive so he’d probably cash out on his wife and kids. You know, as an ego thing. Might leave a good tip for his regulars. Not just anyone though.” You say throwing a shot back. “Am I right?” You ask and he smiles heading towards you, his cologne is intoxicating and expensive.

“She’s trouble Ruby” he says. “Nice meeting you baby-girl” he says reaching into his pocket and pulling out a wad of cash. He places it in your hands. “On me”. He walks out without a care in the world and you count five hundred dollars.

“Happy birthday Ruby!” You smile handing her the funds.

“You have to teach me how to do that” Annie remarks as Ruby and Beth look shocked.

Part Two

[senascoop]

☁︎ . , JUST SO YOU KNOW , Y.JW !

PAIRING: boyfriend ! jungwon × girlfriend ! afab reader. SYNOPSIS: when you can't help but want everyone else to know that he's yours. GENRE: jealous girlfriend trope, drabble. WARNING(S): hickey (mentioned), jealous reader, not proofread. WORD COUNT: 587. [ARCHIVE]

Jungwon sits stiffly in his chair, trying to maintain a polite smile while the female idol leans a little too close for comfort. Her hand casually brushes his arm, and he shifts slightly, hoping to create some distance. His discomfort is evident in the way his fingers twitch nervously at his sides. The crew around them laughs, some whispering that the two of them look "so cute together."

“You two should date, honestly,” one of the stylists says with a playful nudge, completely unaware of how uncomfortable Jungwon feels.

The female idol, catching on, giggles and leans in closer, batting her eyelashes. “Should we?” she asks, her voice dripping with feigned innocence. She knows about you, but she’s choosing to ignore it. Her hand lingers on Jungwon’s shoulder, her fingers playing with the fabric of his jacket, as if testing his boundaries.

Jungwon’s jaw tightens, but he forces a polite smile, swallowing down his frustration. “I’m already datin—” he starts, trying to assert his relationship, but before he can finish, the door to the room swings open.

You step in, your smile so sweet it could melt ice, but the fire in your eyes tells a different story. Without missing a beat, you stride over to Jungwon, effortlessly slipping your arm through his, your body pressing gently against his side. The tension in the room shifts immediately, and Jungwon’s entire posture relaxes at the sight of you.

“Oh? What were you saying?” you ask, your voice dripping with playful curiosity, eyes locking onto the stylist who had just suggested the ridiculous idea. You look so serene, like you hadn’t heard a word of what was said, but Jungwon knows better. Beneath your calm exterior is a storm.

The room falls silent. The stylists and crew exchange awkward glances, the female idol's face paling slightly as you shoot her a glance—sharp, protective.

“Ah... nothing... uh, are you Jungwon’s…” The stylist trails off, unsure of how to proceed under your intense gaze.

You turn to Jungwon, urging him with a tilt of your head to clear things up once and for all. His throat goes dry for a second, but then he nods, stepping up. “Yes,” he says, voice firm but slightly nervous under your watchful eye. “We're dating.”

You hum in approval, but your eyes glitter mischievously. “Oh, really? You didn’t tell them about this?” You feign innocence as your finger softly grazes the side of his neck, pulling down the collar just enough to reveal the faint purplish mark you’d left there earlier that day.

Jungwon’s cheeks flush a deep shade of pink, and he lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. His eyes dart between you and the now-silent crew, utterly embarrassed but also relieved to have you there. The rest of the room goes wide-eyed, a mix of shock and sudden realization flooding their expressions.

The female idol visibly stiffens, retracting her hand from Jungwon’s shoulder, now clearly outmatched. She clears her throat and forces a smile, taking a step back. “Oh… I see,” she mutters under her breath, trying to play it off coolly, but the damage is done.

You smirk slightly, giving her one last glance before turning back to Jungwon. Your hand squeezes his arm a bit tighter, possessive but loving. Jungwon finally breaks into a small, relieved smile, the tension from before melting away as he looks at you with gratitude.

Leaning closer to him, you murmur teasingly, “Next time, don’t make me have to do this, okay?”

© senascoop | tumblr

[leyavo]

| Into the hornets nest | 5

Part Five: nothings as simple as just filing a report.

🐞Previous parts > [Bug’s masterlist]

The wheel keeps turning, a viscous cycle you can’t quite seem to escape. If you’re up, there’s plenty knocking you back down. And right now the hits keep coming.

You should have known better, should have questioned the archives assistant requesting your presence in the dingy paper archival basement. Thought that maybe you’d have to go over your report before the meeting, but no.

The aisles and aisles of documentation lost in the shadows, a few dust covered lanterns shining a pathway through the maze of shelving units. You just hoped you’d be able to find your way back.

No waiting for you in the dim lit office was Captain Reynar. The turn of the key clicking behind you, but you didn’t look back. Basic survival 101.

Reynar sits on the edge of the desk, muscular arms stretching the fabric of his sleeves as he crossed them over his chest. Flexing as if he were displaying his strength. Be careful now bugs can get crushed.

His call-sign Wasp before he became a captain, because he looked like he was chewing on the stinger. Face twisted and turned up in disgust. Ugly fucker.

It’s not like you can swing at a Captain, so you’re fucked either way. The departments skeleton crew wouldn’t hear you if you were to raise your voice. And you’re certain they’d turn a blind eye if they saw Reynar. You’re just another sergeant getting reprimanded.

“Think I don’t know ya.” Reynar’s toothy grin sends a shiver down your spine. His eyes rake up and down your figure, sizing you up. “No wonder you like slipping under the radar, wouldn’t want everyone to know, eh.”

“What do you want?” There’s no use dancing around whatever this is, they always want something. As long as you don’t lose your cool, you might have a little control on the situation.

Reynar clicks his tongue and shakes his head. “Is that how you address your superiors, Sergeant?” He pushes off the desk and circles you, his words spat like venom.

He’s nearly a foot taller than you and you’re not small to begin with.

“Only when they drag me down to the basement with no consideration to protocol,” you snarl, not quite able to hide the curl of your lip as his face leans into yours.

The tic of his stubbled jaw flickers and he falls back a step, but it doesn’t remove the wave of nausea washing over you. So many things screaming in your mind, but you can’t act on them. Not when he’s a captain, not when he’s got so much influence over you.

His meaty hand circles your arm and forces you into a seat. A lone lightbulb swinging in the room, his head knocking the heated glass with a hiss. It doesn’t seem like it’s been used in years, the dull hum of electricity buzzing through the room.

“Ah, speaking of protocol.”

You open your mouth, but the palm of his hand smacks into the back of your head, shutting you up. Black dots cloud your vision and you just about catch yourself before you fall out of your seat.

Reynar drags the back of the chair across the room and sets it beside the filing cabinet. His boot planting in between your legs on the metal folding seat, daring you not to move an inch. You eye the watch on his wrist, a clunky timepiece that costs more than your monthly salary. There’s no way you’re making your meeting now.

“Where was I?” He scratches his chin, gaze dropping to yours. “Your friend, what’s his name…Roach. Wouldn’t want the sergeant to get in trouble for hitting a superior?” He leans forwards, arm resting on his knee and you try not to move away. Back straight, neck aching as you stare at him, you’ve dealt with worse than a man on a power trip.

There’s no way you’re talking your way out of this one though.

“Haines is a sergeant…” you’re cut off again, a hit to your temple and the side of your head crashes into the filing cabinet. Your ear ringing and whirring, you can’t mask the sharp intake of breath as you try to focus on the captains words.

Reynar grabs your face, fingers grasping your chin as he tilts your head to look at him. Tears threatening to spill over your lashes, but you won’t give him the satisfaction of seeing you cry.

“He’s a lieutenant now, nothing stopping us from saying he was promoted a few days before.” He says it like the incident didn’t take place over two weeks ago. As if they can just gloss over the fact there’s a trail of paperwork and a system to follow.

Oh, you’re definitely fucked. You’re starting to wander who Haines really is and whether he’s connected to someone higher up. Double fuck.

“Leave Roach outta this,” you seethed, head jerking out of his grasp.

Reynar removes his boot off your seat and chucks a pair of handcuffs into your lap. You have to close your legs in order to catch them before they fall to the ground. “Dominate hand, cuff it to the filing cabinet,” he barks, digging in his pocket and pulling out the key.

“I’m not…”

The captain’s in your face in the blink of an eye. Your head crashing into the filling cabinet again, “I recon you’ll get out in eight minutes, sergeant,” he says, the snap of metal curling around your right wrist. He yanks your arm up to the filing cabinet and secures it to the handle.

He raises the tiny key, placing it on the desk in the middle of the room. Even pushes it a little further out of reach.

Bastard.

Rage spreads like wildfire across your chest, the burn climbing up your throat. You lunge for the for the captain, but you’re yanked back by the cuff.

He laughs, taking slow and deliberate steps to you.

“The 141 guys might be untouchable, you however I can touch,” the captain strokes your cheek, knuckles tracing the faded scar there. “A contractor, not fully integrated into their team for another two months.” His palm tapping your jaw like he would a dog.

The tender skin on your temple is hot, dull ache throbbing. His gaze flickers to the small nick on forehead, he licks his thumb and swipes it across the across the dried blood. His other hand clamped on the back of your head so you can’t move.

“Just enough time for you not to make your meeting.” He pouts, pressing his finger to the cut and drawing a wince from you. “John will not be pleased that you let him down. Made him look a fool.” He clicks his tongue, shaking his head and the dread twists the knot in your stomach.

Of course, they don’t want you to plead your case and ruin a ‘good’ man’s reputation. Want to make you look like you’re flaky so that no one will take you serious. To drive a wedge between you and the 141. Because if you can’t make time to fight for yourself, who’s going to fight for you?

“And Roach?” You spat, shaking the cuff around your wrist. You don’t know why you were more concerned for Roach, but you don’t want anyone else getting dragged into whatever this was.

Reynar pauses in the doorway, hand hovering over the handle. “Well no meeting, no report. Well done sergeant.” He nods, slipping through the door.

Silence, the lightbulb swinging from the ceiling, yellow glow sweeping across the shiny key.

You inch closer to the desk, slow so not to be yanked back when you come too short. The last stretch of distance, you curl your fingers around the chain connecting the two cuffs and lean over, arm reaching. Your fingertips brush the edge of the dusty wooden surface, but you’re nowhere near the key.

“Fuck!” You spring back, dropping the chain from your grasp and kicking the chair beside you. The metal ring around your wrist bites into your skin, blood weeping. You tug on the cuff, trying to break the handle of the filing cabinet, but it doesn’t budge. All it does is let the metal sink further into your flesh.

Think, think. You bite your nail, eyes trailing every single item nearby. The chairs too heavy to lift with one arm, the filing cabinet weighed down and secured to the wall. There’s no way to break the drawer lock with, no paper clips to pick it.

You walk as far as the cuff will allow you to and balance on one leg, lifting your boot and dragging your heel on top of the table. Still too short. Dropping your boot to the ground, you hook the front of your foot around the table leg and drag it towards you. It takes a few tries for you to tug it closer, enough for you to snatch the key and free yourself from the cuff.

Three minutes, not bad. You twist the door handle, but it doesn’t open. Of course Reynar would lock that too, might as well have buried you in shallow grave. You can’t kick it down as it opens into the office.

A breeze of warm air hits the crown of your head as you step back and you tilt your gaze to the ceiling. Whirring fan pushing the stuffy and dusty air. You stand on the chair, wedging the nameplate from the desk between the fan blades.

Dirt rains down on you as you break the fan and yank one of the blades out. Thankfully it’s old and made of metal instead of plastic. You search the desk drawers, wrapping some tape along one side of the fan blade.

Now you’ve got a pry tool, you wedge it between the door and the frame, hitting the lock until it breaks. Wood splinters and a chunk missing from the frame as it opens.

You run down the rows of shelving units, shoulder crashing into an archivist, but you don’t have time to apologise. Not that you would, the bastard could have let you out but didn’t.

The maze making you feel like a rat running through the alleys. You won’t make it to the meeting, but you sure as hell are going to push yourself to make it to the armoury. Hoping that Price would hear you out.

Whatever hornets nest you’ve kicked, you didn’t have the luxury of asking for help. No, your name was dragged in mud. If Captain Price won’t listen, then who will?

The light blinds you as soon as you force the door open and enter the main building. No longer underground shrouded by shadows, a few soldiers eye you suspiciously.

You spot Roach’s helmet, the only one that dresses in full gear before actually getting to the armoury. You elbow your way through the crowd waiting to go into the canteen. A few hands shoving you deeper into the bodies.

He turns as if sensing you’re behind him, but he doesn’t stop. No he quickens his pace, slight tremble of his head that doesn’t go unnoticed. You both sign in to the armoury, the rest of the team already checking weapons and talking between one another.

You swipe a cap off the rack as you walk in, slipping it on and covering the small cut on your forehead. Gaze dropping to your sleeve as you make sure it’s covering the dried blood circling your wrist. You can tend to it later.

Roach shrugs you off, his gloved hands unclasping the ammo box on the table.

“Roach, look I…” you keep your voice low. He’s angry, you would be too if you’d stuck up for someone and they didn’t show up to back you. His silence isn’t something that bothers you, it’s the way he won’t even look at you or give a verbal response like normal that does.

“Bug! Gear up,” Price barks, the chatter dwindling to nothing as they all turn to you. His piercing glare leaving no room for anything else.

Lieutenant Riley stares at you, pausing the inspection of his gun. Gaz and Soap scan the room, well aware of something going on that they’re not privy to, but they’re too focused on the op to give a damn now.

You shove your tactical vest over your head and tighten the straps. “Captain, I can explain…” you murmur as he walks up to you and it takes everything in you keep your spot. Straight spine and chin lifted as you look up at him.

“Not the time,” he says, tugging the strap at your hip and tightening your vest. He keeps it in his grasp and leans in, “Do not let your problems fuck up this op, this is years worth of planning. Understand Bug?” His hot breath fans against the side of your face.

“Yes, Captain.”

He lets of go of your vest and you stumble back. You busy yourself with checking your weapons and loading your ammo. Double checking your pack and basic medi bag. The Captain relays the mission and the objective.

You just need to make it through, you don’t know how many days with lieutenant Riley and Roach. Working in threes to extract intel.

Looks like you’ve kicked another hornets nest.

✨ It’s getting complicated. Please note I am dyslexic so there might be errors/mistakes. I do try to edit a few times but I will miss stuff. Thanks for reading - Leya

[devilish-cherry]

ᨳ♡₊➳ jujutsu kaisen x reader

ᨳ♡₊➳ crack with plot

"You hate your job. The pay is bad, your manager is worse, and customers are somehow both entitled and clueless. Just as you finish contemplating whether unpaid breaks are a human rights violation, weird new people keep showing up to the café. They all seem to know each other. Sometimes they talk in cryptic phrases. What the hell is this domain and why do they want to expand it? One time, a man with stitches on his forehead walked in, made prolonged eye contact with you, and then left without ordering anything. You’re pretty sure he was a serial killer. Another time, the one with white hair and sunglasses indoors mentioned a "higher mission", and you’re 90% sure this is how cult documentaries start. One of your regulars only speaks in weird food-related phrases. You assume he has some kind of medical condition, but no one explains anything to you. But you are not about to ask questions, because ignorance is bliss and also job security. And unfortunately, they are all weird and they seem very interested in coming back."

꒰ masterlist ꒱ ₊⊹. ꒰ chapter 7 ꒱ ₊⊹. ꒰ chapter 9 ꒱

ᨳ♡₊➳ or read on archive of our own!

ᨳ♡₊➳ a/n: hihi!! i would’ve updated sooner, but unfortunately, my body decided to nerf me with a sickness debuff. tragic. 😔 BUT!!! i had so much fun writing this chapter. like, full-on giggling to myself like a mad scientist. i really hope you guys enjoy it!! (or at the very least find it as funny as my fever-ridden brain did)

The day starts like any other. Which is to say, badly.

Greg the Manager, who has been conveniently absent all morning, suddenly materializes with the urgency of a man who just remembered his parole officer exists. He’s slightly out of breath, like he sprinted exactly halfway here and then gave up. His tie is loose, his shirt is untucked, and his eyes have the glazed-over look of someone who is about to make their incompetence your problem.

“Oh, by the way, a news crew is coming in five minutes.”

You pause mid-coffee pour. The statement is so absurd, so wildly out of pocket, that your brain flatlines for a solid three seconds. “A what.”

Greg, already retreating like the rat he is, waves a dismissive hand. “Yeah, yeah, some feel-good story about supporting small businesses or whatever. They called a few weeks ago? Thought it’d be good PR. Forgot to tell you. Anyway, good luck!”

You stare at him, waiting for some kind of elaboration. An explanation. An apology. A joke. Anything.

“And you’re telling me this now?”

Greg shrugs, the human embodiment of the ‘Not My Problem’ energy. “I forgot.”

“Greg.”

“Gotta go, bro.” And like that, he vanishes, as if he were never there to begin with.

You stand there, emotionally buffering. You stare at the empty space where he once stood, trying to come to terms with the fact that a news crew is about to descend upon your personal hellscape with exactly zero warning. You look down at your apron, which has a very concerning stain on it (origin unknown), and realize your only hope is radical acceptance.

There’s no time to panic. You take a deep breath, straighten your apron, and slap on your best retail smile—the one that says I hate my job but I need to pay rent!

The café door swings open, and in comes the news crew with the confidence of people who have never suffered a single day in food service. The camera crew bustles in, setting up tripods, adjusting microphones, and looking around like they’re trying to absorb the rich ambiance of your workplace. Which, to be clear, smells like burnt espresso and quiet desperation.

The reporter, a professionally dressed woman with overly bright eyes and the enthusiasm of someone who has never once been berated by a middle-aged woman demanding to know why oat milk costs extra, beams at you. "We’re so excited to feature your charming little café!"

The words I would rather die are on the tip of your tongue, but you figure that’s not what she wants to hear. Instead, you nod politely. “We are also excited.”

She turns toward a customer near the window—Muffin Guy, your most mysterious regular. He sits in his usual spot, staring unblinkingly at the muffin before him, as if waiting for it to reveal a prophecy.

The reporter, undeterred by the strange aura surrounding him, approaches. “We love to highlight loyal customers!” she chirps. “Sir, could you tell us what you love most about this café?”

Silence.

The camera zooms in.

Muffin Guy does not blink.

He does not move.

He does not acknowledge the camera, the reporter, or the fundamental concept of human interaction.

The silence stretches.

The tension is suffocating. The reporter’s smile wavers. A single bead of sweat rolls down the intern’s forehead. Someone in the back coughs.

The reporter, clearly regretting all of her life choices, tries again. “Sir?”

Still nothing.

The camera stays on him for a full twenty seconds.

It is unbearable.

You mentally check out just as the reporter shifts focus to you, her expression slightly cracked but still hopeful. “So, tell us about this lovely café.”

You recite your dead-inside script: “We serve coffee. Sometimes people drink it.”

There is a beat of silence.

The reporter’s enthusiasm dims like a cheap LED bulb. “Wonderful.”

The reporter, visibly eager to move on from whatever existential nightmare Muffin Guy just put her through, scans the café for her next victim. You can see the calculations happening in real time behind her eyes: Okay, that guy and the barista were a bust, but surely the next person will be normal.

Unfortunately, she picks Choso.

Choso, who has been standing near the counter watching you with his usual unblinking intensity, straightens up as she approaches. You can tell he's eager to be of assistance, but his posture is too stiff, his expression too serious, and he moves with the slow, deliberate energy of a cryptid trying to blend into human society.

“How about you?” The reporter smiles, extending the mic. “What’s your name?”

Choso stares at her for a beat too long, like he’s mentally reviewing whether or not he should tell her. Finally, he leans toward the microphone. “Hello,” he says in his usual dead-serious monotone. “I am Choso."

The way he delivers it makes it sound like a warning. Like he's introducing himself as an omen of death.

The reporter, momentarily thrown off by his delivery, laughs nervously. “Oh! And what do you like about this café?”

Choso considers this. Too long.

Like, way too long.

The camera guy shifts. The boom mic sags. The intern wipes a bead of sweat from his brow.

Finally, Choso nods to himself, having seemingly reached a conclusion of great personal significance. A normal person would say something safe like the coffee or the atmosphere or that it’s not a Denny’s. But Choso is not normal. “The barista.”

The camera zooms in on your horrified expression.

The world stops. The temperature drops. Somewhere in the distance, a dog barks.

The reporter blinks. Once. Twice. Three times, like she’s trying to reboot her system. Her professional instincts desperately try to steer this awkward trainwreck back onto the tracks. “And what about the drinks?”

Choso nods, like this is an acceptable question. “The lattes bring me peace.”

The reporter hesitates. “They… bring you peace?”

“Yes.” Choso stares directly into the camera, like he’s about to issue a public service announcement. His expression is completely unreadable. “I have known suffering. But the lattes are satisfactory.”

There is an audible silence. The kind that only happens when everyone in the room is simultaneously thinking Oh, this man has killed someone before. It’s like everyone suddenly realizes they are part of something far bigger than themselves. Something unknowable. Something profoundly unsettling. Somewhere in the background, Yuji is shaking his head like a man watching a car crash in slow motion.

There is no appropriate response to this, and yet the reporter is contractually obligated to continue this interview. “...Right. And, uh, what do you do?”

Choso doesn't hesitate. “I protect my brother.” he answers with a hint of pride.

“Oh!” The reporter latches onto this like a drowning woman grasping for a life preserver. “That’s… nice?”

Choso tilts his head, as if considering the very concept of “nice.” Then, as if suddenly struck by divine realization, he adds, “I would also protect the barista. If required.”

You nearly choke on your own spit.

The reporter, alarmed, shifts slightly away from him. “...Required from what?”

Choso does not blink. “Threats.”

“What… kind of threats?”

Choso narrows his eyes. “Unclear. But I remain vigilant.”

The weight of that statement sinks into the room. The energy shifts. The café suddenly feels smaller.

Then, with no warning, Choso reaches into his coat.

The reporter flinches. The intern drops his clipboard. The cameraman tenses, like he’s about to record a live crime.

Yuji, who knows exactly where this is going, starts waving his arms in the background like a man desperately trying to stop a rogue missile launch.

Choso pulls out… a single hard-boiled egg.

The collective exhale from the crew is audible.

Solemnly, as if this is the most important action he will ever take, Choso extends the egg to you.

“Eat.”

You stare at the egg, then at him, then at the egg again.

You clear your throat. “I, uh... Thanks, Choso.”

Choso nods once, as if you’ve just agreed to some kind of unspoken contract.

The reporter looks at the camera like she is moments from calling the police.

While the reporter is still trying to process the whole mildly threatening egg presentation situation, Gojo—human calamity, agent of chaos, destroyer of peace—has decided that his one and only mission is to singlehandedly ruin every single camera shot.

The moment the cameraman turns around, Gojo materializes behind the reporter, flashing a double peace sign like he’s about to drop the hottest mixtape of the century. His grin is blinding. His sunglasses somehow catch every possible light source.

The cameraman pivots, adjusting the shot.

Somehow, impossibly, Gojo is already there.

This time, he’s leaning against the counter, holding a latte he definitely did not pay for, sipping obnoxiously with exaggerated flair. He winks at the camera like he’s in an over-the-top commercial for overpriced cologne. If he had a fan blowing his hair back in slow motion, it would be perfect.

“Sir, please move,” the cameraman pratically begs.

Gojo, unfazed, turns his full attention to the lens.

“HELLOOOOO~,” Gojo sings, waving both hands like a game show host who has just revealed a brand-new car. “I’M THE FACE OF THIS ESTABLISHMENT!”

This is objectively false.

Before you can attempt damage control, Gojo launches himself next to you like a man with zero impulse control and a PhD in being a public nuisance. He throws an arm around your shoulders, his sunglasses catching the light dramatically, making it impossible to tell if he’s about to endorse your café or announce the second coming of Christ.

“This barista?” he announces dramatically, pointing at you with a flourish like he’s about to knight you on national television. “The best. The backbone of this place.”

Yuji, in the background, is visibly panicking. “Gojo-sensei, please. No.”

Gojo completely ignores him. Instead, he strikes a different pose, basking in the camera’s attention like it physically sustains him.

“I come here every single day,” he declares with the confidence of a man who lies recreationally.

You narrow your eyes. “You show up, like, once a week at best.”

Gojo ignores you, too.

The reporter, attempting to maintain some semblance of control, nods hesitantly. “Oh! So you’re a regular—”

“You know why?” Gojo interrupts and then pauses, letting the tension build as if he’s delivering the monologue of a lifetime. “The experience. The drama. The coffee that, against all odds, continues to exist despite this machine’s cursed energy.”

He gestures vaguely to the espresso machine.

As if in response, the espresso machine lets out a deep, unsettling groan that seems to reverberate through the walls.

The reporter looks horrified. “Cursed—what?”

“Nothing!” Yuji yelps, visibly panicked, as he attempts to grab Gojo. “He’s joking! Joking! Ha ha ha!”

Gojo, still completely ignoring Yuji, gestures dramatically to the café at large.

“I’m just saying,” he continues, effortlessly resisting Yuji’s efforts, “the vibes? Unmatched.” He motions toward Muffin Guy, who is still staring directly into the camera like an urban legend caught on night vision footage. “Where else do you find a guy like that?”

The cameraman—who is either an artist or a man in the process of losing his grip on reality—zooms in on Muffin Guy.

It is haunting.

Yuji tries to grab him once more. Gojo dodges effortlessly, throwing up finger guns at the camera.

“Hashtag Support Local Businesses!”

You consider whether it's legally permissible to quit mid-shift.

The reporter, who looks like she has aged twenty years in the past five minutes and like she's beginning to suspect that this café is actually some kind of underground social experiment, attempts to regain control.

Before she can salvage any part of this nightmare of an interview, the door opens.

The camera instinctively pans toward the entrance. The crew is expecting another customer, maybe, finally, someone normal.

They are wrong.

Toji walks in, moving with the kind of dangerous ease that suggests he’s about five seconds away from committing a felony or taking a nap—whichever comes first.

Toji, who was very much not expecting cameras, tilts his head slightly, his eyes flicking to the reporter, then the crew, then to you.

You lock eyes with him.

You watch, helpless, as he slowly takes in the situation.

Then, with the kind of ease that only comes from years of very questionable decision-making, he smirks.

“Damn. This place got cameras now? What is this, evidence?”

Behind him, Shiu walks in, immediately lights a cigarette inside the café like a man who has never respected a single law in his life, then realizes—far too late—that there are cameras everywhere. 

Slowly, with the calculated movement of a man processing a series of very poor life choices, he lowers the cigarette, muttering under his breath, “Oh, shit.”

The reporter goes still.

You can see the realization dawn on her face—the slow, sinking horror that she has just stumbled into something she was never supposed to witness. The reporter looks at you, eyes wide with concern.

You meet her gaze, deadpan.

You just nod.

By the time the segment actually airs, it is nothing like the wholesome, feel-good small-business feature it was supposed to be. Instead of showcasing a “quirky but struggling café,” the final product is an absolute trainwreck.

The official headline?

"Muffin Man, Mystery Egg, and Wanted Criminal? Local Café More Concerning Than Quirky."

It gets worse.

The tone of the segment suggests the café is possibly haunted, a front for illegal activity, and a gathering spot for deeply concerning individuals. It does not encourage people to visit. It warns them. Every shot looks like it was pulled from an unreleased horror documentary about places you should not go. The ominous background music—something that belongs in a Dateline special—only adds to the effect. 

The highlights include:

The news crew inexplicably leaving in the full, unbroken 15 seconds of Muffin Guy staring directly into the camera like he’s either a demon or an AI-generated horror experiment. No words. No movement. Just him, staring—waiting—as if challenging the audience to comprehend his existence. The way they edit it makes it look like he’s part of some psychological horror movie, a lost soul trapped between dimensions.

Choso’s interview, which, thanks to the dramatic lighting and his very serious tone, is framed like a true crime documentary. They use dramatic zoom-ins on his expression, emphasizing the fact that he looks way too intense for a man talking about coffee. The way he deadpans “I have known suffering. But the lattes are satisfactory.” is played over eerie background music, making it sound like he's fought in at least three wars, suffered great personal loss, and only finds solace in lattes. The words "Remains Vigilant Against Threats.” slide across the screen in bold letters.

Gojo and Yuji wrestling in the background while Gojo dramatically yells, “They can’t prove I don’t work here!” The footage is grainy, shaky, and the captions just read: [Incoherent yelling] as Yuji desperately tries to prevent Gojo from launching himself directly into the camera.

Toji, smirking at the camera, casually implying he is a wanted fugitive. The producers slow down his words for dramatic effect: “Damn. This place got cameras now? What is this, evidence?” followed by a zoom-in of his grin and the words: "??? Unknown Criminal Activity ???"

The espresso machine, actively rattling and smoking in the background of multiple shots. At one point, the camera catches it letting out a deep, unsettling groan, and they overlay dramatic violin music as the reporter visibly recoils. The segment's b-roll footage of the café includes multiple instances of the espresso machine shaking, glitching out, and occasionally making a noise that sounds vaguely like a demonic whisper. The captions simply read: [UNSETTLING METALLIC GROAN]

Greg the Manager, with the most suspicious phrasing humanly possible, stating, “We’re totallyyy not violating health codes!” The phrasing alone guarantees that everyone now believes the café is absolutely violating health codes. The camera cuts immediately after, giving it the same energy as a villain’s last known sighting before fleeing the country.

There is a random, blurry, and heavily pixelated, freeze-frame of Greg at the end of the segment, edited in black and white, with the words: “DOES THIS MAN KNOW WHAT HE’S DOING?”

The answer is no.

And finally, the closing words from the reporter, who stares deadpan into the camera, fully drained of life and hope, and states with exhausted finality:

“I am never going back there.”

The screen cuts to black.

A single ominous boom sound plays.

Gojo, watching the segment from his phone at full volume in the café, nods to himself, clearly proud of his work. “We did great!”

Yuji is actively attempting to dig a hole and bury himself in it.

Choso, on the other hand, looks genuinely pleased. He gives a slow, approving nod. “I have promoted the barista’s establishment.”

You stare at him. “That was not promotion, that was a federal warning.”

Gojo waves a dismissive hand. “Details, details.”

You don’t have the energy to argue. You’re already preparing for the worst when you walk into work the next morning.

You expect Greg the Manager to be pacing anxiously, waiting for someone from the health department to shut the place down.

You expect fewer customers because, surely, surely, no sane human being would willingly come to a place that was just portrayed as a front for criminal activity, a ghost-infested hellhole, and a potential cult meeting ground all in one.

You do not expect to see a line out the door.

You stop in your tracks, processing the sight of dozens of people wrapped around the block, all eagerly waiting to enter the chaos.

The café is more popular than ever. People aren’t scared. They’re curious.

Inside, Greg—who has learned absolutely nothing—is practically buzzing with excitement.

“Dude, FREE PUBLICITY!” he cheers, spinning in circles like a man who thinks chaos is good for business. "We need to, like, start making merch!"

You stare at him. Then at the never-ending line of morbidly curious customers.

Then at the espresso machine, which lets out a low, menacing growl.

Then at Muffin Guy, who is—as always—unmoving.

Then at Choso, who is standing in his usual spot by the counter, nodding approvingly, like he has manifested this outcome through sheer force of will.

Slowly, you reach into your pocket, pull out your phone, and start updating your resume.

ᨳ♡₊➳ a/n: fun fact: this chapter is based on my real-life nightmare scenario. i have never been a barista, but i have worked in an animal shelter (as a manager, no less—why did they trust me with that? unclear.), and i still have war flashbacks to the absolute menaces that walked through those doors. (there was a time when a man i instantly recognized from a local true crime documentary tried to adopt a dog from us?? he was found innocent because of very questionable reasons so needless to say i was terrified the whole time lmfao)

one day, the higher-ups told me the news was coming to interview us, and i lived in pure fear from that moment on. i spent days spiraling, imagining the absolute worst possible situations. (what if i tripped over a dog? what if i accidentally said something insane on live tv? what if i just. forgot how to speak?) i had actual nightmares about it. thankfully, they never came while i worked there, but the fear? the dread? permanently ingrained in my soul. so naturally, i had to make the barista suffer through it. :)

also!! just a heads-up—i wrote another side story for a choso x reader request set in the minimum wage, maximum suffering universe! not canon to the main fic, just a fun little “what if” scenario, feel free to check it out! as always, thank you so much for reading and your feedback!! reading your reactions makes my day, and i’m so grateful for everyone enjoying this little unhinged fic. hope you all enjoyed the chaos of this chapter!!

₊⊹. tag list: @alpha-mommy69 @luluminati @amortsukii-writes @inthedarkshadows000 @isomehowexist @not-aya @emochosoluvr @lov3vivian @literallyushiwaka @kodditty @arrozyfrijoles23

[weebsinstash]

I know the show isn't out yet but Stayed Gone is stuck in my head and I'm chugging my yandere Vox juice so hard right now. I think he has the capacity to be absolutely insufferable

---for starters THE SPYING POTENTIAL WITH THIS MAN. You're telling me he can directly plug himself in to the city power grid and see through all televisions, potentially even phones and computers too? Could he put himself on your phone and start going through your texts? Could he even just put himself on your phone real quick while you're sleeping to check in on you? You couldn't even have privacy in your own home because of whatever screens are around he could potentially shoot himself to or watch you through. Imagine just being in your apartment completely alone and he's suddenly on your tv. Like what if you had just been sitting there topless or with your dick out or something or 👀 I mean. He could see so much, really...

---God honestly like. You know I keep mentioning the Instagram without ever attaching pics or anything because I'm on mobile and I'd have to use the hazbin Instagram archive blogs here on tumblr to go find them back like, you know Val would openly post the meanest shit, would literally post Vox's face being busted up because he woke Val up from a nap or i think it was he literally just brought him the wrong soda (which to be fair was taken from Velvet and was half empty), and then you go over to Vox's account and his pic was taping his pieces back on while being really frustrated and kinda lowkey looking like he would cry

Like Val's out here "women are stupid also men are stupid too" and talking about how he adopted a dog and killed it within like 48 hours and here's Vox celebrating his pet's birthday with cake and a party like. Why are these men together. Why. Why. Don't get me wrong I love to be the involuntary third in a toxic codependency but--

look all I'm saying is... do any of you get really really upset when you see someone being mistreated, especially more so a friend of yours?

READER JUST LOSING THEIR SHIT GETTING FERAL ANGRY SHOUTING AND SCREAMING AT VAL BECAUSE HE PULLS SOME SHIT and like that's IT for you because 1. Valentino might like actually backhand you one as well, do you think he wears rings so it hurts, 2. Vox sees you defending him and like, it's based on your own preferences really but if he wasn't already gaga this CEMENTS it and 3. especially if he watches you have to take a blow for trying to stick up for him. Like what if you cry. I have a low pain threshold, I'd be sniveling and crying at the least. Valentino storms off and Vox is helping peel you off the floor cause you curled up into a ball or some shit and he's sitting there thinking "wow they suck at this but they still did it for me 🥺"

---during his song with Alastor, it's a little confusing because they show an actual camera crew when he's turning the TVs on, but i think it's pretty clear that he can control whatever the screens show visually, thus his little zany sketches and being able to talk to himself and at one point, showed the visual of himself blocking the radio Alastor was projecting on right next door. I can just see him using this to kind of.... fuck with you, really! Or do whatever he wants? He's trying to suck up to you and he's surrounded by roses, or you're his co-host/guest host and he thinks your joke was funny and gives a little audience laughter as a treat

Or you know... you're running from him down the street, passing all these different screens and displays as they power on and show things like, him "jumping in front of you" while demanding you stop or, trying to show some kind of blackmail publicly, or just, begging you to just ACCEPT HIM and showing you all the fun things he could do with you, "cmon, I said I was sorry, stop freaking the fuck out! We can- we can do that thing you've always wanted to do, what about that?!" as he tries to project you two doing something fun, but most importantly, doing it TOGETHER. You're running from him terrified and he's showing you images of like you two smiling and happy or, it becomes scarier as he's more desperate

"Don't-don't make me do something fucked up!! I'm serious, STOP RUNNING" and he's like freaking out, showing shit of trying to hold you down, tying you up, and/or shoving you into a locked room

Sudden thoughts of "what if the more emotional and unstable he becomes, the less he can control his intrusive thoughts and shows his more impulsive darker desires". He's tweeking and the screen glitches and you briefly think you see yourself completely restrained, blindfolded, gagged--

---he's just like OBVIOUSLY so prideful but also immature and whiny ("who gives a shit about alastor?" Well you, mr hes just quietly minding his own business and I'LL start beef because i feel threatened and STILL LOSE, like awww my poor little pogchamp got publicly humiliated in an argument HE started out of nowhere, he's my little sad wet baby lmaoooo) and we already know his relationship with Val can become physically abusive, so, you pair him staying in that kind of relationship, being codependent, with this personality of his, and I can just see.... ACTUALLY FUCKING TRIGGERED LIKE LITERALLY CRYING UPSET VOX BECAUSE YOU REJECTED HIM like he's pissed he's hurt he's lonely he's heartbroken and HELL NO IS HE GONNA ACCEPT THIS

Vox would be over here proudly claiming on his TV show that NO HE REJECTED Y O U, not the other way around! He's not upset! He's totally fine! Meanwhile everyone watching can tell this man is manic and visibly hotboxing copium, "I didn't even really like you anyways!!.... no, I mean, shit, fuck, COMMERCIAL BREAK--" *cut to technical difficulties screen because the man is CRYINGGG*

-- Valentino and Reader bonding over teasing Vox and making him flustered and of course, obviously, the inverse. I still kinda like the idea of "they both think you're cute but like nothing exciting until one night they bump into you unplanned and you're all dressed up". Like Val is from the 70s or 80s so they go to a roller rink disco whatever kinda place because I'm sure the coke game there is INSANE and you're just like, swaying your hips spinning around to Let It Whip or September or something dressed in some shorts that make your ass look just right 🤌

You're sneaking back into the studio after a night out and they're both lounging somewhere and Val's like "uhhhh who is THIS coming in without saying hi to Daddy?" and you pull your sunglasses down like "SIR??? 😳" And now HE'S flustered because he didn't know that was you and Vox is feeling some new kinda way because he's used to seeing you in like, your work uniform or casual wear

Val who then makes your work uniform really slutty and you have to serve him and Vox wearing it 😩❤️

---I have this thought of like lmao imagine walking down the sidewalk with Angel and seeing Vox on TV and Angel is like "ya know he can see everything outta dese things when he's plugged in" and you're like "bullshit, he couldn't possibly process that many screens at once, it'd overload his brain, he wouldnt be able to concentrate" and you're like "here I'll prove it, hey Vox, check it out you fucking dweeb" and flash him your bare titties or you MOON HIM

scenario A would be that he INSTANTLY barks out laughing, "hey Val, that dumb slut who brings you drinks just flashed me!" And he just totally shows it on the air, maybe partially censored, maybe not at all, your phone is ringing IMMEDIATELY, of COURSE it's Val, and Vox is broadcasting your mortified embarrassed expression, "our big story tonight: drunk bimbo fucks around and finds out! More updates after this word from our sponsor!" and the man will noooootttttttt stop bullying the fuck out of you afterwards, because he's got a crush on you and you're like someone weaker than him his insecure ass can punch down on

Scenario B is that he instantly turns pink and about 5 seconds later he blue screens and the entire city experiences a blackout and when he comes back on the air he's like stammering and, glancing at, it FEELS like he keeps glancing at you, but, is he really?

------

I dunno... like I'm sure Valentino is gonna wind up being unstable in his own way but I guess there's a certain, ALLURE to Vox being a little bratty and whiny while also having these very VERY handy, actually quite scary abilities and resources 👀 like boy show me what that screen do 😫💦

[richarlotte]

365 Days from Rot to Hot (Pt. 3).

Find your colors. You could use AI, take a trip to Lowe’s (this is one of the things I did), or actually use a service, but sorting out what colors suit you is essential. A major part of building my blend and creating my personal style was based around finding things that suited me, and I do believe that you shouldn’t start buying clothes or putting a look together unless you know your undertone, have a grasp of your colors and your body type, understand your seasons, and are prepared to experiment with what you’ve learned. Finding your colors should be the first step you take, as it will make the process of creating looks easier and give you a general idea of what things will look good on you.

Search for inspiration and don’t hold yourself back. It’s your life; it’s your fashion; it’s your style. You can be as basic or as eccentric as you want. If you think Kendall Jenner and Hailey Bieber are goddesses, then take inspiration from them. If you’re a budding Betsey Johnson or a Lisa Frank and want to design your own clothes and make them even brighter, then do that. If you’re obsessed with Bella Hadid’s western era and want to chase your own wild horses, then go ahead. I’d recommend doing what I did and creating a number of Pinterest boards and using Instagram to create polyvore-like style and vision boards.

Set a reasonable budget and stick with it. You cannot spend more than you have, and it’s not wise to get into debt pursuing a lifestyle that you know you can’t afford in the long run. Create a reasonable budget and work with it; don’t try to work around it. I found myself shopping from Walmart, Meijer, Gap, and J. Crew Factory and looking for sales before I bought anything. Don’t jump into the process and waste your money buying everything straight off the racks; utilize stores like TJ Maxx, look for sales, use what you already have, and really make an effort to make your dollar stretch. Another part of working with your budget is not blowing it by shopping at Shein; if you buy something and then have to throw it out and rebuy it after 5 wears, you’re not actually getting any bang for your buck.

Utilize Pinterest and social media to find women that look like you. An integral part of creating your own blend and finding what works for you is seeing it on other women. I followed a number of women that looked like me and didn’t look like me, lived in areas of the world I found fascinating, and had tastes that I wouldn’t describe as mainstream. I used a number of different languages to search for the trends that I liked; I used Twitter and Instagram to look at hashtags; and I took total advantage of the resources I was able to access. I used magazines, went through online archives, and spent time building my ideal image. Was it perfect? No, but as time passed, it became more and more helpful, and it eventually became the Pinterest board that I use now and my main vision board.

Tie it all together and see how things work. I had to experiment with so many different looks, delete and recreate so many vision boards, and try things for myself. Am I a hairstylist? No, but I’m also not a billionaire, so I had to learn how to style my wigs to see what suited me. I went to stores to try things on, experimented with IG to see if certain pieces of jewelry would suit me, and had the time of my life during my experimentation phase. Collecting online images isn’t enough, and it’s very hard to actually get a grasp of what you like if you’re doing everything online. Try your lookout, put things together, adjust it as you please, and tie your loose ends up.

Pt. 4 to come next.

[antimatterz]

Reader cuddling Dan Heng's tail and not realizing they feel asleep on it? How does Dan Heng react to this especially Reader seem fine with his Imbibitor Lunae form since reader still sees him as Dan Heng even if he looked different

all of you

dan heng (il) x gn!reader

summary: he might've changed form, but in the end, he is still your beloved dan heng.

cw: fluff, spoilers for dan heng imbibitor lunae

enyo's note: thank you !! this definitely awakened my writing juices. it's just a short drabble but i hope you'll enjoy it still !!

content under the cut | masterlist

something was definitely different about dan heng's entire demeanor ever since he revealed his vidyadhara form. yes, he had always been quiet and distant, but as time passed, he gradually warmed up to you. now, after what happened on the xianzhou luofu, it was as if you were back at square one.

he wasn't shutting you out completely; he still let you be around him and let you do your thing. it was just that he went silent, looking somber and deep in thought. he never was one to open up about his inner struggles, but this time around, it wasn't entirely hard to figure out what was going on behind his pretty eyes.

but you didn't confront him about it. you never did.

instead, you sat curled up against him, your fingertips absentmindedly caressing the scales of his tail. though dan heng had agreed to return to the astral express, he barely left the archive room and didn't participate in anything – not even coming out to eat breakfast together with the crew. you were the only one he let in, hence you spent most of your time in said room alongside him. you were worried about him, yes, but you figured he just needed time to process all that went down. after all, the secret he so long carried upon his heart finally came to the surface, and his true form had showed; imbibitor lunae. now that was quite something.

dan heng didn't return your affection. instead, he stared ahead of him with his hands resting in his lap. you pretended not to mind, but secretly it saddened you a little. yet, you didn't show, and relished in his warmth as you leaned against him, now tiredly wrapping your arms around his tail.

you were slowly dozing off, given how it was already quite late at night. it wouldn't be the first time you'd fall asleep cuddling his tail, and you knew he didn't really mind. it wasn't long before the everlasting silence and the cadence of dan heng's breathing lulled you into a slumber.

now, dan heng finally seemed to wake up from his tense and statue-like state. his solemn gaze fell upon you, earnest grey eyes softening as he took in your sleeping form. he was well aware of how much he distanced himself after revealing his vidyadhara form, as he was scared what the others – and especially you – would think. but you didn't seem to mind, and your behavior around him hadn't changed one bit.

you still smiled at him as brightly as ever, you never looked at him weirdly nor was there any fear present in your eyes as you regarded him. if any, you liked to touch his horns and cuddle his tail and tell him how amazing he looked (before stuttering that he already looked good before the whole imbibitor lunae ordeal). no, you still treated him with the same attention and kindness, and his new form didn't stop you from visiting him in his room and cuddling up against him. something clicked inside his mind; you really didn't regard him any different, did you?

while the others were clearly in awe, treating him with some awkward form of respect, you never changed your act around him. he remembered the words you spoke to him after the hectic events that took place on the xianzhou luofu; "you might look different, but you're still dan heng."

it was okay. it was a big change, but it clearly wasn't that big of a deal for you. the person who was the most important to him accepted imbibitor lunae without a doubt. you were fine with it, and nothing else mattered.

dan heng felt at peace for the first time since. slowly, moving carefully not to wake you, he wrapped an arm around you, using his fingers to delicately move some strands of hair away from your face. he felt so grateful towards you, and he promised himself to show you. he was done distancing himself from you, as it was pointless. you accepted him, no matter what. he was safe with you.

[41-kiraraaa]

ᥫ᭡. 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐫, 𝐭𝐨 𝐞𝐱𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐫

⤷ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠.: yandere dragon!dan heng x reader

⤷ 𝐭𝐰.: yandere behavior, possessiveness, obsessiveness, isolation/imprisonment, slight blood/gore

⤷ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬.: dan heng has his draconian transformation aboard the express with you to watch over him. his desire for you had finally made him snap, and, now, there was no escape from your mate.

‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊

whenever trailblazing wore you out, you could count on dan heng to make sure nothing strayed too much out of order.

his constant watchfulness over you, march, and the trailblazer was nothing if not helpful and convenient should anything ever go awry, which it has, too many times in the past, but in your downtime on the express, you just wanted to be away from his scrutinizing, assessing gaze. you also didn’t want to be a burden on anyone, another person to worry for, and the thought of spending some time by yourself, without the presence of the other crew members, drew a sigh of relief from you.

you had promised yourself moments of rest after the stellaron mission in belobog, no matter how fleeting. with kafka and the stellaron hunters getting involved and sending the express crew to the xianzhou, you wanted to savor every moment you could in solidarity before you had to aid welt, march, and the trailblazer in their mission to seal the destructive core.

what you hadn’t expected, however, were the muffled sounds of pain coming from past march’s room and straight from the archives, where dan heng’s voice had echoed out in agony.

it hadn’t been long after the express was docked, and you rushed out of your room to make sure that your companion was unharmed.

after skidding to a halt at the doorway of dan heng’s makeshift room, you hurried past the open door, where himeko was bent over dan heng’s silently whimpering form, looking concerned.

when she noticed your entrance, her eyes flitted to you and she nodded, motioning for you to come over. you obliged, suspense and adrenaline racking in your system as you hunched over dan heng.

you’d thought that your eyes had deceived you when you had run through the door, but it seemed that the flash of green was indeed an extension of dan heng.

what you had glimpsed before when you were rushing in was a tail, whose fluffy tip was now pattering against the floor in obvious distress. what you hadn’t seen before, however, were his horns.

also a green hue, they extended upwards proudly, akin to branches of coral. they still seemed to be growing, as noted by his light breaths and whimpers of pain as you thought you imagined them coming up to be a little higher every time you blinked.

immediately you took charge, knowing that he would need a more comfortable place to be situated in, and you didn’t think that intruding on himeko’s space would please her all that much.

“i’ll take him back to my room,” you informed her, not realizing that you were too shaken by this whole ordeal until you heard your voice waver.

she gave you a nod of affirmation and, before you knew it, dan heng was on the edge of your bed and you were out of breath from helping himeko carry his deadweight. you tried pushing him to the middle of the bed for maximum comfort, and to minimize the risk of him falling off, but gave up when he didn’t budge and, instead, made the bedsheet wrinkle.

sighing, you turned back to him for a moment to check that everything in your room was orderly and that the door was closed after lugging him inside, which it was, but then a sudden weight came crashing down on you and you collapsed with a choked shout of surprise.

on top of you was the body of human, yet devoid of warmth, like a reptile. the pants and low growls resonating in your ear were most definitely human—the voice of an irreplaceable person in your life.

“d-dan heng!?” you exclaimed, trying to push yourself up, already in a plank and ready shake him off and book it for the door, but his weight and power pressed you down until you were flat against the ground, panting for air.

“you’re mine,” dan heng whispered, his voice husky and low and his breath hit against your ear. your breath caught in your throat at his proximity, and your struggles renewed as you pushed your back upward to try and shove him off.

a swift, unexpected bite to your throat ceased your struggling, and you lay limp on the floor at the pain that blossomed. the weight on your back was lifted off of you for a moment, but you couldn’t escape with your senses hyper-focused on the wound on the most sensitive part of your body.

dan heng was staring intently at your back, his objective dark, and, you couldn’t see it, but you could feel the desire emanating from his possessive, lustful gaze. your skin crawled with gooseflesh, and you gulped slightly, as unnoticeably as you could manage.

he dipped downward sharply soon after though, absentmindedly lapping at the blood streaming down your neck before it could reach the ground. it was too precious to waste, you were too delectable to pass up.

dan heng had thought that his feelings would be hidden from you forever, the desire to lock you away from the universe and have you safe from harm’s way. unfortunately, the life of a trailblazer was seldom easy, and you met life’s challenges with courage, even when your qualms and fears had a grip on your heart.

he always went out of his way to make that your life wasn’t being threatened, even when it seemed impossible. he was your shield, his cold, unyielding personality your preservation.

he needed to make sure that you had placed your trust in him fully, first and foremost and no one else.

if he was immovable, then what was there to threaten you? what was there to deny him from what he had kept himself from for so long? he craved you, ached for you, longed for you, but never showed an ounce of it through his words or actions, for fear of your rejection, of society’s caution around his amplified desire for you, strong enough to harbor hatred and murderous intent for anybody who so looked at you the wrong way. looked at you at all, even.

now though, he was finally discarding those frivolous thoughts of his concealment of desire for you, his draconian side emerging. after all, it was only normal to want your lover in every way, right?

his present, human, morally ambiguous but restrained side was miles away, the tsunamis of desire crashing into oceans of want and possessiveness making him realize that he wanted this so badly that he would die if he was without you for another moment. even blinking was made scarce, absorbing your ethereal, once ephemeral, form in to fully appreciate you in ways he couldn’t before.

his stone-cold, deadpan exterior had finally given way to his true self, more open to expressing his love and devotion for you, as the dragon in him coiled with the need to make sure that you were his forever.

so why were you struggling? couldn’t you tell that you were his mate? his to love and cherish forever? even if you didn’t think you loved him now, there was no way that he’d let you go, not when the both of you were finally alone, together, and safe.

carefully, gently, absurdly for the situation he had just subjected you to, he lifted you up in a bridal carry and you couldn’t tell if you wanted to curl into his strong embrace, or shimmy away from your captor.

once he settled on your bed, he bunched the covers up around you and him until you were both insulated and he could retain the warmth that you gave him. he had made sure you were comfortable, drawing the blankets up around you first and foremost and leaning over your form quite inquisitively, drinking in the most vulnerable side of you he had never gotten to appreciate properly and feeling a strange welling of wholesomeness in his heart at your figure, dwarfed by him and his twisted love for you.

after getting settled down, you couldn’t help but close your eyes sleepily, unsure as to why you were feeling so exhausted that your body would let your guard down around the beast that had possessed your friend. you would contemplate why you were allowing him such proximity, but your mind was too scrambled to discern if he was a threat or not, and it seemed as though your body had decided for you as you were his mate.

a hand from out of the blue descended upon your head and sharp nails massaged your scalp deeply, comfortingly, lovingly. they were careful not to draw blood or scratch you too hard, and your eyelids grew heavier still, and your ears gradually rose a barrier between you and the outside world, content in the embrace of someone you knew.

the wound in your neck hadn’t bothered you for a moment now, and you had half a mind to wonder why when a low croon came from above you. it seemed as though he was still watching you, with another hand descending to rub your cheek soothingly. the solace of his presence was unbearable for your rationality, and you let go all train of thought to give into him.

dan heng watched with satisfaction as you drifted off into slumber, pride welling in his chest at the level of trust you still had for him, even after his slightly unorthodox display of dominance.

after making sure that you were truly sleeping, deep inside the crevices of your mind and dreaming of him, no doubt, he lowered himself down into a space next to you, where he was able to hold you with your back to him and his arms wrapped tightly, possessively around your waist and pulled you as close to him as he possibly could.

a few seconds later though, he opted to drag his arms up higher until he was just right below your chest so that he could make way for his tail, which dipped under you and then coiled upwards to wrap around you, doubly secure and safely tucked in by his side.

although your blood had supplemented him some energy to get by for a little after his grueling transformation into a dragon, he was more than content with the prospect of regaining his full strength by resting by your side, knowing that nothing could ever take you away from him.

and afterwards, when his power was at its full glory, he’d prove to you that you’d never need to leave his side. ever.

and even if you insisted, tried clawing your way out of his embrace, tried to escape into a world with dangers lurking around every corner, ready to take you away from him, there was no way he would ever lose you, no way you would ever lose him.

your mate.

‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊

[rose-tea-and-strawberries]

Ok Ok since you listen to Epic the Musical hear me out-

What if Epic is a thing in Yuu's world? Like she's a huge fan and decided for a movie night she first introduces all the boys to it and eventually shows it to everyone at the House of Mouse,

There will be gasps, There will be tears shed, etc.

Everyone in the Hercules cast especially will be intrigued by seeing their own selves in a different light. But once they get to the thunder saga (and also gods games), Zeus is sweating bullets meanwhile hades is laughing his butt off from his brother's face,

But at the same time poor Hercules is like "....Dad???" as Meg and Yuu comfort him.

...also for the Vengeance saga everyone (NRC and HoM) especially the couples, Will def cheer after Odysseus says next to my wife.

Okay so first of all, if you want to read a fic where NRC reacts to Epic I highly recommend this because it is truly top tier:

I mean, for the past month I was thinking of a twst reacts to Epic fic (where Yuu acted in EPIC back in her world and the school/RSA reacted to it through some type of magic - it was kind of set in this universe where Yuu was a theatre actress before entering twst. I mentioned once that I had a theatre!Yuu that is friends with RSA and once played Christine Daaé back home. This is that AU) and then I just stumbled across this two days ago and my mind was literally blown! The saying that that there are no original experiences is really true!

Basically Yuu (who's female in this fic) is doing some extra credit work so she asks her friends to act in one of her favourite musicals and NRC reacts to this. Ace plays Ody and Deuce is Telemachus and Yuu plays practically every female character (I'm not going to spoil who plays the other characters). Also this has Aceyuu which is practically my OTP.

I'm also a huge fan of the Disney Princess React series where the Disney Princess, Princes and practically all the good characters from before their movies react to their future so I have been thinking of a Disney characters + Epic cast reacts to Epic fic.

Okay so according to Google, Hercules comes before the Odyssey so none of the Hercules cast would know anything about the Trojan War or Odysseus which would make this even cooler!

Hades: And you guys thought I was bad? Just look at my younger brothers!

Hercules: Dad! (īī ^ īī)

I've never watched the Hercules tv show except for that one crossover it did with Aladdin so I don't really know how the gods/goddesses are portrayed but I do know that the movie took a lot of ... creative liberty to say the least.

But can you imagine the cast of The Little Mermaid/Octavinelle reacting to Suffering/Different Beasts where the sirens come to kill the crew only to get slaughtered. Also, I have a feeling that Triton would be leaving his trident back home in the palace for the next few weeks.

But imagine every sailors' (e.g. Eric, the pirates, etc) reaction to Ruthlessness and the absolute carnage that follows. They'd be gripping onto the tables with white knuckles.

Hades would be having the time of his life (except for the parts where Yuu cheers for the other gods: read Hermes/Athena), especially during the Underworld saga. Like everyone would be looking at river styx in horror and he'd just be like 'ah home :)'. I bet he'd enjoy God Games as well. He'd definitely be munching on popcorn during Ody's and Athena's argument in My Goodbye.

The muses would be watching everything like WRITE THAT DOWN!

I don't think Hercules wants to talk to anyone at this moment :/

Thanks for the ask ‎♡