#silly me how could i forget the demon core

[carnage-cathedral]

it's the heart of a demon you need to slay it with a sword of glass it will give you the ability to kill everybody in a 40 foot radius

oh! right!

[hedgehogcryptid]

I love Kimetsu no Yaiba. Some characters are a bit annoying but Tanjiro is an absolute darling of a boy, so good and gentle to his very core and I love him. And then I watch the first episode again and see him throw an axe straight at a guy's head with full intent to kill and remember "oh! Tanjiro is actually a hardcore motherfucker who wakes up every day and chooses kindness. Silly me, how could I forget!"

I love that other characters' first perception of him is that he's weak willed and hesitating, when he's actually fully capable of making hard choices, he's just too nice to take drastic measures first thing if there's a kinder option available. Once the kinder options dried up though he has zero chill.

He bows and begs to Giyuu, because clearly he's a fellow human being capable of thought and mercy. When he states that no, he is actually an enemy and has no intention to be reasoned with, Tanjiro does his best to take him out. He doesn't manage, but not for lack of trying. And he's actually smart about it, which means he had put thought into how to most effectively kill this random guy in the forest.

Then Urokodaki leaves him to kill a demon and tells Tanjiro he hesitated too long. Which is true, but Tanjiro wasn't worried about the killing itself, he was pondering about methods. He thought beating a dude's head into paste was a bit too much.

And then Urokodaki asks him what he would do if Nezuko killed a person and Tanjiro can't answer. Urokodaki framed it as a weakness, because someone who wants to be a demon slayer can't hesitate to kill a demon. But of course Tanjiro wouldn't answer! He's not there to kill demons. He's not even there to help people! He's there because he wants to make his sister human again, so why on earth would he think of killing her as a solution to anything?! At that point he didn't even say he wanted to become a demon slayer, I think (at least in the anime, maybe the manga has more/different dialog), so Urokodaki's point is null. Tanjiro's just there because he was told that's where he could start fixing his problem. It's everyone else who thinks he's there to kill demons and that's why they think he's not taking the job with due seriousness

[semthescientist]

i’ve noticed with being on law of assumption twitter that there’s this running theme of condemning people and calling them lazy because they aren’t always balls deep in affirming or some other method. obviously, i know that to be false because people are trying in every way to get their manifestations so that seems more like dedication on their part but that’s besides the point.

i really find it distasteful that being human seems to be so demonized. if you aren’t crying through your affirmations or brushing something off then you don’t want your shit bad enough. self-concept gets talked about like it’s the big bad wolf, and with all the discourse i see it’s obvious people are responding to different parts of a conversation just to have something to talk about.

manifestation is identity selection. manifesting is not affirming, it’s not sats, it’s not 10k challenges—it’s just identity selection. when one is doing any method or technique but still accepting that they are the opposite, all of their work is in vain. doesn’t matter how you chop, flip, or screw it—you cannot get something you think is above you and if you do get it, maintaining longevity will prove to be difficult. like if you believe the 8th floor is the only one to exist, you’ll never see past it, you wouldn’t dare to imagine what the 10th floor looks like.

you are always choosing an identity. i don’t care if you hate self-concept, i don’t care if you don’t want to work on yours. which by the way, is not just telling yourself your beautiful and pretty. only you know what beliefs you hold to your core and sometimes it’s deeper than your looks or your bank account. also, you tossing those old beliefs is not you taking the long route. i used to think that this would somehow make my manifestations take longer but that’s just silly. we all know manifestation is supposed to be fun, but how could it possibly be that way if you’re doubting yourself every moment, stressed, and constantly having breakdowns.

it’s not a way to think you’re broken, you’re not fixing anything. you’re merely taking off that costume. all those shitty and negative beliefs that say you can’t have something, do something, be something are the things you’re discarding. self-concept isn’t some new-age thing either, it’s really how you view yourself and i’m telling you, you can’t get something you think you truly aren’t worthy of having. you can’t maintain it. and please tell me, what is so wrong about looking yourself dead in the eye every morning and telling yourself that you can have absolutely anyone or anything, that nothing is impossible to you, that you’re a gift and it’s obvious?

manifestation is natural. it’s the way life works. every single moment of every single day you are choosing an identity, and you always have the free will to select which identity you’d like. everything good in life is simple. you are totally allowed to just decide right now, in this very moment that you are a blessing, that you are proof that angels exist. you are totally allowed to decide that every aspect of your life is perfectly ideal, harmonious, and blissful. you are totally allowed to decide that money grows on trees for you. you are totally allowed to just decide that you have a top-shelf self concept.

techniques and methods are here to remind you of what already is true, and sometimes we forget that. but again, everything good in life is simple so it doesn’t hurt to remind yourself that what you want is already present within you and that is why you have it. all it takes is a bit of redirection. i also suggest doing that when limiting beliefs rear their heads. i like to do it this way so i’m not just slapping an affirmation over something that’s really bothering me.

identify the belief, tell yourself why it’s not true, then create an affirmation that directly cancels the limiting belief out.

i feel like the person i want would never choose me -> this isn’t true because i’m me, i am a good thing. i am a wonderful thing. i’m as good as it fucking gets, anybody would be blessed to have me, including them -> i was born chosen, i was born loved, i was born worthy and it’s so goddamn obvious. any man/woman would want me.

or

i’m kind of worried because i don’t know if the money will come back -> this isn’t true because i’m wealth itself, how the fuck could i lack something that comes from me? -> money grows on trees for me, it falls out of the sky. there has been and will always be an ample supply of the things i want.

or

i feel like if i don’t affirm or do my technique i won’t get my manifestation -> this isn’t true because the reason why i have what i want is because i am deciding. it’s true because i’ve decided so, it’s not true because i’ve said affirmations 100 times. my word is law and if i say it’s mine then there’s nothing that can tell me otherwise -> i can be calm confident and know that what i want is done. i am the God of my reality and my desire for something alone will bring it to me.

you get the idea, just talk to yourself or journal it out. only you know what beliefs are really nagging at you and when things are just fleeting thoughts, so only address what you feel is necessary. anywho, i simply wanted to make this because i’m not a fan of the blind leading the blind. you’re not lazy, you’re not doing anything wrong, and you’re not missing anything. you were simply misguided. also, remember, if it doesn’t sit right with you then reject it mentally!

love you byeeeeeee

[feverdreamjohnny]

My Melting World

Hey there. This is going to be a bit of a personal post. I'm going to talk about a game I made in 2020 that I kept returning to well after I should've left it alone.

Demon's Island was... Well, it wasn't a game, I guess. Probably something closer to a virtual post card, maybe even a hangout zone by proxy. Regardless, Demon's Island was an effort to collapse a lot of my feelings and memories down into a single bite-sized sandwich. That's probably why the game feels distinctly childish and silly; it's as earnest as I was capable of at that time, purely translating how I felt in the form of messy, unfiltered in-jokes and spaces built for people that no longer exist.

I think that last part is probably one of the more haunting prospects whenever I revisit the game. 2020 was a different time. There are rooms and textures left over from people who've since faded away, and revisiting it in recent times feels like walking into the bedroom of a deceased relative. It's just a room, but the little imprints of them are still left there. It's a chilling sensation, sometimes unpleasant, but I still feel like it's something we all need once in a while.

Tallying all of the time up, I probably spent nearly a year building this time capsule. I went through a lot of growth as a game developer over these past few years, and I really think Demon's Island was core to it. It wasn't just the technical skill required to make a multiplayer exploration game, but because it was also the last place I got to store a lot of the unbridled joy I felt with my friends before I had to suit up and try to become a "real" game developer. Excitedly promising my friends a trip to a mall that we could all walk around in before I moved away to some proverbial college town.

Demon's Island wasn't the first game to serve as a time capsule for me. Years ago I had this friend who I was close with and it was actually his body of work I used as a touch-stone to come back to a time I was quickly forgetting. His work always fascinated me because while I was struggling to try and make my games evolve (to disastrous results), he went with the flow and just did whatever he felt like. I think that's probably why his games managed to capture a lot of raw emotion that I was completely incapable of in my own work. It's tragic that I failed to understand the value of what he was doing because I was too distracted with trying to "become something."

I pushed him a lot, trying to encourage him to leave his comfort zone and make something more "tangible." He always responded that his work was just for his friends. He ALWAYS responded that his work was just for his friends.

We ended up separating around late 2019 after a serious personal rift outside of game development. I disappeared and moved on to another friend group, trying to pretend that nothing ever happened. He just moved at his own pace and continued onward like always. It was a hard time.

One day I was curious about what happened to him, and I eventually came to discover that he moved to 3D art. From what I could tell it seemed like he had found an audience for himself. I was happy for him. Despite the rift, I still wanted to see him succeed in the end. Even though I pushed him in the wrong direction, that was always what I wanted to see. Maybe it was for the best that he stopped being around me.

About a month or so ago I was reflecting over the games he and I used to make to a different friend of mine (who also knew him), and this friend condescendingly described my nostalgia as "immature." I never really confronted the way he phrased it, but I fumed internally. It's funny how a single, stupid word affected me so much. It frustrated me that one of the few things I had left that connected me with a happier time was now re-framed as something to be shoved under the rug. I think it's important that you occasionally take time to reminisce so you don't forget the events that are shaping the moment you're in. Sometimes you need to look back to figure out how everything got to this point.

I think the reason I've fixated on this concept of "games as time-capsules" is because I have an incredibly hard time remembering things. Not so much that my memories are being completely erased, but recollecting things becomes more and more difficult if I leave them alone for long enough. Now, it's not uncommon to have a hard time remembering things, but I definitely lose my grip on memories faster than the average person. I'm not sure if this is something I inherited from my mother (who's also had memory recollection issues her whole life) or if it's something else, but it's definitely made it difficult for me to retain most of the things that have made me who I am today.

The reminiscing isn't just to relive happier moments, it's also one of the only things I have that's keeping me tethered to my roots. The less and less I reflect, the deeper those memories sink into murky waters, to the point that it becomes nearly impossible to bring them back up. I've already lost so much of my past self this way that I can't help but be frustrated that I never took an effort to archive stuff from when I was younger.

The reason Demon's Island still matters to me is because it was the first time I had managed to make a game (without my old friend) capable of tethering me to a time that's been slipping away so fast. It's possibly the single most ridiculous, mind numbing game I've ever made, but it might have one of the most important roles in keeping my fading memories alive.

Somehow a bunch of silly dancing rat gifs have convergently evolved into this. I don't know if it's the funniest shit in the world or just tragically pathetic. Maybe it's both?

I think the most important part of this entire blog post is what follows. This is the only reason I found the motivation to re-examine my feelings about Demon's Island and make a retrospective.

About half a year ago, a woman contacted me on Patreon to tell me a story about her husband.

I was floored by this, not only because I was offered to be a part of something so meaningful, but for the first time this... Stupid little thing I built to scaffold my failing memory actually connected with someone. I immediately offered to do more than just a personal message or a secret image: I wanted to make them a special room to celebrate their anniversary. She decided to send me some images and videos from their relationship, and I stitched them together to make a little flowers n' fruits themed space. This was eventually packaged in a private version of the game, and after giving her the files I went to sleep.

I didn't hear anything for about a month or so, but the silence was broken when she sent me a video of her husband reacting to his gift. Despite all of the memories fading and twisting out of my mind like shopping bags in the wind, I don't think I'll ever forget seeing the genuine joy on his face.

For first time in my life, I felt like I had finally done something that mattered.

Before I received that message, Demon's Island wasn't special to anyone but me. For my friends, it was just a fun scrapbook from a time that we were all rapidly moving on from. For strangers the game was even more useless: it was just an unrelatable stream of conscious chattering from inside my head. Who was Tim? What's with the weird HPS1 rooms? Why is there a guy with cream all over his mouth on this Thanksgiving poster? Just a bundle of connectomes signaling to nothing in particular.

For me, it was one of the last things I had connecting me to one of the most important years in my life. After receiving that message, I understood that someone else connected with the game the way I did. It was the first time I felt like I was actually being seen. Of all the little funny moments that have happened in my time as a developer, this is the one I'm fondest of.

If you're a game developer and you happen to be reading this, I have a single recommendation for you. I think you should consider making a little world of your own. It doesn't have to be a "game." It doesn't need any core mechanics or structure. Just make a little world filled with memorabilia, and make a little character to let you walk through it.

Stupid in-jokes with your friends, images and gifs you like, weird drawings, photos you took, whatever you want. Just build a world for yourself (and maybe even your friends too if it interests them). Even if you don't release it, I think you'll be grateful in the end.

There might come a day where your world starts to melt into a blurred puddle, where every day feels the same and the endless grinding makes you want to scream. There might be a day where you forget that you were alive once, and maybe having that little bucket of memories will be the thing that keeps you moving on to tomorrow.

Anyhow, we're nearly done here. I wanted to end on this room. It's actually my favorite area in the game.

See, during the latter part of 2020 my grandmother died, and my world sort of got thrown into insane disarray. It resulted in us moving out of our old home to take care of hers, and during that move I decided to build a room out of textures from my backyard.

This little room is one of the few personal remnants I have from that old house. The house I spent my entire childhood in. The house where I started making games. Guess I'm glad I kept something to remember it by.

[amemenojaku]

Shinmyoumaru for the character ask prompt

I got several asks about her... thank you everyone for allowing me to go completely batshit insane

General opinion/How much I care about them: GAHHH I love her SO MUCH it's unbearable!!!! I think nowadays I wouldn't be able to say who's my number 1 favorite touhou character between her and Seija... There is a very special place in my heart for Shinmyoumaru Sukuna T_T I love the play on a classic otogizoshi (making the descendant of Issun Boushi a princess AND the ally of a horned demon at the same time is sooo good) and I love that she has this brave and regal aspect to her personality while still being a little bastard and I love her design and the atmosphere of her fight scene in DDC and her heart and everything else!!! She is cool and cute and funny god I wish Shinmyoumaru were real I have so much affection for this silly little character

A ship I love: (puts on my clown makeup) I made myself known here as a seishin artist many years ago and I'm happy to say they're still my absolute favorite pairing in the series! toxic yuri wins!! The way I see them has changed a lot over the years and thanks to the surprisingly big amount of material we got in the spinoffs and the books but at its core it's still the same... Lonely people who created unforgettable memories together and changed each other forever... And you can go so many different ways with them... But I guess my all-time favorite seishin flavor is best summed up in this unrelated quote (more people should read Fafoo):

seishin fans also manifested grimoire of usami into existence which I think is incredible enough on its own to mention

A non-romantic relationship that I love: With Reimu!!! I think we all agree that their interactions in Forbidden Scrollery were perfect and that Shinmyoumaru is an excellent addition to the Reimu solar system. There's something so touhou-ish about them living together after DDC and Shinmyoumaru sewing that small kimono as a gift for Reimu and then later hijacking the danmaku festival so bad that Reimu has to step in. Literally textbook case of Reimu dealing with another little rascal yet befriending them in the process. Speaking of I think they genuinely are good friends, not just danmaku or drinking buddies... I love to imagine their daily life together when Shinmyoumaru stayed at the shrine......

The NOTP: For better or for worse she's almost exclusively shipped with Seija which is fine by me!! I've never liked seeing her with anyone else (save for a onesided Shinmyoumaru -> Reimu crush).

My biggest headcanon about them: THERE'S TOO MANY TO LIST..... I have pages upon pages of Shinmyoumaru & kobito-related headcanons because she is constantly rotating somewhere inside my brain but I can share a few ones: her family is not only a descendant of Issun Boushi but also a descendant of Sukunahikona; none of the kobito have last names except the ruling family who takes on the most sacred one - Sukuna; there's actually a little bit of Issun Boushi's spirit remaining in the miracle mallet, he doesn't exist there anymore or anything but it's like a warmth that Shinmyoumaru can feel when she wields it.

An idea for a fanwork I would like to make/see about them: I have a lot of wips that I probably won't ever finish sadly... But I -would- love to draw some kind of comic or writing/art mix where I could include all those headcanons someday, with her past and especially a study of her relationship with the mallet

Something that makes me think of them: Hedgehogs :) and forget-me-nots!

[b0yskylark]

I hold back from so much political talk online bc once you start it's very hard to stop and it attracts people whom I would much rather not have any interactions with in my current lifetime (ex. I don't tear HP asunder the way I could/should bc terfs will turn me into a national threat...)

Part of being punk is being aware. I've been far more aware than I let on. I forget sometimes, but I'm only one person with one brain. I'd rather be a silly goofy friendly face (yes even if youve only seen my son's who is clearly a chaotic demon clown), than an angry reactive asshole that only attracts miserable asses. Punk isn't just subversion. It's kindness in the core of ultimate systemic evil. It's a tough exterior, that is willing to protect the interests of the community.

(I'm post punk btw, a combination of punk and goth. Somewhat always have been, I had a scene and emo phase dwat)

I read a story once that made me so happy, and put a bit of confidence into me dressing more closely to how I've always wanted, where someone was in a grocery store. Dressed entirely in alt garb and a lost kid came up to them. Clearly scared, and upset they couldn't find their mom. The person brought the kid to customer service and waited with them until mom arrived. Mom was proud of the kid bc they did what she'd told them to do. "Find a punk or a goth, and ask for help. They're good, safe people." This was paraphrased but you get the idea.

The alt community has a pretty distinct percentage of bad faith actors who are the antithesis of our beliefs. Iykyk. But the majority of us feel like we're community shields. Kindness bundled in a toughness brought about by the radicalized life we were put into for being "different".

All of this is to say, that even if my sharing of information is lacking, or my vocalization of opinion is minimal or restrained. I'm aware, I'm continually informing myself. I'm constantly learning. I still have a lot of personal growing to do (yes at my big big age) and mental walls to break down, i want this to give hope to those of us who are quieter. You aren't obligated to be loud or vocal online, and you aren't alone.

[thewitchandtheassassin]

Just Call My Name, I’m Yours to Tame (Wanda Maximoff x Reader)

Summary: Based on ‘Middle of the Night’. Demon AU kinda?

Words: 935

Warnings: Unhealthy relationships, mild smut, demons, magic, language, spicy toys, questionable choices.

A/N: this is a kinda smutty, kinda dark-ish choice? I dunno how to describe it, you’re welcome.

Taglist:   @natasharomanoffswife​ @natasha-danvers​ @aaron-despair​ @username23345 @xjiasx​ @nowthisisliving27 @higherfurther-romanova​ @summergeezburr @marvels-writings @imnotasuperhero @miscmarvelwritings @captain-josslett @onlyafewfindtheway @hayleyokami @b-5by5 @lostandsearching @evilcr0ne    

-X-

It wasn’t healthy, whatever this was.

Call it a delusion – a break in her psyche - or dabbling in things she had no right to venture in to, it didn’t matter as she stared at the flickering candle on her bedside intently. Soft lips formed the name she’d said too many times already, tongue dragging across her teeth as she waited with bated breath for the familiar sound of wings dragging along the floor and heavy footsteps echoing in her bedchamber.

Another whisper caught in her throat as a deep chuckle echoed from the corner of her room and her eyes fell closed.

Don’t look. Never look.

“Growing needy, aren’t you, pet?” you cooed from the darkness, the fierce glow of your eyes tracing along Wanda’s taut spine. “It’s only been a few weeks.”

Whimpering at the playful condescension dripping from your words, Wanda’s head fell forward, chin to chest as she continued kneeling in the center of her bed. You were poison…

Fire.

Darkness.

Passion.

“I couldn’t help myself,” she defended weakly, biting back a gasp as your front was suddenly pressed to her bare back. Skin to skin, she could feel the heat – inhumanly warm, almost painfully so – and the pressure she often ached for pressing against her lower back.

Clicking your tongue softly next to her ear, you dragged it along the smooth plane of her throat as a hand wrapped teasingly around it. “Such a desperate slut you are.”

She relaxed into you, moaning as your grip tightened. She shouldn’t feel this safe with you – letting a demon hold her in such a delicate position, knowing you could so easily end her existence with a simple flick of your wrist – but she couldn’t force herself to care.

If she died in your arms, so be it.

Sharp teeth sunk into the juncture of her neck and her hips bucked, searching for something only you could give her. It always took weeks for the marks you left behind to heal but she doubted they ever truly would, especially if she continued to summon you as often as she dared to. It was hard, hiding the bites from prying eyes, but it was worth it.

“Silly girl,” you purred, lavishing the bite with languid, smoothing strokes of your tongue. “In due time.”

“Please,” she whined, clawing at the hand on her hip in hopes of dragging it between her legs. “I need–”

A low growl was her only warning before her face met sheet, hands locked at the wrist by one of yours with only her knees supporting her. The movement was abrupt and startling but she couldn’t deny the thrill of knowing she was bare before you, your willing victim in so many ways. She couldn’t break free even if she’d wanted to.

She supposed it was a good thing she didn’t want to.

“Do not forget your place, slut,” you snarled. “You may have summoned me but I own you here. In the middle of the night, you are mine to do with what I please.”

It should embarrass Wanda the way her thighs grew slick at your statement.

Hot fingers probed through her soaked core and she cried out as you expertly circled the throbbing flesh.

“Such a pretty plaything,” you cooed. “I bet you’ll look so good stretched around my cock.”

The pleas she’d forced down escaped at your bold statement, her body trying to press back into the cool appendage kept securely on your waist. Not nearly as hot as your body, it was a stark difference that she’d grown to love.

Smirking, you stroked the toy dangling teasingly between your thighs. It always thrilled you to hear the pretty witch's never-ending pleas. You'd never admit she was the only human you'd seek out whenever she summoned you. No other was given such an honor and to be fair, you weren't entirely certain why she was special. But there was something in the way she called your name...

Grasping her hips with unimaginable strength, you flipped her onto her back and peered down at Wanda. Stunning to a fault, you wished to know what shade her eyes bore. Your first night together, you'd commanded her to keep them shut no matter what or the consequences would be dire yet it hadn't been for her sake.

It'd been for yours.

Meeting her gaze would leave you vulnerable, forever tied to the mortal brave enough to look upon you. You would become hers.

Knowing digits traveled along pale flesh.

"Look at me," you murmured, lining up the toy with her entrance.

"W-what?" Brows furrowed together in confusion but her closed lids shuddered against her will, tempted to sneak a peek at the demon often sharing her bed.

Pressing carefully into the heated, soaked flesh, your hand found a home around her neck and squeezed deliberately. "Open your eyes, witch."

Her lip trembled yet she kept still. It was obvious she wanted to obey, but something was holding her back. Stopping her from catching sight of the one creature she let into her bed; let ravish her with abandon.

Growling, you rutted into the defiant woman – not in an attempt to hurt her, simply to make a point – and captured her mouth with yours, fangs pressing into soft flesh and swallowing her gasp of surprise as her eyes flew open.

Glowing irises met emerald.

And time froze as the weight of your choices crashed down around you both. She called your name in the middle of the night, hoping you would tame the fires burning inside...

And you answered.

[unfortunate-brat]

Obsession

Pairing: Deanmon x Reader

Word Count: 2k

Summary: Dean can’t stop thinking about Y/N, the way her lips look wrapped around his length, to how her tits bounce with every thrust and how sweet her pussy tastes on his tongue. Every waking and sleeping second is spent on Y/N, though Deanmon can’t see it as a problem, one might just call it outright obsession. A perverted one indeed

Warnings: unprotected sex, dirty talk, fingering, DARK FIC!, Rape, non dub con, non con, lewd videos, oral sex, blow job, perverted fantasies, drinking whiskey from breasts, male masturbation, unhealthy obsession, stalker!deanmon, violence, threatening, mentions of torture, Daddy!kink, slight breeding kink, twisted Dean, daydreams, blending of reality & fantasy, cussing, creepy moments

Fetish |  Patreon | Kofi | My Masterlist

“ That’s it, keep going sweetheart.” The demon’s dark eyes watch as the woman takes him whole, cheeks hallowed out and doe eyes on him. Wearing nothing but a red thong and heart pasties, feet still in her heels and make up starting to smear from his hand. “ Just born to suck on my fucking cock huh?”

The things this woman could do with her tongue, and those lips, oh it drove the demon insane! The way her mouth parted as he fucked into her womb, marking up the once beautiful skin to his own canvas covered in red paint. How her body immediately submitted to him when he requested, Chuck knew what he was doing when making this woman.

Yes, everything was tailored right down to this moment. This recurring moment of having her impaled on his thick cock, mewl after mewl escaping her as he sucked on her breasts. Smacking the flesh before going back, the liquid inside dripping down his chin. “ You know human me would have never, ever lived to see actual whiskey in tits and drink from it. Right from his favorite source. Too weak of a man to take what he wanted but baby,” His eyes flash to black. “ I’m better now, and this body is mine for the taking. Right sweetheart?”

And as he looks up, Y/N’s face greets him with a groan. “ Yes, my body is yours.”

“ Nuh Uh, how did I train you to talk sweetheart? You’re forgetting your special word.” His palm collided against her ass cheek and the sting raced down to her core.

“ Yes, my body is yours Daddy.”

The demon lets out a loud chuckle, “ Now that’s more like it! See how good it feels to listen to me? Betcha life was shit before I came and rescued my babygirl, gave her a purpose again and a fat cock to worship. Didn’t I?”

“ Y-Yes Daddy.”

“ And folks she hits a home run again, what a lucky gal. Now I’m not quite done with these toys so you hold on tight for me gorgeous, cause this ride is about to get bumpy.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──

“ Dean!”

“ What?!” His response is that of an angsty teen, yelling back after being disturbed by an annoying parent for some silly chore. It’s how the demon looked at Crowley, thinking nothing but negative thoughts about the King of Hell.

With pants put on, noting to do something later, he walks into the corridors of the land below, and no not the lovely home of an Aussie. Used to the screams of torment of millions upon millions of souls, crying out in agony for any help at all. Dean recalled for a brief second that his voice once joined them, feeling powerless under the extensive torture of Alastair, the same man who also gave him a new power. Darkness.

Inside the throne room, he stares down at the other demons, who cower before the male, aware of his growing strength and then scurry away. Much to the their King’s disliking though it gives them an open opportunity to speak.

“ How about we go on another field trip Dean? A new bar, new broads, a couple games of pool.” He doesn’t mind the time having quality bonds with one another, but knows it’s to keep the newly appointed knight of hell within control, on so called leash. The other demons, they whispered along the corridors of a time where Crowley would be overthrown by his own monster, the man he helped bring back to work under his reign. Just rumors really, but a King can never be too careful and this one made sure to cover all loose ends.

“ You called me all the way over here just to hang out?” The demon rolled his eyes, of course Crowley wanted to keep him around just in case. Dean wasn’t stupid, he can smell the fear of being overthrown by his own Frankenstein and did the demon care? No. Besides, if Crowley was overthrown, he was gonna do it right.

“ Why not? Did you have any better plans?” Crowley held his head high, acting as if Deanmon could be replaced with anyone if rejected. It’s a reverse psychology used on children but it’s not like Dean was acting any more mature than one. Perverted was already on the list, you couldn’t pay Crowley a thousand dollars to barge into his room or to witness what the creep could be dreaming. He knew, oh he knew what and who Deanmon was obsessing over. Practically turning into an animal just to chase the dream of having her by his side. The usual cut out of Playboy all had their faces replaced by Y/N herself. Pictures he snapped and cup out from the original photo, tapped on while Dean most likely jerked off to it.

Requesting the best television from the demons just to watch the so called “ movies ” he had when Crowley had discovered them to be recordings, and not just any. Some of Y/N getting dressed, others while she slept and the most disturbing of them all, Dean playing with her sleeping body. Curling his thick digits inside as soft whimpers fell from her mouth. Tongue lapping at the mess and ripping her panties off, only to be found under the demon’s pillow. A true monster in the making and Crowley wasn’t one to worry over humans but for Y/N, he felt as though something needed to be done to pretty her life.

“ That’s my business Crowley but last time I checked,” The demon stalks closer, leaning in to grab at his shirt collar, raising a brow. “ Being brought back as a demon, I didn’t consent to being your best friend. So do me a favor, if you call for me, making sure it’s important.” And with that, Dean let’s go with a chilling smirk, making Crowley’s skin prickle with goosebumps if his corpse wasn’t dead but could sense them form anyways as the knight leaves the room. Forcing the King to do a reality check, Dean Winchester was gone.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──

He finds himself at the foot of her bed, looking at her sleeping form with a sigh. She chose to wear nothing to bed, just how the demon liked it best, though missed the fun of pulling the lace to the side and have his way.

For the first time, Dean leaned over, caressing her cheek softly with a soft promise on his lips. “ I’ll make you mine soon sweetheart, don’t you worry.” Those same fingers that were gentle a moment ago had made their familial path down to her core, right there for the taking. Making it all too easy for his two thick digits to push in, working her open and nose get hit with the scent of her sweet arousal.

He has to taste her, and spotting the bottle of gummies in the corner, knows the woman would be too asleep to notice. Going in for the kill, his digits drill into her core and tongue laps up the taste of her. Never satisfied, always needing more than what was given to him at a time. Slurping and feasting so much he knows Y/N will be sore tomorrow, yet not just from his tongue alone.

Pulling away, he strips, releasing his aching member and stroking the length of steel, thumb smearing the precum over the tip. “ Gonna fill your cunt up with my cum sweetheart, wouldn’t you like that?” The thumb of precum, he uses to gather up more precum and runs it over her lips, letting out a dark chuckle. “ Come on pretty girl, isn’t this what you’ve always wanted? For Daddy to treat you so good?” He lines the head at her entrance, taking a deep breath before pushing in. Immediately bottoming out and drooling as his face comes into contact with her breasts, nipples hardened into pebbles. “ Oh babygirl, you got these all hard because of me?”

He talks as if she’ll speak back to him, despite her sleeping though his fantasies mix in with reality and before realizing what was occurring, sees Y/N smirking back up at him. “ Always wet for you Daddy. You make my pussy feel so good, want you to stuff me up with so much cum please.” She brings her hands over her sensitive breasts, kneading the flesh right before his eyes. “ And while you fuck me, you can have a drink of whiskey from these, just like you always do.”

Growling, he makes the first thrust and latches onto one, though to outsiders she is not awake, Dean is too far into his head to notice the difference. Either way, what mattered was that Y/N was going to be branded as his. “ Damn sweetheart, you’re just spoiling me at this point. Don’t mind if I fucking do.”

His thrusts are powerful, making the bed frame hit the wall repeatedly and though the loud noise might wake up a sleeping form, Y/N is still out cold. Though despite unconscious, Dean can feel how tight her pussy grips him, greedy in how it swallowed his dick whole as more arousal leaked out of her cunt. Made to fit around him like a glove. “ Fuck babygirl, tighter than a virgin. Just how I like ya, and remember, who does this cunt belong to?”

He spreads her legs open as wide as they’ll go, balls slapping against the globes of her ass as Dean chases at his approaching orgasm. “ This is Daddy’s cunt, his cunt alone. No one else can touch.”

Seemingly so close yet still lacking a portion to travel. “ Good girl, so obedient for me today. How about I fuck you seven ways to Sunday huh? Against the window for all the neighbors to see that I’m the only one who makes you feel this good. No one else. You want that?”  He grips on tit in his hand, the flesh sitting nicely in his palm as she squeals a yes, so quick to respond and it drove him mad with lust.

“ Gonna overthrow that bastard of a King and become superior babygirl. You’ll be my beautiful Queen, tending to my every fucking need. Even when I need my cock sucked by those lips.” He kisses them, growling when her inner walls tighten again. “ That’s it, want you to coat my dick in your juices, I want it all.”

Yet what the demon failed to realize was that sometimes, the things we want are meant to be desired for a reason. To be left behind someday and not taken advantage of, not forcibly taking into one’s own hands outs of selfish and obsessive needs. Just as Deanmon was pounding away into Y/N’s cunt now.

This unsatisfied monster he had become has taken too much control, humanizing and restoring the former hunter that resided could mean death. Too much guilt to process, the chance of being so disgusted with one self, they can’t bear to be standing much longer. It’s not right, what Deanmon was doing was far beyond the path of righteousness. This wasn’t who he was meant to be, what the Michael sword was supposed to be doing. Yet as a God who left his children behind to fend for themselves, Dean continues to drown in sin. With no way out for himself.

As he lays claim to the woman in the bed, Dean watches the cum ooze out of her abused hole, though he scoops it with a finger to push back in. “ Nuh Uh, if I want to have an heir someday, you’re gonna have to keep all my seed in sweetheart.” With care, in a twisted element, he has her close both legs, kissing her pearl before pulling the blanket over the Y/N’s sleeping form with a sly grin. “ Sleep tight, you’ll need to be well rested for your King when he rescues you from this miserable life.” And like the howl of the wind outside, thunder rumbling in the distance, Dean disappears. Promise to return echoed into the air.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──

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[adcfan]

WARNED

He could clearly tell from the slightest wrinkle of irritation adoring the top left of her pale forehead that she is beyond annoyed. How could he blame her? After all it was him who lured the bird out of its comfortable nest in the middle of a tough night. From the height he could perceive the darker shades of her shadows dancing along the way she traced making him more curious to explore the limit of the demon’s braveness.

The edges of his lips pulled up to carve an honest smile as his eyes momentarily rested on the dagger resting against her waist that he once offered her in the middle of a battle, a year ago.

With a loud thud he made his presence noticeable startling her to the core in the process. His armor blazed a bright shade of jade green, bathed in the late moonlight that managed to get the taste of his attire. His eyes searched hers involuntarily, seeking to find any glimpse of game she or the titans might have planned to play on him. But all he could find was curiosity.

Curious? Is she really curious?    

“So, you decided to show up in the middle of a young, wanting night, far from your protective shell behalf of a demons’ call”. If it wasn’t for the mask he is wearing, she could see the imperceptible grim plastered over his face with ease. “And here I thought ravens aren’t creatures of the night”, his brows made a childish hunch testing her temper further more than she could actually take.

“What do you want?”, her voice remained cold as she tried her best to control all the urge to take him down on the very spot. His cape danced in unity with her robe as he approached her a little more without her noticing for a very long second. “Aren’t you forgetting a very special day, beloved?”. And that was definitely a hint of sadness that was sprinkled all over the Al Ghul’s tone.

Right, as if he could actually feel sad over anything with all the blood in his hands.

“I am not in for a game, Al Ghul. I have got a whole city to save and a good night’s sleep to resume, but here I am, in the middle of an abandoned area with a ruthless assassin who threatened to explode the best half of the city and what’s next? Seizure?”. Almost a devilish chuckle escaped his lips as if he had conquered the entire world.

“Oh for gods shake, little bird. Do you really think I will abandon the best of all nights in Nanda Parbat to blast a worthless city like Kansas?”, now he is definitely getting on her nerves. “But I must say, I had half a mind to blow the Titans bridge five minutes ago”, his all time devilish smile still painted his arrogant look. Raven barely recognized how Damian managed to corner her against the cold wall whose uneven surface pressed itself against her flawless skin dripping it with the night’s best dew.

“I am not asking you again, Ra’s. Tell me what you want with me before I banish you into a dimension of never return”.

“You hurt me, beloved. Don’t you remember the anniversary of our marriage?”

Married? With him? A year ago?

“If this is some sort of silly joke, you better stop it right now, Ra’s. It’s definitely not funny.”, her voice trembled with doubts by each passing second. She lingered over her left ring finger as if she has seen her own hands for the first time in all her life. No ring? Well that’s a relief.

He is just kidding or may be…

Or may be not

“Do I look like one who makes senseless jokes like the green monkey your tower owns”. 

Thanks to Gar, at least his pride is hurt a little.

“I didn’t say that, but if you insist on it… I may”, and she sure as hell liked hurting his weak point - his pride.

“Then how about I insisting on maintaining a decent distance between Conner and you, beloved”, for the first time in almost half an hour his words had the true taste of jealous.

“You are my wife and it is my business to keep flirty hybrids like him away from you. Well, if you don’t have to do it the easy way then I will have the pleasure of teaching him decency in my own way, beloved”. Is the night getting unnaturally warmer or…

Oh no! When did he get this closer to her.

And how the hell she didn’t notice it for this long.

If not for the pitch dark night sky, she could actually feel herself blacking out.

“If it is Conner the one you have your problems with then why the hell did you make me come here?” To reveal that she may be married to the Ra’s of League of Assassin’s a year ago? Probably, yes.

“I thought you would never ask. Let’s say I am here to get a gift”

Right, she barely knew that she got married and now he wants a gift in the middle of a night?

“I don’t have a ring”, the words spilled out even before she could realize it.

May be she lost her brain just like Beast Boy.

“I don’t think it is mandatory for a married couple have to propose during anniversaries, beloved”, his breath flowed through her entire being warming up all her dark desires that might love to make him hers and only hers even if…

Stop. Stop right there Raven.    

“I mean, I don’t even have a ring and how could I be your wife when I don’t even have a ring”

Way to go Raven, what’s next a Priest?

“The dagger, Raven. It means a sealed bond in my heritage. A bond made between a husband and a wife, which you willing took to save the pathetic Titans a year ago in the League of Shadows base.” His voice grew more husky and his breathe drove her senses away as he nibbled at her ear lobe. She was supposed to be mad, she was supposed to blast him to pieces and scatter every inch of his being at different dimensions for revealing something as important as being married, but his tone - well, that’s definitely not helping.

“What now? You want me to quit being a Titan, take sides with you and go against them?”

“Baby steps, beloved. Baby steps”. His left hand toyed with the hem of her dress, further breaking the already half broken control towards her urging needs that pooled in very being.  

“Just a kiss and a promise to keep that coward Conner away from you will do”.  She could feel the cold air of the young night kissing her wide spread pale skin that already missed the warmth touch of the assassin.

“And if I resist?”

“You really think you could resist me, beloved? Since it is our anniversary I will be generous enough to make another request”. His eyes grew darker with every words as his katana slightly battered against the cold wall.

“How about blasting the Titans tower to the ground while that stupid Gar and Jaime are trying with their half-celled brains to defuse the bomb or how about giving black fire all the 18 ways to kill Kori like a true assassin in the middle of their fight right now in Kansas or how about giving Slade Wilson the true identity of Dick Grayson and his fellow bat clan or how about letting Conner suffer in the hands of Bizarre Superman, left alone to die by a Kryptonite stabbing.” He hummed the last few parts as he withdraw from the spot he previously stood.  

“On second thought how about all of the above?”

“You are kidding. I would have received an alert signal at least if one of these is happening right now”.

“You mean this?” Damian raised a small communicator from his pocket still humming like an undisturbed teenager enjoying his long drive to no destiny at all.

“Give it back”. She raised her hand trying to snatch the communicator but in vain.

“Did I forget to mention that you have to be a grown woman to snatch a stuff, beloved”. His eye brow arched itself up.

That’s it. She could bear all of his sarcasms, all of his threats and even all of his flirts but not even for the shake of Azar would she let this damn Demon Spawn comment on her height and hurt her pride in nothing more than mere seconds. That’s not going to happen. Not today.

Raven rose to her tip-toes grabbing Damian’s collar to support her in the process but accidentally twirled their legs and slipped right on top of him. Their lips were locked like the mere existence of one depends on the other, when Raven realized the state she has put herself into.

Yeah, that’s how you snatch a communicator from a tall guy, who threatens to blast your whole family.

She would be cheating herself the entire time if she hesitated to accept that she did like the Demon’s head for a reasonably long time now. But she is definitely not going to let her pride get hurt.

“So, you got your gift. Now defuse the bomb and un-mess every mess you made”

“And all it took was calling you - short”. Damian let an almost an inaudible chuckle escape his throat.

He pulled out the dagger from Raven’s waist band and seethed it properly. “Don’t hurt yourself playing with this doll, beloved”.

“My team…”, Raven question was cut short by Damian as he spoke.

“They are safe. For now”

BOOM…

From the frequency of the sound wave she could say that it was near the Titans Tower.

“Well, except for one I guess”

With one last peck on her lips he disappeared into the shadows as if he never existed a few minutes ago.

--

Thank Azar!

There was not a single scratch on the tower. Not even one. At least he kept few of his words.

But the real horror stroke her when she felt no living presence inside the tower.

“Umm.. Rae what are you doing up late in the night?”, Dick asked as he and the other Titans entered the tower with handful of shopping bags. “You are all fine?”. She will never spell it out loud but deep down she knew that she couldn’t stand their loss. She blinked a few times to make sure she wasn’t dreaming.

“Yeah, we are fine. It’s a little cold out there. But don’t worry we won’t catch a cold, Rae. If that’s what you are worried about”, Gar uttered with no care in the world as he glanced through the contents of the fridge.

“Where have you been?” was all she managed to ask when she realized that she wasn’t dreaming.

“We were out…”, Kori barely had a chance to finish when Raven added “Crime fighting?”

“Ah… shopping, Raven. I don’t think it is a custom on Earth to crime fight every time you step out into the public, is it Dick?”.

“Unless or otherwise you are in Gotham, no”, Dick replied as he loaded the fridge with the contents of the grocery bags.

“So, where is Conner?”, inquired Jaime as he entered the main hall. “Isn’t he in the tower?”, Kori added.

“There wasn’t anyone in the tower when I arrived”, Raven replied as a loud thud followed their conversation.

“Conner!”, Gar yelled as he reached him. The rest of the Titans followed by.

--

“What the hell happened dude?”, asked Gar as he tried to touch the bruise near his right eye.

“OUCH!”

“That’s just a small bruise, Conner. I have seen worse”, Dick replied while analyzing his wounds.

“And a broken wrist”, Conner added trying to rise his wounded hand but in vain.

“It’s just a minor injury, amigo. You will be alright as soon as the Sun’s back”, Jaime reassured him while attending to his wounds.

“Here, let me heal you”, Raven offered taking a step towards but the wound deepened as if it was being cut from inside out. Conner could barely resist the urge to break the table he sat on.

“Raven, is that a Kryptonite you are wearing?”, Dick pointed at the green stone that somehow perfectly settled around her neck.

“If that’s causing our flirty Superboy to yell like a mad man then it is definitely a Kent-repellent”, Jaime added.

“A kryptonite? Not again”, Conner banged his head against the wall as if that would make his day any better.

If you don’t have to do it the easy way then I will have the pleasure of teaching him decency in my own way.

“Raven, I know you mean no harm but I don’t think Conner could take any more kryptonite today. So, would you mind…”, Gar tried to get rid of the kryptonite that adorned her neck.

“Here let me try”, Kori flared a small star bolt which seemed to have no effect on it either.

“It seems you have to stay away from Conner for a few days until we find a way to remove that thing off your neck. By the way, it seems to have no effect on you Raven. You may leave, we will take care of Conner”

Seems like he played a particular demon played his part well at keeping Raven away from Conner.

Raven made a short nod and walked towards her room. In the background, she could clearly hear the boys filling Conner with questions about the attack.

“So, was it Bizarre the reason behind this?”, Dick asked as he finished cleaning the wounds.

“No, it was a masked man with a Katana”, Conner replied.

“And you - a bullet proof being got this from a Katana?”, Gar’s curiosity reached its peak when Conner made Kryptonian curses under his breathe.

“Stop touching my wound, Gar”

“You call yourself a super but you can’t stand a broken wrist” Gar arched both of his eye brows wanting for a genuine explanation.

“I have not even once been injected, Pea-brain” was all Raven could hear, when she disappeared into her own shadows. 

                                                                 - Samuel Damian Fernandez

Hi, everyone! This is just a one shot, not a great one but worth giving a try. Like I have mentioned before English is my 8th priority language. So, if you find faults in my work just let me know. Also, share your thoughts on this one shot, so I may get an idea for future modifications. 

Punardarśaāya 😉 👋

[chibinekochan]

How to become a Demon Ruler 210

Part: 00 I 01 I 02 I 03 I 04 I 05 I 06 I 07 I 08 I 09 I

Gender Neutral Reader insert

taglist: @ayesha95 ; @nomnomcupcakesworld ; @fex-phoenix ; @depressed-bixch ; @kitsune-oji ; @witch-o-memes ; @gallantys ,@tanspostsblog ; @undertaker-02 ,

---------------------------------

At some point, I wake up. I hear the sounds of soft snoring beside me.

I laugh as I see Diavolo sprawled out on my bed, fast asleep.

I'm still a bit sluggish but I feel much better. It really must've been exhaustion that made me sick. I wonder how long I slept and carefully get out of bed. Tiptoeing around to not wake Diavolo. He looks kinda cute like this. It's hard not to poke his cheek when he is looking so peaceful.

I look at the clock and realize that my classes have already started. For a moment I panic when I see a note on the clock.

You are taking today off to get better.

I asked the brothers to bring you today's homework later.

-Diavolo

I smile at the poorly written note, he probably did it in the dark with only his phone light.

I suppose I should go and take a shower now. Even if I'm resting today I feel somewhat sticky.

Just when I'm about to turn around I see Diavolo opening his eyes. He looks at me with sleepy eyes.

"Good morning. You can keep lying. I will take a shower." Somehow this feels nice. Waking up like this, besides him.

"Good morning. Are you feeling better?" His voice sounds muffled, he must be still waking up.

"Yes, thanks to your great care I'm feeling much better." I show him an energetic smile.

"I'm glad." He smiles at me. "I guess I'm doing pretty okay for a big brother after all." He still seems to be half asleep but these words hurt more than I expected.

"You do." I press the words out. "I will take my shower now." I rush to the bathroom.

I'm a true fool after all. Not only can't I see Diavolo as my brother but my feelings for him only grow.

Then there is also the fight between him and Barbatos that troubles me greatly. Both of them are very important to me.

Liking two people like this at the same time is serious trouble. Especially since they both see me as master and sibling respectively.

What a mess. I could use some real advice.

I sigh and step into the shower. Trying to clear my head while cleaning my body.

It's refreshing and the thought of breakfast makes me forget my other troubles for now.

I dress and go back into my room.

Diavolo is sitting on my bed. He must need a long time to wake up. It's endearing somehow. I sigh at myself, I need to stop this.

"Ah, you are done. Breakfast came while you were away. Shall we eat together?" Diavolo stands up and walks to the already set table. It doesn't look like Barbatos work, it's somehow rather sloppily done.

"Of course, but why won't we eat in the normal room?" It seems a bit strange to me.

"Well, that is because I don't wish to see Barbatos right now. I had No. 2 serve us breakfast today." Diavolo is still hung up on what happened yesterday.

"You know that you have to see him eventually, right?" It seems somewhat childish to me, even when I understand how much this must've shaken Diavolo to his core.

"I know, but not now." He sighs and sits down at the table.

I shake my head, I need to help them to make up.

We both eat in relative silence.

Diavolo seems to have a lot on his mind and so do I.

After we are done he looks at me with a grave expression. "I fear that I have work to do."

I saw this coming. "I'm much better so you don't need to worry. I will just rest until I get my homework. I need to catch up on devil tube. Yesterday the demon brothers told me all about it." I gently reassure Diavolo.

"I'm glad to hear that. I will make sure the brothers will give you your homework and you promise that you will stay here." He looks at me pleading.

"I won't move. I promise." It's easy to agree with him since I'm still a bit tired after all.

Diavolo nods and pats my head. As nice as it feels he seems to think of me as a child or something of that nature.

It's frustrating.

"I will trust you. Get as much rest as you can. If you feel in any way off by the evening you will take tomorrow off as well." Diavolo is usually stern with me.

"Alright." I know he is only worried and so I agree.

This seems to relieve him a little bit at least.

Diavolo then looks at me one more time before returning to his duties.

I lay on my bed, scrolling on my phone through some comments under devil tube videos when I hear a knock on my door.

"Come in ," I yell.

The door is slowly opened and I see Barbatos peeking his head in. "I'm not sure if you wish to see me but I felt the need to apologize to you in person." He looks very pale like he didn't sleep at all.

"I want to see you, don't be silly and just for the records I don't blame you at all." I smile at him to strengthen my point.

Barbatos steps into my room, closing the door behind him. He has a cart with snacks and tea.

Probably his way of apologizing to me.

He slowly makes his way towards me. Then he pauses a good distance away from me as if being close to me would be a bother to me.

"It's my fault since I should have seen it. Not just because I should've been able to see that future but also because it was so obviously dangerous. I can't state enough how much I have failed you." His face looks like it's frozen or rather like he is in deep pain.

"Even if you were there you couldn't prevent any possible outcome. I mean there is always a small chance I die. Humans are fragile after all. I could slip on the bathroom or something. It's not possible for you to protect me 24/7 and to be honest, that wouldn’t be what I want. I need to do my own thing and I like to be alone too." I try to approach this from a logical angle.

"That might be true, but I always prevented any likely harm to you. I always tried to lead you down the path of least likely harm." Barbatos seems to have a hard time telling me this.

Now a few of his strange requests make sense.

"So you were saving me without me even knowing it? Thank you for that." It's very nice of him for sure.

Barbatos nods. "Sadly for some reason, my ability seems to weaken when it comes to you. I'm not sure why. Usually, nobody is capable of surprising me at all but you somehow always do." A short-lived smile appears on his face.

"I see but then you are even less to blame. No matter what you think I don't blame you at all." I can understand his guilt but I miss the old Barbatos.

"I appreciate the sentiment but honestly I was thinking of stepping down as your butler. I can't serve you properly." His face mirrors deep pain.

I also gasp at his words. "There is no way that I'm willing to accept this!" I raise my voice.

Barbatos seems to be taken aback. "But master, I cannot give you the full protection that you need. I failed you."He is serious.

I can't just let Barbatos quit. His duty is so important to him and he always works so hard to make me and Diavolo happy. Even when that also creates a gap between us.

"I can't stop you, but I will not accept another butler or maid to serve me." I look at him with determination.

"But Master, you need someone to serve you." Barbatos frowns.

I cross my arms. "Too bad, if I have to have a servant it can only be the best and that is you." I'm stubborn but I'm also right.

Barbatos sighs, he seems conflicted. "Even master Diavolo told me it would be better if I wouldn't come near you anymore." These words seem to hurt him.

"Diavolo is just very scared that this might happen again. I think it's easy enough to prevent though. And regardless of his feelings, my trust in you is unmoved." I voice my feelings for him.

the

Barbatos closes his eyes. There must be many things running through his head right now.

"Be honest, would you want anyone else to serve me?" I know his answer could hurt and I brace myself for that possibility.

Barbatos opens his eyes, they aren't wavering at all. "No." Then he pauses a moment. "I would not like that one bit. I believe I'm the best to serve you." His pride as a butler has not been broken at least.

I nod. "I feel the same way. Even if you can't see every possible future I want to keep you as my butler. I care deeply about you and there just can't be anyone else." I let my true feelings slip a little bit but it looks like my words reach him.

He smiles gently and steps closer. He kneels on the ground just before my bed. His eyes focus on me.

My cheeks grow hot. He is so close.

"May I keep being your butler despite my countless failings?" He asks in a very humble-sounding voice.

"You may, in fact, I order you to do so." I do my best-spoiled brat expression.

Barbatos then takes my hand and kisses the back of it. His lips feel cold but pleasant.

"I swear I will do whatever I can for you. Whatever order you give me will be fulfilled." Barbatos is earnest, this exchange is very intimate. I can feel the weight of his promise.

"I gladly accept you as my butler but don't forget that I also see you as a friend." And potentially more but I don't mention that part.

Barbatos nods and smiles softly. "Thank you for your kindness."

At least he seems more normal now, but the rift between him and Diavolo is still very much there. I need to think of a plan.

But first I want to eat the delicious snacks that Barbatos has brought me.

"Why don't you join me for some tea?" I feel like it's been forever since I saw him.

He looks a bit surprised for a moment. "Very well, I have some time for that." Then he smiles and prepares the table for us.

I slowly stand up and sit down across from him. The treats all look so good. "With what should I start?" I ask this more to myself.

"I recommend these fresh hell berry tarts, they are best when still slightly cold." Barbatos points to them.

They look very good. "Alright, I will start with them."I take one to my plate and take a bite. "Wow, you were not exaggerating. This is the best tart I ever had." I pretty much have stars in my eyes. It is that good.

Barbatos chuckles. "It was well worth the time I spent then."

"Did you see this in one of your visions too?" Now you wonder if all the food was so good because of that.

"No, as I said my ability isn't working on you and I'm quite confident in my skills. I was certain you would enjoy this. Even when I didn't expect you to love it this much." He smiles at me full of confidence.

I like this Barbatos much better. "I always love your food. I might become the avatar of gluttony at this point." I laugh.

"You still are far away from that plus it's good when you enjoy your food this much." He smiles gently.

"If I'm becoming fat you take responsibility." I tease him slightly.

He simply nods. "I will."

I didn't expect this straightforward

It's somehow embarrassing so I just continue eating to avoid that feeling.

Barbatos seems to just watch me the entire time. I'm about to complain about that when he suddenly touches my cheek.

My cheeks heat up instantly. It was just a light touch that didn't even last longer than a second but it still surprised me.

"You had some cream there." He smiles sheepishly at me and licks his finger.

This feels very intimate to me. "You should eat the tart instead of the cream on my face." I try to hide my ever-hot cheeks and ever-growing emotions.

"You are right but it might taste better this way." Barbatos nonchalantly takes a tart of his own.

"You are pretty cheeky sometimes." I mostly blurt this out, but it is true.

"Only to those close enough to me." Barbatos calmly looks at me after saying such words. My heart skips several beats.

I'm happy that he feels this way about me. Though it's still bugging me that he always manages to embarrass me. He isn't as bad as Diavolo in that regard but he is very troublesome in his own right.

Then suddenly I see an opportunity for payback.

I quickly seize my chance and wipe a bit of cream off his lip. His surprised face alone makes it all worth it.

He simply stares at me, mouth agape.

"You had some cream there." I smile and lick the cream off my finger.

Barbatos cheeks turn crimson, a full success. At least until I realize that this can count as an indirect kiss.

Now we are both embarrassed.

So I guess it ends in a tie today.

[nutty1005]

How “The Untamed” reversed its fate, Xiao Zhan went the hard way in his depiction of Wei Wuxian

Original Article: https://www.weibo.com/ttarticle/p/show?id=2309404476523863212216#_0 Original Author: 乍暖已寒 (Published by: 爱战DAYTOY_1005)

(TN: The Untamed was based off the novel “Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation” or “Mo Dao Zu Shi / 魔道祖师”. Bringing this novel to the silver screen had its fair share of troubles and many did not look kindly at this project in 2018, nor believed that it would fair well in China.)

I have said this before – when a new top celebrity with stunning good looks appears onto the scene, immediately accompanying it will be forceful criticisms of his/her acting. Xiao Zhan, who burst into fame because of The Untamed, is no exception to this as well.

Endless negative articles, out-of-context screen snaps with negative captions (e.g. the first 3 episodes where he had to act as Mo Xuanyu, a lunatic), slowed down GIFs, or even insinuating special effects… they really tried their best to smear his acting.

Just this once though, Xiao Zhan prevailed despite all of these. The endless waves of well-prepared negative articles did not prevent Xiao Zhan’s acting chops from appearing on Weibo’s trending topics  (instead of his appearance). His unforeseen, exceptional performance in The Untamed proved them wrong – such a great refute to their efforts!

Xiao Zhan’s Exceptional Moments

He had multiple different ways in handling his crying scenes, and they were all able to invoke a lot empathy in his audiences. There were tears of helplessness, tears of doubt, tears of pain, tears of false bravado, tears like that of a lost child – and every teardrop touched his audiences’ hearts.

This scene was my personal favorite – it was as painful as it was beautiful. Besides grief and hopelessness, you could also sense Wei Wuxian’s helplessness, and it became extra heartbreaking. Yes, many would always forget that beneath the all powerful Yiling Patriarch, he was merely a teenage boy, and he had just lost his home. 

Besides his crying scenes, Xiao Zhan also had similar delicacy and accuracy in managing the character’s psychology – for example, the scene which Wei Wuxian discovers the method to transfer the Golden Core. At the moment of discovery, he was filled with exultation, but the joy in his eyes slowly dimmed down, ending with relief. There was this sliver of sadness amidst the jubilation but it was quietly set aside.

Xiao Zhan used his “eyes acting” to great effect, and performed the series of complex emotions perfectly – from the discovery of a cure, to understanding that someone has to sacrifice his Golden Core, to deciding that he would be this person. This made the audiences want to ask, “What about you? What is going to happen to you?”

I also admired Xiao Zhan’s attention to details in the scene where Wei Wuxian brings Jiang Cheng and Jiang Yanli to Yiling Supervisory Hold – he was like a helpless prey trapped at a dead end.

Wei Wuxian was just an child when his family perished, and he had just went through another massacre – there was simply too much death and bloodshed. He was high strung and any bit of provocation could make him lose his rationality. He was instinctively biting his teeth and shaking as he forced himself to protect his only remaining kin.

In fact, after leaving behind the first 10 episodes of happy-go-lucky, Xiao Zhan had countless exceptional moments such as these. I could not even finish describing 10% of them in this long article of mine. For someone who was the lead actor for the first time, his future is really filled with endless possibilities.

As such, I could not even fathom why someone would blindly mock Xiao Zhan’s acting, even more so than when someone mocks his appearance. For someone who could weep while script reading with his fellow actors, how could he be someone with “zero acting chops”?

“Empathic” Style of Performance

The most apt words I can use to describe Xiao Zhan’s acting are “graceful” and “touching” – there appears to be no discourse to his acting, but yet his acting draws empathy and his characterization extremely believable.

To an actor, this is a solution, but this is one of the dumbest method as this is also one of the most harmful method. This is because this method requires the actor to breakdown his personality and restructure himself to suit his character. It makes entering and exiting the role extra difficult – every teardrop is created from the actor’s blood and soul.

To me, I am an extremely sensitive viewer and I like the acting to be natural; I cannot accept any bit of deliberation. I do not like it when performance leaves a trace of the techniques used, instead this “dumb” method is what that can touch me – to become one with the character.

This is probably why this silly child could weep like this during script reading. He might really be a natural born actor, but also a gentle angel – what kind of soul resides in him? How is he able to empathize entirely with Wei Wuxian such that he could tear up like this? Who would not love this boy, who is naturally extraordinary, but yet also incredibly compassionate?

He Understands Wei Wuxian

And because he understood the true meaning behind “becoming Wei Wuxian”, so he understood him even in the smallest details.

Have you ever wondered how Wei Wuxian was like beneath the manically cool Yiling Patriarch and suave youngster?

Firstly, he was an insecure person.

Below is from the author’s Weibo:

His childhood as a stray set the tone for him as person who is always filled with uncertainties – he will subconsciously attempt to change his facade in order to please his loved ones.

And it is evident that Xiao Zhan understands this – you can see that Wei Wuxian has a different facade when dealing with different people. To Jiang Cheng, he is his best buddy; To Nie Huaisang, he tries to be the friend who leads him astray; To Jiang Yanli, he is unashamedly a child begging for praises; To Madam Jiang, he is the most proper and obedient student.

In fact, this scene of an obedient Wei Wuxian gave me more affirmation that Xiao Zhan knows Wei Wuxian, more than any of his crying scenes. (Madam Jiang appeared, and he was the first person who stood up, in apprehension.)

Secondly, he puts up a false front.

Before the broadcast of the drama, Xiao Zhan gave an interview which caused displeasure among part of the novel fans. He said “Too many crying scenes, Wei Wuxian cried too much.” Some of these agitated fans expressed that Wei Wuxian was actually a cheerful happy-go-lucky person, he does not like to cry – he only cried twice in the books, Xiao Zhan must not understand his character!

However, is that really so? Evidently not. The novel was written from Wei Wuxian’s angle, therefore the story was told to us by Wei Wuxian, and hence we are actually reading his version of the story.

When you think about it, how is it possible for Wei Wuxian to not be devastated at the massacre of Jiang Family, the death of his brother-in-law due to his misstep, the death of Jiang Yanli, who took the sword on his behalf, or his own death, where he despaired and allowed himself to be devoured by ghosts? It is definitely not possible, but why were these not described in the books? Because, Wei Wuxian, who liked to put on a false front, decided to sidestep these in his own version.

Yes, our Wei Wuxian was the sort of person who only spoke of the good, but never the bad. No matter how much trauma he suffered physically or mentally, he kept smiling and kept his false front. He always looked like nothing mattered to him and he never suffered.

Hence, when he was battered and wounded by the demonic dog in the drama, despite being covered in wounds, after he took a bite of the bun he got from Jiang Cheng, he smiled brilliantly and said “delicious”. This part made me cry for him – I felt so much for this stubborn child.

Below is why, I was sure from the beginning that Xiao Zhan would do a good portrayal of Wei Wuxian. He told Wei Wuxian at the end of The Untamed shooting to “cherish yourself more, stop putting on a false front”. 

He really knew him. He really felt for him.

He came from a boyband, he had no professional acting training, he did not even have much experience in acting, but he lived up to Wei Wuxian.

In the End

Finally I wanted to say, analyzing anyone’s acting using static pictures, GIFs or even short video clips, without script or character context, are all biased analysis. True performance is not pieced together by short clips, but by complete characterization. As such, perhaps my article may just be as truthful as those gossip articles online. You are welcomed to watch The Untamed in order to truly understand how Xiao Zhan did.

[agent-cupcake]

12 for yandere list for Felix would be so good. If you don't mind I mean...

12. “Just tell me their name and I’ll make this all better.”

Usually, your words flowed without filter when you returned home. Living with Felix was to take on the responsibility of filling a decent amount of dead air, and you hardly ever lacked material to regale him with over dinner. Not to mention your carefully cultivated talent of drawing him into a conversation, something you prided yourself on. 

But tonight, there were too many things that needed to be said for you to speak. You knew that your silence was damning. You knew that it said more than you ever could, given a harsh voice by the uncomfortable contrast. You knew these things and loathed and loved it in equal measure because, while it was too much to hope that Felix would never find out, you desperately wanted a few more of these awkward, blessedly silent minutes before he did.

But he wasn’t nearly that stupid and you were a terrible liar.

“What's the matter with you tonight?” Felix asked, his voice holding an edge of impatient exasperation, as if he’d been waiting a while to speak up. There was a sweet kind of concern, too, even if he did well to hide it. “Usually I can’t get you to stop talking. Not that I mind that. It’s better than sitting here watching you frown at your food.”

“Nothing’s the matter,” you said, taking another stab at your dinner without much enthusiasm. “I guess I’m just... Worn out.”

“Really,” Felix said, deadpan with his displeasure. It made you wince, peeking up at his expression from beneath your lashes. As you’d expect, his mouth was drawn in a frown, one eyebrow arched to compliment the implied question. You couldn’t help but feel that there was something else in that expression. One of the reasons for your anxiety, for your dread of him asking such a simple question. What had happened earlier that day weighed heavily on your mind. Not because of what had been said or how you felt about it, but because of the result you anticipated. 

It wasn’t like you were afraid of Felix, but the feeling was close enough to make your stomach twist in unhappiness, like it was a betrayal to him. You wanted so badly to write it off. Felix was just overprotective. That was understandable, after all he’d been through. 

But sometimes it was frightening. He was frightening. It was as if your pain had an odd effect on the world, an unspoken law of retribution.

Sometimes your skin bristled with goosebumps as you averted your eyes to avoid meeting Felix’s directly because the intensity of his gaze was enough to flay skin from bone, to make your limbs feel cold.

Sometimes he held you just a little too tightly, hiding in the dark to tell you things just a touch off beat, stumbling around the subject of love that still occasionally gave him pause with words establishing his unquestionable claim on you anew.

You weren’t afraid of Felix, but there was something dark simmering below the surface of the man you loved. An open wound that had never seen treatment. That was why, even though you knew he’d learn about it regardless, you shook your head. “It’s silly. I’m fine, really.”

“Oh, clearly,” Felix quipped. He sighed a moment later, shaking his head. “Tell me or don’t but I’d rather you didn’t lie about it.”

You felt your shoulders wilt a bit. There was no malice in his voice. Even if you worried about what laid beneath, Felix was just being kind. You knew full well that he worried. It made you feel guilty. 

“You know how it is. How nobles are, I mean,” you said, thinking of a way to phrase it all in a way that would make it seem petty. Insignificant. “They can be pretty awful sometimes. But it’s fine, I can handle it. I don’t even know why I’m so upset, I already knew how they felt.”

“Did someone say something to you?” Felix asked. His tone had shifted, going from frustrated to sharp. You met his eyes. They were intense, now, lurching that worried pit of anxiety upwards with a deeply unsettling tug. 

“Yes, but it’s not a huge deal,” you said, once again averting your eyes, trying to downplay it.

“Obviously it is,” Felix responded sharply. Then, as if in apology for his harsh reaction, he added, “I won’t be able to help you unless you tell me.”

Help. That was one way to put it. As the head of House Fraldarius, Felix had a great deal of sway. But it wasn’t just that. People forget who Felix was. The war was over, Felix wasn’t the harsh blade of the kingdom who took out enemies as a demon on the field. On the days where he let you hold his calloused hand as you walked the streets of the newly flourishing Fhirdiad and when he sat through endless tedious councils with the newly forged government, he was the kindest version of himself. So people forgot. 

Fools. 

The man who had approached you was from Alliance territory and had a greasy smile and hot breath. He laughed at your disgusted reaction to his proposition, even laughing when you twisted his arm for trying to touch you. A scrappy, irreverent sort of man. The worst that the nobility had to offer. And right then, you had felt sorry for him.  

“Since we married, I, of course, am a lot higher rank than before,” you began to explain, knowing it was a losing battle to keep silent. Felix would find out anyway, he always did. “So the nobles defer to me, but they all know I was born a commoner. Some of them don’t like that, I guess. They see me as a social climber, that I married you for the title. So some of them think I would do anything to get ahead. So they... Make offers, I guess. Thinking that I’ll... You know...” You shrugged, trying to skirt around the words themselves to make it sound less threatening. When you looked up, whatever attempt you’d been about to make to further downplay the interaction caught in your throat.

Once, you had fallen into the river at the precipice of spring, when the beds were filled to the brim and the water gushed fast with melting mountain snow. You were lucky to get out, as rivers like were more like than not to freeze your body blue as they dragged you into the dark. As it was, you’d come away shaken to your core and shivering for days, panicked whenever you remembered the water in your lungs or the terror of the fall. Something of that childhood horror was pulled to the surface by the expression Felix wore.

“I see,” he said. “So you were approached with an offer to help you “get ahead” in exchange for a sexual favor. That’s what you were afraid to tell me.” His tone was like tempered steel, the questions made into statements by his even voice. Felix’s eyes weren’t pointedly mad at you, although the irritation was clear. He never leveled the truly frightening emotions at you. 

“I wasn’t afraid,” you said. A lie. You had been afraid. Afraid of this. Your realization, the reason why you had felt sorry for that foolish nobleman, the reason anxiety sunk like an anchor of pure dread into the pit of your stomach. “Felix, like I said, it’s fine. I twisted his arm when he tried to touch me-”

“He tried to touch you?”

"But he didn’t,” you quickly amended, your voice very nearly pleading now. “I’m sure he got the message, so it’s fine. Right?”

“Sure,” Felix said, his face a mask of stoicism and voice unyielding. Anger burned in his eyes, a fiery complement to the stony expression he’d adopted. “Just tell me his name and I’ll make this all better.”

[vicunaburger]

Admittedly, I’m Hard to See

Fandom: Beetlejuice the Musical Chapters: 16/? Pairing: Beetlejuice x OC (Holidae) The Players: Beetlejuice, Lydia Deetz, Holidae Bell Word Count: 1,784 Warnings: M for Mature Content, Adult Situations

Notes: There’s smut, but it’s not too graphic so...

Chapter 16- In Which Humanity is a Matter of Choice

Holidae was beginning to realize that, not only had she acquired a ghostly bedmate, but that she had come into possession of a large, fickle cat.

Beetlejuice would follow her room to room; sometimes drifting somewhere near the ceiling, or sticking close enough to trip her up if she wasn’t paying attention to his placement. She already lacked a gift for spatial awareness and having a full grown adult male glue himself to her personal space was not going to do her any favors. He was never out of her peripheral, intentionally placing himself with her sight lines the moment she would turn her head.

A passing thought wandered into her head as she made herself some coffee, glancing up at the demon sitting on the countertop as he swung his legs around childishly. Was he afraid he would cease to exist in her mind if she didn’t see him wandering around? Was it some sort of ghost rule she wasn’t aware of?

The toe of his boot was tapping against her leg, earning him a quirked eyebrow, “You want a cup?”

Shaking his head, he merely continued tapping her leg.

Rolling her eyes into the back of her head, Holidae shuffled out of the kitchen with her filled cup, nearly spilling it when she felt his arms wrap around her neck from behind. It had become his new favorite game: clinging to various parts of her without supplying any extra weight.

His hands started to wander lower, slipping under her arms and around to unabashedly grope her chest, “You’re warm.”

Instead of peeling him off of her like a static balloon, she let him hold whatever part of her stuck his fancy. She figured it was better than trying to pry any elaboration to his comment out of him, since he had a habit of being dodgy with it came to the Living. Beej’s body would start leeching the heat from her skin, it was true, but there was no discomfort once their temperatures balanced out.

Futile as it might have been, Holidae tried to go about her routine while he was still attached to her. Soft whispered promises and not so subtle mouthing along her neck were ruining her concentration; and the thought of relenting to his advances was too tempting to ignore.

How much did they spend on camera film this month? Would it better to order it in bulk? She drummed her fingers on the ledger on the table, desperately trying to ignore his hand sliding under the waistband of her pants.

In all fairness, she managed to hold out until his cold fingers brushed against the thin fabric of her undergarments. A personal accomplishment in willpower, if nothing else.

Beej was obviously in more dire straights than Holidae, not even bothering to use his supernatural abilities to get them into a bed or sofa. Instead, it was a sloppy, dirty affair against the hallway wall; all teeth and claws as he devoured her smaller form. Invisible limbs held her fast against the wall, allowing his corporeal hands to busy themselves disrobing her until her bottom half was completely bare save for her socks.

This was not the careful, intimate encounter from last night, and she reveled in the feel of his large body pressing against her as he struggled to unbutton his trousers. There was no finesse, no thought of anything to do with comfort or preparation, just a base need exchanged in a shared look between them as he pushed up into her heat. Holidae choked out a sob, the stinging burn sending shock waves through her nerves.

It hurt, but it was delicious.

Beetlejuice darted forward to capture her mouth in a deep kiss, swallowing the mewling whimpers that bubbled up from her throat as he started to move within her. Holidae buried her hands into his soft hair, a mix of pink and murky emerald, and tugged hard, wanting him to hurt as payment for his haste. She was rewarded with a shameless moan from the demon, his claws digging into the flesh of her hips like needles.

Almost as if it pained him to do so, he slowed down his frantic thrusts, pulling back in order to watch her face with a laser-focused intensity. Holidae could only imagine what he saw, unable to see her reflection in those gold eyes of his. No doubt a sweaty, breathless mess of a woman; flushed with lust only for him. It was almost frightening how easily he turned her on, how he seemed to know just where to touch and what to say in that gravel-laden voice.

Beej tilted his head sharply to one side, reminding her of a raptor in a dinosaur film. Unclear if he was curious about something in her expression, or about to tear her throat out with his teeth.

Either way, there was a noticeable fluttering in the pit of her stomach at the thought of him turning full predator in an instant; a primal reaction that went straight to her core, feeding her arousal tenfold.

Terrifying and thoroughly wanton.

The ghost followed each micro-expression as it flitted across her face, his eyes turning dark with lustful pride at how utterly helpless she looked under him. He ran his tongue along his teeth, chuckling as her eyes followed the motion with keen interest. His little breather wouldn’t have to wait long to feel that unnaturally long appendage as he licked a stripe against her neck, lingering around her artery. It was wet and thick against her skin, coaxing the most beautiful cry from her lips.

“My little breather…” Beetlejuice pinned her hard against the wall, keeping them both still. “You are mine, aren’t you, Holidae?”

Panting, she tried to roll her hips against him, unhappy at the loss of delicious friction inside her, “What a question to ask at a t-time like this. You think I’d let just anyone b-b-be in your position? How low do you think me?”

Laughing at her, he snapped his pelvis forward, eliciting a low moan from deep within her chest, “There you go ruining a perfectly romantic moment with your logic. You’re supposed to say ��Oh BJ, I’m only yours~’. Or something like that. I like hearing you say that kinda thing while getting shagged silly. Call me a narcissist, a selfish prick if you want, but what can I say? I like my ego stroked.”

“You’re a selfish prick.” She managed to give him a deadpanned reply, biting her lip in frustration.

He rewarded her with the motion she so desperately wanted, setting a brutal pace, “That’s my good girl! Don’t want you going all starry-eyed and stupid on me. No fun without a little bite, you know what I mean?”

Holidae wasn’t sure if he was really expecting another witty remark, but he knocked all the fight out of her when he angled her body just so against the wall. She buried her face against his shoulder, the heady scent of smoke and fresh dirt filling her lungs with each breath she took. Vaguely, she could hear him muttering something into the crook of her neck, his hold on her becoming impossibly tight. The invisible limbs wrapped around her like a blanket, no part of her untouched; as though they were trying to block out everything from her existence, save for him.

—

Later, when they were both clean -again- after a few more rounds of “fun time” - a term he used much to her chagrin - they lounged outside in the chilly autumn weather. Beetlejuice lounged in one of the deck chairs, a cigarette between his lips and his hands behind his head, while Holidae was straddling his lap, her hands idly tracing shapes on the lapels of his coat. Slowly, her hands moved up to the sides of his head, covering the tips of his pointed ears. Frowning, she moved onto his hair next, blocking out the bright color with the palm of her hand and squinting as she studied him.

“What’re you doing?” Beej cocked an eyebrow at her.

“Trying to picture you as a human.” Holidae’s tongue peeked out from her lips as she concentrated her efforts.

With barely a twitch of his hand, his appearance shifted beneath her, the more demonic parts of him melting away - quite literally- as she watched. The difference was subtle in some respects: he still had the same build, the same rounded face covered with a fine layer of stubble. His hair was still unruly, but a normal mousey brown shade that lacked the vibrancy she had come to expect. His skin was fair in color, no longer dotted with bits of mold and dirt, and his eyes were dulled to a normal amber shade. No pointed ears, no claws as he reached to remove the cigarette from his mouth, and no sharp teeth were visible when he gave her a lopsided grin.

“Well?” Even his voice was different; soft and smooth as honey.

Holidae pulled her hands away from him as though they were burning against the newly “living” flesh of his face, going so far as to shift her weight back on his thighs.

He looked… wrong to her.

Shaking her head, she held her arms tight against her sides, “I appreciate the effort, I really do, and it’s not as though you make an unattractive human. I mean, I wouldn’t have turned you down had to you asked me on a date. But this… it’s not… my thing?”

“No? You wanted to know what I looked like as a breather, what’s not to like about me?” Beej watched her carefully, taking note of the obvious discomfort she presented.

“The guy I like isn’t human,” Holidae furrowed her brow, poking at his clean cheek with her index finger. “If I wanted a normal guy, I would have made an effort to get one before now. But I have you: a ghost, demon, whatever you call yourself any given day, and that’s just fine by me.”

Beetlejuice clicked his tongue, “I dunno, Holly’n’Ivy, maybe I wanna stay like this for a while. Could go into town, cause some mayhem-”

“If you stay like this, you can forget about ever seeing me naked again.” Holidae cut him off, her expression instantly serious.

The effect was immediate, Beej shaking himself like a wet dog and changing his appearance back to normal, “You drive a hard bargain, babes; you being naked is like top five of my favorite things.”

She squished his face between her hands, feeling the stubble scratching her palms, “Only top five?”

“Well, yeah, because you can be naked and not doing anything sexy around me.” He lifted a hand, gesturing to create some invisible mark in the air. “Now, both of us naked? You start moving up the scale.”

Before he could explain any other tiers to his imaginary measurement system, the door to the outdoor deck swung open, revealing a surprisingly chipper Lydia. With a snap of his fingers, Beej disappeared from underneath Holidae, causing her to land awkwardly on the lounge chair with a squeak. The ghost picked Lydia up around her waist, spinning her around as though she weighed nothing at all.

“My bestest best friend is back! You weren’t eaten by wild animals or that mothman guy that lurks around the woods.” He laughed setting her back down with a smile.

“BJ, mothman doesn’t come up this far north, you know that.” Lydia made a face, pushing him back in a joking manner. “I can’t believe you just dropped Holli like that. Rude. I thought you two were all kissy kissy by now.”

“Oh, we’re waaaaaay beyond kissy kissy.” Beej chuckled, lighting up fresh cigarette. “Shy little Holly Jolly here is a goddamn hellcat in the sack.”

“Beetlejuice!”

Writing Tags: @hoodoo12 @mr-geuse @paxenera @leiasolo77 @go-commander-kim @a-subconscious-manifestation @asriells @missihart23 @heknowshisherbs @mrgeuse @amywright

[abalovesfic]

The Demon, The Exorcist, and the Memory Chapter 1

We all do stupid things. And sometimes that stupid thing is posting an entire 47k fic at once... which then actually lowers people’s ability to see it because you aren’t posting on a schedule. A lot of my readership comes from Tumblr and I really, really need it.  So why can’t I cross post already completed chapters? Leave your comments, hits, and blood offerings at  AO3. Help me fix the mistakes I made against my baby! @transcendence-au ---------- Dipper looked into the cup of hot chocolate, his reflection cast back into the dark brown slurry. He looked the same as always, gold irises piercing back at him. Same sharp teeth and dramatic wings. Even after all these years, he never truly managed to change. “So what exactly do you do on your 5013th birthday? I think I’m a little too old for parties,” he said.

“Don’t be silly.” She grabbed a handful of marshmallows and forced them down into her cup, followed by three candy canes and a thick pulse of fluffy whipped cream. “You’re never too old for cake and presents. Don’t you have friends to hang out with?”

“Yes, but I’ve never told them when my birthday was. Sorta ruins the whole immortal demon thing I’ve got going on,” he muttered, tapping his claws against the side of the mug. “The only person who I’d even tell is Mizar.”

She chugged some of the hot chocolate, pulling the cup away to reveal a chocolatey brown mustache over her upper lip. “You should tell her. I think she’d like to celebrate with you: this is the big 5-0-1-3.”

Dipper laughed at her, just for a moment, watching as she tried to lick the chocolate away. “I’ve only found Fang a few weeks ago. We’re still adjusting to each other, you know? Fang and I haven’t really clicked yet. She’s been… difficult.”

Grabbing a napkin from the table, she rubbed the chocolate from her face. “Well it sounds like this could be a bonding moment for you and Fang.” She paused and chewed on a strand of her dark hair in thought. “I know it’s not easy going through this every few hundred years… but she is Mizar. A lot of things change between incarnations, but your connection doesn’t. So go grab a couple cupcakes and go visit her. I promise, she’ll see right through that scary demon exterior to your soft squishy core.” Reaching over, she bopped him on the nose with one finger.  

Knocking her hand away, he laughed. “Cut it out.”

“Nope.” She bopped her finger against his nose again.

Dipper’s grin faded just as quickly as it arrived. Something sorrowful creeped over him. “And what would you want to do, for the big 5-0-1-3? After all,” he looked at her, the soft curls of her dark hair caressing her face, how her eyes looked so bright and awestruck. “It is your birthday too, Mabel.”

Mabel’s smile changed. What was once joyous turned to a thoughtful and sad glaze across her face. “Oh, Dipper.” Mabel wrapped one hand around his. Everything about her was intense, down to the texture of her fingerprints. He could smell the combination of perfume and hot glue on her skin, count the stands in her wool sweater, see every freckle on her nose. “I’m not really Mabel, I’m just a representation of her.”

“I know,” his voice broke, on the verge of a grief filled rage. “You don’t have to remind me every single time. At least pretend or something.”

His memory of her was perfect, concocted of every thought, every word ever spoken by or about her. The most precise image of his sister he could muster. She appeared in her late 20’s, soft bags under her eyes from the exhaustion of raising triplets, but also vibrant and full of life. Every time he came to see her, she wore a new sweater every time he saw her, generated from one of his memories. This one happened to be her pink birthday sweater, the one she initially planned to wear for their 13th birthday 5,000 years ago.

After a while it had gotten too hard. He had Mizar. Every moment with each incarnation was a new adventure. But it didn’t change the fact that there was only one Mizar he wanted to talk to. Only one Mizar who knew him for who he truly was. But the only place she still existed was in his own mind. And, after all, he controlled the mindscape. So who was to say he couldn’t rebuild her from his own memories?

Mabel slipped her hand up to his cheek and tried to force his gaze on to hers. “I know you don’t want to celebrate because you miss her. But she would want you to. I want you to.”

“But I want y̸̛͖̤̲̟o̶͛͐ͅu̸̡̝̪͕͂͗̂͠ ,” Dipper said, unaware of the snarl carving in his voice. “Don’t you get it? I’m so tired of going through this over and over again. I want m̷̱̑ͅy̷̝̤̥͕̐͛ ̷͉͖̞̕s̷̭̓̓ḯ̷̘̘̲̾̍s̷̖͑t̸̛͔͈̰̔͜ȩ̶̭͚͔̀̓̍̚r̷̡͚̜̪͒̋͝.̷͍̞̝̓̀͜.”  

“Hey, snap out of it. Listen to me for a moment.” She had that big goofy grin he adored. “If Mabel had stayed with you all these years, you would have missed so much. Belle, Maddie, Marcia, Lane: all of my incarnations have loved you so much and you loved them. The universe is like a big sweater, sometimes you have to get a new ball of yarn. And now you have Fang as your new ball of yarn!”

He sighed, “Fang is a little scared of me, I think.” He shook his head, “Actually, I know she is. She doesn’t trust me yet.”

“Duh I’m Dipper,” Mabel did her best mocking interpretation. “I’m socially awkward and emotionally isolated. I have a hard time making connections with people and I use being a demon as an excuse.”

“I do not!” he retorted.

“Do too!” She stuck her tongue out at him. “Bro, you have to show her who you are. Being Alcor the Dreambender isn’t gonna cut it. You have to show her Dipper, the dorky nerd who plays card games and reads the same book 5 times just to make sure he picked up on all the details. She’ll be scared if all you let her see are the dark and violent parts of what’s happened to you.”

He stared back down at his reflection in the hot chocolate, haunting, dark, and eternal. “I’m starting to forget who Dipper is. It’s been so long.”

“Then let me remind you. Dipper Pines is the most loving person in the world. He’d do anything for the people he loves, including follow their soul around for eternity. He’s been a little broken down over the years, but it’s never stopped him from trying. I know this is hard. But you’ve never given up before. Don’t start now.”  

His smile was faint, “Thanks, Mabes. You always know what to say.”

Leaning back, she crossed her arms and gave him a smug grin. “Yup. I’m a genius. Now go have a birthday party with Fang. Let her know that this is a special occasion and you want to share it with her .”  

“I will.” Standing up, he gave her a kiss on the cheek and turned to leave.

“Wait!” She cried. He turned around. She pointed at his still full cup of hot chocolate. “Are you gonna drink that?”

“It’s all yours,” he chuckled and walked out of the Mindscape.

------

Fang sat on her bed, her usual clambering and shrieking emo/punk music vibrating through her bedroom. The array of all black clothing consumed her. The sleeves were torn away from her shirt leaving nothing but fringe and the muscled curve of her arms. She had her hair pulled into the signature, stumpy pigtails atop her head. She wasn’t paying attention, as usual, chewing on a piece of bubble gum and staring into her MagiOrb. The image appeared backwards through the holoscreen, though he could tell she was looking at a news article about the unfortunate dismembering of a child-sacrificing cult this morning, having been found with their organs separated from their bodies. Fang was nosey, that was for sure. Dipper sucked in a breath, trying to push down his nerves. He positioned himself at the back of the bedroom and rapped his knuckles against the wall 3 times to get her attention.

At first she was startled, obviously she was. He had surprised her and she was still getting used to him. Not just the way he looked or the faint terror that radiated from him, but the fact that he had become tangible. No longer a myth or a legend, but someone real.

“Oh uhm… hey?” she said, unsure what to make of his unannounced presence. Scrambling, she turned off the MagiOrb and tucked it beneath her pillow, as if to hide what she was looking at.

“Sorry, I know it’s not one of our pre-planned meeting times, but I wanted to see you today,” he said, still standing awkwardly at the back of the room. Unlike past Mizars, he had agreed not to blip in and out of her life at random. They made a schedule of days and times she was willing to meet with him, all of those meetings lasting no more than an hour, and she could send him away without question. He had also agreed not to approach her without permission. So he stood off in the far corner of the room waiting for her to motion him closer.

Fang gave him a confused but cautious glance. “Is everything alright?”

“Everything is fine. It’s all good. Today is just kind of an important day for me and I wanted to spend it with you.”

Her shoulders hunched forward with curiosity. “What’s today?”

“It’s sort of my 5,013th birthday.” He gave a mild smile and nervous jazz hands, confetti spurting from his fingers and then disappearing.

“Oh.” She blinked her dark eyes a few times, lashes thick with clumpy mascara. “I guess I hadn’t considered that you would even have a birthday. Let alone that you would celebrate it every year.” She pressed her lips together, sitting in an uncomfortable thought.

“Sorry,” he muttered. “I realize I just sort of popped in here and dropped this birthday thing on you. That’s weird. Like you said, demons don’t really have birthdays.”  

“It’s okay,” she replied, a genuine sympathy curling into her voice. “No it's okay. I wish I had known, I would have gotten you a present or something. Now I feel bad.”

“Don’t. Really, it’s okay.”

He watched her inch closer, shuffling herself across the bed, wrinkling the blankets as she moved. “What sort of things do you like anyway? Beyond murder and eating souls?”

“Very funny,” he replied, a sarcastic spit to his tone. “But seriously, I do enjoy things outside of eating the occasional soul.” But then he softened for a moment to think about it. Mabel had told him to show Fang who he really was. He supposed this would be the way to do it. “For example: I like the top 40’s pop hits. And I love role playing games; the ones from the old days when you had dice and graph paper. I like the smell of pine trees, the real thing, not candles. Oh and candy; the good kind, not that loser stuff.”

“What are you,12?” A slight snort of laughter erupted from her.

“I’m 5,013 ,” he said and stuck his forked tongue out at her. This was the first time he had ever seen her laugh. After two months of scheduled meetings, trying to force just a little bit of conversation out of her, he finally got Fang to laugh.

“It’s just so weird,” she said, the laugh slowing in her voice. “I thought you were gonna say warfare or videos of people falling down the stairs. Maybe professional wrestling. Something a little more chaotic.”

He shrugged. “I don’t like any of those things. Okay, well, videos of people falling down the stairs are pretty funny but not in, like, a malicious way.”

Fang looked over at him, standing in the yellow lamplight in the back of the room. A pink hue flushed his cheeks. She reached out to pat the bed beside her, inviting him closer. He did so, not quite sitting on the bed but barely hovering over it and folding his wings up against his back. She still went rigid when he got close, but she held her ground.

“What about you?” he asked, leaning forward with his elbows pressed against his knees and chin resting on both hands. “What do you like?”

“Oh,” she blinked a few times, clumpy lashes sticking together. “I thought you would have rooted through my brain for that information.”

“I’m trying out this new thing called privacy. I hear humans like it.” She contorted her mouth in confusion and disgust. “I’m kidding,” he replied. “I know what privacy is. Despite what you may believe, I do have a sense of right and wrong.”

“I can’t help what I believe,” she replied. The silence hung between them as if sentenced to death on the gallows. And even though her music raged on with angry synth-drums and screaming lyrics, nothing could cover up the quiet between them. Fang sucked in a breath, looking away from him as if disinterested. “I like bubble gum, punk bands that say ‘fuck’, horror movies that are so bad they’re good, dunking all my foods in hot sauce, and…” she thought a moment, “killing demons.”

He must’ve turned a stark white. “Seriously? Well, that’s...”

She smiled, a subtle curve at the corner of her mouth. “I’m kidding. I can make jokes too. I mean, killing demons is fun, but I wouldn’t call it a hobby.” Her glance was sly and wry, a slip of her true personality slipping through her exterior.

“Are, uhm, you still going to exorcist training?” he asked.

He could see the pieces of her history strewn about the room, as if she left everything out in the open on purpose. Old demonology textbooks were stacked on the corner of her desk (you could tell they were old because books stopped going into print 2,000 years ago), a protection sigil hung over the door, all of her awards and medals for exorcism-training were displayed proudly in the same manner that other teenagers might display martial arts or science fair ribbons. There was a faint and lingering smell of burnt aromatics used to protect the home. Everything about Fang had been shaped and cultured to distrust him.

It was one of the universe’s sick jokes. First, to take Mizar away, keep her hidden from his sight for so long, and then to turn her against him.

The way Fang looked at him always seemed to be accompanied by a threat, as if she were counting the ways she could bring him down. “I am.” She said it so plainly, as if she meant to insult him with the mundanity of it. “Dropping out would be suspicious. I’ve been training since the day I turned 12, to stop so suddenly would raise concern in the community. I have to pretend like nothing has changed until I turn 18 and I can take my test to become a full exorcist. And besides,” she said. “I think I need it now more than ever.”

He perked up. “Does that mean you’ve given the whole Alcor and Mizar thing more thought?”

“I haven’t,” Fang replied, a cold snap to her voice. Dipper then realized she wasn’t talking about fighting demons with him, she was talking about fighting him. She was still worried he might betray her. “I just don’t understand this Mizar thing right now. I need more time to…”

“Adjust?”

“Yeah.”

“I understand.” His cheek puckered where he bit down on the inside of it.

Fang leaned back, using the palms of her hands to press against the bed and stretch out her back. “So,” she said, eager to keep talking in order to ignore the absurdity of her situation. “What did you want to do? Considering it’s your birthday and all.”

“Oh.” Dipper hadn’t expected to get this far. He thought Fang would have asked him to leave by that point. “I don’t know. It’s honestly been a really long time since I’ve celebrated with anyone. How do you typically celebrate?”

“I uhm,” Fang rested her cheek on her hand. “I don’t celebrate. My parents are usually too busy; not to mention they’re pretty terrible gift-givers. They always get me something related to exorcism. Seriously, for my 5th birthday they got me a copy of My First Demonic Dictionary . It had all sorts of fun words for kids like ‘circle’, ‘fire’, and ‘human sacrifice’. And three years ago, I said I wanted some new music downloads. So they got me 3 albums of Latin chanting.” Dipper chuckled a little at that, though Fang didn’t appreciate him mockering her misery. She punched him in the shoulder. It didn’t hurt. “Cut it out. It’s not funny!”

“Sorry, that's just a terrible present. Latin chanting is the worst . I’m more of a classics guy myself; like BABBA.” He cleared his throat, it was a terrible nervous habit, considering he didn’t have a throat nor did he have something to clear out of it. “So really, you just spend your birthday alone? No friends or anything?”  

“No, I’ve never been good at making or keeping friends.” She sighed and leaned backwards so that her shoulder blades touched the back wall by her bed. “I guess that’s one thing we have in common. We’re both good at being alone. Huh?” There was a slight arc in her lips, a certain kind of look in her black makeup-rimmed eyes. Fang had the face of a silent film star; someone who had perfect control over their expressions. There was something coy in her face, like she had left a snare for him to walk into. She had him all figured out.

“What makes you think I’m alone?” he replied.

“Because you’re spending your birthday with someone you barely know. That sounds pretty lonely to me.”

He laughed to himself, a sharp-toothed smile spreading across his face. “You’re very astute, Fang.” Then his smile faded into something more soft and contemplative. “But we aren’t alone right now. And all I’d really like for my birthday is for us to try to be friends.”

He could tell by the pucker in her bottom lip that she was thinking. Letting out a breath through her nose, the tips of her bangs ruffled. “I guess I can try.” The deep brown of her irises looked nearly black as her dark gaze settled on his.

For the first time, the smile she gave him was friendly and the tide of her breathing became relaxed. Maybe things were finally starting to change.

[minyoongisjiminie]

“thanks for always believing in me” (knj+ksj)

ship: namjoon x seokjin (namjin)

genre: fluff 

pov: namjoon

synopsis: namjoon was the leader of the biggest band in the world. and even though he handles every little obstacle with brilliance, he still somehow manages to feel a little insecure now and then. thankfully his older hyung is always there to cheer him up. 

disclaimer: not that romantic, but I tried lol 

a/n: ahhh I missed writing so much.. this idea just plopped up in my mind, since I think both of them had this conversation before. I really live for their relationship and this needed to be done :) this is also the first time that I’m writing in someone’s pov so pls give me feedback if you like it! 

word count: 1.2k 

-

My stomach started to flip over once again. As always when it’s time for the concert. I breathe in and out, and share a brief moment with Yoongi hyung who was staring at me out of nowhere. I was quite fascinated that he was so good at hiding any kind of stage fright. Even though my deepest wish was to hide it too, I am pretty sure I couldn’t. My facial expression always ruines it for me. 

“Okay guys, 90 more seconds!” 

The staff member shouts, and quickly runs away with his clipboard. Our stylists stare at us, making sure we look good enough to perform while we share ourselves to the world once again. 

Time stood still for a moment. 

I could hear the soft nervous sighs coming from the boys and I knew that it was my turn to cheer them up. 

I coughed slightly and with a little hand wave I made sure that they were coming to me. 

“Okay, guys. We can do this, right? Let’s show our fans how much we appreciate them and give them the show they deserve. Alright?” I shout, trying to make a point so they could hear me while our beloved fans started to scream our names in the famous order. 

Kim Namjoon, Kim Seokjin, Min Yoongi, Jung Hoseok, Park Jimin, Kim Taehyung, Jeon Jungkook

BTS.. 

“We are who?!” 

“Bangtan!” 

They reply, while the biggest smiles form on each of their lips. All of us lay our hands on each other, ready to wish us luck for the performance, with our well known victory cry. 

“Bang-Bang Tan!” 

-

“The concert was amazing... they were so full of energy today, weren’t they?” I hear Jimin’s light voice from afar. 

While all of the boys were quick to get back on their knees to go to the “artist area” where we could take a shower and a little rest before heading out, I was more of a person that waited till they were all leaving, and I could just take some time for myself. Being alone and just breathing in the empty but still hot arena air, that was filling the downstairs backstage area. Now the anxiety was finally reducing consistently. 

I was so sure that nobody was here with me, sharing this intimate moment except for a middle aged man from our team, that was sweeping the floor and grabbing some trash that was still lying around. 

But I was wrong. 

While I watched the man finishing of his work, I saw Jin hyung behind him waving at me. 

“Are you okay?” He said while holding some gummy bears in his other hand. His eyes looked tired but he seemed happy and pleasant, maybe the reason was todays concert? He definitely should be proud, he was amazing. 

“Yeah. Of course, hyung. It’s just some “namjoon thing” that I’m processing right now haha.” I reply, hoping he would understand that I was not in the mood to actually say the truth, even though it was partly right. I was indeed “namjooning” in a way. But not in an overall exciting way. 

“What’s wrong, huh?” He asked softly while offering me some of his gummies. I took a red one from his pale hand and put it simply in my mouth. 

What’s wrong..

That’s a pretty good question to be honest. Even after all these years, finally gaining the success we were working on so hard, I couldn’t stop feeling a bit depressed these couple of weeks. 

I saw all of these smiling faces in the crowd and people who were putting their hand on their heart, thankful eyes glistening full of happiness. And all I could think of was the pure euphoria I was probably handing these people with my music. 

We were all one. 

People that lost themselves completely in society and forgetting their own demons, that were breeding in their heads, for just a little amount of time. Even if it’s just three hours. And that made me feel responsible. I always wanted them to feel this way. However that’s not in my hand. And that sucks. 

“I don’t know.” 

From all the members, I think Jin hyung is the one that gets me the most. In times like this all the other boys would’ve handled the situation differently. 

Hoseok most definitely would’ve try to make me smile with stupid jokes and silly little dances. Jimin would just suffocate me with tight hugs. Taehyung would just look at me both worried and confused. Jungkook would be scared to even approach me, most probably frightened that I would react wrongly. Yoongi hyung wouldn’t even realise that something was wrong with me. But Jin hyung.. 

Hyung is just there. And makes me feel a little less lonely. 

He just sits right by my side and lets me be. Offering me gummies or other preferable snacks once a few minutes and then talking about things that would eventually distract me. 

He’s the one. The one to talk to, if something aches a bit differently. 

“Hyung?” 

“Hm?” 

I took a quick glance at him from the side, his eyes were still glued to a lonesome makeup bag from the stylists that was sitting on the floor. 

“I’m scared.” 

“I know.” 

He gave me his last three gummy bears, and stood up. 

“And that is completely fine, Namjoon-ah.” 

I squeezed the bears with my fingers, abusing them as my little stress reliever.

“I guess if you wouldn’t worry about some certain things, I would actually worry more about your well being. Because worrying about us, this way, makes you the best leader to ever exist.” 

He says honestly, while proudly putting his one hand on his chest and raising the other one. 

I needed to smirk a bit. The gesture was too cute. 

“You should find a good balance of worrying. It can motivate you, but it can also destroy you.” 

I nod while I listen to his maturely choosen words. He just understands. I guess. And he realises how I feel. That’s quite refreshing. 

“The energy you have to get us through all these concerts and events... I really don’t... I don’t posess that. You should be proud of yourself, huh?” He continued. 

I rubbed my eye and quickly put the gummies in my mouth. He just looked at me, most probably waiting for any reaction. I stood up and grabbed the water bottle that I used a few hours ago. “Thank you hyung. Really.” 

He patted my shoulder and pushed me to the exit. “The other guys are waiting for some time.. they are so impatient.. but they are completely starved out... and to be honest... same.” His eye smile made me smirk automatically too.

“Let’s eat some meat...” I say and try to get a hold on his hand, but he was trying to tease me and played around with them, repeatedly throwing them up and in different directions. What a crackhead. 

I get annoyed and just walk on, until he jumps on me and says “sorry” several times. 

“To be honest you owe me a bottle of soju now.” 

He giggles. “You can get as many of bottles as you want, but just when you say that you love me.” 

“Ah, you know I do. And you know how bad I am with expressing it.” I reply while pouting. 

“Then no soju for Namjoon.” 

I quickly grab him by his neck and kiss him on the cheek aggressively, before running away, leaving him confused.

“That’s enough for me, leader-nim!!!” I hear him scream, while I run the last metres to the artist area and feel completely relieved to the core. 

He’s the one. 

[macabretrees]

Title: Reprimand A/N: Read here on ao3 @diversetolkien Summary:  When Aziraphale makes an offhanded comment about snakes and their eyes, Crowley takes it to heart. Upon realizing what he's done, Aziraphale moves to make amends. or Crowley is insecure about a lot of things--his eyes included. Unfortunately, Aziraphale forgets this when comforting a girl who is terrified by a snake toy.

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It wasn't often that Crowley enjoyed his time outside. There was something about the wide outdoors that made him feel exposed. The demon couldn't put his finger on it, but his kind didn't do the light. Not when they'd waged an entire war trying to escape it, and not when they bore the scars of the Fall as plain as day.

Crowley wore the glasses to cover his and had unintentionally evolved the gesture into covering his entire body. He kept to himself often, drew his posture in, and hunched his shoulders. He kept away from people--too close and they'd see his eyes, or smell the burning, or notice the way he leaned too freely like a snake or stayed still like a statue.

And when he had to be in public, it was with Aziraphale. He bared it for Aziraphale. His angel who loved the light, who loved to be exposed, and who loved to be conversational (to the point of dragging Crowley along with him). Today was one of those days.

Between the ice-cream man and the friendly dog owners, Aziraphale had spoken to just about everyone in the park while Crowley lurked behind him. It was hard to make conversation with his partner when he'd given his full attention to the humans, but the demon wasn't too bothered. It was nice to watch Aziraphale interact with the very beings he was meant to protect. It was in his nature after all, and Crowley found himself leeching onto the angel's happiness.

Though today it was short-lived.

Aziraphale was midsentence in his conversation with a park worker about the different types of plants lining the walkway and their care when a child came ramming into his legs at full force. Crowley looked down slightly concerned but hid his gaze behind his glasses. He'd always had a soft spot for children, but this was better left to Aziraphale.

"Oh dear, little one, what on Earth is the matter?" Aziraphale, ever the angel, knelt down to the distraught child's level. She was a mess of tears and hiccups, though upon settling her eyes on the angel she seemed to calm. Crowley kept a distance away, just in case the little girl's gaze wandered.

The little girl, seemingly calm, managed to gather her stammering words and still her quivering lips, just long enough to say two words: "S-snake eyes!"

Aziraphale made to turn over his shoulder, the gesture barely noticeable to anyone accept Crowley. But the girl's whimpers reclaimed his attention, and Crowley's throat suddenly felt very tight. Not to mention, he felt guilty. It was he who caused humanity to fear snake after all.

"What on earth do you mean, little one? Have you seen a snake?" There was a slight edge in his voice, though barely audible to human ears. But Crowley didn't have to think twice to know what the angle worried about. Even with his shades on, at the right angle, the sun could--

"My-my brother g-got a t-toy that w-was a snake and h-he chased me a-around with it, and I-I got scared. It-its eyes were scary, l-like on a movie." Whatever calm Aziraphale had placed upon her seemed to disappear as she willed imaged of whatever movie had traumatized her back into her mind. Once more, she was a mess of tears and hiccups.

Though Crowley was happy. It hadn't been him.

"Oh dear one, come here." She threw herself onto the angle like a life source, her tiny arms trying to encircle his body. For someone who hated getting his clothes dirty, Aziraphale seemed little bothered by a crying child smothering her wet face in his jacket.

"They are ghastly things, aren't they dear. Bright and yellow, positively scary for one such as yourself."

The relief had withered away, and all that was left was a feeling of emptiness. Crowley felt more self-aware than he had in a long time. Bright and yellow? Ghastly? Was that really what Aziraphale thought of his eyes? A hopeful part of him wanted to believe otherwise, but the demonic part of him--the one that whispered uncertainties and insecurities in his ears, learned towards the more reasonable side. The girl hadn't even described what kind of eyes she'd seen, yet Aziraphale had just offered a description of his.

"Angel, I just realized I had some business I needed to attend to." He said with a slight hysteria in his voice, trying his absolute best to sound casual. And judging by the angel's pure obliviousness, he'd accomplished it.

"Crowley do you think you could wait? On top of being terrified this poor girl is lost. I was wondering if you could help me look for her brother! She says he's here."

"Oh, I don't know about that. With the ghastly, yellow eyes, maybe I wouldn't be the best person for the job."

Now there was a realization, and Aziraphale whipped his head around like he'd been slapped.

"I hadn't even realized, Crowley, oh goodness I didn't mean--" He was torn between leaving the girl alone and running after the demon, but ultimately his nature and Crowley's reprimand stayed his movements.

"It's alright, Aziprahle. You said what you needed to say, no use in arguing."

Whatever Aziraphale said, Crowley didn't hear. In a rush, he vacated the park.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Aziraphale had nearly thrown himself into a mad frenzy searching for the demon. As soon as he'd relocated the little girl and her brother, and given the latter a stern scolding about teasing his sister, he'd made his way to his book shop. It had been a silly mistake, as there was no way Crowley would return to the shop. Not when Aziraphale had hurt him.

Now, his sanctuary of safety had been anything but. His largest insecurities had been spat in his face, and Aziraphale had been the cause of them all. He ran to the phone and dialed Crowely's number, waiting anxiously as the dial tone went on and on. With every ring, his heart plummeted, and when the phone went to voicemail, he stopped breathing.

The right thing to do was to hang up and wait, and while Aziraphale did the former he hesitated to do the latter. Crowley wanted to be alone. That much was obvious. But Aziraphale was selfish at his core, especially when it came to Crowley. What he'd done was inconsiderate and terrible, especially considering how insecure he knew Crowley was. And while Aziraphale meant no harm, his habit of running his mouth had hurt the one he loved the most.

Moreover, encroaching on his privacy would no doubt hurt him more. The angel sighed and redialed Croweley's number. When the phone went to voice mail, he did the proper thing and left a heartfelt message.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The next day, Crowley stood awkwardly outside of the bookshop just as the sun settled in the sky. There weren't many people out, and they're certainly weren't many people out near the bookshop. According to its erratic hours, today it was closed. That said, Crowley had the key, and was invited to visit whenever he wanted.

However, the more he stood in silence, the more he thought that showing up was a bad idea. There was no telling how Aziraphale actually felt about him, and while he was initially devastated that his angel had found his eyes unappealing, making him uncomfortable would absolutely ruin Crowley.

Right, thought Crowley, best to count my losses and just go back to the flat. No use in c-

"Crowley?"

Just as he made to turn on his heel and disappear, the door swung open to reveal a rather dejected looking angel who's eyes seemed to brighten at the sight of Crowley. And while Crowley's heart jumped, he kept his expression schooled.

"Well do come in." Aziraphale broke the silence and stepped aside letting Crowley enter, and though the demon was hesitant he willed his body to move passed over the threshold. He showed himself to the sitting room as usual, though he stood awkwardly before he took his typical seat, and in fact waited for Aziraphale to seat himself first. Some might call it overreacting, but he genuinely did not know where he stood.

"I got your message." He avoided the angel's gaze as he spoke, instead, looking at his feet against the smooth floor.

"I see." Aziraphale cleared his throat, and straightened himself up in his chair, "You should know I meant it. What I said about snakes and their eyes--"

As Aziraphale spoke, Crowley tensed. He hadn't expected the angel to get to the point so quickly, but he was never one for beating around the bush. Crowley supposed he should be grateful, but acknowledging the situation at hand seemed to hurt him more than he thought.

"Was completely uncalled for. I admit it hadn't even registered to me that I'd offended you with what I said. But then you said what you said, then ran, and had gotten all small like you do when you get upset."

"I don't get all small." Crowley interjected, "I just don't like to be seen."

"Well regardless of what it was, I was in the wrong. There is nothing wrong with your eyes, Crowley. Or any other serpent's eyes for that matter. In all truth, your eyes are some of the most beautiful things I've ever seen."

The demon scoffed, "You don't mean that, angel."

He wanted so badly to believe Aziraphale, but he was just so uncertain. If his eyes had truly bothered him, what else about the demon did? And what if he was telling the truth? What if he had genuinely made a mistake. Would Crowley be willing to risk an episode like this again?

"I don't lie, Crowley." He was upon him in a second and had moved so quietly that Crowley hadn't even noticed he'd left his chair.

"I do, however, run my mouth. And I will endeavor to watch what I say in the future" Now his hands had made their way to the handles of Crowley's glasses, and gently he removed the shades from the demon's face.

"But make no mistake Crowley, your eyes are beautiful. You are beautiful. And that is something I will never take back"

Crowley would have looked away, but Aziraphale's gentle hold kept him from doing so. And in the angel's eyes was pure remorse and genuine love.

Suddenly, Crowley felt foolish for even making a fuss out of it. Maybe he could have just asked Aziraphale how he felt instead of storming off.

"I'm sorry for overreacting, Angel," Crowley said as his own fingers wrapped around Aziraphale's wrist.

"Nonsense, you're entitled to your feelings." Aziraphale chided, "never feel bad for speaking out."

Crowley sighed, and let his face lean in Aziraphale's grasp.