#reason why he has the scar on his nose I gave him

[maslosstuff]

Me go back to the empire…I..couldn’t possibly..MARRY YOU?! Caspar this..so sudden…

[solcarow]

seafood trio portraits !

+ some alts. with spoilers !

[sanipoyo]

THEIR KID ASKING ABOUT THEIR FACIAL MARKS & SCARS

note - jujutsu kaisen, fluff.

INUMAKI had just came home from work, excited to see his two favorite people. when he entered the door, his jacket was unzipped enough to see the unique markings on his face. these marks were not a new sight to your son but for some reason, he had a million questions about them. “dad, what are those from? who gave you that? why does it look like that? can i get those when i get bigger?”, he spouted and all toge could do was smile and nod as you tried to answer all your sons’ questions for him.

TOJI has a major soft spot for his daughter. he finds himself sitting at a small table surrounded by stuffed animals drinking invisible tea. your daughter comes around with a cloth, wiping all her toys faces ‘clean’. “your turn!” she exclaimed as she approaches her dad, aggressively rubbing his face with the cloth. she kept wiping toji’s scar, as if she was trying to wipe it clean off of his face. “okay. okay. it’s all clean now.” he grumbles and your daughter examines her father’s face. “what is that”, she asks pointing at the scar on his lip. “it’s a battle wound.” toji exaggerates, causing your daughter to light up. she begins asking a bunch of questions about the ‘battle wound’ and she even wants one of her own. 

SUKUNA’s daughter sat in between you and him. you both were doing your own thing and your daughter was watching a show on the tv. per usual, she starts messing her with her dad; pinching his cheeks, putting his hair into ponytails, etc. she grabs his face with both of her hands and squeezes his lips together so he looks like a fish. this caused sukuna to set his book aside and finally pay attention to her. your daughter begins to trace the marks on her dads’ face, instantly getting full of curiosity. “did you draw on yourself?” she blurts out and you can’t help but to laugh as sukuna shoots you a glare. “this is just a part of my face.” he replies blandly and your daughter shrugs and continues being a nuisance towards him.

“this is so cool!” CHOSO’s son exclaimed as he looked at himself in the mirror. he is developing a blood mark similar to his dad’s going across the bridge of his nose. choso smiles and examines the mark himself. although the mark is somewhat like his own, it still has it’s own uniqueness to it. “what is it?” your son asks, he never really thought to ask about it since it didn’t seem like a big deal to him but since he’s starting to have one of his own, he’s curious about it. “i’ll explain to you one day. just know, only the coolest people get one” choso replies, causing your son to cringe at his dads’ use of his lingo. “you are not cool.” his son responds, choso silently gasps and begins to sulk at his sons’ cruel remark. you will be hearing about this later on.

Ⓒ all published work belongs to sanipoyo! do not copy/plagiarize.

[moondirti]

sorry to the soft simon lovers but i am fixating on the idea of him being too abrasive for greater society. no, hear me out. he can't be normal after what he’s been through. after what he's done.

cw: dead dove. sadism. inferred sexism and stalking. punitive harassment. idk guys he's gross. 18+ MDNI

he's just a little too odd, grim, ugly, cruel, rude. he stares too long and makes jokes that strike the wrong chord in most. he's into things that are not as sexual as they are humiliating to his partners, and can not be satisfied by any relationship his therapist would deem as healthy. even physically, he's torn in all the wrong places. his scars aren’t rugged but almost painful to look at. his hands are huge and calloused and 60 grit sandpaper against soft skin. his nose is crooked. his hair is shorn short. he has a mean smile, watery eyes.

the one thing keeping him from being completely ostracised is the flag on his arm, the one he fights for. but it's like putting a tarp over some horrible, disfigured mess – you can still see the general shape of it underneath. most shrug it off as fine, go figure. you teach a soldier to kill and they cope by being killers. it's funny because simon's issues began way before he enlisted – he spoors it back to conception, when his father gave him a part of himself that can never be scoured clean. the military is just where he resides to conceal the stink of miasma he'll never rid of. piss over piss. putting a reason to the barbarity.

for a while, it's enough. he sticks to the corners. for all his sadism, he's not keen on subjecting the general public to his complications. he's smart enough to separate good from what makes him feel good. he only interacts with others like him – price, mostly, who's better at playing pretend but has issues that bury their roots just as deep. or maybe he's able to see simon for what he really is, and the novelty of not having to bite his tongue is enough to form a gossamer bridge of friendship. he sleeps with masochists who don't know what's good for them, all of them men (though it never pays when they're into what he's inflicting). in between missions, he'll disappear to his shitty apartment that he pays for in cash and drink himself to oblivion as he scrolls through a deprecating XXX site.

if he gets inebriated enough, he'll open up tinder and swipe through the birds advertising themselves, as if he were the holy arbitrator of what's attractive. safe because he made it so that no one would match with him; his profile is blank. no bio, no age. Riley as his first name and a picture of a shutterstock german shepherd because having one photo was a requirement.

the lifestyle probably exacerbates his problems.

maybe that's why he reaches a point of no return when he gets a text late one night. he doesn't give his number to anyone, so the only app it could be from–

your dog's cute. what's his name?

it's to his sloshed astonishment that someone swiped right on him. not even him, but a barebones, dodgy profile he curated to keep everyone at arms length when he chooses to indulge in his destructive habits. you're cute too, suspiciously darling and a whole open book – five pictures, a colourful description and your city of residence. you cannot be short of options, certainly not enough to drive you to a point of desperation, so there's no mistaking what this is.

you're setting up a little pet project. something to bat at like a cat does a ball of yarn, with no intention to commit or ever see him in real life. perhaps you chose him because there’s nowhere to go but up. or because his disinterest seems glaringly obvious, and a simple risk assessment told you that you wouldn't suffer an obsessive stalker if you ever chose to ghost him.

unfortunately for you, that couldn't be further from the truth. that simple question is enough to push him over the edge.

he's tired of holding back.

[gh0st-t0wn3]

I finally had time to make proper designs for the Trio!

Redson: Ver 1

Ver 2

I couldn't decide on if I liked it better with the braids or not so I just posted both, but anyways!

I gotta admit, I used to not like the idea of redson having Bull features (except for a small pair of horn maybe) but the concept really grew on me and now I really love it and wanted to try making my own design and I'm really proud with how it turned out.

I would've added more scars, since Guanyins throne pierced his entire body, but there came a point where it just looked like there was too much going on so I had to get rid of a few scars to tone it down, so we're just gonna say they faded over time, okay? Okay.

I also made him Miao (one of the largest ethnic minorities in southwest China) on PIF's side, and Mongolian on DBK's.

The Miao ethnicity of China has a long history, rich culture, and an ancient folk religion. Adorned in beautiful traditional clothes, possessing natural talent for singing and dancing, they live in uniquely designed indigenous architecture, which I think fits perfectly with how I imagined Princess Iron Fan and with her; Redson.

As for DBK being Mongolian, I saw someone else talking about this headcanon and I just liked it so I decided to use it, I don't really have a specific reason for it, I just thought it fit, not sure why though, it's just one of those things that makes sense even if you don't know why, you know?

Mei:

I made her taller and gave her a long dragon tail (like really long, it drags along the floor if she's not holding it up), though her scales are pretty much everywhere across her body they're most noticeable on her shoulders, thighs, and face (they're a bit hard to see in this photo because they're kinda hidden behind her hair, but I did give her scales beside her eyes)

I also gave her horns these little spiral designs around them, gave her sharper nails, and designed her ears to look like coral, since she's a water dragon and I thought they looked cool.

Honestly idk what else to say about her design, I didn't have anything specific in mind when designing her, I kinda just had to wing it, but I'm happy with how it turned out :)

(I also made her Bengali, on her dad's side, but it's not really important or has any reason behind it, just a headcanon I've had for a while, don't know where it came from though)

MK:

Alot of people have speculated that the monkey form we see during the fight against Azure in season 4 isn't MK's full form yet, that we're just seeing a fraction of what he's yet to become, based on the fact that while he has the weird side burns, the tail and the face marking, he also lacks a natural skin tone, they didn't give him a proper nose etc, so I wanted to play with the idea.

I decided to make him this strange mix between human and monkey, leaving him pretty much human with the addition of his tail(s), and weird li'l monkey feet.

(I was also gonna give MK more arm/leg hair, it was in my first sketch, but I forgot to add them when I was doing the line art and didn't realize until after I saved it as a jpeg, so that's my bad, but I'm gonna add it in to any other art I make)

It's also a bit hard to see in this, but I designed his staff with more details, specifically adding dragon-esque imagery to the Golden ends, this is because (for anyone who's new to the fandom/hasn't read JTTW) Wukong's staff was originally one of the several pillars that held up the sea in the dragon palace, until he stole it and shrunk it down to use as his weapon.

I also did MK's clones :)

Porty MK:

I gave him stripes of coloured hair and gave his tails all different colours, though I don't think he would actually dye it, instead I like to think that he would use that really crappy dollar store spray in hair dye (or hair chalk). I kept the fishnet clothes that I added in my originally design of him for my headcanons post, and decided to give him striped elbow length fingerless gloves.

I also gave him a cropped shirt, ripped shorts and these weird fingerless glove-esque shoes for convenience, since regular shows seem like they would be uncomfortable.

Edit: my dumbass forgot Porty's stupid print jacket 😭

Artist MK:

For Artist MK I gave him overalls and a jacket over it, which he wears specifically for when he's doing paintings so he doesn't ruin too many of his actual clothes (I know I said that this was inspod by Circusapple, which it still is, but this is almost exactly what I wear when I'm painting too, just in different colours).

I also gave him those gloves that digital artists wear so they're hands don't accidently trigger something on the screen because everyone knows that every artist just walks around with their art glove on even when it's not necessary.

Delivery MK:

I have to admit, I was never a big fan of MK's work uniform just being his regular clothes with a work jacket thrown over it so I wanted to try and make him look a little more professional and decided to instead give him a chef coat (similar to the one Pigsy wears on the show as well), with a logo for the restaurant on the chest, along with it I gave him plain black pants, since casual red jeans didn't seem very professional (I know he's just a delivery person, but if you were to look at pretty much any food corporation, even people who do deliveries have to wear uniform, so it's always been kinda strange to me that he's just in regular clothes). 

The shoes were harder to make professional given the whole "half-monkey" thing so I opted to give him the same strange fingerless glove-esque shoes for comfort and convenience, but made them plain black as well.

[cressidagrey]

The Ties that Bind - Chapter 5

Summary: 

Shadowsingers were made, not born. Made out of trauma and loneliness and desperation.

So when Cilla and Azriel meet and their shadows entwine, they both meet the only other person that could understand these particular childhood scars.

The last thing Azriel had ever expected from his mate, however, was for her to have a surprising connection to his brother.

Warnings: 

Mentions of Child abuse and neglect, Cassian feels horrible, Azriel gets a broken nose and for once, Rhys is actually not that horrible?!

(super pretty dividers by @tsunami-of-tears)

For as long as Cassian could think, his brother had the unfortunate habit of not actually talking about his problems. Cassian liked to complain. Azriel never did, regardless of what went on in his life. 

He stayed silent, seemingly thinking that even the slightest annoyance was something that he deserved for some god-forsaken reason. 

So it shouldn’t actually surprise him that Azriel decided to go completely silent. He should be well used to it by now. 

And still, Cassian worried. 

“Anything new from Az?” he badgered Rhys during dinner, who just sighed. 

“No.”

Mor was already rolling her eyes because he already had annoyed her during this week. He had not gotten a proper answer out of Mor either, because Mor had absolutely no clue where Azriel was or what he was doing. Amren had threatened to behead him if he asked her again if she knew anything and had then decided that not showing up for dinner was probably in her best interests, so Rhys was his next, long-suffering victim. 

(Nesta had threatened to geld him, and he was kinda taking her threat seriously, so he had already exhausted that avenue of enquiry as well…and Feyre knew nothing as well.) 

“And he really didn’t tell you what it was about?” Cassian wheedled, and Rhys just fixed him with a glance. 

“I don’t know any more than what you do,” Rhys gave back. “You know how he gets sometimes. It’s better to give him time, we learned that the hard way,” Rhys said reasonably.

It was true. 

They had learned that the hard way. It was much better to give Azriel the time until he came to them on their own until they were in the mood to badger him until blood was drawn.  

The problem was just, that Cassian didn’t want to be reasonable. 

“Normally we know that something is going on. It’s out of character for him to just…demand time off so suddenly,” he shot back.

“Then I imagine he has a rather good reason for it,” Rhys sniped, rolling his eyes. 

“He’ll come to us when he’s ready,” Mor said with a shrug. 

That’s what Cassian worried about. That Az was going to come to them when he was ready and not when he actually needed help, which promised to be far earlier. 

“It’s not about Rosehall, is it?” Cassian asked suddenly. Was this about Azriel’s mother?

“Cassian, I really don’t know any more than you do,” Rhys said with a sigh.

Fine.

And then, just like somebody had summoned him, Azriel stalked through the door of the Dining Room. 

Looking none the worse for wear, which was good…but also looked like he was getting ready for a war, shadows ominously swirling around his shoulders. 

Before Cassian could even open his mouth, Azriel fixed him with harsh hazel eyes. “We need to have a talk, Cassian. Outside now.”

It was said so coldly, so evenly that Cassian froze. 

“Why outside?” Feyre piped up curiously. 

“Chances are, either Cassian will try to kill me or I’ll kill him. I don’t want to get blood on your rugs, so outside,” Azriel answered, not a spark of humour in these words. 

“What have I done?” Cassian tried for levity but failed horribly, even as he stood. 

Something had happened. And it must have been horribly, otherwise he couldn’t Otherwise he couldn’t…he couldn’t explain what had happened to Azriel. 

“I hope to the cauldron nothing,” Azriel answered, his voice quiet, before turning on his heel, and going outside. 

Cassian and Rhys exchanged a look of foreboding, though they weren’t the only ones. 

Feyre and Mor were jostling for the best viewing position, while Nesta watched the whole thing with crossed arms, clearly thinking that Cassian must have been an idiot or worse…though he really had no idea, what Azriel could be so upset about. 

Rhys demanded that they both handed over all the knives they wore, and to his surprise, Azriel not only handed over Truthteller but every other single knife he kept stashed on his body to Rhys without a word…well, that wasn’t particularly calming either. 

”Hit me with it. What the fuck is going on?” Cassian asked with a sigh.

“I need to ask you a question. And I need you to answer me truthfully,” Azriel told him, his arms held tightly at his side, wings flaring. 

“Yolanda Negrescu.” 

It was a name. 

“Who?” Cassian asked, coming up…completely empty. 

“You don’t remember her?” Azriel asked him, staring at him like he was very much doubting Cassian’s ability to breathe at that moment. 

“Should I?” He asked with a grimace. 

“You slept with her, Cassian,” Azriel said, his face unmoving like marble. 

Oh. He wrecked his brain. What did it say about him that he still kept up completely empty? He had no clue whatsoever who that had been. What Yolanda Negrescu may have looked like…

“Around 20 years ago,” Azriel offered up. So it had been during the Sealing of Velaris. Right. That narrowed it down. If one wanted to call his near-nightly trip to Rita’s or another pleasure hall that…

“You really don’t remember?” Rhys asked from the sidelines and Cassian growled. 

“I have slept with a few dozen people in over 500 years. I highly doubt you still remember every single one of your conquests, Rhysie,” he groused. “So I slept with her, 20 years ago. What does it matter?” Cassian asked Azriel with a sigh. 

“She’s dead,” Azriel said evenly. 

“That’s…sad,” Cassian responded with a sigh. “But I don’t really know what you want from me here, Az?” Why did this result in Azriel coming here and demanding to speak to him? Why had this Yolanda even come up in Azriel’s work? What had happened to Yolanda Negrescu?

Azriel closed his eyes for just a moment, before they opened again, his resolve clearly hardening. 

“She died in childbirth. 19 years ago,” Azriel said carefully. “Her daughter‘s Illyrian wings shredded her from the inside out.”

For just one moment it felt like he couldn’t properly breathe anymore. 

If he had slept with her 20 years ago…and 19 years ago she had died in childbirth…and the child had Illyrian wings…By the cauldron. 

No, this couldn’t be. 

This was impossible. 

“What?” Nesta spat out. 

“Are you sure?” Rhys asked, his voice careful. Azriel just inclined his head. 

This shouldn’t be happening. Cassian had always taken a contraceptive draught, he had never even thought about the possibility…he had never even…What? 

How could…

A child? A daughter?

He hadn’t known about her. He had never…

She had grown up a bastard, just like him, hadn’t she?

The one thing he has always promised himself he wouldn’t do, father a bastard, and he had managed to do just that. 

Not for 500 years, but clearly then his luck or his care had run out and he had saddled the poor girl with…he had killed her and hadn’t even been aware that he had done it. 

And she had died giving birth to his daughter. 

“I…I have a daughter?” he asked, his voice shaking, staring at Azriel who was still watching him. 

“You didn’t know,” Azriel said flatly. 

Cassian just stared at him. “What? No, of course, I didn’t know!” he snapped. 

If he had known, everybody would have known. He would have never tried to keep his daughter a secret from his family! She would have been his, damnit!

Not thrown away like garbage, like he had been, but treasured and protected. 

How could Azriel even think that he ever…

“How did you find her?” he asked Azriel weakly. “Where did you…”

How had Azriel come across her? The first time that evening, something like emotions flittered over Azriel’s face, just that Cassian couldn’t place them. 

“I met my mate.”

He blinked, twice. 

That was the last thing Cassian had expected after the news of that evening. 

But it was good news, wasn’t it? 

“You met your mate, Az?” Rhys asked, clearly surprised and Azriel nodded. “But that’s fantastic news! Where did you…“ 

And then the pieces seemed to come together for Rhys and Cassian at the same time. 

Cassian’s wings flared. Pure protectiveness turned into rage enveloping him. 

“Azriel. Tell me that your mate is not my daughter,” he spat out.  A gasp of surprise, either Nesta or Feyre or Mor…but he didn’t care. 

Azriel, his brother, met his gaze square on. It was all the answer he needed

“I am going to fucking kill you,” Cassian growled, as he attacked. 

It had been a good call from Rhys to insist on them handing over their knives because like this it only ended in a wrestling match, that probably ruined half of Feyre’s landscaping.

Though he did break Azriel’s nose. 

It did not really make him feel better. Especially because he just knew that Azriel had let him get that hit in. 

“Don’t even think about laying a hand on her,” he growled, still throttling Azriel. 

“Too late for that,” Azriel growled right back, every inch the freshly mated male. 

It just fired on that protective fury. “She’s my daughter!” Cassian bellowed. “She’s still half a child!” Azriel had no fucking right to lay one fucking finger on her! She should still be…

“She’s an adult. Otherwise, the mating bond wouldn’t have snapped. Feyre was not much older than her,” Rhys gave back with a sigh. “Cassian. 

“And that makes it right?!” Cassian snapped. “Azriel can’t have known her longer than a few hours!”

“Cassian,” Rhys cut him off once again. “She’s his mate. None of us told you to keep away from Nesta.” 

“Fuck you,” he seethed. “She’s too young! She probably didn’t even have a clue what she was doing!” Azriel flinched, not saying a single thing and Cassian fixed him with a glare. 

“You aren’t even trying to defend yourself,” Cassian realised. “You think the exact same.”

Azriel wiped the blood off his face as Cassian let off him.  “She’s fucking traumatised, Cassian,” Azriel said sharply. “I didn’t even think about how bad it was until after.” 

He nearly went back to throttling Azriel if Rhys didn’t intercept. 

“Is she alright?!” Cassian demanded sharply.

“Physically? Mostly,” Azriel answered, shaking out his wings as he gained his feed. “I fished her out of a mountain lake after she tried to fly. She had a fever but that has disappeared.”

“She can’t fly?” Rhys asked, shocked. 

Azriel shook his head, a muscle in his jaw feathering. 

“Her grandmother raised her after her mother’s death. She spent her childhood locked in her grandmother’s attic. Her wings were bound to her back so tightly that there is scarring.”

All the tension, all the anger at his brother bled out of Cassian like somebody had hit his carotid artery. An attic. 

His daughter had spent her childhood locked in an attic with her wings bound. 

She had never had the childhood everybody should have…something like the childhood Nyx got to have these days…of wonder and happiness…Instead, she had been locked into a small dark space, with her wings, the pride and joy of every Illyrian bound to her back so tightly that it had scarred her. 

Somehow that seemed just as bad clipping her wings. 

“And mentally?” Rhys asked the question he was thinking.

“It could be worse,” Azriel admitted. “She‘s quiet. Halfway Feral. But sweet,” he assured him at Cassian’s startled look.  

“Obviously Cassian‘s daughter,” Mor managed to bring out, a joke that fell flat. 

“It gets pretty obvious once you realise it. She smells like you,” Azriel said quietly. “Just she has a tint of vanilla to her scent you don’t have. 

“And otherwise….?” Cassian asked, shakily. 

“She can’t read or write,” Azriel said quietly. “She expects everybody to be out to hurt her. Which isn’t far from the truth, because she got an employer that ignored the minimum wage and a landlord that offered to let her pay for her apartment on her knees.” He spat out the last few words and Cassian wanted to vomit. 

She was…she was his little girl. 

And she had been…she had been treated so abhorrently.

“What’s her name?” he asked Azriel. “What…”

“Her shadows named her Cilla,” Azriel answered quietly. 

Cilla. 

But only when Rhys pulled in a sharp breath did the rest of Azriel’s statement register. 

“She’s a shadowsinger - just like you,” he realised weakly. Azriel just inclined his head. 

Of course. Of course, Azriel hadn’t thought twice about accepting that Mating Bond. Not when Cilla was the one female in all of Prythian that could probably understand his brother. Not when she was the only one who also had this strange ability…

“You know what that means,” Azriel said quietly. 

He did. 

He swallowed, nausea building in his stomach when he reflected exactly on what it meant. 

“What does it mean?” Nesta demanded, and he swivelled around, staring at his mate, who crossed the space between them…that reached out for his hand and squeezed it. “What does that mean for her?”

“It means that she spent so much time alone in the darkness that the darkness decided to talk back to her,” Azriel said, his voice painfully even. “Shadowsingers are made, not born. Most don’t survive their adolescence, driven mad by the sound of the shadows. Others… others find comfort in it.”

Cassian had never asked, but he knew which of these two possibility were the case of his brother. “Cilla only had her shadows for company for half her life. For that she is…surprisingly sane,” Azriel admitted freely. 

“You said her shadows named her Cilla. What is her real name?” Nesta asked. 

“I couldn’t find a birth certificate,” Azriel admitted quietly. “I only found her mother’s name through house-owning records…Her shadows gave me her former address, I checked who owned the house…I found her grandmother and her mother.”

“What did her grandmother call her?” Cassian asked, but Azriel just shook his head. 

“You don’t want me to repeat that,” he told Cassian near painfully soft. 

“Who does she look like?” he demanded next, trying to come up…trying to come up with what her mother, what Yolanda had looked like and came up empty, once again. 

“Your hair but curlier. The shape of her eyes is you. Nose and mouth must be her mother's but her forehead is all you as well,” Azriel answered. It didn’t help. It didn’t…make it possible for Cassian to imagine…what his daughter, what Cilla must look like. 

“And where is she?” 

“My house,” Azriel answered quietly. “I…told her that I would get answers for her. She doesn’t know that I know you, but I…I asked her if she wanted to meet her father,” he said carefully and Cassian swallowed.  “She wanted to know if her father knew that he signed her mother’s death warrant when he slept with her. And if he knew that she spent the better part of two decades living in that attic.”

“I didn’t,” he pledged. “I didn’t know,” he repeated desperately. Azriel just inclined his head. 

“I know,” he answered with a sigh. “I didn’t think you knew…but I needed to make sure.”

Azriel’s eyes were asking for understanding and Cassian understood it. 

Azriel was still in the throes of these early days of a freshly mated Male. Overly protective, overly territorial…it was a wonder that he hadn’t outright slaughtered Cassian for a perceived slight against his mate. 

“What…What happens now?” Cassian asked shakily. What…

“What do you want to happen now?” Nesta asked him calmly. “She’s your daughter.”

She was. But Nesta was his mate, and Azriel was his brother and…

“She’s your daughter. The only opinion that matters is what the two of you want,” Nesta said carefully, looking at him, with these beautiful grey eyes and he could see the stark honesty in them. 

She reached up to cup his cheek. 

“She’s your daughter, Cassian,” she repeated, her voice soft. “We’ll deal with it…together.”

“I want to meet her.” 

[signanothername]

Why do you like Killer?

*Cracks knuckles* get ready

I don’t like Killer, I fucking LOVE HIM

He’s my number 1 fave au sans and has been for a very long time

Now to be clear, I’m talking about canon Killer here, i have mixed feelings about some fanon interpretations, some are good and i genuinely love them, others not so much

That being said, let’s actually talk about why i love my beautiful amazing wonderful son <3333

(All art used in this post is by Killer’s creator: Rahafwabas)

The very first hook for me is his very concept, the mere idea of a sans basically agreeing to go on a killing spree after so many genocide runs is just *chef’s kiss*

Killer knew it was wrong, he knew he shouldn’t, yet he did

Killer doomed himself by his choice, he could’ve stayed as “sans” but he chose to accept Chara’s offer, yet his choice came to be after he saw no point in refusing anymore (important addition and a correction here)

The canon comics had Killer saying that he’s the way he is cause he gave up, he said “you won, you’re the reason I’m like this”, he’s been on so many genocide runs that he felt a little part of him die each run, only to give up and go on said killing spree

It’s interesting how the player is a big part of Killer’s story, cause whether Chara was involved or not, the player is the root cause of his suffering

But what i love the most is that regardless of his backstory or reasons, Killer’s actions led to their inevitable consequences, and it forever changed him

The biggest change? His very soul, it went from a normal monster soul to his signature target soul, infused with Determination, something that supposedly hurts monsters, it’s almost like his soul was infected with it, and you can see how it physically affects him with the black liquid that constantly comes out his eyes, nose and mouth, and even at times, that sludge is too much that he chokes on it

And the amusing yet tragic parallel? Killer aimed to “feel something new” by his genocide runs, only to end up not feeling anything at all, at least at his default stage 2

Which brings me to the concept of his soul’s stages

I love Killer’s stages so so much, it’s such a beautiful unique and wonderful concept

Killer’s individual stages are sooooo intriguing to me, it shows Killer in a different light each time depending on which stage he’s in, stage 1 is the closest he is to being “sans”, the closest to he used to be, he can feel emotions and is generally back to his more lazy bones attitude, as well as his ability to actually show sympathy, and feel the pain he’s always in, but what’s interesting is that regardless of the fact he’s the closest to his old self in this stage, it’s still so clear that Killer isn’t really “sans” anymore, that no matter what, he truly had changed in a way that can never be reversed, a point of no return, even when Color saves him, cause his new habits? His fears? His pain? His trauma? They can never be taken away, Killer has to live with the scars of what he experienced

Stage 2 is who he’d become, he can’t feel anything at this stage, emotions nonexistent, and his nonchalant behavior towards himself and others is most apparent here, a parallel I like to think of is that Killer’s inability to feel anything at all is almost like prolonged sensory deprivation, when you’re deprived of sensory input/ simulation for long periods, your brain needs compensate, and so it does its job, Killer’s soul prevents him from feeling so he resorts to other methods (usually very self destructive) to compensate for his lack of emotional capacity

I also really really love how that especially during stage 2, Killer isn’t trustworthy, cause in stage 1 you can actually trust him to an extent, in stage 2 Killer’s actions, behaviors and mindset are completely unpredictable, but not because he’s random, cause he’s actually extremely calculated, yet regardless, his carelessness when it comes to his own life and other people’s lives is dialed to an 11 here, so he could either choose to kill/attack or simply stay and listen

we even get an actual in depth look at how Killer’s mind works in one of the canon comics, in which Killer contemplates whether to attack Dream or not as he listens to his own stages in his head, one of which tells him to Kill Dream, while the other tells Killer to talk to Dream first

How Killer comes to a final decision on whether he attacks or not is something I believe his calculated mind makes depending on the situation and the pros/cons of what act he chooses, Killer is pretty smart, he knows when to let his trigger happy self out and when to settle down

Stage 3 or the “crazy stage” is the stage in which he’d attack anyone in his way whether friend or foe, we unfortunately don’t have much canon info regarding this stage, but that ain’t gonna stop me from analyzing the shit outta it (and talk about how i perceive it)

I like to think of this stage as the combination between stage 1 and 2, yet it’s almost like his soul can’t truly decide on which stage to settle on and by extension founding stage 3 as a separate stage by itself, Killer becomes extremely unstable at this stage, his soul moves rapidly and it’s obvious he’s in pain cause of it, whether that pain is just emotional or both physical and emotional isn’t really clear, yet i’d like to believe it’s both, and i feel like Killer’s capacity to attack anyone at this stage is related to that pain, and something I really love to believe is that Killer can’t calm down enough to settle back to stage 1 or 2 unless he either wears himself out by fighting someone, or he’s left alone to his own demons long enough to pull himself together, if he were to be forcefully restrained during this stage, it would only serve to make it worse and prolong the time he stays that way (cough something i may or may not have made a quick comic about but never shared as always vjvjvjj)

Not to mention, one of the canonical responses Killer gives when asked if he’s ok at stage 3 seems to make Killer alternate between answers he wants to give between saying he’s “fine” and “i don’t know” which makes sense, Killer isn’t stable at all, it’s almost like his stage 1 self and stage 2 self are fighting over who gets to talk (stage 2 seems more dominant)

Yet the fact Killer is able to answer and comprehend his surroundings enough at this stage is very intriguing to me, cause it shows how much Killer is able to handle/endure (which is A LOT cause damn) and not only that, but it also gives us a very clear difference between this stage and stage 4

As for stage 4?? Woooh boi, it’s the stage I like to call “plunging into darkness”

We also don’t have much canon info about this stage, but one of the things i find interesting is the fact Killer deliberately keeps it a secret from everyone, when he tells Color about his stages, he only tells him up to stage 3, never bringing up stage 4, only for Chara to sneer at Killer that he shouldn’t keep it from his new BFF

It’s obvious Killer himself is very uncomfortable with the subject of stage 4, it’s apparent that it’s a stage that he rarely gets to, but it still bothers him enough to not want to even mention it, which makes sense, cause the comic we had of stage 4 shows that Killer gets to that stage when he’s reminded of all the murders he committed, and unsurprisingly, when he’s reminded of his brother, as what triggered this stage is actually a memory of Papyrus telling Sans to “see a puzzle”, only to be followed by memories of screams of anger, fear, and hatred of those he killed immediately afterwards, stage 4 is heavily related to his trauma

Not to mention it’s clear that when Killer gets to stage 4 he blacks out, he’s completely unaware of anything he does during this stage, and is only left to deal with the aftermath when he gets back to his senses, the fact it’s also a stage that seems to be “getting worse” is something that Killer definitely seems to hate

It sometimes makes me think whether Killer had gotten into trouble cause he killed someone Nightmare wanted alive while at this stage, cause with how he keeps it a secret, I’d assume Nightmare would be unaware of it for a while (comic idea perhaps >:) )

But y’know what’s better than talking about the stages?? Talking about Killer’s personality, behaviors and trauma

Killer can’t distinguish between what’s real or not, and it’s obvious he sometimes sees the world in the third person, as in he’s not completely there at times, not to mention the amount of voices he hears in his head, from his stages talking to him to hallucinations of Chara, Frisk and Papyrus, and oooh boi does he hate these hallucinations, the past obviously haunts Killer and it’s something he tries running away from constantly, yet he can never truly run from it when it follows him everywhere

Killer has a smile on his face most the time, but his attitude changes especially when Chara is mentioned, or when he’s reminded of his past in any way, he literally avoids food that reminds of his past life as “sans”, he freezes up at certain phrases such as “best friend” (something i also made a comic about that i never shared chchhchc)

He just absolutely hates to be reminded of the person he used to be, of all the things he used to have, cause in truth? They were all taken away from him by his own hands, only to be then forced to work under Nightmare, who only ensures that he never finds peace of mind

And the sad part? Killer let’s all those things hurt him, he lets Nightmare have his way with him, he lets Chara torment him, cause he thinks he deserves it, and most importantly, he deluded himself into believing that this is what he wants because it’s what everyone else wants, because it’s what the player wants

Killer even sometimes tries to force himself not to feel anything, cause come on, since when does he feel anything at all?

Killer, to put it bluntly, hates himself, and he thinks that his suffering is the Karma of what he’s done, and even at one point, he was going to erase himself out of existence cause he believed that’s what he deserved, as in Killer thought of himself as unworthy when it comes to Papyrus, that his brother doesn’t need him, that his brother is better off without him, hell he even tells Color that he needs to kill him if he ever reaches stage 3, it’s an obvious “ i want someone to put me outta my misery” attitude

Killer feels hopeless, and so he lets himself suffer thinking he can’t ever find peace or hope again

Yet the interesting part? You’d never know that Killer hates himself unless you’re a being of emotions (Nightmare and Dream) or someone who’s perceptive enough to notice Killer’s self-loathing like Color, that’s how good of an actor Killer can be, you’d think he’s a cold emotionaless killer but the truth only shines to those who actually can see through his act

Killer just has that amazing character depth and his story is genuinely so unique and beautiful, cause you in his story you can find details of other details within the details vhvhvjvj

All that? Mixed with really adorable little things like his love for cats, his silly attitude, his nonchalance with Nightmare, his capacity to be social with whoever, and his friendship with color? That is why I love Killer Anon <33333

[ugly-pickle]

i need you close to me ☆ wrio

CHARACTERS: wriothesley x gn!reader

SYNOPSIS: wriothesley reminding you how much he loves you (after he rearranges your insides)

GENRE: fluff 💿

W/C: 0.4k

C/W: nudity, mentions of sex, scars, kissing, a bit suggestive at some parts, mentions of the words dick, physical contact (im sososo sorry if theres anything else that might trigger you! please message me so i can fix it)

A/N: my first time writing something like this please give feedback! maybe ooc? not proof read. lots of grammatical errors but thats because it’s aesthetic (there are a few exceptions though)

you throw your head back as you moan wriothesley’s name loudly, your voice filling the entire room and wriothesley’s ears. you collapse on his chest, both of you panting, trying to catch your breath. wriothesley slips his dick out of you and moves you to his side (youre using his arm as a pillow). The two of you lay there for a while, enjoying each others company in silence.

you turn your head to look at wriothesley, admiring the scratches of your nails being added to the collection of his scars that littered his body. you broke out of your trance when wriothesley finally decides to break the silence between the two of you.

“you know what y/n?” you gave him a “hm?” in response. “i really cant live without you, now that i think of it, youve entered my life, i cant possibly imagine you leaving it… i love you y/n” is this what post-nut does to you? make you all mushy and gushy? but youve also become a victim of this mushy gushiness. you can feel the heat of the blush invading your cheeks.

it feels like as if your cool and mysterious boyfriend, wriothesley, has been possessed by cupid himself. he turns over, his chest now facing you, he uses his free arm to wrap around your waist. “y’know, i cant imagine a living a life without you y/n, youre the reason why that it’s a bit more bearable working at the fortress.” you kiss the tip of his nose, you dont know how to respond to him, but you reciprocate his feelings for you with your actions.

“i need you close to me” you feel wriothesley hugging you tighter, pressing your head against his chest, his words sounded like honey, it was sweet, and the faint scent of his cologne making the experience all the more better. the heat coming from is body, the scent of his cologne, and the feeling of his strong arms wrapped around you feels like a safe haven.

“i love you wrio,” you mumble as you start to doze off to dreamland “i love you too y/n,” he presses a kiss on top of your head “sweet dreams darling,” he says as pulls the blankets so that it could cover the both of you. his eyes flutters shut. only the sound of both of you breathing can be heard now.

A/N: ahhhhrgrggrhhh it’s so cringyy but it’s my first time soooo… hopefully I’ll get better at it ༼ಢ_ಢ༽

[boozenboze]

I've been thinking about this, so basically what about the 141 reacting to the reader who used to work either really dangerous reptiles? Like he used to be a snake handler, or crocodile wrester stuff like that, also he has a ton of scars from tho past jobs. Thank you 😊

Tf 141 x ex!Herpetologist!pMale reader

Summary:While on patrol you and the rest of 141 run into a rattlesnake.They are suprised when you tame it and you later have to explain that you usef to work with reptiles

Females She/Her snd She/They DNI

Before you joined the military you used to be a zoologist.Specifcslly a herpetologist since you worked with reptiles.You’ve worked with aligators,snakes,iguanas,any reptilian that comes to mind you’ve worked with.After a few years of doing that you quit your job since you wanted to do something more thrilling.So thats why you joined the military.

A few years had passed since you joined and during that time you had joined Task Force 141.When Price first saw your file the first thing he found was interesting about you was your past occupation.He does still question why someone of your previous occupation would wanna transition to something so dangerous.It was your decision though so he didn’t have much reason to judge.It was also mentioned that you had a snake with you as well.

When you met the rest of Task Force Soap, Gaz took an immediate liking to you. They asked a lot about your previous profession and you were happy to inform them. Gaz was quite nervous when you said that you had your own snake with you. Apparently, you owned a 20ft Burmese python and it was currently just slithering around in your room. That is one of the most dangerous snakes in existence for wuite obvious reasons.They would’ve thought it would be a disadvantage to have such a large animal with you but that wasn’t the case. Your snake was big enough to crush a fully grown adult which was helpful if an enemy was overpowering you.

When they first saw your python they thought it was very beautiful.Ghost secretly wanted to hold it when he saw how it wrapped loosely around your neck.You gave them all a chance to pet it and they learned that despite your snakes size it was very friendly.It gave Soaps face a few kisses and even wrapped around Gaz.Ghost just stood there watching them interact with the snake

"Damn this dude is heavy."Gaz wheezed as you took your snake back.You looked over at Ghost who was staring intently at your snake so you brought it up to him and asked.

"You wanna hold em?"Ghost looked at you then back at the snake who was staring into his soul.He nodded as M/n stood closer to him,allowing the snake to slither around the tall mans shoulders.Ghost eyes visibly softened as the snake pressed its nose against his mask before licking it.

"I guess he likes you ey L.T?”Soap asked as Ghost murmured a yes.

"Listen he may be friendly now but the bastard has bit me on occasion.Hell the bastard bit my inner thigh cause I wasn't paying him no mind."You explained which made them blush.The thought of you having marks on your thighs,hell Even anywhere brought some dirty thoughts to their heads.

“Ya think we could see em some time?”Soap asked suggestively as you laughed in response.

“Maybe another time,plus it’s A LOT of scars that I have.”You explained as they hummed in response.

“I gotta go feed this fellow before he decides to have a human snack,I’ll see y’all later.”You waved them off while taking your snake with you.Now there is only one thing that is left for you to know.

Sooner or later that snake won’t be the only thing leaving marks

[woodle-isbae]

Freudian

Tayo " Tazer" Amusan x black!fem!reader

Contains : swearing , Reader has powers aswell , smut , make up sex , PiV , slight angst , links , Fluff at the end , overstimulation, dumbification kinda.

A/N : I needed to get this man out of my head omg.🙈

Here's pt2 of Fruedian 😜

You sat in your apartment living room , enjoying the night air that blew in from your open window , the candles that sat spread around the place and music playing softly in the background. In pure bliss as you enjoyed a half smoked joint in your night gown.

Frantic knocking on your door snapped you out of your daze , getting up from the Sofa, grabbing your gown and putting on some slippers. You peeped to see who it was , opening the door to be met with your Ex , Tayo , currently in bad condition. Probably got jumped.

"The fuck happened to you?"

"I'll explain when you help me."

You rolled your eyes before helping him inside , locking the door and setting him down on the couch , going to get a first Aid kit and a warm damp towel while he removed his bloody top. Cleaning up his wounds and bandaging any scars. Eyes glowing while you healed any vital wounds on him.

"Thanks."

"Why'd you come here.?"

Your question bringing an awkward silence between you two , he avoided your eyes and cleared his throat to atleast bring some noise other than the music playing.

"You could've had your mates take you to a hospital or even called someone else..why me?"

"Because you were the closest one here..and could heal me easily , alright."

"Fuck that , tell the truth."

You knew why he was here , he wasn't sure why but he had a strong feeling he needed to be here , taken care by you , feel you close to him once more.

"I...I missed you Y/N."

You guys had broken up a few months prior , due to him joining the Gang life he knew it would be too much for you if anything ever happened. He had cut all ties with you in hopes that you would get the message , and you did. You had known why he did it but it still hurt that he would leave unexplained.

"So you decided to come to me...after everything.?"

"I know how it looks..but I really do , I miss everything we did together"

"Taz-"

"Please call me Tayo , can't stand you using that name."

His words soft and pleadful , besides his Nan , you were the only other person he allowed to call him by his name.

"Tayo..you come back into my life expecting a diffrent ending for us , you know your gonna have to leave because of the B.S your up to."

"But it will be different this time. I swear , I'm never gonna leave again...I'll make up for every month I was gone , please."

He moves closer to you , his words genuine as he held your hands up to his chest. He looked at you , he was willing to try and change everything just for You.

"Tayo..I just don't kno-"

"Jusy let me make it up to you."

He was so close now , both your faces nearly touching , noses burshing against each other and eyes scanning your face for any reason not to say yes. You gave him , eyes shutting and kissing him , hands on the sides of his face.

You found your legs locking around his waist , your kiss going from innocent love to pure lust and intimacy , both of your hands searching for anywhere to be situated.

His lips traveled down from yours to your neck and down your body , hands roaming over the thin night gown you adorned apon your body. He trailed down until met with your lacy panties.

He kissed your inner thighs , playing around with the hem of your panties before removing the piece of clothing and placing a few soft kisses on your Clit.

"Tayo..stop teasin' me.."

"Just relax f'me , yeah?"

He began sucking on your clit , occasionally letting his tongue venture lower towards your entrance, his hands holding your legs back while he devoured you.

"Ouhh-shitt! I'm gonna cummm"

"You can do it , cum all over my face"

The vibrations of his voice adding onto the pleasure his mouth was working. Hands flailing to grip onto any surface as your hips grind against his tongue , legs shaking in his grasp.

"Right there- yesyes- Tayo!"

With a scream of his name you you came all over his lower face , drenching his chin with your essence , his tongue still working its way into you. His movements not giving out , determined to bring more than one Orgasm out of you.

"Tayo , wait- I'm sensitive!"

"You can take one more , I belive in you"

He only stopped to speak , diving back between your legs to lick up your juices , letting go of your thighs , allowing them to lock around his head in attempt to remove him.

It wasn't long before you were shaking against him , hips chasing that second orgasm you knew would be ground breaking , his jaw moving as fast as it could to catch up with you. Inhuman the way he had such skill to have you shaking like this.

You were catching your breath whilehe shuffled around out of your sight , too far in bliss to care what he was up to next. You felt his weight shift onto you and looked down to see him lining up with you

"I fucking..missed- you"

His words choked out as he entered, catching his breath before moving his hips in slow thrusts , face buried in the crook of your neck, taking in your scent like it's the last time he ever will.

"Fuck-Tayo please!"

"Uhuh , you missed me too , yeah?"

His voice shaking , giving you deep and fast thrust , unable to hold back , the passion he had for you being shown as he held you closer to him , trying to get as deep as possible into you.

"I missed you so fucking bad , I'm gonna make it up to you - shit - I'm all yours."

Each thrust forced a yelp of his name and pleading to escape your lips , overstimulated and fucked dumb to even process your own orgasm.

He had your legs in the air and arms wrapped around his neck , clawing at his back while you screamed and whined for more from him. You both fucking like animals.

He had stopped his movements abruptly, pulling you as close as possible while panting into your ear. His cum shooting into you with a plead of your name.

"Oh shiittt-"

"Oh fuck- fuck Y/N"

You were both frozen in position , trying to regain some thought in your mind , blissfully content with how you evening ended up. Your face being peppered with kisses and soft touches

"I'm gonna be back."

He kissed you once more before pulling out , hissing at the sight before him , cum drooling out of you , warm and fluid as he ran down your legs. He got up from the Couch , comming back with a warm towel and water.

He cleaned you up , slipping your panties back on , he carried you to your bedroom and tucked in. He left the room for a few minutes and came back , slipping in the bed next to you.

He held you so close , as if to hold you back from running away. Spooning your sleeping body , absolutely exhausted.

"I love you."

[bimobuddy]

Feeling Better

Hazbin TK fic

Lee!Alastor, Lers! Husk and Niffty

Everything in this fic is platonic

Soft and caring Husk :]

CW: Alastor in the bath, but everything is covered and nothing NSFW happens, angst as per usual in my fics at this point, mention of blood, mention of scars and past trauma (brief)

Spoilers

Summary: Alastor, while quite the dapper gentlemen, smells like swamp and deer carcass, as that is what his bedroom is. After some back and forth, his companions decide to take it upon themselves to take care of the issue (and take care of him)

Edit: I dont think this was my best work

It was no secret that Alastor wasn't the cleanest person. He turned his bedroom into a swamp to feel more at home, and often left blood stains from his meals on his suit, leaving it to rot and smell.

However, what many people didn't know, is that he also wasn't the best at keeping up with hygiene. Something that only Husk and Niffty knew about him was that he despised bathing. They didn't know why, they just knew that he did.

And they put up with it.. For as long as they could.

As Alastor sat at the bar, Husk found himself scrunching up his nose. To be polite, he made sure no one was listening first, then he turned to his boss, ears down. "Jesus, Al, when's the last time you bathed?" The radio host stared at Husk, trying to intimidate him, but for once, Husk wasn't budging. "I'm serious, Alastor. Not only does it reek, but I'm sure you don't feel good either. Right?"

This caught him off guard. He wasn't used to people other than Charlie showing him genuine concern. His smile remained as normal, but the folding of his ears seemed to give away how he was feeling. "I'll admit it has.. been a while."

Husk nodded and leaned against the counter. "Then maybe you should do something about it?" He asked, raising a brow. The other demon seemed to go quiet. Husk studied him, as if trying to read his mind. "Maybe... We can do something about it then? Niff and I?"

As if summoned by the mere mention of her name, Niffty appeared out of seemingly nowhere, hopping up onto the counter. "You know you can trust us, Alastor! I like cleaning!" She grinned.

"And you know I'm not going to judge or tell anyone." Husk said, looking him in the eye. Alastor thought it over for a moment. Niffty and Husk were two out of a small select group of people he genuinely trusted the most. "Fine." He shrugged, trying to make it appear as if there wasn't a growing sense of unease and anxiety sinking into his stomach.

Husk nodded. "Niffty, why don't you go ahead and go run the bath for Al. Use my room, I don't trust that he even has a tub in his." Niffty gave a quick salute then hopped down from the counter, running off.

Husk turned his attention back to Alastor, lowering his voice. "Is there a reason you don't like bathing, Al?" He asked, catching the demon off guard. "Why Husker, what makes you ask such a silly little-" "Don't think you can fool me, I saw the way you froze earlier. Al, you might own my soul, and you might scare the shit out of me sometimes, but I don't hate you," this surprised Alastor, "I'm only asking so I know how to go about this properly. If there's something about it that bothers you, I don't want to force you into it."

Alastor looked back at Husk for a solid minute, thinking it over. He stood suddenly and started to walk toward the hallway, where Husk's room was, signaling the other to follow, which he did. Once they were alone, Alastor finally spoke.

"What I'm about to tell you does not leave that silly little kitty mouth of yours, understood? If I find out that-" "You have my word, Alastor, you don't have to threaten it out of me." ".....Right. Well- Thank you.. Husk."

It wasn't often that Alastor used his actual name instead of 'Husker,' but when he did, the cat felt a sense of equality between them. No longer 'Owner of Soul and Servant,' but like they knew each other. All the more reason he decided to take this issue seriously, for Alastor.

"While I was alive, let's just say I've been through a lot. In my life, over many years, and many incidents, I acquired many scars. Reminders. Let's just say I do not enjoy them. I hated them, and hated looking at them. I assume that is why fate decided they would stick with me even in the afterlife." There was a moment of silence before Husk replied, "They make you feel vulnerable again. They remind you of those.. incidents.. Don't they?"

Alastor didn't verbally respond, but the glance he gave him confirmed to Husk that he may have been correct about this. Husk nodded. "You can trust us, Al."

As they stepped into Husk's room, they noticed just how much effort Niffty had put into this. She had drawn a bath, filled it with bubbles, already gotten a towel ready, and fresh new clothes for Alastor, folded neatly by the sink. As the Radio Host looked closer, he noticed some of the holes and tears had been mended.

"Wow, Niff, I'm impressed." Husk said, taking his hat off. Another sign that this wasn't between co-workers, but friends. His hair was slicked back as usual, though Alastor hadn't seen it like that since the day he won his soul.

When Husk looked back at Alastor, he noticed the look in his eye, his posture, everything. The look of 'I am trying very hard to be okay with this.'

Husk gave him a slight nod before turning to Niffty. "Why don't we give him some space real quick, alright?" He turned to Alastor. "Go ahead and get yourself ready in the bathroom, we'll be right out here." As he walked past the deer demon, he lowered his voice again, "We won't leave you."

Alastor stepped into the bathroom and shut the door, letting out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. He did deep down truly appreciate how supportive Husk and Niffty were being, it did help him feel less.. anxious about everything. Though he also no longer felt like an overlord. He felt like a kid again. The constant reassurance, the sudden comfort and concern he was being shown.. It reminded him of his mother. It was hard to describe, but if he had to, he would have said he felt 'weak, but in a way that was okay with him.'

He got himself ready and sat himself in the bath, the heat of the water somehow immediately helping him relax more than he thought it would. He was grateful for the bubbles as well, not only did it cover him, but he wasn't able to see his scars that much.

There was a gentle knock, then Husk's voice. "Al?" Wanting to at least pretend he still had control, he replied, "Enter."

Husk opened the door and before he even got a full step in, Niffty darted in, grabbed Alastor's discarded clothes and then ran back out, fussing about the blood stains under her breath.

"... Alright, well while she goes and does whatever it is she's decided she's going to do, I'll get started, if that's okay with you." Husk said, shutting the door behind him. Alastor nodded. It did feel odd to him to have someone elss in the room, but he reminded himself that he could trust the bartender.

As Husk stepped closer, he did catch a glimpse of a couple scars, littered across his skin. He didn't mention them, instead grabbing a rag nearby that Niffty had left out. "I know you don't like being touched, so I'm warning you beforehand that I'm about to, so you don't kill me. Satan knows Niffty would fuss at you over the mess." He said, trying to lighten the mood a little. Though Alastor didn't laugh, his grin did widen slightly, indicating that it had worked.

Husk dampened the cloth and got started, touching it to Alastor's back. As the radio demon jumped a little and suddenly gripped the sides of the tub, he paused, gave him time to calm back down, and continued. He knew he could have laughed at him, teased him for being such a powerful demon scared of something as small as a bath, but he didn't. He wouldn't. Because he understood. Sure, he was a feared overlord, rivaling with the King of Hell himself, but before that, he was a person.

A person that, surprisingly, he had come to understand and even care about. As Alastor suddenly jolted again, letting out a sudden ring of static, Husk thought it was due to him being anxious again, only to see his shoulders shaking a little bit.

At first, he worried that Alastor either was in pain or had started crying (a thought that really concerned him), but as he looked down, he noticed he had the rag placed on the back of his ribs, and that Alastor was arching away from the touch. Now this was something he could tease him about.

"Ticklish, kid?" He grinned, making a point to wiggle his fingers through the rag, making Alastor do the radio feedback noise again. "I-I'm oholder thahan you, you ahabsolute-" "Yeah but you died younger than I did, I'm more of an adult than you are."

Alastor opened his mouth to argue, but Husk had already slipped the rag under his right arm, wiggling his claws through the thin fabric. The radio demon slammed his arm down, trying hard to keep it together. He shook with contained laughter, his grin wide and wobbly, ears pinned back. He was doing quite well until Husk suddenly skittered his claws along the back of his neck.

He scrunched his nose up and broke, giggling hysterically, reflexively kicking a leg out, causing a bit of water to splash over the side. "Hey," Husk playfully scolded, "Keep it together down there, you know Niffty is gonna chastise you about that later." "My floor!"

Husk and Alastor jumped, the latter accidentally letting out more mic feedback, as both startled at the sudden sound of Niffty. Neither had seen or heard her enter the bathroom. She huffed, hands on her hips. "You boys. Always giving me more work." She shook her head, hopping up on a stool left by the tub so she could reach Alastor.

"I swear she appears whenever her name is mentioned, did you do that when you got her soul?" Husk whispered. Alastor shook his head, his eyes showing he was just as freaked out as Husk was.

Niffty ignored them, filling a cup with water. "Ears," was all the warning she gave before she dumped it over the deer's head, giving him a split second to fold his ears back to protect them from the water. Husk had to bite back a chuckle as Alastor's hair fell into his face, covering his eyes. He almost resembled a grumpy, wet dog. He reached up and pushed his hair from his eyes, looking slightly annoyed, but Husk knew he had all the patience in the world when it came to Niffty. She could get away with anything.

Even when she started to work in the shampoo, scritching behind his ears. Alastor visibly tensed up, his cheeks turning pink (something Husk had never seen him do). The cat grinned at him, leaning on the edge of the tub. "Your ears are ticklish too?" He chuckled.

As muffled, staticky snickers bubbled out of the overlord, Niffty just smiled. "Husk, dont tease him when you're worse." This shut him up quickly, Husk pinning his own ears back grumbling. Alastor would have laughed at him, had he not already been fighting it back so hard.

When Niffty started to gently scritch at the base of his ears, he started to crack more, giggling louder, yet it was clear he was trying to sit still for her. "Pff- Hmph.. M-Mhmhmhmhm- hahahaha nohoho!" His eyes flew open to glare at Husk, who had picked the rag up to start at the other side of his ribs now, under his left arm.

Alastor's ears were flicking from Niffty's tickling, as he gripped Husk's wrist, more just to have something to ground himself rather than to push him away.

Husk gently scrubbed lower down his side, earning higher giggles before Alastor gasped and flinched away. He hadn't been hurt, but Husk knew it more him trying to avoid getting hurt before it actually happened. The slash he had gotten from Adam was still healing. "Relax, Bucky, I'm not gonna hit it." Husk said.

"Don't call me Bu-hahahaha!" He had gotten cut off when Husk simply switched to his other side.

"Ears." Niffty warned before immediately pouring water over his head again. Alastor coughed a little before lifting his bangs again. "Careful, Niff, don't drown him." Husk chuckled, giving him a break to catch his breath.

As Niffty hopped down off the stool, Husk tossed the rag to Alastor for him to get his own legs, making a joke about how 'I know neither of us want me reaching down there.'

Husk took a seat on the stool as Niffty ran back in with a jar. "What's that?" Husk questioned. "Hoof polish!" She grinned. Alastor let a quiet growl escape his throat, though it was more out of embarrassment than anger, making the cat laugh a little. "As funny as that would be Niffty, I don't think we need it. I'm not pampering his spoiled ass more than I have to." She nodded and ran back out of the room.

"I couldn't help but notice," Husk started, "That you didn't try very hard to get away from the ticklin', especially around your ears." He smirked. Alastor just threw a soft glare his way and didnt confirm nor deny anything.

Once Alastor was done, Husk turned his head away and handed him a towel, before leaving the bathroom to leave him to it.

Alone once again, Alastor took a moment to take in just how much better he felt. Not only physically, but mentally. In the past, bathing would drain him of his energy, leaving him mentally exhausted. But this time he felt better than ever. He looked over at his newly mended suit, patched up by Niffty.

She didn't have to do that.. But she did. Because she looked up to Alastor and cared for him. And Husk didn't have to sit with him the entire time and help him. But he did. Because he saw him as a friend.

He got dressed and left the bathroom, meeting Husk again in his bedroom. Husk's ear flicked as he heard the door open, and he looked up at Alastor. "Feeling better?" He asked.

Alastor walked past him, quickly scritching behind the cat's ears as he passed, earning a loud snort as his hand was batted away. "Much." He smiled, and headed back out to the lobby.

It may not have been a verbal 'thank you,' but Husk had gotten the message anyway.

[theminecraftbee]

Doc wakes up slowly. He's had a lovely night of sleep, cozy in bed, dreaming of fantastical misuses of withers. Hotguy gave him an autograph and personally thanked him for finally blowing up Scarland's sound system and getting one over on anyone who might make a button. For some reason, Scar's alien from season six was also there, and then it exploded. That was pretty great too. And everyone had clapped for him, and told him he was the best, most important creeper in the world, and that all of his enemies were just haters, and that they would absolutely listen to all of his opinions, which were perfect, always. And they covered the Hermitcraft server in fresh, ripened tomatoes, and everyone helped him garden them.

It really was a lovely dream. He didn't particularly want to wake up, except perhaps to tell everyone about all of the aforementioned perfect opinions. But alas, even after a perfect, lovely, cozy night of sleep, mad doctors must wake up--

--and scream, as a menacing figure holding a knife looms over his bed. He throws a punch at whoever the person is before thinking and hisses, overestimating his strength and knocking them over. He scrambles for his light.

"Owww," says someone from the floor. Wait.

Doc peers over the edge of his bed. "Grian? What on earth are you doing, man?"

"Almost falling on my knife. You know, this is harder than I thought it would be," Grian says. He is holding his knife in one hand and cradling his now very crooked, bleeding nose with the other. Doc would feel bad, but... ehhh, it's Grian. Who had been standing over his bed with a knife. He probably deserved it for... something or other, Doc'll figure it out.

"You need help?" Doc asks.

"Right. No. Let's get back to this," Grian says, standing up and brandishing the knife again. The effect is much less frightening now that the lights are on, there's blood dripping down the front of Grian's sweater, and it's clear Grian is a bit uncertain of how to look intimidating. "I need you to know Mumbo only has one best friend."

Doc blinks.

"...okay, man?" Doc says.

"What?" Grian says.

"Yeah, like, I don't know what you're talking about. Mumbo and I sometimes talk about redstone, but--"

"You talk about redstone? How dare you! Mumbo is mine, you hear? Mine!"

Doc blinks again, slower. He considers pinching himself. This would be an odd addition to an otherwise lovely, perfect dream, but dreams can become weird nightmares pretty quickly, you know? That would explain why Grian's doing whatever this is.

"I mean, I don't know, he normally comes to me about it?" Doc says.

"Cheater..." Grian says.

"What?" Doc says.

"I can't believe you two! Guh! That was my offended noise!" Grian says.

"Look, uh, I don't really understand what you're doing here man--"

"I'm warning you off of Mumbo! I heard around the block you're his best friend now, so I'm going to kill you now unless you stop that."

Doc squints. "With the knife?" he asks.

"Yes, with the knife!"

"And why am I his best friend?" Doc asks.

"You got the crown! Mumbo said whoever got the purple crown would be his best friend! That's not allowed, only I'm allowed to be his best friend! So I'm, I'm being all threatening! And stuff! Please tell me I'm being threatening," Grian says. "It's been a while since I had to do something like this, I'm modeling off of a different guy I knew, but you know, it's very important to me that you're warned off properly! So there!"

Doc looks at Grian for a while.

"Yeah, uh, man, sure. I'm... really threatened," he says.

"Really?" Grian says.

"Yeah. Really. Very threatened. Hey, uh, my elevator buttons are Grian-proof, supposedly, but I don't know if--"

"Are you--are you trying to distract me by offering me buttons? I'll have you know that doesn't work anymore! Not when it comes to Mumbo!" Grian says. "Although. Hypothetically. If you were telling me there were buttons I could press that you think wouldn't have consequences no matter what I did. That sounds like a challenge."

"Yeah, man, I mean, uh. No. Don't press my buttons--"

"Gotta go bye," Grian says, very quickly, and he shoots out of Doc's bedroom. Doc stares after him through the door.

"I'm going back to fucking bed," Doc says, because frankly, this has convinced him he doesn't need to be awake. And also a security system. A security system that can roast pesky birds. He's sure he can come up with something. Mm. Roast bird. He falls back asleep, vaguely convinced he'd dreamed up the whole incident.

(In the morning, he finds a very grumpy Grian stuck in his elevator. Well. He supposes having to fix it is worth the expression on Grian's face there.)

[dissentersbedamned]

that charlie redesign wanted me to redesign some others so here are some others, i was going to do husk, nifty, and sir pentious but i didnt feel like doing that

are these designs easier to animate? probably not am i claiming to be a better character designer than viziepop? yes

i might do the others but probably not i dont want to be know for this

individual characters and design notes below

i wanted to give her this soft color palette, making her stick out from the rest of hell, like an "angel" in hell

gave her a pink suit like her pilot design

gave her gold accents to give that royalty feel

her hair is now more curly/swirly to giver her a sheep look, along with the ears, kind of like how lucifer is associated with goats charlie has sheep

i also gave her ears to maker her not look like just a human

the darker pink-red color is supposed to contrast with her softer colors but not that much, it's supposed to convey that she is still a demon, the horns were also added to give that feel

bigger cheek makeup (?) and those gold "chains" were added to giver her a circus clown/ring leader look because hell is supposed to be like a circus

gave her tap shoes to convey shes likes music or someshit

darker color to contrast with charlies, a sun and moon thing going on

made her more moth like by making her hair look like moth wings, fuzzy leg warmers, and antennas (are those even antennas do moths even have antennas)

added a silver like color in her design to match with charlies gold

gave back her stocking from her pilot design and made her hand warmers mirror them

wanted to giver her a hot topic employee look

made her more look like she died in 2014 by giving her the red and black stocking + hand warmer, leg warmers, and making her x asymmetrical

her worm out shorts are suppose to give a 2014 feel but also are like that because moths just eat clothes sometimes

gave her the ribbon on her waist to mimic one of her old designs

her red is the same red in charlies pallet, they match +]

made him purple because i think limiting the main colors to each character is nice also because i think purple is a much more lust full color and to look similar to his old design

made him more spider like by adding an extra pair of eyes, fangs, two more legs and a spider butt lol

made him more fluffy and rounder to giver him a more effeminate/gnc look

gave him eyelashes for the same reason above

gave him a scar on the side that he has the golden tooth and different eyes because i think it would be cool is that was from an injury he had when he was alive

the coat was added so that it looks similar to his suit but still different enough so that not everyone is wearing one

the design on his pider butt and coat are suppose to look like a stylized spiders web

the hearts at the end of his heels are suppose to replicate the end of spiders feet

still kept him relatively skinny because i think he would have one of those arcs were a character starts off skinny but gets fatter to show that they're happy with life

still kept his suit because its such an important part to his character tbh and also so he can mirror charlies pink soft light pink suit with his dark dulled down red suit

gave him a tie so he looks more professional compared to charlies cutie bow tie

dulled down his colors so make him see older and stuck in an era

made him looked aged by giving him grey hairs, stubble, and eye bags

made his deer features more obvious by making his antlers bigger, more deer like ears, giving him a nose pike charlie, and giving him hooves

why alastor got socks on in the pool those are his hooves you bitch

actually made him black

still kept him skinny to give off that sickly skinny look

[honeybeefae]

enemies to lovers with Az 😩

Behind The Masks (Azriel x Reader)

BINGO: Enemies to Lovers

(This is the SFW version but I’m sure I’ll write a continuation of this for the NSFW prompt bc this was requested so much! If you want a part 2…I left it on a cliffhanger for a reason. *wink wink*. I hope you guys enjoy!!)

WARNINGS: Slight angst

“Does everyone have what they need?” Rhysand asked your group, looking at everyone individually as you all nodded. “I know this isn’t ideally how we would spend a weekend but it must be done.”

“I have no problem using my Saturday to dance with this beautiful woman.” Cassian grinned, tugging Nesta to his side who just rolled her eyes with a small smile. “Isn’t that right, Az?”

You grimaced when the Shadowsinger looked down at you with disdain. For whatever reason, despite your history of hating each other, Rhysand and Feyre had paired the two of you together for the Masquerade Ball tonight in the Court of Nightmares. 

Normally Mor would be taking your place but she was off doing something else so if you hadn’t coupled up, you both would’ve been the odd two out. It made sense logically but neither of you was very happy about it.

“Let’s just get tonight over with.” Azriel responded cooly, squaring his shoulders and gripping his mask tightly in his fists. You snorted, shaking your head in disbelief.

“Right because I’m the bad company.” You snarked, crossing your arms. Feyre gave you a sympathetic look but you avoided her gaze, motioning to the door. “Can we just leave?”

“Please.” Rhysand said, wanting to diffuse the tension as they winnowed. Cassian lifted Nesta into his arms and stepped outside, taking off into the night as you reluctantly did the same with Azriel. He barely looked at you as he followed suit, his jaw tight as you all headed to the mountain.

—--------------------------

The party was in full swing, everyone dawning masks of various shapes and colors, and you found yourself being spun around for the fifth time that night. Azriel had abandoned you as soon as the music started but you didn’t really care, choosing to enjoy the night as best as you could.

You drank and ate with Nesta, sneering at some of the court ladies who turned up their noses at you both. Desperation reeked off of them, just like the rest of the court, as they took every chance they could to grab for power or put others down. 

“Azriel isn’t keeping up with his part of the plan,” Nesta noted, sipping her wine while watching you frown. “Do you even know why he acts like this towards you? How long has this childish tantrum been going on?”

“Since we meet.” You replied, downing the rest of your glass. “I did something to piss him off, questioned his authority or some petty shit, and I guess that was the end of our relationship. Not that I care.”

“Mhm.” She nodded though she doubted you were telling the truth. “Maybe he wants something else, someone else if you catch my meaning.”

Your eyebrows rose as you gawked at her, shaking your head furiously. “Absolutely not. One, I’m not his type. Two, never in a million, billion years.”

“You’d be surprised how fast that time passes.” Nesta said coyly, placing her glass down and walking away before you could argue. You looked around once more, not even seeing the Shadowsinger, before reaching for another glass. 

A large, scarred hand stopped you before you could grab it. You scowled, following the arm until you were looking into the hazel eyes of a man you hated. “What are you doing?”

“I think you’ve had enough.” He stated lowly. “Surely you don’t want to make a spectacle of yourself. Though, now that I say that, I’m sure you would like the attention.”

Red, hot anger filled your veins at his casual insult, and you gave him a middle finger, spinning on your heel to go find somewhere else to be until he grabbed you roughly and spun you back into his arms.

Before you could blink he had you in the middle of the dance floor, your chest pressed against his while his hand rested on the small of your bare back. You struggled against him but that only made him tighten his grip. 

“You’re making a scene.” He whispered through gritted teeth, a black mask concealing half of his face. “Get it together.”

“Since when do you care?” You spat, not even hiding your distaste as you circled the ballroom. “I thought you wanted to get tonight over with. If I cause a scene surely that helps your problem with me.”

“I do not have a problem with you.” Azriel rolled his eyes. 

“Oh is that what a friendship is with you then? Brooding stares, snide comments, and constant patronizing?” You reply sarcastically, your own mask doing little to conceal your feelings. “Boy, I must be your best friend.”

“Are you always this insufferable? No wonder you haven’t bedded anyone in months.” He snarks, almost tripping over his own feet when you stopped suddenly. The other couples around you stopped as well, all of them eager to see what drama was unfolding, but you didn’t want to give them anything to use against you. 

“I hate you.” You swore, tears welling up in your eyes as you ripped your hands out of his grasp and stormed out of the ballroom, brushing off Nesta’s hand as she tried to stop you.

The air around you felt too hot, too heavy as you started running down the hallways while holding the skirts of your dress. Tears were freely flowing down your cheeks as you ripped off your masks, not caring that some people were staring and laughing at your misery. You didn’t stop running until you reached your room in the Court of Nightmares, slamming it shut behind you as hard as you could.

You went over to the mirror and looked at yourself, looked at the smeared mascara, and hated how he had gotten to you. All this time, after living with this for years, never once had you shown him how much the things he said affected you. It would only make things worse. 

And yet here you were, causing a dramatic scene in the worst place possible with the worst person possible. You truly were pathetic.

Knock. Knock.

Immediately you knew it was Azriel. Rhys had probably sent him for damage control, forcing him to swallow his pride to apologize. You refused to answer.

“I know you’re in there. Open the door.” His voice was cold.

Silence was all he got. You heard him shift his feet in frustration.

“If you don’t open the door I’ll break it open myself. For once just listen to me.” He huffed, though his tone turned soft towards the end. You walked over to the door and took a deep breath, staring at the engraved wood.

“Fuck off.” You replied sweetly, flipping off the door and turning to walk to the bathroom. There was barely enough time to wince when the door creaked under the weight of his shoulder before he barged in, a scowl settled deep on his face.

“I’m trying to talk to you.” He said while kicking the door back closed with the heel of his shoe. “Why do you have to be so stubborn?”

“Why can’t you seem to take a hint?” You jabbed, crossing your arms over your chest defensively. “I don’t want to talk to you. I know that might be hard for your tiny brain to comprehend but I think you got all your feelings out with that comment in the ballroom. Now, as I said earlier, fuck off.”

“Can’t take the heat?” Azriel taunted, stepping closer to you while ignoring everything you had just said. “I expected more resilience from you, more bite.”

You didn’t even think about it when your hand came up to slap him, gasping when his own hand wrapped around your wrist and stopped it inches from his face. You struggled to follow through, barely able to move his arm, as his smirk grew tenfold.

“Let. Me. Go.” You ordered, rage making the edges of your vision red. There was something else in the atmosphere, something that would be extremely dangerous if you gave it any attention. 

“Or what?”

You were chest to chest with him, your head tilted up to glare at him as he raised a mocking brow. The urge to wipe that stupid smirk off his face was growing like an inferno.

“You’re such a stupid, barbaric Illy-” You began to spit until his mouth crashed against yours, silencing the rest of your sentence as you stood there in shock. He immediately swiped his tongue along your lips and you didn’t fight him, didn’t breathe until you felt a fresh, hot wave of arousal swirl with your anger.

It was infuriating and intoxicating all at once. The answer to all your secret desires while also opening up questions to everything you once knew as the truth. You felt yourself spiraling and the only thing connecting you to reality was Azriel’s soft, hungry lips.

And you wanted more.

[peony-flowerking7]

Size part 1 (Warning: Nudity)

I told ya Wukong was a short king. ALL HAIL SHORT KING WUKONG and yes I know I could've done my own designs but I decided it to be easier to use their show designs. I only put them more structure on body and face. So let me explain.

Wukong body is a muscular chubby build as we saw in the latest episode he has a dad bod and I love it because it makes him more squishy and handsome AHEM! No I don't not have a crush on him I just appreciate dad bods. When he's extremely or rageful his actual eye color will come out since you know, his eyes burn when being locked in the furnace. I wanted to give Wukong a beard, but I will in his human form don't woryyyyyy. Also he has a crooked nose BECAUSE I SAID SO it beautiful! And monkey feet

Macaque body is more skinny, yet more muscular. AHEM TITTIES! He got an ass and titties for days because I am GAY! I am a lesbian for this hoe. He also has scars he hides across his body with that glamour spell. And I think it is confirmed that he can't see with the other eye so he's blind which is something I will put in my fanfic btw. But yeah he's blind. HE'S AN ALBINO MACAQUE MONKEY I'M CALLING IT! He also has a beard but only in his human form. Also underneath the red markings is his scar he covers it with glamour and the red markings.

Duzhe as you know they curvy and chubby. They have stretch marks on their lower half and are they strong? Kind of and kind of not. Duzhe is only getting strong because of Wukong and Macaque training so you might say they're a bit muscular too I love muscles. I gave them a belly button piercing and they only liked to wear puffy pants. If they wears shorts they may feel insecure on that, I want to make a comic on that though. But they don't like wearing shorts, they are shy on their legs but the rest of their body they're confidence on. This is indeed their official design I have redesign them so much I had to stop myself and do an official design on Duzhe. It a freaking problem with me.

I drew them nude because it will help me with body their body figures and Duzhe vitiligo. Also I usually sometimes call Duzhe a they/them and sometimes I use she/her pronouns but they are both. Duzhe is a she/they but mostly on the non binary side, there is a reason why. But I won't tell ya! Also no I can't draw nipples please don't criticize me why I did draw nipples on Macaque and Wukong but not Duzhe IT DIFFICULT OKAY!

[lefarte]

hi there... if you have time would you be willing to write hcs for levi with a reader who was a medic in the bremen army, but helped to heal soldiers from both sides? i just think theres a fun dynamic to be had there ehe. can be platonic or romantic! i love ur writing btw thank you for being there for the 7 funger fans on this website

I ended up writing this as a fic because I had several requests for a Levi fluff fic and I thought this prompt was cute in particular >:]

GN reader

TW for emetophobia

“Come on, open up,” You quietly urged. “You need to eat.”

Levi made a half-hearted noise of shame, his nose twitching at the sight of the spoon pointed towards his face.

Levi was not exactly a difficult patient. In fact, he was quite easy to handle. Even though Union soldiers would usually scowl and reject you, he never showed you any hostility. He was softspoken and intelligent, unlike many infantry troops. His only real problem was his social aversion.

He often stepped away when you went to take his pulse. He didn’t like being touched. He wouldn’t accept any praise by you, instead, he would quietly take it as condescension. No matter how you tried to reach out, he only withdrew harder. Skittish, and quietly untrusting, much like a rabbit.

You’d never forget the face of despondency he had lying on that cold kitchen floor, having ransacked an entire fridge worth of food and vomited it all out, collapsing in a cold sweaty heap and gasping and gurgling. The sound of rattling in his sternum. It was too familiar to you.

From then on, he could move and eat, but not much. You had refashioned the club into a little makeshift hospital. Securing the bunk beds with little blankets and everything. Fetching in pails of rainwater. Even though you tried to advertise it, no one else had stopped by.

So Levi was your only patient, which didn’t thrill him.

“Open,” you urged again.

“…Ah.”

You fed him the porridge, which you had mixed with medicinal herbs. It tasted awful. He didn’t react.

“I… I can feed myself.” He muttered awkwardly.

That night you brought him back, you did a little checkup on him. He suffered many of the same ailments as the others raised in the trenches. Malnutrition, shell shock, tremors. He seemed to quietly accept much of your poking and prodding, but went dead quiet when you asked him to undress.

He’d been a little bashful around you since.

“Want a drink?”

He shook his head. “I’m… not thirsty…”

“Fine, then how about I comb your hair?”

“…..You don’t want to touch my hair…. I… I have lice.”

“Every infantryman has lice.”

You paused.

“Want me to wash your face?”

“…you must be…. very… bored. Stuck here with me.” He said hoarsely. “Waiting for… someone else to come…”

“No! I’m not bored… I’m…” You swallowed. “Worrying.”

“Yeah. Me too.” He went quiet.

You kneeled over the pail of water and splashed your face. The water was cool. You carefully put a rag in (a piece of your own apron you had cut out with a knife) and looked over at Levi. He gave an uncertain nod.

You pulled the rag out of the water, dripping through your fingers, and held it up to his face. He flinched back at first, but carefully eased into it.

“The water feels nice, doesn’t it?”

“H…hm.”

You softly wiped the dried blood from the corners of his cracked lips. Moving the rag up his cheeks and to wipe his tired eyes. Levi leaned closer into your hand.

“…A little.” He admitted.

You moved the rag up to wash his forehead.

“Why are you a nurse?”

You paused, slowly retracting the dirtied rag. “Well, same reason everyone else does. I want to help people.”

“Soldiers?” He asked quietly. “…you want to help soldiers?”

“I want to help anyone who needs help. And right now, they need my help on the front.”

He cast his gaze downward and shook his head a little.

You lifted his pale arm. He made no effort to pull back. His skin was lined with scars, bruised yellow and purple from needles, his fingers pallid, cold and blue. Even his fingernails were bitten and dirty.

You dunked the rag again and put it to his hand.

“I… I think there are people who need this more…” He stammered.

“Are you kidding? There are mountains of bodies. There are soldiers sleeping on the ground because there’s not enough room in the medical tents.”

“I know.” He paused thoughtfully. “…Do you really think soldiers deserve to… be treated like this though?”

“Treated like what?” You frowned.

He made a small gesture to the speakeasy. The warm yellow flickering lights, the soft music playing on loop from the old fuzzy sound system. Full bottles of wine on the bar. Pillows. Blankets. The scent of wax and wood.

“I know no one else will come, why set this up for me?” He lowered his hand weakly. “I don’t even know what to… do here…”

You dropped the rag, standing up and wiping your wet hands on your apron. He looked up at you with a tense expression. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean… it….”

You take his hand, leaning over him on the bed, and put an arm over him in an embrace. “It’s okay. I know you didn’t mean it like that.”

Slowly, his other hand inched forward, before carefully putting his hand over your hair. As if you were made of glass. He ran his fingers through your locks in soft, longing fascination. Then, he sighed and put his hand over his eyes.

“I’m… not sure what to do.” He said quietly. “I don’t know how to deal with this kind of thing…”

“Just wait,” you hummed. “It will be okay.”