#or this or that snippet of dialogue

[creweemmaeec11]

Why is asking permission for certain things, both romantic and platonic, one of the cutest, most heart-fluttering things ever?

"Can I hold your hand?"

"Can I kiss you?"

"Would you like me to carry your jacket?"

"Can I hug you?"

"Would it be alright if we cuddled?"

"Can I play with your hair?"

"Might I walk you home?"

"Can I tickle you?

"Is it okay if I kiss you goodbye?"

"Can I hold onto your arm while we walk?"

"Can I rest my head on your shoulder?"

"Is it okay if I call you (nickname)?"

"I'd really like to kiss you right now, if that's okay with you,"

"Would you let me take care of you?"

[allgremlinart]

Jet and Zuko meet on the ferry is TIRED. Jet and Zuko meet after S2E7 "Zuko Alone" is WIRED

[bookished]

( a collection of fun and adventurous dialogue prompts. adjust phrasing as necessary.) feel free to make edits to better suit your muse, but please don’t edit or add on to the original post <𝟑 if you like, please consider supporting me through tips, it's highly appreciated.

"Want to try sneaking into the movie theater?"

"There's this exclusive sky bar on the top floor. I bet if we act confident enough, we could just walk right in. Ready to blend in with the high rollers?"

"You know the 'Staff Only' areas in aquariums always look so intriguing. I've got an idea involving lab coats and clipboards. Interested?"

"There's a secret passage in this art gallery that leads to a hidden exhibit. I overheard the curator talking about it. Shall we go exploring?"

"I've always wanted to see a movie from the theater's projection room. I've got a friend who works here – you get what I mean?"

"So, that exclusive restaurant is fully booked for months, but I may have 'borrowed' a couple of names from the reservation list. Feeling adventurous?"

"The old amusement park's been closed for years, but I know a way in. Imagine having all those rides to ourselves under the moonlight."

"I heard there's an underground speakeasy in this library. Apparently, you need to whisper a password to the librarian. Wanna try our luck?"

"Remember that fancy pool party we weren't invited to? I've got two waiter uniforms and a brilliant plan. You in?"

"There's a secret rooftop garden on top of that skyscraper. I bet we could talk our way past security if we pretend to be lost interns."

"I know this sounds crazy, but I found a hidden door behind the museum. Want to see where it leads after closing time?"

"The local TV station does live broadcasts from that studio. I bet with the right timing, we could sneak onto a set during a commercial break. Ready for your 15 seconds of fame?"

"I discovered a hidden hot spring in the woods just outside town. It's a bit of a hike, but imagine a midnight dip under the stars."

"There's a secret room in the library that's usually locked. I copied the key while volunteering. Want to see what forbidden books they're hiding?"

"Remember that fancy cooking class that was full? Well, I may have found a way for us to observe from the kitchen's back entrance. Hungry for some culinary espionage?"

"I know how to get onto the roof of the tallest building downtown. The view of the sunset from up there is incredible. Shall we?"

"There's a masquerade ball at the governor's mansion tonight. I've got two masks and a wild idea. Care to crash a high-society party?"

"My friend works at the zoo and says we could help feed the penguins after closing time. Interested in a secret animal encounter?"

"I heard this old theater is supposedly haunted. Want to sneak in after hours and do some ghost hunting?"

"There's a secret beach hidden behind those cliffs. The catch? We'll have to climb down a rope ladder to reach it. You up for it?"

"I found an old map of the city's underground tunnels. Fancy a subterranean adventure date?"

[devildom-drabbles]

MC and the demon brothers are walking in town on a particularly chilly day. In the middle of a conversation, MC suddenly sneezes.

MC: *sniffs* Ugh, excuse me.

Mammon: *puts his jacket on MC* Geez, humans are so weak in cold weather.  I guess I’ll have to lend ya my jacket until we’re inside again.

MC: Oh, no, you don’t have to—

Beelzebub: *also puts his jacket on MC, overtop of Mammon’s* It’d be bad if you got sick, MC. Mammon’s jacket is small, so you can use mine, too.

MC: But—

Belphegor: *hands MC his pillow* Missing school and staying home to sleep wouldn’t be so bad, but I’d rather you not get sick either.  So, here, hold this close to you.  It should have some of my body heat since I’ve been carrying it this whole time.

MC: Um—

Lucifer: *puts his gloves on MC’s hands* You need to take care of yourself, MC.  The next several days will be cold like this, so make sure to wear more layers when you go out from now on.

Asmodeus: *wraps his scarf around MC’s neck* And some warm accessories!  When done right, they can really make your outfit extra stylish while still keeping you cozy.

MC: This is a bit—

Leviathan: *puts a Ruri-chan beanie he just bought on MC’s head* And you can feel more connected to your favorite 2D characters by wearing more merch with them on it!  Doesn’t it just fire up your heart?!

Satan: *puts a pair of fuzzy cat ear muffs on MC* Personally, I don’t care what you wear or how you look as long as you stay warm and healthy.  Still, you do look quite cute with these tiny cat ears, and now your head shouldn’t lose as much heat even when it’s windy.

MC: *face flushed from the added warmth and the actions of the doting demons* Thanks, guys. ...But now I’m too hot.

[creadigol]

Prompt #7

"So a siren takes the form of whoever you most desire?"

Supervillain rolled their eyes at Henchman, "It takes the form of whoever you love the most. Love and desire are not the same thing. You would die for someone you love, not someone you only superficially desire."

"Yeah, okay...but Villain is on deck right now and..."

Supervillain whipped their head around, "What do you mean Villain is on deck?! I expressly gave the orders for everyone to stay below!"

"I know but sir...."

"No buts! Go out there and get them back inside!"

"You should really see..."

"Really see what?"

Henchman rubbed the back of their neck, "The form the siren took for Villain, to lore them outside...it looks like..."

Supervillain narrowed their eyes, "Like who?"

"Like Detective."

[villain-enthusiast]

Hi Hello!! Would you please continue the snippet of villain finding hero dying? A lot of whump and caretaking would be great! (By the way.. just wanted to say this...I love your work!!)

so glad u enjoyed! hope this is also to your liking ☺️

part one

.

The hero came to with a start.

They shifted, groaning as their stiff muscles and joints ached. But they noticed that their body was comfortable, sinking into a soft mattress and swaddled in thick blankets—

Wait, what?

They blinked several times as fragmented memories flashed through their head, The blinding pain of the stab wound. Their broken comms. Blood, too much blood. They were going to die without help…

The villain. The villain finding them in the alleyway, gathering them up in their arms—

“You’re awake.”

The hero jolted, head whipping to the bedside, where the villain had apparently stood up from the chair behind them.

How long had they been waiting there?

They moved to prop themselves up, but the villain’s hands were immediately on their shoulders, gently urging them back down onto the stupidly comfortable bed.

“Don’t move too much. You’ll break the stitches,” the villain warned. They pulled the blanket covering the hero’s torso away to examine the bandages wrapped around their side.

It was then the hero realized that they had been scrubbed clean and given a new pair of sweatpants, every cut and scratch from their recent altercation carefully dressed.

Their eyes met the villain’s in silent questioning.

You did all this for me?

“I swear I didn’t look,” the villain blurted suddenly. “When I was bathing and changing you. I didn’t—.” They cut themselves off awkwardly, cheeks a little pink.

Oh, that’s not… Despite themselves, the hero smiled, or what they could attempt as a smile. Their jaw was incredibly sore from being socked twice in one day.

They opened their mouth to speak, to tell the villain that it was fine and that what they really meant was thank you—

The villain shushed them. “You have some bruising on your neck. It’ll hurt to talk. You should just rest.”

The hero scowled at them. “I—,” they attempted, and immediately regretted their choice as their swollen throat flared up.

The villain gave them a "told you so" look, and the hero leveled another glare at them.

It suddenly occurred to the hero how helpless they were. Can't move, can't speak. If the villain wanted to kill them, now would be the chance. Luring them into a false sense of security, giving them one last taste of comfort before—

“I just saved your fucking life. Stop looking at me like that.”

The hero frowned. Like what? they mouthed.

“Like you think I’m gonna kill you or something. I can be a half-decent person sometimes, y’know," the villain said. Their expression softened. “I’m not a monster.”

The villain's gaze flickered with something the hero couldn't quite place as they watched each other in comfortable silence. It was an understanding, in that moment, that the villain was not going to kill them, and that they had meant everything they said and more.

I couldn’t just leave you to die in that alleyway.

The villain sighed and turned to leave the room. Panic shot through the hero—they needed to say something to the villain, damn their throat—and before they could think twice about it, they reached out and took the villain’s hand in their own. Rough calluses from what was likely decades of training scraped against their palm.

The villain stared at them, but they didn’t pull away. Their fingers wrapped gently around the hero’s, cautious. Expectant.

“Thank you,” the hero croaked, “for saving me.”

The villain was silent for several heartbeats, watching the hero with those dark—so beautifully dark—eyes.

They took a breath, as if readying themselves for whatever they were going to say. “You mean too much to me," they finally said, voice low. "I'm not ready to let you go." Their hand lingered on the hero's, as if to seal their statement, to make a promise and keep it.

Then they released their hold, and the hero wished they could tell them to stay—that they wanted them to stay—but the villain was already closing the door behind them, and fatigue overtook them before they could process anything else.

When the hero awoke the next morning, the villain was nowhere to be found. But in the chair by their bedside, they found a fresh set of clothes, a cup of water, and a note:

Be back soon. - Villain

And though their jaw still ached, the hero smiled, fully and wholly.

[idliketobeatree]

(gif by mellxncollie)

@wordsinhaled was wondering if "edwin thought he was gonna get kissed here. the way he like. almost draws himself up a little like he's not ready omg. or what he thought charles was gonna say"

and. in another universe.

—

Edwin sees Charles' eyes flutter close as he moves in. His confession hangs in the air, heavy and flaming like the wisps of Hell lapping at their heels and everything comes to a halt when he creaks out, "wait!"

Charles stills. The air around them, too.

"Oh— shit, I mean— sorry!"

And Edwin is in a desperate need for another breath but his lungs are too full, pleurae stretched to their capacities. He shakes his head quickly, almost throwing them off-balance, down the staircase, to where the demon spider-doll's mantles are steadily dripping with Edwin's real blood, to certain fucking doom. And then, hysterically, I wasn't ready. I don't look nice. My mouth tastes like blood. I've been crying—

"No, you misunderstand, I want this— I want you. I am merely—"

What a terrible time for Charles, to not understand what he's trying to say at all.

[frostfishy]

waug

+ bonus sols

[writersloveroe]

one bed trope dialogue prompts

♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎

•”wait- there’s seriously only one bed?”

•”no i insist, stay in bed with me,”

•”i didn’t mean to end up so close to you that night we were sharing the bed,”

•”it was so awkward- i woke up and we were cuddling like a couple,”

•”i hope you don’t snore,”

•”can you come a little closer? it’s cold in here,”

•”you know your head was resting on my shoulder as you slept right?”

•”you’re a cute sleeper,”

•”i know this is a bit weird, but can you hold me?”

•”stop hogging the covers!”

•”you kicked me seven times while sleeping,”

•”can you talk to me? i can’t sleep,”

•”there must’ve been some mistake there should be two beds,”

•”sharing a bed with you isn’t the worse thing that could happen, right?”

•”i’ll sleep on the couch- fine, i’ll sleep with you on the bed,”

•”you have cute bedhead,”

[wordsofwilderness]

Found this beauty in my writing notes:

[theoneofshame]

Harry grabs for the firewhiskey.

“Do you only ever go for the hardstuff?”

“It gets you there faster,” Harry exclaims, rummaging through the cabinets for glasses. Why in the bloody hell they were in the topmost shelf is beyond Harry. Probably Kreacher in a petty spell.

Voldemort, the giant git that he is, makes no move to help.

"Do you mind?"

"Yes, yes I do."

Prat.

“Besides, what’s the point of drinking if not to get pissed?” Harry huffs out, stretching for all his 5'4 stature allowed him. His middle and index fingers graze the edge-most cup, accidentally pushing it further in.

“To enjoy it perhaps,” Voldemort snarks. He watches Harry throw away his last shred of dignity and climb the counter to reach, like it's something fascinating to behold.

“I’ll be enjoying myself plenty, thanks,” Harry says, victorious in his plundering with a cup in hand.

"Why not just summon it?"

Harry rolls his eyes. "Kreacher has objects not react to my magic when he's cross with me." Which is always. Harry stopped keeping track of the reasons.

Voldemort wandlessly summons the second cup to him. Harry flips him off.

For all Voldemort's belly-aching he still shares a glass with Harry. Then four more. They've moved to the study and drank through most of the bottle when Harry makes the comment, “never would’ve taken you for a lighter spirits fellow.”

“I prefer sweet things,” Voldemort says, slowly raking his eyes up Harry's form before locking on to Harry’s own. The way he said it had Harry’s cheeks flushing. Probably just the alcohol catching up to him. Still, his belly is warm and he's feeling good.

[exhausted-archivist]

I was today years old when I learned Solas isn't the one controlling the Fade dream. The Inquisitor came and found him and he just changes the setting. I'm not transcribing all of the romance dialogue, but the relevant bits:

Solas: Sleep well? Option 1:

If you kissed in the fade PC: I've never done anything like that before. On a number of levels.

No Fade kiss PC: I've never done anything like that before. Do you regularly talk to people in dreams? Solas: No. Consider that one more rule you have effortlessly broken in your rise to power.

Option 2:

If you kissed in the Fade PC: I had some odd dreams. Very odd dreams. Liked how it ended, though. No Fade Kiss PC: I had some odd dreams. Very odd dreams. With very odd people in them, for that matter. Solas: I will take that as a compliment, given that you include yourself. Remember, you came looking for me.

Option 3:

If you kissed in the Fade PC: When I asked to talk to you, I didn't think we'd be doing it in the Fade. Or, for that matter, doing it in the Fade. Solas: (Laughs.) No Fade Kiss PC: When I asked to talk to you, I didn't think we'd be doing it in the Fade. Still better than the dream where I'm standing naked in front of the war table. Solas: Since you went to the trouble of finding me in your sleep, it was worth the effort of doing something interesting. I had no idea the Anchor would allow you to dream with such focus. It is truly remarkable.

Solas Responses to lines with a Fade Kiss

(if in a romance with someone else) Solas: A momentary lapse in judgement. As you are now seeing someone else, we may comfortably leave it in the land of dreams. (Otherwise) Solas: I apologize. The kiss was impulsive and ill considered, and I should not have encouraged it. […]

All other lines revert to:

Solas: But I am reasonably certain we are awake now, and if you wish to discuss anything, I would enjoy talking. [...]

[starlightvld]

Up in Smoke

(Also on AO3)

The first time Ghost rips the cigarette from Soap's mouth, drops it on the ground, and stomps on it as he passes by, Soap is too stunned to say anything for a full ten seconds. They've only been working together consistently for a couple of missions, and even as his superior officer, the audacity of the action floors him.

By the time his brain restarts, Ghost is long gone.

--

The second time Ghost steals Soap's cigarette, he bursts out in a string of Scottish curses and tackles Ghost from behind before the wanker can drop it on the ground. An impromptu sparring match ensues, fists and curses flying. 

Afterward, he doesn't feel much like a cigarette anymore — not with the split lip, anyway. Besides, the buzzing under his skin that usually drives him to smoke is just... gone.

Price catches wind of the incident, of course, and calls them into his office a few hours later. By that time Soap has calmed down enough to be... maybe not okay with it, but at least able to see the humor. 

"What's this about you muppets scuffling by the smoking area?"

"Just a little sparring to blow off steam," Soap says.

"Ghost?"

"Nothin' to worry about, Captain."

"No? I've got one soldier who looks like he just got back from a bar fight, and the other..." He squints at Ghost. "He get a hit in on you, too?"

"Yeah," Ghost replies in that deadpan tone of his. "Coupla black eyes."

It's a joke. 

Ghost is telling a joke. And it's objectively not funny. It's not. But Soap bursts into hysterical laughter all the same. 

The corners of Ghost's blacked-out eyes crinkle. 

Price rubs his temples before dropping his hand on his desk. Soap presses his lips together to contain his laughter.

"Sparring happens in the gym. I'm sure you know the place. It's where we have things like mats and gloves. I catch you two bare-knuckle fighting again, and you will regret it."

And it's enough to sober Soap up. He avoids Ghost as he ducks away to catch dinner.

--

The third time... well, no. He supposes that's really the fourth time. 

Because the actual third time, Soap had come back from a shit mission where everything went wrong. Intel was faulty, exfil was delayed, and people under his command died. It didn't happen as often in SAS as it had in the regulars — the soldiers here were well-trained and hard to kill — but that made it all the worse. 

When Ghost tried to pluck the cigarette from his mouth, Soap growled. 

"Back the fuck up, Lt. Or Price is gonna be disappointed in both of us."

Ghost paused, and their eyes met. Slowly, Ghost lowered his hand. 

"Wanna talk about it?"

"Fuck no."

"Thank God."

Soap didn't have it in him to even huff a laugh. He took a long drag and blew the smoke away from Ghost as a peace offering.

To his surprise, Ghost didn't leave. He spun around and leaned against the wall with his arms crossed. They stood there together, utterly silent, as Soap let the heat and sting in his lungs soothe the beast inside that wanted to rip the world apart.

When he was done, though, he was surprised to find he didn't want another. Usually after shit missions, he'd stand there and smoke half a pack before his hands would stop shaking.

He finally met Ghost's eyes. The man quirked a barely visible brow.

"S'pose we should take it to the mats this time?"

Ghost pushed off the building and started walking. Soap followed like a lost child looking for a way home. 

--

The fourth time is in Chicago. His hands are shaking not from losing soldiers but from almost losing his own life. The cigarette trembles in his grip as he stands outside the bar, the biting wind turning his fingers and probably his lips blue. He lifts it to his mouth, inhaling deep—

And then it's gone.

The whine that bubbles up from his gut and bursts from his throat is nothing short of humiliating. But God. God. He needs it.

"Not now. Please, Ghost."

"Why?"

Ghost hasn't thrown the cigarette down. Yet. He cocks his head to the side and gives Soap a long look. Soap can only tremble from the cold and a need that goes deeper than a simple hit of nicotine.

"I just... I need it."

The cigarette drops to the ground, but Soap doesn't have time to lament the loss before that same hand is curling around Soap's neck and pulling him into a fucking massive chest. The other arm comes around Soap's shoulders and...

Ghost just stands there, holding him. And Soap can't help melting into the warmth and solidity of the man who saved his life just hours ago. He dares to curl in deeper. To raise his hands and clutch at Ghost's jacket. To let a few, silent tears escape his tight control.

Finally, his muscles relax. Ghost must feel it, because he turns and leads Soap back toward the bar.

"Why do ye even care?" Soap mumbles from his spot tucked into Ghost's side.

"Because those things'll kill ya."

Soap supposes the "I like you alive" is implied at this point.

--

Soap loses count after Chicago. He gets stretches of days when Ghost is on a solo op or out with one of the other operators when he can smoke in peace. So he does.

At first.

He's been hooked since he was a rebellious teen trying to make his mark on the world. He's tried to quit multiple times, but it never seems to stick. The first bad mission or adrenaline-filled near miss and he's back at whatever smoking spot he can find, puffing away.

He finds himself trying to cut back, though, even when Ghost is away.

Any time Ghost is on base, all bets are off. In addition to darting by and making a grab for it or sneaking up behind him and flicking it out of his hands, Ghost has gotten more creative. Sometimes Soap will pull out a cigarette only to find he's "lost" his lighter. Sometimes the cigarettes themselves go missing — he clutches his chest and mourns all that wasted money whenever a whole pack disappears. 

He supposes it's all just going up in smoke anyway, though.

He should be angry. But in truth, it's almost a relief to hand over the reins to Ghost. To let the man help him by annoying the shit out of him until he wants to give up on it entirely.

Which is definitely the point. Ghost has made that perfectly clear.

So, whenever he gets the urge to calm his racing thoughts or overactive mind with a cigarette, he finds Ghost and annoys him instead. They talk, or spar, or simply sit in silence together, doing their own thing. Ghost doesn't often touch him — their moment in Chicago is still the closest Soap's ever gotten to the elusive Ghost — but he also doesn't push Soap away when he slumps into Ghost's side after a hard day or leans over his back when he's sitting at the table in the 141's common area on base.

The urge doesn't go away, of course. And sometimes, when things get really bad, Ghost will just sit or stand with him like he did the third time. Still, he finds himself smoking less and hanging out with Ghost more.

--

The last time Ghost steals a cigarette from Soap, he simply stands beside Soap and holds out his hand. Soap immediately knows something has gone terribly wrong. Still, he's too invested in the game now to not hand the cigarette over.

He nearly keels over when Ghost pulls up his mask and takes a long, hard drag. Soap watches in fascination as his cheeks hollow, his neck muscles strain, his lips curve around the paper. It's erotic in a way he really shouldn't be thinking about in regards to his emotionally unavailable superior officer, but the knowledge hasn't stopped him yet. Since that day in Chicago — probably before if he's honest — he's only ever wanted to be closer.

Ghost coughs a little and hands the cigarette back.

"Fuck. Just as disgusting as I remember."

"Ye used to smoke, then?"

"Before I joined up, yeah. Hated it, though."

"The smell? Or—"

"Everything. The taste, the smell, the heat..." Ghost trails off, his hand rubbing over his bicep in a strangely specific way. He shakes his head and looks back at Soap. "Not your problem, Johnny. Forget about it."

Soap's hand is darting out, fingers curling into Ghost's jacket, before he's properly thought through the action. Ghost pauses before turning back. They stare in silence for a moment until—

Soap stubs out the half-burned cigarette and drops the butt in the trash. He licks his lips. Glances up at Ghost. The mask is still sitting on his nose, and Soap stares at his lips for longer than he should before pulling the pack out of his pocket and throwing it in the trash, too.

"Cannae have ye thinking I stink, can I?"

"Too late."

But Ghost's throat bobs with a hard swallow. Soap wets his lips, takes a step closer, and uncurls his fingers to slide his hand up Ghost's chest until his fingertips are resting on Ghost's shirt collar.

"I dinnae think it is."

Ghost turns and walks away. Soap closes his eyes and drops his hand, internally cursing his impulsive behavior. The scuffing of boots walking away from him is like nails on a chalk board.

Until they stop, and a gruff voice calls out, "You comin'?"

A slow smile slides across Soap's mouth. "No' yet."

A huff — exasperation? laughter? a bit of both? — before, "Better get movin' then."

And Soap has never been more glad to follow an order.

[s-soulwriter]

Dark writing prompts

Some dark writing prompts for the cold winter days :) Number five is my favorite. I wrote a short story about it once. Which one is your favorite?

In a world where emotions are harvested as a powerful energy source, a secret society emerges, exploiting the pain and suffering of individuals to fuel their dark ambitions.

A mysterious antique mirror appears in an old, abandoned house. Anyone who gazes into it experiences glimpses of their worst fears coming to life. What happens when the mirror falls into the wrong hands?

In a dystopian future, a government experiment to control crime goes horribly wrong. Citizens start experiencing their darkest impulses as physical manifestations, leading to chaos and destruction.

A cursed town is shrouded in perpetual darkness, and every year, a single resident must willingly sacrifice themselves to lift the curse for a brief moment. This year, the chosen one has a secret that could change everything.

A talented artist discovers that their paintings have the power to alter reality. However, with each stroke of the brush, a piece of their soul is consumed, leaving them on the brink of madness.

A small community is plagued by a series of unexplainable events, each linked to a children's nursery rhyme. As the rhyme predicts the next tragedy, the townsfolk desperately try to break the curse before it claims them all.

A scientist creates a device that allows people to relive their happiest memories. However, as they delve deeper into the technology, they uncover a hidden layer of forgotten, traumatic experiences that could shatter lives.

In a post-apocalyptic world, survivors discover an underground bunker containing a mysterious machine that claims to offer a chance at resurrection. However, the price to bring someone back is the sacrifice of another life.

A cursed book is said to grant its reader unimaginable knowledge, but at the cost of their sanity. As a desperate scholar seeks its pages, they must confront the malevolent entity within that hungers for their mind.

A detective investigates a series of gruesome murders that seem to be connected by a chilling pattern. As they get closer to the truth, they realize the killer might be something otherworldly, feeding on the fear they instill in their victims.

[devildom-drabbles]

Diavolo has tagged along with Lucifer and MC while they’re getting groceries in the human world.

Diavolo: *pointing at a crate of tomatoes* Lucifer, MC, look!  They have Revelation Tomatoes here!

MC: Oh, actually, these are just regular tomatoes.

Diavolo: “Regular Tomatoes?”  Do they do anything?

MC: They...give you nutrients?

Diavolo: *laughs* Yes, all foods do that!  But do they have any side effects?

MC: Only if you’re allergic.  Then they’d make you sick.  They don’t do anything else.

Lucifer: The food in the human world doesn’t have any special attributes or magical effects like the ones in the Devildom.

Diavolo: I see...  How interesting. Some of these fruits and vegetables are so visually alike to those grown in the Devildom that I thought they’d work in similar ways.

Diavolo’s gaze briefly travels over the surrounding produce before picking up a head of cauliflower. 

Diavolo: I mean, look here!  Wouldn’t you say this is Ghost Broccoli?

MC: *thinking of the meme* Yes.

Lucifer: *elbowing MC* No.

[powdermelonkeg]

Can we like...give the Zelda Movie contract to Studio Ghibli or Studio Ponoc instead of Illumination