#she looked at him as pathetic and weak and broken as he was and saw her friend in him. and she was kind. and so he sacrificed himself.

[fourswords]

zelda and shadow in the fsa manga drive me ridiculously insane actually. the panel where shadow is kneeling on the floor and zelda is standing there looking down at him and they're SEEING each other is enough to give me fucking RABIES. LOOK AT THIS

[aennasan]

World Burn (Sylus x Witch!Reader)

Synopsis: The hero sacrificed you for his dreams.

divider: @/rookthornesartistry

a/n: I was listening to Let the World Burn and I thought Sylus was hot.

“Her. I want her.” Sylus declared as he stood in front of the barely alive hero. His voice booming, intensifying the already scorching fire surrounding them. The orange and red embers flickering and dancing, as if mocking. He could have sworn he could hear their spirits laughing, evil, and insulting. 

The hero’s once divine visage, full of its glory, is now weakened, bleeding and in pain, kneeling, having no more strength to stand. His right arm was tilted in an awkward angle, broken and unusable. He couldn't even lift his prestigious sword, which he swore he would use to protect the world and slay the villain.

The hero's party failed to kill the villain. They were ambushed, and killed. Most of them died. Except the hero himself and the blood witch. 

“If you give her to me I will stop this madness, as you called it.” He paused, contemplating. “You will get back to your king, and claim your title as hero. I will even promise to pretend to be slain and you can get your glory back.” 

Sylus stared down at the hero. He cannot help but grin, on the way he saw a glimpse and glimmer of hope in those dark orbs of whom they claimed as righteous. 

How pathetic and simple. 

“No! Don't listen to him. The villain plays games in people’s minds. You already are a hero!” The blood witch disputed, pale as a ghost she yelled, drained of magic and power. 

He chuckled, stomach fluttering on how adorable she looks. She never changed. Still the weakest on discerning the character of allies she puts her trust into. Spectacles broken and cracked. He worries that the glass shards will get to her beautiful brown eyes. 

The blood witch and hero are childhood friends. She was scorned and isolated by the town since they do not understand the power she yields. She takes lives to heal. She derives her power from life, and so she was always surrounded by death. 

Yet, in the hero’s eyes, he saw potential. A friend, a tool, to whom he can take a journey together and help him achieve his dream as a hero. 

She is loyal to him. He is loyal to his dream. 

The hero wasn't looking at the blood witch. In fact, Sylus already knew that the hero decided on what path he would walk through. 

Sylus understood why. 

Although, he knew that the hero is a pathetic and weak minded fool. What the blood witch had done is terrifying, even for his clan.

The hero died. But using her power and the bodies of their party members, she revived him back. It was black magic. Taboo and frightening. 

The hero who was revived, had heard the voices and screams of their party members who were used to giving him life. They scream justice, and he watches with a smile how the hero’s mind breaks down and lets go of his strongest ally. 

“You…You promise to do that?” The hero opened his mouth to speak. His voice croaked and sickly. 

“I do not lie.” Sylus assured. 

“How can I trust you to follow on your promise?” The hero asked again.

“The promise using blood cannot be broken.” The villain grinned. 

“Wha- What are you doing?” The blood witch was taken aback. Finally realizing that the hero would sacrifice everything for his plans and glory. 

Before the witch could stand and stop them, Sylus cut his palm open, and did the same to the hero. The hero hissed in pain. Before he can protest, he clutches their hand to his, and uses his power to seal his promise to the hero. 

There was a light, dark, red and murky, surrounding the hero and the villain, until it exploded. The witch was shocked and fell to the ground. She closed her eyes, frightened. 

When she finally decided to open her eyes. There was only the villain named Sylus in front of her. The hero, her friend, is nowhere in sight.

“What have you done to him?” She accused him. Her breathing was ragged. Her face devoid of color, contorted in anger. 

“I fulfilled our promise. You can feel it, right? He is still alive…. and safe.” He stated as a matter of fact. Dragging the word “safe” before offering a Cheshire grin. 

Slowly he walked towards her. 

“He…No…No..No, he will not abandon me. The hero is my friend.” Her eyes were wild, as she nodded profusely, trying to convince herself that she wasn't abandoned and left as a sacrifice. 

He could smell the fear and pain of betrayal coming off her. Her fears are delicious but the smell of betrayal he despises. 

Sylus knew about her. In truth, they were more than acquaintances. He met her when he was just born and knew nothing of his ultimate purpose. He was sickly. And she didn't hesitate to take care of him.

The truth is he was the reason why they found out about her power. She healed him despite knowing the consequences. Her naivety, warmth, kindness, and beauty is her unbecoming. 

He always thought her resolve that fateful day was magnificent and beautiful. 

He had devoid himself of feeling. But he cannot stop the swell of pride in his chest. Finally, she is with him. 

It took a lot. Even of him becoming the villain, just so he could have her. 

He crouched down in front of her, excited to see her face up close. By now, she stopped mumbling and blaming herself. 

Sylus thought he would see her the same. It was a simple breaking. Nothing to the extreme like he usually does. So he was surprised, then angered, when he saw the look on your face. 

Your eyes were devoid of life. Cheeks stained with tears. Mouth trembling. You felt betrayed and miserable. 

He is trembling with an unknown feeling of rage.

“My dear dove, you must dry those tears.” He consoles, using his thumbs to remove the fat tears running down her cheeks. She feels cold, like a corpse. She must have exhausted everything just to save an ungrateful dear friend. 

“Do not cry for I will make him pay the price of betraying you.” Titling his head to the side, he used his right hand to cup her face and gently help her face him. He gave her a gentle smile.

“What? But he did what you asked him to do. He surrendered me to you.” Her frown was weak. Her will is still not back, but he was glad that she was curious enough to ask him a question. It means, he did not break her fully.

“Yes. But I never promised not to turn his beloved town to ashes, noh? What kind of villain am I if I would just let your traitor, along with the people who scorned you, and called you names scotch free? They say for heroes to be great, they need to be orphaned.” He spoke and beamed at her. Like an innocent little boy, who did not just promise to kill hundreds of people for her. To sully their hands to revenge for her.

It was by then, she finally looked at him. She watches as the flames reflect on his eyes. It swallows everything on its path with no mercy or thought. 

She shivered, realizing the inevitable. 

[freestyle-crocodile-trashpile]

Sister

Summary: Sukuna walks in at the perfect time.

Type:Scenario:Gore/Horror: Sukuna & M!Reader

Version:Jjk

⚠️WARNING! it does get pretty graphic, and there's some cannibalism!⚠️

~

Sukuna kicked aside another useless body, dark chuckle coming from him as be crushes the head of a weak woman.

"Pathetic...I figured someone would put up a fight," Sukuna looked down at the now crushed head of the woma, shaking his head as he started walking again.

It was a wonder how Sukuna's yukata wasn't stained, even as he walked through the bloody field of the small village. Uraume walked close behind, looking out for any living being or a suitable corpse for Sukunas' next meal. Eventually, they walked by a small house, stopping at the sound of soft thuds and grunts.

"Sir." Uraume pointed, but Sukuna was already eyeing the door. The thuds sounded...wet almost.

Sukuna narrowed his eyes, walking over to the door. He had to dunk his head to step inside, now facing a much smaller form beating someone.

His four eyes stared into the back of your head as your fist came down repeatedly, some sobs and grunts coming from you. The body under you was of an unknown woman. She was unmoving, clearly dead for a hot second. Your tear fell down onto the mess of blood under you, your yukata soiled with blood and gore. Your arms ached, but you refused to stop. The face was already mangled, but somehow, your brain could still make out the face of her, of the bastard that caused all the pain.

This was revenge, and it was like feast for Sukuna. Every cry, every thrust of your fist, every snap, squish, and thud filled Sukunas senses. The smirk on his face on grew as he watched you.

Your fist were practically beating the ground at this point, her head so destroyed, beaten into the ground so much that it was a pile of mush and goo. Even her skull had been crushed under your fist.

Yet, you've never been strong. Always been the weaker one of your siblings, and your sister took advantage of it. She treated you like a servant, treating your weakness as a method to keep you under her. You were never strong enough to fight back. You'd only end up on the ground bloody by your father while your sister faked cried behind him. So when you found her terrified and hiding, sobbing for you to hide her, you took advantage. You've never moved so fast before, she tried to fight back, but her adrenaline didn't last long enough to fend you off her. The screams didn't process in your head as anyone else's but her own. You beat your sister while Sukuna massacred your village. Yet, you only registered those screams and crys as your sisters.

You palms landed on the mush of flesh under you, keeping your hands pressed against it as you breathed heavily. Loud breaths and gasps came from your mouth as you gained your breath. With trembling hands, you grasped your shoulders, leaning your head back and taking deep breaths. When you opened your eyes, you saw a knife, placed perfectly in reach from you. Leaning over your shaking fingers wrapped around the knife, pulling it to your chest before moving down on your sisters lifeless body. The knife dug into her neck, at the edge where her head used to sit. Slowly, you dragged the knife down, cutting it like the skin of a deer. When you had a nice tear in her skin, you grasped it, tearing the skin from her ribs. The knife dropped from your hands. Staring down at her exposed sternum, with a gulp you raised your hands, clasping your hands together before slamming them down on her sternum.

The sickening crack of bones was music to Sukunas ears, his smirk only growing as he watched you toss her broken sternum to the side.

Your shaky hands grasped her still and cold heart, yanking it out of chest.

"Your heart has always been cold...hasn't it...sister," Your voice surprised Sukuna, it sounded so broken yet sweet. But sweet in a soft way, no. Sweet in a dark and broken way, sweet in the way only a crazed person could see murder. Which is what he saw, a murder, a broken man in need of revenge.

And Sukuna was willing to help.

Your eyes stared at the heart, it spilled blood everywhere, dripping onto the ground. With a gulp you brought it to your face, hesitating before biting into the heart. You were so famished, the heart looked delicious. After a few chews you gagged, but swallowed. Keeping it down as you took another bite, you were so hungry it seemed right at the moment. When the heart was consumed you gasped, choking slightly before shakily standing up. Coughing out blood- blood that was not your own. Slowly and shakily walking backwards, suddenly your back hot a solid surface. Your eyes slowly moved to look up as a strong arm wrapped around your waist.

"Bravo..." A large hand grasped your face, tilting it up to look him in the eyes.

It wasn't every day someone looks the king of curses in the eyes, yet you held his gaze with a tired look. He tugged your head closer, making you stand on your tippy toes. The mouth on his hand licked at the blood on your face, as well as the mouth on his stomach, but licking at your soiled clothes. The blood all over you was delicious.

Uraume walked over to your sisters corpse, choosing her as Sukunas next meal.

Sukuna let go of your face, letting your feet hit the ground again. Not for long though, his arm easily picked you up, tossing you onto his shoulder. You were like nothing to him, so small you could be mistaken as a child.

"You'll do perfectly." Was the last thing you heard before passing out.

~

[A/N:Sorry for the cannibalism guys, I just wanted something wild in this. I hoped you enjoyed]

[mysicklove-main]

Uzui Tengen is known for his dramatics. You knew that when you first decided to marry him, and have grown used to it with the years. His flashy appearance and bold words don't even phase you now. That's just who he is and who you came to love.

Until he gets sick. The dramatics pick up to a whole level you've never thought could occur. Of course if other people saw him that we're not you, or his other wives, he would pretend to be fine, grinning and showing off. But he would never let his lovers off the hook like that, it would be not flashy at all.

“I think it's time I say my final goodbye.”

You roll your eyes, placing a damp towel on his forehead. He coughs, and honestly you can't tell if it's fake or not, but you hold out a cup for him to drink a water out of. When he doesn't move, you sigh and press it to his lips, watching with amusement at the way he gulps it down. “Your fever is bound to break soon, maybe if you stopped complaining and rest, you'll feel better.”

He glances at you when you pull the cup away, a small pout on his face. “Hurts so bad, I must be dying. I feel so weak," His voice is horse, and his body is unusually warm.

You can't help but want to dote on him at his words. He's got to be acting just a bit, but he truly does sound broken. But before you could comfort him he says, “Is this how you feel like all the time? This weak?”

You sigh, pinching your brows, but you can't help the smile that creeps on your face. He's so ridiculous, but at least he keeps you on your toes. In his sickly state or not. “Really?”

“Just joking. I know you aren't this weak.” You can see it in his eyes that he wants to boast about his strength again, but your watchful eyes shut it down. You adore how powerful your husband is, but you weren't Suma who fangirls every time he spoke about himself (Of course you did love that side of Suma as well, it was cute seeing her so excited).

You roll your eyes again but smile at him, and adjust the bedsheets, pulling them higher up on his chest. He let's out a throaty complaint, but doesn't fight it. “Hey, where are the others? Can't bare to see me this pathetic?”

“No, “god” of the dramatics.” He frowns at the mock nickname. “You scared the daylights out of Suma, who actually thinks you're going to die. Hinatsura is comforting her outside. And you know Makio, she isn't the one to be near when someone is sick.”

He hums, closing his eyes for the first time in the past hour with a content smile on his face. “So I get you all to myself, huh?”

You grin, puffing up his pillow again before sitting in the chair next to him. “Guess you can say that. Until your fever breaks at least.”

“Nurse Y/N,” He sighs, breathlessly with a grin on his face. His eyes are still shut and by the looks of it he is imagining something lewd.

You shut it down immediately. “No. I'm not a nurse. I'm an assassin.”

He ignores your words. “Why arent you wearing the cute outfit. I'm sickly, please treat me nurse!”

“I'm leaving,” You deadpan, but before you can stand up a hand flies to your wrist. He tilts his head toward you with a small apologetic smile. His cheeks are flushed from the fever and his neck is slightly beaded with sweat.

“Sorry. I'm done, I'm done, promise. Just stay with me? Honestly, I am a little scared about how week I feel." The tone of his voice is solemn, and his hands slightly tremble on your wrist. You grab onto it and set it back down on the bed, and grab the cloth to dab the beads of sweat on his neck.

It's been ages since he has gotten sick. The last time probably in his early teens, so you aren't too surprised he is uncomfortable, but it was surprising for him to admit something like this. “Scared” is not in his vocabulary, or at least he preaches.

So you take pity on him, and smile at him. “Of course, Lord Tengen. Close your eyes and rest, I'll be here when you wake up, promise.”

He glances at you for a final time, and closes his eyes. “Thanks, Nurse Y/N.”

You shake your head slowly, and take in his appearance. Even in his sweaty, weak state he wears his signature smug grin that you've grown to love. You can't be too mad at him.

[muiitoloko]

Please have a sequel of "Perfume of Deceit" 😭

Title: The Return on Investment

Summary: Discovering infidelity, a woman transforms her anguish into a strategic plan to reclaim her power.

Pairing: Lionel Shahbandar × Fem! Reader

Warnings: Jealousy, Revenge, Anger, Pain, and Angst.

Author's Notes: Y'all really like angst 😅

First, Second and Third part here.

Also read on Ao3

Lionel stood in front of the bathroom door, his hands clenched into fists as he listened to your anguished sobs. The sound of your pain tore at him, each cry a dagger to his heart. He brought his hands to his face, rubbing them over his eyes as if to wipe away the guilt that was etched into his very soul. With a heavy sigh, he sank to the floor, leaning his back against the door, feeling the cold wood press into his spine.

He knew he had screwed up—royally. He should have ended things with Stephanie the moment they began. It had been a mistake from the start, a slip that turned into a spiral of deceit and betrayal. He threw away his marriage for an illicit affair, and the realization made him feel sick to his core. "Damn it," he muttered under his breath, squeezing his hair in frustration. "Why the hell couldn't I resist?"

You deserved so much more from him. So much more. The sacrifices you had made for him over the years, the dreams you had put aside, all to support his ambitions. And how had he repaid you? By falling into the arms of another woman. He tried to end things with Stephanie yesterday, he really tried, but she had a way of seducing him that he couldn't resist. Her touch, her scent—it was like a drug he couldn't quit. He even tried earlier that night, determined to put an end to the madness, but once again, he failed.

When he saw you outside his office, waiting for him with hope and love in your eyes, panic seized him. He felt disgusted with himself, a deep, gnawing shame that he couldn't escape. God, how could he do this to you? How could he betray the person who had given him everything?

Lionel squeezed his hair tighter, the pain a small penance for his sins. He still heard your crying, each sob a reminder of the hurt he had caused. A part of him, a dark, twisted part, wanted to blame you for his betrayal. "She doesn't dress up like she used to," he thought bitterly. "She's not sexy anymore. It's her fault I went looking elsewhere."

These thoughts were vile, and he knew it. They were the pathetic justifications of a weak man. But they gave him a way to deflect the blame, to avoid facing the full extent of his guilt. He remembered how things used to be, how you used to dress up for him, how you were always there, vibrant and beautiful. But over the years, that had changed. Life had taken its toll, and you had settled into a routine, a comfort that he had mistaken for complacency.

"Maybe if she had kept things exciting," he thought, the bitterness rising again. "Maybe if she had put in more effort, I wouldn't have looked elsewhere."

It was a lie, and he knew it. A dirty, self-serving lie. You had given up so much for him, and he had repaid you with betrayal. There was no excusing what he had done, no justifying the hurt he had caused. He was the one who had failed, who had let his desires override his vows, who had betrayed the trust you had placed in him.

Lionel leaned his head back against the door, closing his eyes as he tried to shut out the sound of your sobs. "I'm sorry," he whispered, knowing that no words could ever truly make up for what he had done. "I'm so sorry."

But deep down, he knew that sorry wasn't enough. He had broken something precious, something that might never be repaired. And as he sat there, torn between guilt and self-loathing, he realized that he had a long road ahead of him if he ever hoped to make things right. If he ever hoped to earn your forgiveness, he would have to face his demons, confront the dark parts of himself that had led him astray, and prove to you—and to himself—that he could be the man you deserved.

The next morning, Lionel woke up in pain from sleeping on the floor. He groaned, feeling sluggish as the memories of yesterday came rushing back. He glanced at the bathroom door, which was now open, and crawled there, wanting to talk to you. But you weren't inside anymore. Panic began to set in as he called out your name, receiving no response in return.

Fear gripped his heart as he staggered to his feet, leaning against the wall for support. "Did she leave?" he muttered, the thought sending a wave of dread through him. Desperation fueled his steps as he hurried upstairs to the bedroom, hoping to find some sign of you.

When he reached the bedroom, he froze in his tracks. Relief washed over him when he saw you standing in front of the mirror, applying lipstick. You looked stunning, dressed like you were going to an event, exuding an air of confidence and power that left Lionel confused.

Lionel stood in the doorway, utterly perplexed. You were a vision of confidence and poise, a stark contrast to the broken figure he expected to find after last night’s confrontation. Your red lipstick was bold, and your outfit was immaculate, accentuating every curve with a kind of power he had almost forgotten you possessed.

“Shouldn't you be suffering?” Lionel blurted out, unable to mask his confusion. “What are you doing?”

You paused, glancing at him in the mirror, your eyes cold and unreadable. Carefully, you capped your lipstick and tucked it into your purse, checking the contents of your wallet with deliberate calmness. “I’m leaving,” you said flatly, your voice devoid of the previous night's anguish.

Panic flared in Lionel’s chest. He took a hesitant step forward. “Leaving? Where are you going?”

You didn’t respond immediately. Instead, you moved with calculated grace, adjusting your appearance and making sure every detail was perfect. When you finally turned to face him, your gaze was steely and determined.

“Last night, I realized something,” you began, your hands moving to smooth out the creases in his disheveled suit. “I’ve invested so much in you, Lionel. My time, my dreams, my love. And it’s high time I got my return on investment.”

Lionel’s face twisted with confusion and fear. “What are you talking about?”

You placed your hands firmly against his chest, feeling the frantic beat of his heart under your palms. “You see, Lionel, you’re not just a husband. You’re an investment. One I’ve poured my entire life into. And now, it’s time for me to enjoy the returns.”

You leaned in, your lips brushing his ear as you spoke with a mixture of seduction and malice. “I’m going to take everything you hold dear. Your reputation, your comfort, your pride. I’m going to revel in the power I have over you. Every ounce of pain you’ve caused me, I’m going to repay tenfold.”

Lionel’s breath hitched, his baritone voice faltering. “You don’t mean that.”

You pulled back slightly, your smile cold and calculating. “Oh, but I do. It’s time for you to see what it feels like to be on the losing end, to watch everything you’ve built crumble. And I’m going to enjoy every single moment of it.”

He reached for you, desperation in his eyes. “Please, don’t do this. We can fix this. We can make things right.”

You shook your head, stepping out of his reach. “You made your choices, Lionel. Now, it’s my turn to make mine.”

With that, you turned and walked out of the room, your heels clicking against the floor with a finality that echoed through the silence. Lionel stood there, feeling the weight of your words settle over him like a shroud. He had always considered himself a lion, proud and untouchable. But now, for the first time, he felt truly vulnerable, stripped of his power and faced with the devastating reality of your revenge.

Meanwhile, you went to the garage, choosing one of the cars and starting it. As the engine roared to life, you took a deep breath, steeling yourself for what lay ahead. Just as your house disappeared in the rearview mirror, you allowed your tears to fall from your eyes, the pain and betrayal still fresh in your mind. But you quickly wiped them away, shaking your head. No, Lionel doesn’t deserve your tears. You would make him suffer, just like he did to you.

You tightened your grip on the steering wheel, determination coursing through your veins. Today, you would start pampering yourself, something you hadn’t done in years. It was high time you used those joint cards. Let Lionel pay the invoice.

As you navigated the streets, the memories of your sacrifices and your dreams flooded your mind. The photography classes you never took, the children you never had—all because you had prioritized Lionel's ambitions over your own. But no more. Today, you would reclaim your life.

Your first stop was a luxurious spa. As you walked in, the soothing scent of lavender and eucalyptus enveloped you, calming your frazzled nerves. You approached the receptionist with a confident smile. “I’d like the full treatment, please,” you said, handing over the joint credit card.

The pampering began with a long, relaxing massage that eased the tension from your muscles. You let the therapist’s skilled hands work their magic, feeling the knots and stress of the past few days melt away. Next came a facial, the gentle scrubbing and moisturizing reviving your skin. You closed your eyes, letting yourself be transported to a place of tranquility.

Afterward, you moved on to a high-end boutique. You had always admired the beautiful clothes displayed in the windows but had rarely indulged yourself. Today was different. You walked through the aisles, selecting elegant dresses, stylish shoes, and accessories that made you feel like a queen.

In the dressing room, you admired your reflection. The new clothes fit perfectly, accentuating your figure and making you feel powerful and confident. You smiled at the thought of Lionel’s face when he saw the bill. Let him pay for once.

Next, you headed to a salon. The stylist greeted you warmly and you explained that you wanted a fresh look, something bold and empowering. As the stylist worked, you chatted, feeling a sense of camaraderie that you hadn’t felt in a long time. By the time they were finished, your hair was transformed, styled in a way that made you feel renewed.

The day continued with a visit to a jewelry store. You selected a few pieces that caught your eye—a delicate necklace, a pair of stunning earrings, and a bracelet that sparkled in the light. As you paid with the joint card, you felt a sense of satisfaction. This was just the beginning.

Your final stop was a fancy restaurant. You hadn’t dined out alone in years, but today was about reclaiming your independence. You chose a table by the window, ordered a glass of wine, and savored the exquisite meal. The food was delicious, each bite a reminder that you deserved to be treated well.

As you sat there, enjoying the view and the ambiance, you felt a sense of empowerment. Lionel had underestimated you, thinking he could betray you without consequences. But he was wrong. You were stronger than he knew, and you were determined to rebuild your life on your terms.

By the time you returned home, it was late evening. The house was dark and silent, a stark contrast to the lively day you had experienced. You felt a surge of satisfaction as you imagined Lionel’s reaction when he saw the charges. It was just a small taste of the payback he would receive.

You walked through the house, your heels clicking against the floor, a sound that now felt like a declaration of your newfound strength. You knew there would be difficult days ahead, moments of doubt and pain. But you also knew that you were ready to face them. You had taken the first step toward reclaiming your life, and nothing could stop you now.

Lionel heard your footsteps and immediately got up from the bed, his face a mix of concern and relief as he saw you entering the room with several shopping bags in tow. “It’s late,” he said, his baritone voice tinged with worry. “I was worried about you.”

You ignored him, walking past with an air of indifference, setting your bags down with deliberate calmness. “I’ll be sleeping in the guest room from now on,” you stated flatly, your tone leaving no room for argument.

Lionel’s eyes widened in shock, his hooked nose crinkling as he stepped closer. “I know you’re in pain, but please—”

You cut him off sharply, turning to face him with a fierce determination in your eyes. “You don’t know anything, Lionel. And frankly, I don’t care what you do from now on. If you want to have lovers, go ahead. Have as many as you want.”

Lionel’s face twisted with a mixture of confusion and hurt. “What do you mean? Are you saying—”

“Exactly what you heard,” you interrupted, your voice cold and unyielding. “You are not my husband anymore. You haven’t been for a long time. I will find men who can really satisfy me sexually, men who don’t just think about their own pleasure, who are not guided by their own dick.”

Lionel’s cheeks flushed with a mix of embarrassment and anger. “And what does that mean?” he demanded, his voice rising.

“It means I will find someone younger, someone who will compliment me, appreciate me, take me to dinner, and fuck me in a way that you never could,” you said, your voice dripping with contempt. “Someone who doesn’t think he’s a lion just because he’s got a baritone voice and a hooked nose.”

Lionel’s eyes darkened with jealousy and a flicker of anger. “You think you can just find someone better? You think any man will satisfy you like I did?” he spat, stepping closer.

You met his gaze with a steely resolve. “Yes, Lionel. I will find men who know how to pleasure a woman, who don’t just rush to their own climax and leave their partner wanting. Men who will explore every inch of me, who will make me feel desired and appreciated, who won’t leave me cold and unsatisfied like you have.”

Lionel’s jaw tightened, his fists clenching at his sides. The thought of you with other men, being touched and pleasured in ways he had failed to do, gnawed at him. He had always considered himself the best, the lion in your life. The idea of being replaced, of being outdone, infuriated him.

“Is that what you want?” he growled, his voice low and dangerous. “To be some cheap whore, sleeping around with whoever catches your eye?”

You smirked, a cruel glint in your eyes. “If that’s what it takes to find real satisfaction, then yes. I’ll be a whore, a slut, anything you want to call me. Because at least I’ll be getting what I need, what you’ve never been able to give me.”

Lionel’s face contorted with rage and jealousy. “You think you can just replace me? You think any man will ever measure up to me?” he shouted, his voice echoing through the room.

“I don’t need to think,” you replied coolly. “I know. And I will. I will find men who will make me scream with pleasure, who will make me forget you ever existed. And you will be left with your ego and your regrets.”

With that, you turned and walked out of the room, leaving Lionel standing there, seething with a mix of anger, jealousy, and fear. The image of you with other men, being pleasured and satisfied in ways he had never managed, tormented him. For the first time, Lionel felt the sting of his own inadequacies, and it burned deeper than he could have ever imagined.

Lionel followed you into the hallway, his face twisted with rage and desperation. “You think you can just run off and find satisfaction with other men?” he growled, his baritone voice echoing through the house. “They may satisfy you sexually, but they’ll never love you. You’ll never feel truly loved. If they stay with you, it will only be for your money.”

You turned to him, leaning casually against the door frame of the guest bedroom. A cold, mocking smile spread across your face as you began to laugh. “Is that so, Lionel?” you asked, your voice dripping with sarcasm. “Are you speaking from experience?”

Lionel froze, his hooked nose crinkling in confusion and a hint of fear. Your laughter grew louder, filling the hallway with a cruel, mocking tone. “Who needs love when you have money, Lionel?” you continued, your eyes gleaming with malicious delight. “I think the term ‘Sugar Mommy’ suits me quite well, don’t you?”

Lionel’s face turned red with a mix of anger and embarrassment. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. The sight of him, so helpless and humiliated, only fueled your laughter. “You see, Lionel,” you said, stepping closer, your voice low and taunting, “I don’t need love. I need satisfaction. And I’m going to find it, no matter what it takes.”

With that, you turned and walked into the guest bedroom, closing the door behind you with a final, triumphant laugh. The sound echoed through the house, a reminder of the power shift that had just taken place. Lionel stood there, seething with a mix of anger, jealousy, and fear, knowing that he had lost control and that you were now the one holding all the cards.

In the weeks that followed, you transformed into a woman who loved spending money, living in luxury, and surrounding yourself with younger men. The days of being a faithful and devoted wife seemed like a distant memory. Lionel watched in silent agony as you flourished in your new lifestyle, flaunting your independence and the attention you received from attractive, younger suitors. He could hardly recognize the woman you had become, and it tore him apart.

Lionel missed your touch, your laugh, your warmth. He missed the way you used to look at him, with love and admiration in your eyes. But his pride kept him from admitting how much he was suffering. He couldn't bring himself to tell you how much he missed you, how much he regretted his betrayal. Instead, he bottled up his pain, watching from the sidelines as you lived your life without him.

One particular day, Lionel was in the office, seated at the head of the table in the meeting room. A shareholder had called an urgent meeting, and Lionel was forced to participate, despite the turmoil in his personal life. As the room filled with the other shareholders, Lionel tried to focus on the agenda, but his mind kept drifting back to you.

Just as the meeting was about to begin, the door swung open, and you walked in, removing your sunglasses and placing your designer bag aside. A tall, younger, blond man followed closely behind you. The room fell silent, and all eyes turned to you. With a playful smirk, you questioned, "Why is this meeting happening without me?"

Lionel blinked in confusion, struggling to process your sudden appearance. "What are you doing here?" he demanded, his baritone voice tinged with annoyance and bewilderment.

You sauntered up to him, ignoring Stephanie, his secretary, who stood nearby, ready to take notes. Leaning in, you kissed Lionel's cheek, your voice dripping with condescension. "Did you forget, silly husband? I own 50% of Shahbandar Corporation."

You turned and walked to the table, the blond man quickly pulling out a chair for you. "Isn't he cute?" you remarked with a smile, taking your seat.

Lionel's mind raced. He had always taken care of your share in the company, managing it with the same meticulous care he gave to his own. But now, things were different. The blond man seated next to you was a clear sign of the changes you had made.

"Everyone, this is Sinclair Bryant, my new secretary," you announced, your tone confident and authoritative. "He'll be handling everything related to my part in the company since, let's be honest, I don't know anything about it. Let the men work, right?"

The room remained silent, the tension palpable. Lionel's eyes narrowed as he studied Sinclair, who sat confidently beside you. This was a challenge to his authority, a statement that you were no longer content to let him manage your affairs.

Trying to regain control of the situation, Lionel cleared his throat. "Very well," he said, his voice strained. "Let's proceed with the meeting."

As the discussion continued, Lionel couldn't shake the feeling of unease. Your presence, and the introduction of Sinclair, signaled a shift in the balance of power. You were no longer the devoted spouse who stayed in the background. You were now a force to be reckoned with, and Lionel realized that he had severely underestimated you.

Throughout the meeting, Lionel struggled to focus, his mind plagued by thoughts of you with Sinclair. The jealousy and anger boiled beneath the surface, but he forced himself to remain composed. He knew he had lost control, and the realization gnawed at him.

After the meeting, as the other shareholders filed out of the room, Lionel approached you and Sinclair. "We need to talk," he said, his voice low and serious.

You looked up at him, your expression calm and collected. "About what, Lionel? My business affairs are being handled just fine by Sinclair."

Lionel's hooked nose crinkled in frustration. "This isn't just about business. We need to talk about us."

You dismissed him dismissively, grabbing Sinclair's arm as you told Lionel that the two of you could talk at home. “We have an urgent appointment,” you said, your voice dripping with condescension. “A business meeting, you know.” You winked maliciously towards Lionel, pulling Sinclair with you into the elevator. As the doors closed, you gave Lionel one last taunting smile.

Lionel felt another crack in his heart, the pain almost unbearable. He laughed bitterly, a sound filled with disbelief and anguish. He couldn't believe how far things had fallen apart, how the woman he once cherished had transformed into a force he couldn't control.

He walked back to his office, each step heavy with the weight of his emotions. Stephanie followed closely behind, her eyes filled with concern and a hint of desperation. She reached out to touch his arm, but Lionel shook her off, his face contorted with a mixture of pain and anger.

“Please, Lionel,” Stephanie began, her voice soft and imploring. “Let me help you.”

Lionel turned to face her, his hooked nose crinkling in frustration and sorrow. “Help me? How can you help me, Stephanie? Do you think a few kind words will fix this?” His baritone voice was raw with emotion, each word cutting through the air like a knife.

Stephanie's eyes welled up with tears, but she held her ground. “I know I can't fix everything, but I care about you. I hate seeing you like this.”

Lionel's laugh was hollow and devoid of humor. “Care about me? You’re just another reminder of my failures, Stephanie. Another mistake in a long list of them.” He turned away, walking to his desk and collapsing into his chair, his head in his hands.

Stephanie stood there, her heart breaking for him. She had never seen Lionel so defeated, so vulnerable. She wanted to reach out, to comfort him, but she knew that her presence only added to his pain.

Lionel’s mind was a storm of thoughts and emotions. He couldn’t stop thinking about you and Sinclair, about the way you had dismissed him so easily, about the malicious glint in your eyes. The jealousy and rage boiled within him, but so did the deep, gnawing guilt. He had brought this upon himself, and now he was paying the price.

“Get out, Stephanie,” he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Lionel, please—”

“Get out!” he roared, his baritone voice echoing through the office. Stephanie flinched, but she didn’t argue. She turned and left, closing the door softly behind her.

Lionel sat in silence, his mind replaying the events of the past weeks. He had always thought of himself as a lion, proud and untouchable. But now, he felt like a wounded animal, trapped and cornered. The woman he had once thought of as his partner, his confidant, had become his adversary, and he had no one to blame but himself.

Lionel clung to his desk, feeling the weight of his mistakes crashing down on him. He closed his eyes, trying to hold back the tears that threatened to spill. His mind drifted back to the early days of their relationship, a time when life was simpler and love was pure.

He remembered the tiny apartment they had shared, barely more than a single room with a small kitchenette. They had next to nothing, but they had each other. He could still see the look of determination on your face as you insisted on splitting a single meal in half, making sure he stayed well-fed despite your own hunger. "You need your strength, Lionel," you had said, pushing the larger portion onto his plate. "You have dreams to chase."

Lionel's heart ached at the memory of your selflessness, the way you always put him first. He recalled the joy you both felt when you managed to buy your first sofa, a secondhand piece that was worn but comfortable. You had spent an entire weekend cleaning and rearranging the apartment to make it fit, and the pride in your eyes when you finally sat on it together was unforgettable.

One memory, in particular, stood out. It was a warm summer day, and you had decided to take a walk through the park. You were laughing and talking, so carefree and in love. But halfway through, you had twisted your ankle, the pain bringing tears to your eyes. Without hesitation, Lionel had knelt down and offered you his back, carrying you all the way home.

As you clung to him, murmuring apologies in his ear, he had felt a surge of protectiveness and love. "I'm sorry, Lionel," you had whispered, your voice trembling. "I didn't mean to ruin our day."

"Don't be silly," he had replied, his baritone voice gentle and reassuring. "I'd carry you to the ends of the earth if I had to. You're worth it."

The memory was so vivid, so filled with love and tenderness, that it broke Lionel's heart all over again. He had thrown all of that away for an affair with his secretary. What had he been thinking? How could he have been so foolish, so selfish?

Tears finally spilled over, and Lionel let them fall, his body shaking with the force of his sobs. He had always considered himself a lion, proud and untouchable. But now, he felt like a lost cub, abandoned and alone. The man who had once been cheeky and mischievous, who had carried you on his back and shared dreams of a bright future, was now broken by his own betrayal.

Meanwhile, outside the building, you let go of Sinclair's arm and offered him a sincere apology. Sinclair blinked in surprise, tilting his head to the side like a curious puppy. The gesture made you realize how much he reminded you of a Golden Retriever—cute, loyal, and a bit naive.

"Why are you apologizing?" Sinclair asked, his confusion evident.

You took a deep breath, trying to find the right words. "I feel bad for using you like that against Lionel," you explained. "I needed to make a point, and you were the perfect person to help me do that. But it wasn't fair to you."

Sinclair murmured an understanding “ah” as he opened the door of his car for you, addressing you as Mrs. Shahbandar. “Are you trying to make your husband jealous?” he asked, his eyes full of curiosity.

You got into the car and shook your head. “Please, just call me by my first name,” you said. “And it’s not about making him jealous. It’s about hurting him, making him feel the pain he inflicted on me.”

Sinclair got in on the driver’s side, his face reflecting a mixture of empathy and confusion. “I don’t understand,” he said, turning to look at you. “Why go through all this trouble?”

You took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the past few weeks pressing down on you. “Lionel cheated on me,” you explained, your voice trembling with emotion. “With his secretary, the only other woman in the meeting room. I found out a few weeks ago.”

Sinclair’s expression softened, a pained look crossing his face. “I’m so sorry,” he murmured, his voice sincere.

You shook your head, rejecting his apology. “Don’t be. It’s not your fault.”

The car fell into a heavy silence, the weight of your words hanging in the air. Sinclair attempted to start the car, but it sputtered and refused to turn over. He broke the silence with a frustrated sigh. “Great, just what we needed.”

You chuckled dryly at the irony of the situation. “Seems like we’re both having a run of bad luck.”

Sinclair glanced at you, his eyes filled with understanding. “You know, I was cheated on too,” he admitted, his voice soft. “By my ex-wife. We’re in the process of getting a divorce now.”

Your eyes widened in surprise. “I’m so sorry to hear that,” you said, genuinely feeling for him.

He shrugged, a sad smile on his face. “It’s been tough, but I’m trying to move on. Hearing your story... it just hit close to home.”

You both sat in silence for a moment, sharing an unspoken bond over your shared experiences of betrayal. It was a strange comfort, knowing you weren’t alone in your pain.

“I guess we’re both trying to find our way through the mess,” you said softly, your eyes meeting his.

Sinclair nodded, his expression one of determination. “Yeah, and maybe we can help each other. At least we understand what the other is going through.”

You smiled, feeling a flicker of hope amidst the darkness. “Maybe we can,” you agreed. “Thank you, Sinclair. For everything.”

He returned your smile, his brown eyes filled with warmth. “Anytime. We’ll get through this, one step at a time.”

With that, Sinclair tried the ignition once more, and this time, the car roared to life. As you drove away, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of camaraderie with the young man beside you. Despite the pain and betrayal, you were determined to reclaim your life, and knowing you had someone who understood made the journey a little less daunting.

Lionel arrived home later that night, the smell of alcohol preceding him as he stumbled through the front door. You sat on the couch, engrossed in a bridal reality show, carefully filing your nails. The soft glow of the TV illuminated the room, casting a warm light over your focused expression.

Lionel swayed slightly as he made his way to the living room, his baritone voice slurring as he greeted you. “Evening, love,” he mumbled, his hooked nose crinkling in a sad attempt at a smile.

You didn’t bother looking up, your attention fixed on the TV. “Stay away, Lionel,” you said flatly, continuing to file your nails. The anger and betrayal still simmered beneath the surface, your heart hardened by the events of the past weeks.

Ignoring your command, Lionel collapsed onto the couch beside you, his body heavy with the weight of his guilt and alcohol. He laid his head on your lap, his arms wrapping around your waist in a desperate embrace. “Please, just for tonight,” he begged, his voice cracking with emotion. “Let me stay like this. You can hate me again tomorrow, but tonight, I just need to be close to you.”

You tensed, your initial reaction to push him away. “Go find comfort with your lover,” you spat, your voice filled with bitterness. But something in his eyes, a deep, vulnerable pain, made you hesitate. Despite everything, a part of you still loved this man.

Lionel clung to you, his body trembling with a mixture of desperation and the effects of alcohol. You could feel the tension in his muscles, the silent plea for forgiveness that he couldn’t quite vocalize. With a sigh, you gave in, allowing a truce for now. You rested a hand on his back, rubbing gently, feeling the warmth of his body against yours. He settled more into you, burying his face in your stomach, seeking solace in your touch.

“Please,” Lionel mumbled, his voice muffled against your clothes, “tell me you didn’t hook up with that idiot you brought to the meeting.”

You rolled your eyes, the bitterness in your heart surfacing again. “What does it matter?” you retorted, your voice flat and unyielding.

Lionel lifted his face to look at you, his eyes filled with a mixture of desperation and sorrow. “It matters because you promised,” he said, his voice cracking. “When we were younger, you promised that I would be your first and last. You swore that to me.”

You scoffed, the irony of his words not lost on you. “And you promised the same, Lionel. You promised that I was your first and would be your last. But you clearly didn’t keep that promise, did you?”

His hooked nose crinkled with remorse, and he averted his gaze, unable to meet your accusing eyes. “I know I broke my promise,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “But it doesn’t mean that I stopped loving you.”

Your heart ached at his words, the conflict of love and betrayal tearing at you. “Love?” you repeated bitterly. “Is that what you call it? Betraying me with your secretary? Making a mockery of everything we built together?”

Lionel’s eyes filled with tears, his baritone voice trembling as he spoke. “I was stupid and selfish. I let my pride and desires get in the way. But you—you're still my everything. I can’t bear the thought of you being with someone else.”

You shook your head, the weight of his words pressing down on you. “You don’t get to decide that, Lionel. You lost that right when you betrayed me.”

He buried his face in your lap again, his shoulders shaking with silent sobs. “I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness. But I need to know that you didn’t give yourself to another man. That I’m still the only one.”

You felt a pang of pity for Lionel, despite your anger. The truth was, you hadn't given yourself to another man. Lionel had been your one and only for a long time, and now the idea of sleeping with someone else felt foreign and strange to you. But Lionel didn't need to know that. In fact, this was the perfect opportunity to hurt him, to get back at him for all the pain he had caused you. And you weren't going to let that opportunity pass you by.

You ran your fingers through his hair, your touch deceptively tender. "Lionel," you began softly, feeling his body tense in anticipation. "Do you really think I would just sit here and wait for you to come to your senses?"

Lionel looked up at you, his eyes filled with a mixture of hope and dread. "What do you mean?" he asked, his voice barely more than a whisper.

You met his gaze, your eyes cold and unyielding. "You think you're the only one who can seek comfort elsewhere? The only one who can feel desire?" you said, each word deliberate and sharp, like a knife twisting in his heart.

His face contorted with a mix of pain and jealousy. "No... please, no," he whispered, his hooked nose crinkling in distress.

You let out a bitter laugh, a sound devoid of warmth. "Oh, Lionel, you really are naive," you said, shaking your head. "I've had my fun too. And guess what? They were more satisfying than you ever were."

Lionel recoiled as if struck, his baritone voice breaking. "How could you? After everything we've been through?"

You shrugged, your expression indifferent. "I had to find out what I was missing," you said coolly. "And let me tell you, I wasn't disappointed. They knew how to make me feel desired, appreciated, in ways you never could."

Tears welled up in Lionel's eyes, and he clung to you more tightly. "Please, don't say that," he begged, his voice trembling. "I can't bear the thought of you with someone else."

You leaned in, your voice low and venomous. "Why not? You didn't seem to have any trouble when you were with Stephanie. Did you think I would just sit here and cry while you had your fun?"

Lionel's shoulders shook with silent sobs, his grip on you tightening. "I made a mistake," he whispered. "A terrible mistake. But you were supposed to be my one and only."

You pulled away slightly, looking down at him with cold detachment. "And you were supposed to be mine," you said harshly. "But you broke that promise, Lionel. And now, you have to live with the consequences."

He buried his face in your lap again, his body wracked with sobs. "I'm sorry," he kept repeating, his voice muffled and filled with anguish. "I'm so sorry."

You placed a hand on his head, more to steady yourself than to comfort him. "You should be," you said quietly, your voice devoid of emotion. "Because you've lost me, Lionel. I’m no longer your wife. You’re not my husband anymore. You’re my investment, nothing more."

With that, you pushed him away, standing up and leaving him on the couch, a broken man. As you walked away, you felt a sense of cold satisfaction. Lionel had hurt you deeply, but now he knew what it felt like. The pain you had inflicted on him was a small measure of justice for the betrayal you had endured.

As you entered the guest bedroom and closed the door behind you, you took a deep breath. The road ahead would be long and challenging, but for the first time in weeks, you felt a sense of control. You were no longer the victim in this story. You were the one holding the power, and Lionel would have to learn to live with the consequences of his actions.

[a-living-canvas]

Burnt matches

Whumpee  stirred open in his sleep. He blinked his eyes a few times as he sat up and looked at the person across the room. It's not Whumper this time…it's…

Whumpee 2!

Chained up, wearing a white shirt with eyes staring into space. The guy looked more like a ghost than a person. His shirt even had a blood stain…much more worse than Whumpee. Whumpee frowned, confused at his friend's state. Whumper separated them for the past few weeks and he never expected that they would meet like this. It's like seeing a different person now.

"Um, hello…dude?" 

Whumpee's voice echoing through the dark basement. Whumpee 2 just stayed silent, not even daring to move. What was he even scared about? It's not like Whumper is here. Whumpee moved the chain around his wrist, he tried to emit some sound to catch the guy's attention. But just like before, that creature just glued to the floor. 

Whumpee gave up. He leaned his head on the wall, closing his eyes. After that he heard the sound of the door being unlocked and opened by Whumper. Whumpee opened his eyes and to his surprise, Whumpee 2 crawled up and hugged Whumper's leg. He frowned, immediately annoyed while Whumper just smirked down at the guy and ruffled his hair affectionately.

Just like how you treat an obedient dog.

Whumper chuckled upon seeing the frustrated look on Whumpee's face. "Aww, are you jealous that I'm being all loving with him rather than you? Maybe you should just submit to me…you will get all the attention too."

Whumper leaned down and stroked the guy's cheek gently. Whumpee looked at them in disgust as Whumper kissed the guy's forehead and squeezed his throat playfully. 

So pathetic, letting someone treat you like that. 

Whumpee swore to his life that he would never break because of someone like Whumper. He would stay strong until Caretaker came and saved him. That's his promise to her. But seeing Whumpee 2 like this broke his heart, what would Caretaker say if she saw him in that condition?

"What did you do to him? What did you do that made him change?" Whumpee asked, with a slight hint of anger in his voice.

Whumper hummed, "Oh, nothing much. Just touch him here and there…you know?"

Whumpee huffed out a sigh, "Touch him with what?"

Whumper squeezed Whumpee 2's cheeks, "With the whip, hammer, shock collar...you name it."

Whumpee swallowed hard, Whumper never hurt him using those things before. He only got a few cuts on his body, Whumper drowned him once, and a few kicks and punches every time he made a ruckus. 

"Oh, don't be so surprised that I treated you much better than him. He's the one who offered to take your punishments for you." Whumper said, looking down at Whumpee 2 with a smirk. 

"And now, look at him. He's just a broken doll now, only exists to please me. His dear master."

Whumpee too stunned to make any snarky remarks like always. His eyes glued to his friend. Whumper's right, he's nothing more than a lifeless body. He wanted to yell at Whumper for being the reason he lost his friend forever, but nothing came out of his mouth.

Whumper snickered as he walked out of the basement, locking the door before leaving the two alone. Whumpee looked at Whumpee 2 with his eyes full of…betrayal?

They locked eye contact with each other and Whumpee couldn't help but feel tears burning in his eyes. That's not Whumpee 2, he's a different person now. He used to be so annoying, so cheerful, always encouraging Whumpee to do stupid things. He's also the one who used to get mad at Whumpee when he nearly gave up until that asshole separated them two.

"Whumpee 2…" Whumpee started. "Why? Why did you took my punishments for me? Do you think I'm that weak?" 

Whumpee 2 just stayed silent. He opened his mouth slightly before closing them again. His gaze fell to the ground, not having enough strength to look at Whumpee. But Whumpee ended up feeling more anger towards him. Tears streamed down his face.

"Answer me you idiot! Who asked you to do that for me?! Why are you always like this? Always think about other people rather than yourself! Do you think I would be happy seeing you like this, huh?!"

Whumpee 2 still didn't move nor say anything. Whumpee wanted to yell at him again when he saw a tear rolled down his face. Whumpee could feel his heart shattered at the sight. He pushed his knees to his chest and buried his face on it. 

"Dummy…" Whumpee muttered with a broken voice.

[simplydannie]

Inspired by and written for @meadow-hearthfire. Based on their ask:

“Oh! I got an idea:

Veneer has a very bad day (be it practicing for performance, a shopping trip, having a fight with Velvet, etc).

Guided by his subconscious, Veneer goes to the room Floyd is being held captive in without realizing it. Veneer picks up the bottle Floyd is in, but doesn't spritz himself with his essence. Veneer just vacantly stares at him, unsure why he even went into room in the first place.

Then Veneer sheds a tear before he realizes it, and then another, and so on. Soon, he remembers who Floyd is and what Floyd means to him, then Veneer and has a breakdown. Turns out Veneer subconsciously still saw Floyd as a father figure whom he'd go to for comfort and whom he feels most comfortable allowing himself to be emotionally vulnerable around.”

I loved this! Thank you! Just added a little twist in the end 🫶

It was just a rehearsal… but everything had to be perfect. SHE wanted it perfect.

“Again!” Mistress would cry out, “Again!…AGAIN!”

This time they had it though… this time it was going to be perfect. Sitting amongst the empty seats of the auditorium were the other producers that were part of corporation Mistress fell under, part of the powers in Mount Rageous. They watched as the twins rehearsed…

“Not bad. You’ve really turned them into your own little creations haven’t you.” A male Rageon told her.

A dark smile came across her face, “Molded them just like clay. The Troll helps. Funny to think a business their family started in the under-city would benefit them up here.”

“Does he know where they are at? Does he know you brought them up here?” He asked.

“…. He does.” She smirked, “He wants them back. When he comes knocking, that’s when we offer our exchange…”

They continue watching the twins. Velvet of course was meant to take the lead, Veneer was just meant to follow, push her, acknowledge her presence so the rest of the world can see. But for some reason, today, he was really feeling the music. His voice boomed a little higher than his sisters. Velvet turned to give him a warning look. He noticed…. He backed away…

“Interesting…Did he use the Troll today?” The male Rageon asked.

“She did…… he didn’t…” a scowl came across the Mistress face.

“Hm, then you have a problem on your hands.”

Velvet laid out the final note to the song. Both struck their final pose, breathing heavily, their eyes glued upon the Mistress and the rest of the producers who were watching. Mistress was the first to stand up… she wasn’t happy… and they could see it in her face. Her heels clicked as she approached them…

“Again.”

“What?” Veneer was the first to asked. He turned to his sister… she was exhausted.

“…. Again.” The Mistress said more sternly.

“Can I have a break? I’ve been none stop.” Velvet replied.

“You can have a break when your brother stops messing up.” The woman replied.

“Me? But I’ve done everything you’ve told me too.”

“Your ONLY job is to act as a backup. You’re there for looks and nothing more. Yet, you feel the need to over step your sister?”

Veneer didn’t know how to respond, sure he got a little carried away, but he’d never steal the spotlight from Velvet, “….That was an accident…”

“…. That’s all I ever hear, “it was an accident” perhaps I should have you replaced.”

“No! No. I can do it, I’ll try better. I won’t mess up….”

SMACK!

Mistress struck him clear across the face as her anger was released. Her nails scratching his skin. She gripped him by the collar and pulled him towards her. His face only inches from hers. Velvet took a step forward but was held back by Gruff, one of the Bergen body guards.

“…. You’re pathetic, you know that? You serve us no purpose. You’re just a spare in this world Veneer. Even daddy was disappointed that his only son turned out to be so weak, wasn’t he Veneer?”

His lower lip quivered as he tried to hold in his tears. She snarled and throw him back on the floor, “The mood is broken. Tomorrow you’ll get in that extra practice… No dinner either for both of you, we need to make sure you’re as thin as can be for the cameras.” She snapped her fingers, the Bergens escorted the twins back home…

….. The ride home was silent. Velver would only cast glances to her brother. She was never good at comforting, in ways she was like her father. Veneer was always the one to comfort her… like their mother. Velvet extended her hand but paused midway before retreating it. She then turned and looked at the window, no words being spoken between them…

Veneer allowed himself to cry alone that night. He hugged his pillow as he allowed the tears to fall. He took a moment to look around his room: it was big, luxurious, he had everything he had ever wanted, he was finally living the life of a Mount Rageon… he should be happy…. But deep down he wasn’t. Veneer began feeling that everything was just a lie..

“….. Daddy, please find us….” He whispered. Was running away from home a good idea? Was it ever? He wanted comfort… he needed to hear soothing words…. He needed someone. Veneer thought back to the words he had spoken…. dad. He didn’t know what made him do it, but he threw his blankets off him and walked out his door.

His mind wasn’t thinking, he allowed his feet to take wherever they wanted to go. As he walked the events of the day replayed in his mind… so did the words Mistress spoke to him. Veneer found himself standing in front of a door. It wasn’t Velvets room, but it felt right, it felt like he needed to be there. Opening the door, he walked in to a small room. The only furniture within the room was a table and a chair. It was decorated with lights all around. He flipped the switch allowing for the lights to illuminate little brighter. He went to the chair and sat, Veneer then reached over to grab the object that lay at the center of the table…. A diamond.

He picked it up gently and carefully so to not wake the small, sleeping Troll that lay inside. Veneer looked at him. Troll….Troll…. No, he had a name. A name he and Velvet once knew, once called him by. He looked at the small sleeping Troll encased inside…..

“……Floyd…..” The name escaped his words in a whisper. As if a key to a chest, the name allowed for memories to flush in Veneers mind…. The day Floyd fell victim to a Troll trap, the day Veneer laid his eyes on the small Troll… He looked gray, weak, and sick. Veneer freed him, hid him from his father… of course was punished for it too. When they ran away Floyd came with them.

“You’re doing to need an adult to watch after you out there.” He had told them.

And he did. He went with them. The little Troll could’ve left, could’ve gone home, but he didn’t. He remained. He became what the twins needed after their mother died….a father. Right now, that’s what Veneer needed, that’s why he subconsciously came to find him…to find Floyd.

Veneers lip quivered again, but this time he didn’t hold the tears back…. He allowed them to fall. One by one until a river fell down his face. His body shook as he cried. The small trembling awoke the Troll in the diamond.

“Veneer?” Floyd woke with a small yawn. Rubbing his eyes, he finally saw the Rageon breaking down in front of him. “Ven?” Floyd saw the light scratch marks across the boys face….Mistress laid hands on him….again.

“What did she do to you? Ven, look at me. What did she do?” Floyd asked again. But Veneer didn’t answer, he just continued to cry. He wanted an embrace so badly, he wanted to feel warmth wrap around his body. So Veneer held the diamond close to him, squeezing it in a tight hug.

Floyd felt the trembling in his body as Veneer continued to cry, soft sobs escaping his lips. He knew what the boy wanted…. Unfortunately he couldn’t give it to him. So all Floyd did was outstretch his tiny arms around the diamond, hoping Veneer could feel the hug he desperately wanted to give him.

“….its okay…. I’m here. I’ll always be here….always.” Floyd said.

At the sound of his voice and words, Floyd felt Veneer let a sigh of relief. He could feel the tears and sadness begin to diminish away, but Veneer didn’t let the diamond go, he still held it close to his chest, hugging it as tight as he could. Floyd squeezed the walls of the diamond in a hug, hoping Veneer could feel it. The two remained in peaceful silence…that’s all Veneer wanted, comfort, comfort from his dad…

Back in Under Rageous…

Within the walls of the Montegue manner, a tall pale Rageon sat on his arm chair. His face was cold and stern, he was twiddling a ring in his fingers….his wedding ring. He had never worn it to protect her, but now she was gone, he continued to wear as a reminder to kill the ones who would dare hurt her, who would dare kill her.

He placed the ring back on his finger. He stared at some pictures in front of him, articles he had obtained, pictures and headlines covering them all:

SUPERSTARS VELVET AND VENEER TAKEN MOUNT RAGEOUS BY STORM!

QUEEN AND KING OF POP! WHO ARE THESE FABULOUS TWINS WE ADORE!?

He search through and through in the under-city but never found them… until the news began to leak of these new pop stars. Who ever took them from him, whoever took them from Under Rageous was going to pay ten fold…but they weren’t the only one. He looked at one picture in particular, a paparazzi shot of Veneer. He looked closer and saw something perched on the young boys shoulder…a Troll. He recognized that Troll, it was the little devil Veneer rescued… the little devil that Veneer bonded with…

“The little devil that first took my children away from me.” Taking a knife he stabbed the picture….stabbed the little Troll. It pained him, being outsmarted by a little Troll, a little piece of nothing….

Vaughn was going to get his hands him….and kill that little rat.

[makotonaegiunderstander]

something I’ve been thinking abt is how many people think Makoto is immune to despair. I don’t think he is. I think becoming the ultimate Hope was BECAUSE he felt despair. He wouldn’t have fully reached that point without Junko. Makoto becoming such a beacon was his last attempt to avoid completely falling and it wasn’t because he didn’t feel despair, it was because he was too damn stubborn to allow everything to go to waste and he refused to sacrifice his beliefs for someone else’s. His inner monologue tells me he DID experience the same new low the other suvivors did in the final trial, but at the point where he had the choice to give up and die, he looked at the others and he looked at Junko and he couldn’t allow it to happen, not out of self preservation, but because the idea that Junko would have control over their lives made him FURIOUS. and that utter refusal to die kicked in, wether luck or otherwise, and he made the concious effort for one last push while something in him was breaking. He had to be broken in order for the Ultimate Hope to come through so aggressively, bc it could only exist in the face of the Ultimate Despair. He snapped the same way she did, but in the other direction. In what could have been his final moments he chose to embody everything Junko wasn’t, and every single optimistic and luck fueled ideal in him suddenly charged forward and pushed him. It was a combination of the final straw and a choice. Makoto isn’t immune to feeling despair, he’s just too stubborn to fall into it of his own volition. I think that’s why I like that scene in DR3 so much. People were SO SHOCKED Makoto actually fell for the tape, that he actually became despair for a moment. I saw people getting mad or disappointed, saying it was pathetic and Makoto seemed to fall from some sort of pedestal for them. Honestly part of me wonders if that sort of mentality, which clearly people had in universe, affected Makoto a bit. Like he started to see himself as less of a person, subconsciously. Prompting him to take more risks, less self preservation, act way more bold. It seems he has to be reminded a lot not to put himself in danger by his friends, to not do something too reckless. All over the place I would see in regards to that scene either this frivolous ‘oh this was just angst drama with no meaning behind it’ or ‘he can do better than that. he’s so weak’ or ‘come on, there’s no way he’d fall into despair, he’s the Ultimate Hope!’ This kind of mentality, which was kind of ironic considering Ryota was there the entire time saying the same thing and treating Makoto the same way. Like Makoto was superhuman. Like Makoto didn’t feel despair the same way ‘normal people’ did. In a way that was also how Munakata saw Makoto. Makoto stopped being a PERSON to the world when he became Ultimate Hope, he became a concept, a belief system, much the same way Junko ascended beyond herself. But the difference is that treating Makoto that way is the opposite of the reason Makoto became such a representative for hope. He wasn’t doing something no one else could. He was doing something everyone had the chance to, he just… was a little more optimistic, a little more stubborn, a little more ‘gung-ho’ about things. He just took the lead where no one else did, where no one else knew they even COULD in the face of Junko’s unstoppable force. She had overcome the biggest threats and obstacles in the world, what could one person do? And the answer Makoto found was, anything. Everything. It doesn’t all rest on Makoto, he’s just the one that was inspired to try to do what seemed like the impossible. But as evidenced by the change in his friends after that trial, it’s clearly not something only Makoto is capable of. The others pulled out of despair thanks to Makoto, but it was their choice to do so.

“But… this world is so huge, and we’re so small. What can we do…? No, we can probably do anything. Yeah! We can do anything!”

[harleyquilt]

Reaperneki x Touka ficlet - Wanting More

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The rain is cold against Kaneki's skin. Water droplets are speckled across the lenses of his glasses, obscuring his vision. He takes them off and wipes them with his thumb, smearing the water across the glass. His eyes flick up and he watches the cafe from afar, its windows a warm orange glow against the dark, damp dredges of the city surrounding it. Surrounding her.

It has been some time since he last saw Touka, and back then, he had not yet regained his memories. Still, something must've stirred within Haise’s subconscious; despite Haise’s initial eagerness, his visits to the cafe grew less frequent over time. He kept finding more and more excuses to avoid seeing her, and by the time Kaneki broke through the facade that was Haise’s existence, it had already been several weeks since he last visited the cafe. Haise had done him a favour, in a sense, by reinforcing the distance between him and Touka.

It was for the best in the end, Kaneki thinks, wanting to believe his actions to be a necessary evil. Still, Kaneki can't help but think it cowardly. Pathetic, even. He tries to convince himself that Touka cared little on the matter, that his presence was nothing more than a nuisance she was forced to tolerate, but he knew that wasn't entirely true. Touka is kind, and because of that kindness, he knows that deep down, it must pain her to watch him turn his back to her once again. But it is for the best, Kaneki silently asserts, forcing aside his swelling doubts. 

How many people has he turned his back to throughout his life? His friends, companions, family, all cruelly entrapped by the twisting, thorny branches that make up his life, only to be tossed aside, abandoned, left to lick their bleeding wounds that he has inflicted onto them. It would have been better if they were never involved in his life to begin with. But he's weak, and because he's weak, he can't help reaching out, hoping that someone, anyone, will take hold of his hand and pull him back to their side and shield him from the horrors that make up this world. Maybe if he wasn't the way he was, if he had the strength needed to protect them, his companions wouldn't be as pained as they are now. Except he's not strong, he has never been strong, and he never will be, no matter his attempts to remedy this weakness of his. His pitiable existence is nothing more than a trap to those he cares for – a truth he can no longer deny or ignore. It would have been better if he had never existed at all, but there's no use wishing for something so infallible. He must take responsibility, this much he knows for certain, so he'll stay far, far away from Touka and all the others before he can hurt them any further. Only then will he be able to repay them the way he has always intended, without the hesitance and fear that always held him back before.

Turning his glasses between his hands, Kaneki begins to turn away from the cafe, from Touka, before hearing the door to the cafe open. He looks back, wide-eyed, and watches Touka step out with another man. The man holds an umbrella over Touka while she lifts and folds the blackboard sign displayed at the front of the shop. They're smiling, talking amicably, like they're old friends. Kaneki's body tenses, glaring at the man, whose eyes shine with a recognisable fondness. No, in the eyes of this man, this stranger, he could be more than her friend, and she humours him, giggling at his unfunny remarks and indulging his dull talk about the weather. Kaneki's jaw clenches and his hands tighten into fists, crushing his glasses between his fingers. There's a rush of violent intent that swarms his mind, knowing that if he wanted, he could incapacitate this stranger with little effort. He looks down at his broken glasses and squeezes his eyes shut. He takes a deep breath, trying to calm himself, and he leans back against the wall, slowly opening his eyes.

Seeing Touka smile, there's a familiar pang in his heart. Who was he to interfere, after hurting her time and time again? He should be relieved to see her smile, to see someone comfort her in a way he could not. He was selfish for yearning for what he did not deserve, even if just for a moment, and it pained Kaneki to know this. He clasps his head, gripping his hair with his fist, wishing to silence these tormenting thoughts. 

But he's then brought to a pause when he sees the stranger lean over Touka, one arm against the wall. She leans back, avoiding his eyes, and begins to step back. He reaches forward and grabs her arm, and almost instantly, Kaneki rushes forward, ready to snap the man's neck. Any hesitancy he felt before has dissipated the moment the man touched her, insulting Touka with his defiling touch. And just when Kaneki closes the gap between him and the two others, he watches Touka grab the man's wrist and twist it back, the bones creaking under Touka's firm grip. 

“Back off.” She says in a low, threatening tone. 

She shoves the man back, letting go. He stumbles backwards and bumps into Kaneki. The man turns, teary-eyed, only to find a dark-clad Kaneki looming over him, his sharp glare promising a painful end. With a yelp, he runs away from Touka and Kaneki, cradling his wrist. Kaneki keeps his eyes on the man, following his figure before it disappears around the next corner. He contemplates chasing the man and dragging him back to beg for Touka’s forgiveness, but before he could do anything else, Touka begins to speak.

“Kaneki…?” 

Kaneki flinches. The rain intensifies and they're soon drenched, though neither dares move, as if time has suspended for them both. Kaneki turns his head slightly, acknowledging her while avoiding her heavy gaze. He already feels smothered by its weight, by the fragile apprehension in her voice, by the frightened stillness in her body. Regret washes over him, mixing with the thick, heavy droplets of rain running down his cheeks. 

“Kaneki.” Her voice is firm now, unhesitant, sharply cutting through the loud static of the rain. “It’s you, right?” 

What should he say? What can he say, after everything they've been through? After everything he's done to her? It would be easy to say no, that he was Haise Sasaki, the investigator she has come to know these past few months. She’d accept his lie, regardless of whether she believed him or not, and they’d part, pretending nothing has changed. But for some reason, he could not bring himself to do it – not while she’s watching him and calling him by his name. All he can muster is a small, solemn nod. 

“Right.” She scoffs, her eyes downcast. “You better come in.” 

She walks back into the cafe and Kaneki, wavering for a moment, follows her inside. Its warm, cosy interior welcomes him along with the familiar aroma of roasted coffee. He winces, haunted by the fond memories of his distant past. They flood his mind with bittersweet reminders of the days he spent amongst those he cares for, smiling happily, and ignorant of the grim future awaiting him. It sends a wave of nausea through him, clutching and twisting his stomach into knots.

“You look pale.” Touka remarks, eyeing him. “Coffee?” 

“Touka-chan, I–” His tongue feels uncomfortably heavy in his mouth. 

She shakes her head, walking around the counter. “It's fine.” She pours coffee into two cups. Her eyes flick up, meeting his, and she holds his longing gaze. “Really, it's fine.”

“No,” he strides up to the counter and leans his palms flat against it. “It's not.” 

She smiles, then, shrugging her shoulders and tilting her head to one side. “You worry too much. Here, this will help.” 

She pushes forward his coffee before taking a sip of her own. She steps back and leans against the wall behind her, cupping the mug in her hands. Kaneki sighs, defeated, and he pulls the cup towards him. He turns the cup between tentative fingers, staring down at his warped reflection in the coffee. He squeezes his eyes shut and turns away. What is he doing here?

“It looks like you've got all your memories back.” Touka says, breaking the silence. 

Kaneki's body prickles with anxious dwelling, wishing he hadn't crumbled the moment she said his name. How could he not, hearing the pain that taints her sweet voice – a subtle waver in her tone that betrays the hurt she truly feels. 

“Do you remember everything?” Touka continues before taking another sip.

Kaneki hesitates. “Yeah.” He nods, helpless under her watching eyes. “I remember it all.” 

She nods in turn, tilting her chin up. “And yet, you're still a Dove.” Kaneki winces. “Though…you look more like a crow to me. You stick out like a sore thumb, honestly. Are you trying to make a fashion statement?”

Kaneki can't help but smile at her casual jabs, teasing him as if nothing has changed. His grip tightens around the cup, his wry smile shifting to a tight frown. What is he doing here? 

“Yeah, I'm still…” His voice trails off. 

“I see.” Touka steps forward and places her cup aside. She leans forward, resting her elbows against the counter. Kaneki looks up, his throat tightening. “I won't ask you for your reasons. I'm sure you have plenty.” She averts her eyes then, grimacing. “I don't really want to hear them, in any case. I don't want this to turn into another argument.” 

“Touka-chan…”

“You should finish your coffee and leave.” Touka turns to leave, offering him a hollow smile. “Don't worry, your secret is safe with me.” 

He watches her walk towards the door and for some unknown reason, something within him pushes him to his feet and has him reach out to grab her, his hand around her wrist. She looks back, bewildered, and before she can say anything, Kaneki pulls her into his arms, wrapping them tightly around her. Pressed against his body, Touka's eyes widen, a pang of aching bittersweetness making her eyes water. 

She’s still at first, and Kaneki wonders if she is going to push him away and ridicule him for his disgusting actions. It’s what she should do, he thinks, even while continuing to hold her, feeling her breathe unsteadily against him. But after a moment of silence, she slowly, cautiously raises her arms before hugging him back, her hands clutching onto his damp coat. His heart skips a beat and he feels almost overwhelmed by the warmth of her body as she leans further into his hold, the tension in her body gradually unravelling. He’s surprised, but does not let go, embracing her tenderly.

Holding her like this, as close as they are, is a sensation he has rarely felt before, and shutting his eyes, he can almost imagine their souls merging together and drifting far, far away from the cruel reality of their lives, to a place where they can exist peacefully as one. All the fear, anguish, and uncertainty that clouds his mind ceases with each passing second, as if her mere presence is enough to wash away all that haunts him in his day-to-day life. He could easily stay like this forever, existing purely for this moment, but Touka soon speaks, cutting through his wishful thinking.

“Kaneki…” Her voice is quiet now, unsteady, and he squeezes her, gritting his teeth. She sounds so heartbreakingly sad. She takes a deep breath and forces out her next question, bringing an end to the tranquillity they had shared. “Why are you here?”

He tenses, eyes opening and breath hitching. It is a question he does not want to answer, but her words echo through his mind, and more and more, he can feel his resolve crumbling, the doubt creeping back in. It quickly suffocates the dwindling joy that encapsulated this moment between him and Touka, pushing aside all that brought him comfort a moment ago. The truth is that he should not be here, that this was all a mistake, and pulling away, Touka can see it on his face – the dreadful end to their sudden, short reunion. He holds her shoulders, still, hesitating to let go, but wiping unshed tears from her eyes, Touka holds his wrist and gives it a small squeeze. 

“You should go.” 

“I…” The words are lodged in his throat. He doesn’t know what to do or what to say, and he looks to Touka, paralysed. Seeing this, she smiles once more, a small, wry smile that assures him all will be okay, and lowering his eyes, Kaneki slips his hands away and steps back, feeling his own eyes water. “I’m sorry, Touka-chan. This–”

“Just go.” She shakes her head, an underlying urgency to her gentle words. “Before it’s too late.”

Grimacing, Kaneki turns away and leaves the cafe, forcing himself to abandon the warmth of the cafe in favour of the cold, dark world waiting just beyond. He hates himself for it, for making this decision he knows to be necessary, and walking through the rain, he lets the tears finally fall, knowing that he has left Touka to pick up the pieces of their broken hearts once again. And for that, he can never, ever forgive himself, even in death. He looks up to the sky, the raindrops mixing with his tears, and he wonders when he’ll be freed from this life of his. 

“Soon,” he murmurs, frowning, “Soon, it’ll all be over. I promise, Touka-chan.”

[smikkle-fish]

Diseased Equilibrium

AO3 Link

Previous

Start from Beginning

It is said that monsters roamed the Earth long before dinosaurs ever did. 

Monsters.

How pathetic. 

The small ones knew nothing about them. Nothing about him. They had forgotten their place in his kingdom, thinking that they were equals. She told him that the small ones were to be protected. He disagreed. Despite their size, the small ones have damaged his home. Sure, some had good hearts. For example, the small one with glasses that looked at him with respect. 

“Goodbye…old friend.”

His small paw had touched his large, scaled snout gently. The old king was not used to such tenderness. He was used to claws slashing into his hide and sharp teeth tearing chunks of  his flesh. Not this.

No one saw the giant titan lean into the touch. 

A blinding light filled the lizard’s vision. When it faded away, the gentle touch was gone. 

The small one was dead. 

Godzilla was tired. Dirty water flowed through his gills, something he had gotten used to. The king had many resting places throughout the Earth, but the small ones had destroyed his favorite one. It was necessary at the time. Even so, he was still upset about it. 

This was his kingdom, and it was being ruined by the small ones. He was not one to forget nor forgive. Godzilla still remembered the metal object that had brought death to his oceans. Only the small ones could create such a thing. It had killed everything within its radius. Including the Fire Bird’s island. There was a time where the king would have felt sympathy towards the winged titan, but that time has long since passed. 

Rodan deserved it. 

Simply thinking of the titan angered him. Godzilla snarled to himself and exited his resting chambers. He swam into the open ocean. His long tail propelled him forward. The king’s anger increased as he saw the trash that floated throughout the ocean like it belonged there more than the creatures. It wasn’t that much of a stretch. The garbage of the small ones were quickly replacing the fish at an alarming rate. 

A buzzing interrupted his thoughts. It was familiar. It was annoying . 

It was the small ones. 

This was the group that enjoyed studying him. Godzilla was in no mood to entertain them, so he snapped his jaws at the metal capsule. It quickly sped off into the depths. 

Godzilla soon breached the surface of the water. The air was just as dirty as the ocean. He knew the balance of the Earth had been broken by the small ones. It was almost impressive. When the Three Headed Alien awoke, they did not cause nearly as much damage. They were weak. Still, Rodan had sided with them like the coward he was. 

His treasonous actions did not go unpunished. Every titan had gone back to hibernation except a select few. That being Godzilla, his queen Mothra, and Rodan. The king would not allow insubordination in his kingdom. Everyone must follow his rule without question. Or else there would be dire consequences.

The king prohibited Rodan from flying.

He knew how important flying was for Rodan. The molten pteranodon was made to fly, it was a part of his very being. Godzilla took away that privilege the moment the battle in Boston was over. 

Rodan hadn’t flown in years. If he tried, Godzilla would come by and tear the smaller titan to pieces. After Mothra’s sacrifice in Boston, Godzilla had acquired a strange ability. He could sense where every titan was across the Earth. When the king focused, he could see what a specific titan was doing. He checked every day to see what Rodan was up to. 

Kong had formed a shaky truce with Godzilla. Ghidorah was dead. The only threat to Godzilla’s kingdom was Rodan. Loyalty was everything in this world. When it’s broken, it could never be fixed.

The King of the Monsters would make sure his kingdom was secure. He was willing to do anything to ensure that. 

No matter the cost. 

Once he spotted the outline of Infant Island, his dorsal plates glowed a bright cyan that he knew could be seen by his Queen. The radioactive reptile was furious at the disappearance of Rodan, the fire bird disappearing from his senses entirely. Godzilla had thought that Rodan would never attempt such a thing, especially with the king's threats of death. Despite how much it irked him to say, the pteranadon's actions surprised him. It was unexpected. Usually, any threat that the King of Monsters gave was taken seriously. No titan dared to test their luck against him. Any who tried would meet their agonizing end from his atomic breath. Even Kong had submitted somewhat. The ape was practically an infant compared to the ancient king. Even so, Godzilla begrudgingly agreed to a truce with the young alpha titan. If Kong ever decided to rebel again or attack, it would pose a problem for Godzilla. It was best to have the ape titan as an ally. 

While it bothered the atomic lizard to not have Kong fully submit, he knew it was necessary to avoid future problems. That horrid axe that Kong had wielded caused a permanent scar along Godzilla's leg. He was relieved to see the younger drop the infernal weapon. However, Godzilla had a feeling that the little ones had gotten their grubby hands on the weapon. They would never fully understand its significance or strength. As much as the tiny bugs tried, they were not going to become the apex species any time soon. He was sure that the humans would try to create another weapon to defeat him. In all honesty, Godzilla was at his limit with the humans. They were a pain in his hide to deal with. They weren't worth keeping around. Even so, Mothra incessantly begged him to spare them. She saw something in them that Godzilla did not. Perhaps it was their intelligence and ability to create the unimaginable. At this point, Godzilla did not care. The creation of the fake him was the greatest insult the little parasites could give him. After everything he did, they still wanted to exterminate him. To take his place as king. That was unacceptable.

He has kept the Earth balanced for eons, he defeated the pair of pests that were specially designed to kill him, he defeated multiple titans that would have killed millions before they could reach the humans, he eliminated the False King who would have terraformed the Earth and killed all life within it, and he recently destroyed their stupid metal titan that had gone rouge with the help of Kong. He had done so much for them. Yet they still tried to rebel. 

Just like Rodan. 

Godzilla roared in fury as he breached the waters. He and all other titans had felt the presence of the Three Headed One. The others would be arriving soon after hearing his commands to wake. It was the humans fault for keeping the alien's skull. This is what happens when those parasites mess with things they do not understand.

"Goji."

"Mothra."

His queen was waiting on the beach that surrounded the sacred island. Her body was tense, and her wings glowed a dull red in frustration. Both titans stared at each other without a word. A tension that rarely appeared between the two now suffocated them. Mothra had always told Godzilla to be less harsh on Rodan and more patient towards the humans. He had respected her requests for the most part, and he had done so for centuries. The moth knew that the king had reached a breaking point. She would not be able to convince him to spare the humans anymore. 

In silence the two climbed up the tallest mountain that had a lush valley below. The row of mountains acted as a sort of wall for humans. No one besides her Shobijin could enter safely. Though, the twins that had accompanied Mothra for centuries were gone for the most part. The last remnants of her Shobijin were present in the twins that worked for Monarch, the only group of humans that actively helped the titans. She repressed a mournful sigh as they reached the grassy surface. Anguirus was waiting for them with a fearful expression. The spiky titan bowed once he noticed Godzilla behind her. It was a stark contrast to how the pair used to greet each other. Before Godzilla became the king, he was simply a fellow titan. Yes, he was stronger than them, but he used his strength to protect and support. Now, his strength was used to force submission to their fellow kind. In the past, Anguirus and Godzilla would greet each other with a wrestling match. One of them would pounce of the other, and they would playfully tousle until Mothra intervened. At times, Rodan would join in the mock-fight, which created an even bigger headache for the moth. She would do anything to have those times back. 

Shaking her head to rid herself of her nostalgic thoughts, she looked at Godzilla directly. He may be angry, but she refused to be intimidated. "I suppose you are aware of what has happened?" Mothra spoke with an even tone. If Godzilla was going to rage, then she would keep her composure no matter what. Anguirus was already beginning to tremble as they waited for Godzilla's response. 

A snort left the lizard's nostrils. "I am. It's hard not to be aware when that fucking bird has been on my radar for years." His lips curled in a sneer, revealing his sharp teeth. 

"You know that Rodan is-"

"I don't give a shit if Rodan is 'upset' or 'troubled'! He knew what would happen if he disobeyed my direct orders, and he did it anyways!" Godzilla interrupted the winged titan with a roar. Something he had never done before. The titan even mocked her when referring to the many times she had told him to be more sympathetic towards the volcanic titan. His dorsal plates glowed an even brighter blue, an instinctual intimidation display. "Thanks to him, I have to find and kill that faker all over again! If it wasn't for your precious humans, Ghidorah's skull would have never been found! I should have never fucking listened to you!" 

"Godzilla, you must understand that-"

"NO. I am not sparing those parasites ever again! I have had enough of their constant destruction and rebellions. Because of them, the Earth is more unbalanced than it has ever been! They're better off dead, and you know that! Stop defending them! They are worth nothing!" As his anger grew, Godzilla's long tail thrashed violently on the ground. The tip nearly hit Anguirus who had started to back away from the arguing pair. Each word that left his mouth shocked Mothra more and more. Her partner had never disregarder her in such a way. It truly showed how far Godzilla had fallen. Said titan was not done yet. "Those humans are dying today, Mothra! I am not gonna be convinced otherwise! And once I find Rodan, I'll kill him and that golden monstrosity! I am done with such insubordination!"

"We shouldn't-"

"Your input won't do anything anymore. The humans and Rodan have gone too far. I'll compromise with you on anything else, but not this. Those parasites have ruined everything! Rodan doesn't fucking listen while the bugs have been ruining MY WORLD! THEY ARE GOING TO FUCKING SUFFER FOR EVERYTHING THEY HAVE-"

"GOJIRA, BE QUIET!" Mothra screeched so loudly an so suddenly that Godzilla's mouth snapped shut. Her grand wings were spread out to make herself bigger while glowing a bright crimson. Her calm composure had finally shattered at the repeated interruptions and disrespect. "I will not be treated like one of your 'subjects' that you can push around with ease. I am your equal, Godzilla. Not your subordinate. Now, you will be quiet as I speak. Am I clear?" The warm voice Mothra was known for was now colder than ice. 

All the anger Godzilla had been feeling vanished. Throughout the centuries of knowing each other, Mothra had never raised her voice in such a way, not even once. She was the level headed of the two. He was a raging storm that only calmed with her light. His vengeful and violent thoughts were starting to fade away as guilt slowly wrapped around his very soul. The betrayed look in his queen's eyes further strengthened the coils of the shame he felt. 

Mothra took a deep breath to reorder her thoughts. "I have been by your side since this planet was created. It was never yours to begin with. The Earth does not belong to us, and it never will. We are the protectors. Not the owners. Not the rulers. Not the executioners. We have no right to get rid of what nature has created. Humans are inhabitants of  this planet just as much as we are. They have the sharpest minds of any creature I have ever seen. They create things, Goji. Can you think of another animal who can build the things they do? To think that they are parasites is wrong. Yes, they have hurt the Earth. Yes, they have ruined the balance. Yes, they have tried to kill our kind and even you. But they haven't exactly done it on purpose." She had been glancing at the horizon while speaking. Mothra hadn't wanted to look at her long-term partner. When she noticed the lack of response from the lizard, she glanced at him. Godzilla had been struck siIent. He barely breathed as he looked at her with wide eyes.

With a sigh, she continued. "I doubt any human creates something with the sole purpose of hurting nature. They need guidance more than anything else. Our existence has been a horrifying discovery for the humans. They fear things they do not understand. They fear you especially. We can't communicate with them properly in order to show that we aren't their enemies. I have seen many humans show kindness and attempt to learn about our kind. In turn, I have done the same for them. What have you done, Gojira? Have you taken a single moment to try to understand the species that inhabit this realm? There is so much more to them than destruction. I am aware that there are humans who have done horrific deeds. They made a machine to kill you and other titans. They created a bomb that killed all the life on Rodan's island while nearly killing you. Who were the ones that saved you, hm? Who were the ones that sacrificed themselves to pull you from the brink of death? If they hadn't intervened, Ghidorah would have destroyed the world! You cannot say that all humans are parasites when there are so many instances when they are anything but. The ungrateful one is you. You are millions of years old and are antagonizing the species that has existed for less that a fraction of that time!" Her voice raised slightly at the very end. It pained her to have to use such harsh words to the being she had adored for eons. 

Godzilla still had yet to utter a sound, so Mothra took it as her chance to speak about the subject that was plaguing her the most. "Over the years, you have antagonized everyone. So much so that I have become your only ally. I do not know what happened to make you start asserting your power over our kind. I slowly saw you become someone  so power hungry that you were willing to kill innocent beings who you thought posed a threat. I let my own feelings get in the way of stopping you. I have tried to justify your actions in my head for so long, but I see that I cannot do that anymore. My intentional ignorance only served to help myself, not our people. We have lost so many friends, yet you still try to instill fear on the few titans that remain. They do not respect you, Gojira. You are astonished at Rodan's rebellious nature despite the fact that you have wronged him too many times to count. He is strong willed and will not give in to fear. You should know how reckless he is. I am astonished at how far you have gone to keep him in line. You eliminated the being he treasured the most. After you killed his kind, Rodan had no one to raise him except Quetz...She was powerful and apparently a 'threat' that had to be removed." Mothra spat the last word viscously. 

Her wings sagged a little, and Mothra looked away once more. "I have a part in her wrongful death. My lack of action costed her her life. I will regret my cowardice for the rest of my life. Rodan has never looked at me or you the same way ever since...Do you know why Rodan switched sides so easily? Do you? Or do you just think Rodan became a 'traitor' for kicks and giggles?" The once powerful voice Mothra had started to crack. Her next words were spoken in a broken whisper. "He hates us, Goji. He hasn't been treated with an ounce of care of respect in centuries. Ghidorah, as shocking as it may be, saw him as the fierce warrior he was always meant to be. It is obvious why he would choose him over you...Why he would attack me so brutally...Why he has risked execution at your claws just to bring Ghidorah back..." She grew quiet for a long, long time. When Rodan had pinned her during the battle in Boston, she could see the amount of pain and anger Rodan's golden eyes held. It was the first time seeing him since coming out of hibernation, and he was not the same titan she once knew. The impulsive yet caring hatchling she had found one day had turned into a winged beast that only looked at her with pure malice. And she could not bring herself to be upset at Rodan in the least. 

Godzilla attempted to speak, but found himself with no words to say. His normal response would have been to lash out and attack. However, this wasn't any other troublesome titan. This was Mothra. His Mothra. She has never sounded so angry, hurt, and disappointed in him before. The silence enveloped them. One now too guilt-ridden to speak while the other was in a state of shock and denial. 

It was deadly quiet for what seemed like hours. 

The silence was eventually broken by a voice they hadn't heard for over a millennia.

"You must have done something very stupid for my sister to be this upset and for me to be awoken. I wonder what it could be..." Battra spoke with a teasing tone that was underlined with a hidden threat. His dark red eyes narrowed at the silent king. Behind him, the last titans on Earth stood before them; Battra, Scylla, Behemoth, Methuselah, the Queen MUTO, Baragon, and Biollante. None of them were happy. Well...Except for one.

At the sight of the titan he thought he had killed, Godzilla's eyes widened almost comically. A wide smile appeared on a familiar face. One covered with green vines and sharp teeth. 

"Hey, big bro! I can't wait to see how you've fucked up!" 

This was going to be quite the reunion. 

.

.

.

"Hey, Rick?"

"What is it now, Sam?"

"Is it normal for Isla De Mara to suddenly have a radiation spike?"

A pause befell the two scientists. Each had stayed late to try to figure out the disappearance of a dangerous titan and the reappearance of an even more dangerous titan. To say that they were stressed would be an understatement. 

"Radiation spike?"

"Yup."

The older scientist took off his glasses to rub the bridge of his nose. A headache had been forming for the past hour, and the sonographer desperately wanted to sleep. Now, he had to stay up for the rest of the night to look into the anomaly in the supposed inhospitable island. What else could go wrong?

"Also, I just got an alert that Kong is nowhere to be found." 

Rick slammed his head on his desk and groaned in despair. His hands grasped at his white hair and pulled. 

"Is this a bad time to mention that we're also out of coffee?"

"GODDAMMIT, SAM!"

.

.

.

San nuzzled Rodan's head for the umpteenth time. The three headed alien had yet to leave the pool of titan essence. His brothers had yet to return, but he had at least regained his missing tail and scales. The warmth of the pool and his birdie soothed his aches immensely. Being used to power that machine, unable to die, was the worst experience of his life. It was cold. So, so cold. He never wanted to be cold again. 

"When do you think Ichi and Ni will return?" Rodan asked softly. He didn't mind the hydra's incessant need for touch, it was the opposite. After spending centuries hibernating in a volcano and being outcasted before and after said hibernation, it left the volcanic pteranadon feeling a sense of loneliness so strong that it hurt. His species were social creatures. Most titans lived in solitude and didn't form packs or flocks. Rodan had always seeked out the company of others. After his falling out with Godzilla, he never truly regained that sense of companionship again.

It was a large reason why the beaked titan enjoyed being with Ghidorah. Each of his heads had a separate personality. While they shared a body, they did not share a mind. Ni tended to be more aggressive and temperamental. He attacked first and didn't bother with questions ever. His impulsive tendencies led him to gain the most scars. The right head had a cracked horn and split lip. Ni was proud of the scars and bragged to his brothers about being stronger than them. Ichi was the leader of the siblings and acted as the eldest despite the alien hydra being born at the exact same time. Ichi tended to be calmer than his two brothers, but he would not hesitate to yell at them if they were annoying him too much. His patience was limited, but it was still more than what Ni and San were capable of. The middle head had the strongest hatred towards Godzilla for the treatment of his brothers. Ichi was protective of his brothers and did not take kindly to the radioactive lizard ripping off San's head. Speaking of the left head, San was the most curious of the three. He saw Earth as something to explore instead of destroy. He was the most willing to try any of the food Rodan brought. Additionally, he was the most affectionate with Rodan as well as his brothers. San was still capable of being ruthless when he wanted to, however. Out of the three of them, San was actually the most protective of their fierce birdie. 

While Rodan had spent only a few days with Ghidorah, he had grown fond of them surprisingly quick. The alien was protective, but they knew that Rodan was powerful in his own right. He had missed them more than he thought he would in recent years. They had met in the past, but it was always during a battle  or shortlived. Ghidorah would arrive on Earth, Godzilla would fight him alongside Mothra and any other titan who decided to help. This often included Rodan. The large hydra would retreat to space, come back, and it would repeat for years until Godzilla trapped the trio in ice. 

A pleased hum left San's muzzle. "They seem to be more aware now. They'll likely regenerate completely soon." His eyes were closed in bliss. It was rare that the Golden Demise would feel such a thing as exhaustion or sore muscles. San did not enjoy feeling so...weak. He knew they were not supposed to be weak, but San knew better than to lie to himself and his brothers. They had been beaten badly at the claws of the Weak King and his infuriating entourage. The moth was a nuisance that had trapped them and given the stupid lizard immense power when the trio had incinerated her. She had pierced their birdie with a stinger that was filled with venom. Despite the years of battling her and her weak partner, Ghidorah had never noticed such a weapon. It made them unreasonable angry that the infernal insects would do such a thing, so they used their gravity beams to turn her into dust. It revived his well known opponent so much that all of their attacks were for naught. The dumb little creatures that had followed the titans around had also given the brutish king a boost in power. Not only that, but the annoying bugs had created a device that used cheap trickery to distract Ghidorah. 

The next time Ghidorah would fight Godzilla, there would not be any cheap tricks that would aid the ugly reptile. No moth and no devices to help the king. 

Ghidorah did not enjoy creatures who ruled over others. It was something the weak would do. And Ghidorah hated anything that was weak. The hydra enjoyed fighting, but not if the battle was rigged. While they usually won those unfair battles, it wasn't as fun. Additionally, the hydra had a special hatred for those that took control of the minds of others. While Ghidorah had done that himself, it was done to awaken the many hibernating titans. He didn't really control their every move because he was focused on other things like his birdie and defeating the old lizard. Ghidorah knew what it was like to not be in control of their own body. They knew how it felt to have every muscle move without their consent. The beings responsible are long gone now, but Ghidorah would never forget what they did. 

A quiet chirp broke the left head out of his thoughts. Rodan had taken notice to how San had completely zoned out. San chuffed at the smaller titan to reassure him that he was alright. No other creature had ever cared for San accept his brothers. The three had always thought that they only had each other to rely on. This was true for most of their lives until a particular winged beauty came into their lives with a fiery passion. 

They would both relish in getting revenge on the ones who wronged them. It would be a fight to remember. 

At the thought, San purred and used his head to tuck Rodan close. It could take hours or even days for his brothers to literally come back from the dead. Until they returned, he was content to wait in the warmth of his fire bird. 

Patience would be the most lethal weapon they'll need if they were to win. 

And they would win. 

[mrstsugikuni]

"His Moonlight."

Summary:

(name) kibutsuji is the daughter of muzans kibutsuji and out of all his off spring she has proven herself worthy to him. Kokushibo always saw her as distraction since muzan has actually taken a liking to her and actually loved her, he was almost always busy spoiling her and giving her his attention. Kokushibo never understood why until he finally saw what he saw his heart taking it's first beat in 500 years.

This whole story will be in kokus pov. Unless said other wise in one of the chapters!

WARNING: The story itself WILL contain suggestive scenes, and/or sexual encounters. I will put a warning before the scene so you can skip if you're not comfortable. Anyways enjoy the story lovelies 🫶

(Also I know demon don't exactly sleep but please just go with it ALSO! ⚠️ NSFW ⚠️ A wet dream at the beginning nothing too big)

Chapter 2

"K-koku~ please!~"

Her voice sounds broken, and raspy. The suns about to go down and I haven't stopped pounding her since sunrise. I've shaped her cunt to my liking. The futon covered in sweat and juices, and by the way she's squirming under me I can tell she's about to have yet another orgasm. She looks so weak under me and I love it, I love feeling powerful, having control, and making others feel weak and vulnerable.

"kokushibo."

'hm? Who was that!' I thought as I slowed my pace earning a desperate whine from the female under me.

"Kokushibo, wake up!"

'wake up? I am awake.'

"KOKUSHIBO!"

I jumped from my futon, panting slightly trying to understand what exactly was going on and if I'm still dreaming or not but my thoughts vanished when I saw muzan standing in front of me.

"kokushibo, I have put my trust in you to fulfil this task for me- well more of a favor." My master had said and I knew what he was about to say. "I would like you to watch my daughter while I am out."

I sighed rubbing my nose temple before standing up and bowing to my master showing I understood. I got up from my bowing stance and began to put my clothes on since I chose to get comfy.

"[Name] darling you can come in now!" Muzans said as his daughter walked in with a suit case, she smiled happily and looked around admiring the beautiful house. "What a lovely house you have!" I bowed showing my "gratitude" when in reality I didn't care what she thought, her thoughts were a mere ant.

"I will be on my way now please take good care of her." He said to me before going over to his daughter kissing her on the forehead and telling her to be safe before disappearing.

I could tell she already missed him by the way she was acting and her small frown but smiled anyways and looked at me. "Ehe- do you perhaps have a spare bedroom." That's when it dawned upon me, I do not. My guest bedrooms are pretty much used as feasting rooms. "No, I do not." I said sweat dripping from my cheek, because even though I hate her she is still the daughter of muzan and is extremely powerful. "Oh no worries is it ok if we share a room? I'll stay in the furthest corner if you don't mind of course." She said nervously, it's always surprised me how she's muzans daughter but yet so gentle and kind. Must be her moms genes, pathetic.

"I do not mind, you may sleep in my room." I said trying to sound as nice as possible. "Ah! What lovely news thank you! Where is your room so I may set my stuff down?" She had asked and I turned to show her where my room was.

She followed me, her smile never once faltering it was disgusting, almost as of though she has more human in her than anything, her heart beats and she shows emotions it's a repulsive sight.

We made it to my room as I slid the door open allowing her access to my room and do as she pleased. Just like she said she went to the furthest corner and got all her stuff situated.

I walked off deciding I'd leave her be to do her own thing, I wandered off into the living space sitting down on one of the tatami mats.

I couldn't recall how long she was in there for but it felt like an eternity, I was starting to get hungry so I made my way back to the room to see if she was too.

Walking into the room I saw she was just sitting there on her futon not moving an inch as if she didn't exactly know what to do, it was a little awkward if I'd say so myself. "Would you like to go hunting with me?" I asked trying to get her attention and it did, she nodded excitedly as she got up from her futon. "May I get into a different outfit? this one may prevent me from moving the way I wish." She looked away awkwardly and I nodded. "If you'd like, I'll be out in the living room." I slid the door shut rolling my eyes and walking out into the living room. 'A very strange girl.'

After a few mins of waiting she finally came out wearing a loose kimono that was cut short, and under was a pair of loose pants. An outfit made to trick any opponent in battle, it's difficult to determine her next move. 'Strange and smart.'

"Ready?" I asked as I heard my stomach growl loudly once more, she looked at where the sound came from and snickered nodding her head yes and walking outside. "What... what's funny?" I questioned, she shrugged and looked at me. "Nothing really, but I guess I don't need to ask if you're ready by the sounds of it." she smiled and began walking towards the shoji door and I followed her.

It's when she acts like this that I totally forget she's even muzans daughter, her bubbly personality. the part that makes her human. The part that makes her attractive... I mentally slapped myself. I'm disappointed in myself and the way I think. but how can I not. she does something to me, she's put a spell on me, and I wish she'd undo this horrible spell. not even a spell. A curse.

The curse that sends my sins crawling up my back. the gut wrenching feeling I get when she speaks. The urge to throw up when she looks at me with her eyes. I can't stand this horrible feeling. I want nothing to do with this repulsive feeling and these throat twisting thoughts.

But now I have to watch her for god knows how long.. and i'll be stuck with the thoughts for that long.

I just hope muzan-sama comes back soon.

[prettyyoungandbored]

Be Careful

Pairing: Johnny Knoxville x Reader

Warnings: language, slight fluff, female reader, idk

Author’s Note: I have no business writing this, but I did. So yeah.

NOT MY GIF

The alarm clock read 1:15 A.M. as Y/N exhaled softly.

Her eyes darted back to the television where some black and white movie played. She was half paying attention to it, her mind elsewhere and eyes mostly shifting between the clock and her cell phone.

She was invited to go to the bar with the guys, but she declined, exhausted from spending the day organizing their medical records. She shouldn’t have offered, but considering how frequent the trips to the hospital were, she figured it would be useful for each of them to have a binder that contained important medical documents in the event of an emergency.

Jeff was beyond thankful for it and she was happy to help considering Johnny wouldn’t let her do any stunts lately.

Even though Johnny was a pro at what he did, she still worried. Going through his medical binder was a kick in the stomach for her. His was the most personal considering he was her fiancé. She often worried when she got calls from the guys if it was going to be that “one call.” When they called “action” and she watched Johnny begin, she said a mental prayer begging for him to make it out alive.

The door opened and Johnny appeared, smiling.

“Hey there, cutie,” he greeted her, before bending down to untie his red converse. “Thought you’d be asleep.”

“I tried but just couldn’t seem to keep them closed,” she said, reaching over to turn the light on for him. “Did you guys have fun?”

“Sure did,” he replied, throwing off his jacket and tossing it onto the chair in the corner. “You know how it is. I wish I could say you didn’t miss much, but we spent the night helping get Tyler the PA laid.”

She cracked a smile. “It’s the least you boys could do considering you made him mud wrestle Bam.”

He laughed. “That was the logic.”

He pulled down his jeans before crawling into bed beside her in his boxers and graphic tee. He propped his elbow up, resting his cheek against the palm of his hand.

“I really did miss you tonight,” he said, using his other hand to tuck her hair behind her ear. “I was a little bummed you didn’t come out with us.”

“I know.” She exhaled. “Honestly, I just needed to decompress.”

“Seemed like you were having an off day,” he noted. “You wanna talk about it?”

“I know you know what you’re doing and I trust you,” she said. “It’s important to me that you know that. It’s just, going through your medical records was a hard pill for me to swallow. I get worried that one prank will be one that either kills you or leaves you with some permanent injury or that these injuries eventually…”

She paused, realizing how pathetic she sounded. She closed her eyes. “I’m sorry. I-.”

“Don’t apologize for that,” he said. “I’m fucking serious. Don’t.”

“No but-.”

“No - hey, look at me. Open your eyes and look at me.”

She opened her eyes to find him smiling at her. The same smile that made her weak in the knees when she first saw it.

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” he said. “I know it’s a lot for you, and I can’t thank you enough for standing by me and putting up with this shit even when it’s hard to deal with.”

“It’s not that I deal with it. It’s just me getting worried because I love you.” She gave him a small smile. “I told you I’m not going anywhere and I meant it. No amount of concussions or broken limbs or any other injuries is gonna change that. All I ask that you be careful, ok?”

“I will,” he promised, kissing the top of her head. “But only because I think you’re cute.”

She snorted. “That’s the only reason, huh?”

He nodded. “Pretty much. It’s really the only reason I’m marrying you.”

She rolled her eyes. “Then I guess it’s ok for me to say I’m only marrying you because the sex is great.”

He shrugged. “Works for me. Now, c’mere.”

He pulled her body under his, peppering her face with quick kisses. “Just one more week then you and I head off to Vegas.”

“Having second thoughts?”

“Never. I’m all in, baby.” He pulled his head back for a sec. “Are you?”

“Not a chance, Clapp. I’m in it for the long haul.” She paused. “Unless, of course, I decide to marry the Elvis impersonator instead. I’ll figure it once we get there.”

[justanotherblogger]

GET READY FOR MORE ALASTOR THEORIES PEOPLE!!!

I am still reeling from the final episode, and I am currently just thinking about Alastor and all his little ticks and phrases that could mean so much more.

So let's get started on some of my favorites!

Obvious spoilers ahead

Alastors fight with Adam. The biggest thing in the episode for Alastor. He seemed to be cocky and treat it as one of his regular murders during the day, not taking him that seriously.

He seemed to have overestimated himself in his abilities against the angelic army leader, and in consequence had his staff broken in half and in his shock at that, left himself wide open for another attack.

Why was he so cocky? He seemed to be so sure of himself against Adam, and so sure he could at least get a few good hits in.

I think this was because he used to something more powerful before his deal with whoever owns his soul now. He just fell back into muscle memory from before he lost most of his strength, thinking he could beat Adam without an angelic weapon, and was surprised that he couldn't hold up to levels of power he could've dealt with before he lost his own.

Like when he was shocked his staff got snapped in half by Adams shockwave. Could it take hits like that before? Has he fought Adam like that before? Is the reason he fell back into muscle memory because he hasn't had this level of threat since his fall/maybe the start of his 7 year absence or because this is how their fights used to go?

He also talked about how powerful a mortal soul could get if it took control of its own fate. This could be a reference to Charlie and the others fighting the extermination, or it could be about himself. If so, what did he choose to get this way? Was this a reference to his deal? Or maybe about his origins to get to where he is now?

Then when he did get hurt in the fight, he looked panicked and fled the scene. He didn't expect to get seriously hurt, at least that quickly from Adam, for whatever reason. Like he didn't expect something like this to happen, or he's just realizing how weak he's gotten since his last major scuffle.

Now, in the radio tower scene. He's seen having a sort of mental breakdown. How he almost died a 'pathetic' death defending the hotel and everyone in it. He seems very distraught at how he almost died.

I did see someone analyze this as Alastors fear of death, and I agree partially with that. Alastor did seem to be caught up in almost dieing to Adam. But I don't think it was because he was about to die in general, but because he would die like that.

We saw how he mocked it in the "Alastor Altruist died for his friends." in his snipbit. I think it was about how he's realizing his situation in full now. What he's been forced into is taking more of an effect than he thought it would at the hotel, as he ranted about a possible back door in the deal that tied him to the hotel and took his power.

This makes me think that Alastors true power has been (hazbin, hehe) taken or suppressed by the deal maker, with them owning his soul, and he's not used to being this weak against slightly stronger opponents, as he definitely has battle experience based on his fighting style with Adam.

Now, for who owns Alastors soul, there are 3 that I've been interested in from different posts on here and actual show hints.

Additionally, his mouth was totally stitched up in his demonic form when making the deal with Charlie. Maybe this was so he is forced to keep his smiling persona up at all times, and maybe to keep him from spilling anything about the deal or where he was for the last 7 years.

Anyways, first off is obviously Lilith. As I have explained in my previous ramble, Lilith probably took Alastor in from a lethal experience, either manipulating or threatening him to join her deal.

I think a plausible reason for this now is to look after Charlie and her hotel. She's currently in heaven, and had a deal with Lute or the angel army about the extermination. She most likely can't leave, which is why she's been gone for the past 7 years with no contact in hell.

She probably chose Alastor because of his reputation and power, but limited it so he couldn't do any lasting damage to the hotel or daughter just in case, since he can theoretically hurt angels.

The second popular option is Eve, or Roo, as everyone's calling her. She was the root of all evil and was a big villain in Vivs' previous work that Hazbin Hotel was based on.

We haven't seen her yet, other than the storybook appearance in the first episode. We don't have much info about her, so I can't really draw any parallels just yet between her and Alastor.

The last one is a bit of a stretch, and I didn't think of this until I saw another post about him: Lucifer

I could see where this would go, to be honest. We see his beef with Lucifer immediately during episode 5, and how Alastor takes any opportunity ro rile him up.

Lucifer could've made a deal with Alastor during his depression funk, causing him to not exactly remember Alastor in good detail with all the other deals he probably made during that time.

Alastor most likely resents him for what his deal did to him if Lucifer was the deal maker, trapping Alastor at the hotel to protect Charlie, and Lucifer just doesn't remember crap from that time and is very confused.

This one is the least likely out of the rest and kind of crack-ish, but was kinda fun to entertain and make a bit of sense on.

These are the theories I have so far on Alastor in Hazbin Hotel from the final episodes. I love this guy's lore, and I am desperate for more about his origins and powers.

[sleepyfaequeen]

Hello!! I saw your life weaver one shot and I just adore it. I was wondering if you maybe had some general LifeWeaver headcanons? Maybe for a clumsy person, who is definitely not me but tends to have old scars and new injuries from things?

Thank you, your one shot made me weak he is such a darling of a man ♥️

Well, I didn't expect another request for Lifeweaver, but I shall grant you what my mind can muster up. I wrote this in one sitting. Enjoy~

Roommates

Summary: You just happen to always slip on your own two feet. Even in Vishkar University. Lucky for you, Vishkar has given you a nurse who is in 24/7.

Pairing: Lifeweaver x fem!reader

Warning(s): fluff

Requested: Yes, anonymous

Song:

A groan escaped (Y/n)'s lips as she laid down on the ground. The days of overworking yourself to the bone (has) finally caught up to you, and you can't help but just accept it. (Y/n) could hear sudden footsteps from upstairs before a familiar face peering down to look at what had probably caused all that ruckus. It was right then and there that she had wished she would've died on impact, so she didn't have to witness her roommate looking at her pathetic hopeless self sprawled out on the ground.

"(Y/n), did you just fall?" Niran asked as he held onto the railing of the top of the stairs.

"No." She replies.

"Then why are you on the ground?" He cocks his head to the side with a small smirk and raised brow.

".. I fell." She admits and this makes him sigh.

"I'm going to help you up." He said, already heading downstairs. Her roommate was always so nice and friendly while she was a clumsy mess. "Does anything hurt?"

"No." She lies. Nothing was broken, but she did feel ashamed that nearly everyone she knew had known her as the person who always would be in an accident.

"Good, then you can get up." He taps her hip and she couldn't help but groan. "Unless you want me to help you."

"No, I'm totally fine here." She smiles as she watched him roll his eyes and stepped over her before resting his hands on his hips.

"This is your last chance, N̂ảp̄hụ̂ng." He warns.

"Or what?" (Y/n) watched as he bends down and grabbed her legs before pulling her down the hallway.

"NIRAN!?" A squeak leaves her lips as he practically drags her. Her arms cover her fluttering face as he continues to drag her before he lets go of her legs and moves. She can't help but peak between her arm, though that was probably a mistake as his chest was in full view. The man was wearing a deep rose pink V neck t-shirt, revealing his hard yet soft looking chest. How was it that she was so blessed and cursed at the same time to have such a good-looking roommate. She swore she only joined Vishkar to learn and provide people with hope for the future. Still, her eyes can't help but look at the way Niran's white hair was tied up in a messy bun, and his bangs happen to fall over his eye.

"You must really like staring at someone who is treating you." He said with an amused smirk on his lips. This makes her avert her eyes before yelping as he picked her up and sits her down onto the couch of their living room. "I'm going to have to ask you if anything hurts. That was a dangerous fall.."

"I'm alright.." (Y/n) stretched her arm before whimpering as she held it to her stomach. Niran can't help but lean forward and reach over, gently holding her arm. "Okay, maybe not as alright as I had thought."

"This is why I'm studying to be you're nurse." He jokes as he decides to have a look at your arm. "Well, I can't fix it now since it's late. Lucky for you, I happen to be trained in wrapping a broken arm."

"Thank you so much, Niran. I'm so sorry to be such a clutz." She let's her eyes meet his soft chocolate ones.

"It's no problem. Without you falling around everywhere, I wouldn't be learning how to treat different kinds of first aid." He chuckles as his eyes glance at every small scar and recent bandages on you. "But really, I think it's rather adorable."

"Ho-!?" She can't help but almost choke on her own saliva before going into a coughing fit. He quickly pats her back before letting his hand rub the middle of her shoulder blades. "You think I'm.."

"Of course, I do. You're also the sweetest person I have ever met on campus."

"Ahh.." She was feeling her entire face burn up and quickly averts her eyes only to see Satya in her light blue pajamas with her pillow under her arm. She looked so tired and upset, which was never good.

"If you two don't stop flirting so loudly, I will not hesitate to strike you both." Her hands already holding up her pillow.

"Wait.. is that a seashell pillow?" Niran asked as he pointed at it. Satya can't help but look at it herself.

"Yes, it is."

"I didn't realize you believed in fairytales." Immediately, Niran's face is met with a loud "fwap" as the pillow is slammed against his face.

"(Y/n) if you're going to start dating him. I suggest you teach him some manners." She takes her pillow back, glaring at Niran before walking back upstairs. "Start with his snoring."

"Satya!" Niran whines as he can't help but tuck his face into your shoulder as he hugs (Y/n). Whether it was to comfort himself or to hold you didn't really matter.

Translation: N̂ảp̄hụ̂ng / น้ำผึ้ง: Honey

[sunoorintarou]

Catharsis: Strong Hands.

Phos!reader × (Platonic) Gojo Satoru

Warnings: angsty but mostly comfort, Gojo realises just how highly the reader thinks of him, he's in his feels for a lil, self loathing, insecurities, self blaming, regret

Notes: Hoooo boy. Only posting Gojo and the reader for the next few days

Your eyes were tired, yet you ignored the calls of sleep. Standing in the middle of the training ground as you practiced. Over and over again. Strike, dodge, defend. Strike, dodge, defend.

Every time your vision blurred, you saw that God awful curse than had taken Yukio from you. Your hands shook, teeth gritting as you inhaled deeply.

How long had you been doing this? The sun had yet to rise when you began, yet now it was close to setting. Little did you know, a pair of blue eyes had not left your form once since they had found you.

"Just go talk to her." Shoko frowned, nudging Gojo with her elbow, cigarette at her lips.

"You feel guilty. You feel like this wouldn't have happened if you had gotten there faster. Well, it happened. And now she's alone because you're too much of a coward to speak to her. Remember, your team is on a mission. She has no one but you." She sighed.

You had been pushing yourself for almost a week. Since the day Yukio died, you hadn't given yourself a break. Your weakness cost you everything, and you refused to let it happen again.

The fatigue was slowly catching up to you. You hadn't been eating nor sleeping, and the weakness in your bones held no remorse.

Tears blinded your vision when you finally fell to the ground, body shaking as you tried to force it to move.

'Move.' You said, staring at your shaky hands.

'Move.'

They didn't respond, taking you back to the day you lost due to the same problem.

'Move. Move. Move!'

You were crying now, choking on your tears as your body trembled.

"Come on, you're my body, you're so supposed to move- why- why won't you listen to me? Am I the problem, if it weren't me, would Yukio-"

You were interrupted by a pair of hands so large and strong that you felt as if they could hold your entire world. They pulled you into a familiar chest, a scent so comforting engulfing you as your tears seemed to never end.

"G- Gojo - Sensei, welcome back from your mission." You sobbed, knowing you couldn't hold it together.

"Yeah, it's nice to see you again." Gojo commented, looking at the sky. He still blamed himself. He was the strongest, yet he still couldn't protect those closest to him. He was pathetic. He was weak. How could he be the strongest when he couldn't even protect Yukio... protect you. He couldn't protect anyone. Not even his own best friend.

As much as he hated to admit it, this was the reality of this cursed world, and he knew it couldn't be changed. He wanted to change, more than anything. He swore he would, so why-

"You know, Gojo - Sensei- that- that day, even after everything, when I- when I felt like everything was over, like I had nothing- when I saw you, I felt like everything would be OK. I- I know it's weird and selfish, but ever since that first day, no matter what I faced, when I saw you at the end, I felt like I was safe, like I'd be OK. Like I could get through it. Even now, it's hard, so hard I- it hurt so much I couldn't breathe- but seeing you, I feel like everything'll be OK." You cried, words muffled and broken, but Gojo had never heard anything clearer.

From the beginning, Gojo Satoru had been your strong hold, your pillar, whether he knew it or not.

From the night you saw him, while covered in your parents' blood. A man so bright, so clean, so strong. Stainless hands, so large, so strong, scooping you up as if you were a child.

Gojo Satoru had become your safe haven.

Gojo's hands trembled as he held you, holding your head against his chest as his eyes glazed over.

"I'm sorry." He whispered against your hair in a voice so soft you thought you were imagining it.

Gojo was wrong. This entire time, he had been wrong. He thought you hated him for everything. For never being fast enough to save you from what happened to your legs, to your hands, to Yukio. Yet he was so wrong. It almost made him sick.

This entire time, he hadn't been a reminder of your damnation, but rather your salvation.

And the guilt he felt knowing he had been too selfish to understand that and had left you in hear of his own feelings had him on his knees.

You were a child, as he had been once, given too much responsibility, too much pain to handle, too much regret. As a teacher, he had failed you. He has failed to protect your innocence. The shreds of childhood you had left were slipping through your fingers, and he swore he was going to get them back.

You were a child, and he was an adult. If he couldn't protect, the least he could do was be there for you when you needed.

You were so fragile, so small in his arms, crying so hard he was afraid you'd break.

He couldn't change his actions in the past, but he could change now. Holding you in his arms, he made an oath. No matter what, even if it cost him his life, he would protect his students. He refused to lose anything he cared about ever again.

He wasn't the strongest for no reason, after all.

[pilot-boi]

Too many people have been saying how happy and bouncy Nora will be to see RWBY-J again, ESPECIALLY Jaune... I think some angst is in order...

---

She stood on the Ramparts, staring out into the void... the desert all looked the same to her... nothing but shifting dunes with the odd outcrop of rock jutting from the sea or miniscule stones... most would have gotten bored and found something else to do...

But not her.

Never her.

She couldn't... couldn't risk letting her focus slip for even a moment... because if she did... she knew something bad would happen.

She knew... because it had all happened before.

Her stupid grin as she fist bumped Jaune before running through the gate...

Her moronic and late realisation that something was wrong...

... Her pathetic screams as she pounded upon that gate that wouldn't let her through... she wasn't strong enough... never was when it mattered...

And then it was gone...

And so was RWBY...

And... and... and Jaune... Jaune was gone...

Months had passed...

At first she had been hopeful... hopeful that they would come back.

But then she had realised the truth. Jaune and team RWBY... they were gone.

Ren had tried to distract her. Tried to make her do things that were unimportant. She didn't need to eat again, she'd had a ration this morning. She didn't need to sleep, she'd caught a couple hours last night before joining the night guard.

She especially didn't need a shoulder to cry on. What use was crying? All it did was blind her to anything coming to try and take away more people she loved.

"NORA!" She heard in the distance, the pounding of feet one stone steps following.

"Hah... not again" she growled, refusing to turn her eyes away from the dessert. She'd just move posts. There was a nearby tower that would give her extra height.

"NORA! WHERE ARE YOU!?"

The steps were getting closer... but she still didn't turn. She'd just ignore him... it was the best way to make him leave her alone.

"NORA!"

Aaaand he'd found her, Nora's grip on Magnhild increasing in annoyance.

"I'm busy, Ren. Can't you see that?"

"But Nora, you don't get it, please just turn aro-!"

"CAN'T YOU JUST LEAVE ME ALO-!"

Armour she knew all too well.

Blue eyes.

Blonde hair now flecked with white.

A sad smile on a kind face.

"Hey, Nora" came a voice from a face she knew couldn't be here...

"You're... you're not real" she whispered... eyes wide and heart rate skyrocketing...

"I am. I'm here, Nora"

"NO YOU'RE NOT!" She screamed as something wet trickled down her cheeks. "You're... you're dead, you're... you never came back!"

Her legs felt weak...

Had she finally snapped? Hallucinating her long lost friend and family?

She collapsed... but strong arms caught her...

"I'm real, Nora... I'm home. And I swear I'll never leave you again."

And then Nora did something she hadn't done in so long...

She wailed and sobbed as she held him close, him doing much the same to her. All her emotions erupting forth in an uncontrollable maelstrom of tears.

He was back...

Jaune was back...

This would kill me THIS WOULD KILL ME!!!

Because this is going to be Nora at her absolute LOWEST!! We just saw Ruby and Jaune at their lowest, and now it’s time for Nora. She’s either going to double down on pretending everything is okay, or she’s going to be BROKEN

And I’m really scared it’s gonna be the second