#spider demon anatomy questions

[allmyhomieshatelawns]

i wonder if the show is keeping Angel’s thing w his feet. i don’t even know why we’re so obsessed as fans. is it the ppl into feet? probably. am i also incredibly curious to know what a spider demon’s feet look like when he’s been paraded around as The s*x doll for decades? yes.

do i think i’m gonna see it in the show? no

i’m trusting all you fanfic writers, and fanart artists out there to get us the scoop. show us or tell us what they look like! i’ve seen fanart of Niss’ feet and they’re so Tiny and Delicate. are Angel’s the same, but scaled up? unless Niss has a drastically different design (since he hasn’t shown up in the show yet) then there’d be no frame of reference.

anyway, i just wanna see Angel getting their feet rubbed. honey been dancing on them all day. bitch needs a rest. i think i most wanna see Al doing that bc of how refined he is? reminds me of a butler. omgggg that’s what it is. he’s like Alfred, Walter, and oh gosh there was another butler’s name i’m forgetting. but yeah that’s why i like Al in that dynamic bc you’re like “damn this man’s can take care of everything” and that never gets disproven, he’s just solid awesome.

alright yep.

[light-purp-insect]

Can I request headcanons for Raphael, Haarlep, Kar'niss, and Zevlor with oblivious gn crush?

Head In The Clouds

([all separate] Raphael, Haarlep, Kar'niss, Zevlor x GN unspecified Tav)

Banner credits in alt!

Notes/warnings: both SFW and Mature (no exact NSFW, marked for safety), flirting, failed seduction (Haarlep being an Incubus), somewhat manipulative(? Maybe???) behavior, suggestive themes, confused characters, dancing, self questioning/self doubt, extremely short mention of canonical death, close proximity/touching/hugging, obviously mentions of spider anatomy, Kar'niss is deranged and I don't know how to emphasize that, library dates (but Tav doesn't know that), mentions of the Infernal language in DnD, reading together, Zevlor tries to teach you a new language, not-a-real-date turns into a real date

I swear, the vast majority of BG3 fans see a pair of horns and their eyes nearly pop out of their skull. Me too!! Also I decided to make these short scenes, just as a treat for myself really.

-- Raphael --

Oh dear, he wasn't expecting this. Here he was, in his full cambion form, in the middle of the House of Hope, teaching you how to ballroom dance, and you weren't aware he had some feelings for you? How foolish could you get, little mouse? Yes, he fully was planning on taking your soul before he warmed up to you this past two days after letting you see his marvelous self, but now he couldn't be so certain. You were smiling as if you were still merely friends- no, only acquaintances! He wouldn't show the dissatisfaction his face, not even when you nearly stepped on his tail while trying to teach you the Viennese Waltz. Of course he had been holding you even closer than what the dance had called for, but that was his mistake, and he'd rather be bathed in holy water than blame you for it. "That's it, little mouse, very good." The demon whispered low in your ear. "How about we try a Foxtrot next, hmm?"

-- Haarlep --

If he was honest, now that you had warmed to him, something deep in the pit of his soul felt like perhaps it wasn't worth just sleeping with you once. Did he hate this new emotion? Oh absolutely, there's not a moment where he doesn't know how to react. He wasn't exactly used to actually loving someone-- were Incubi really, truly capable of love? Whatever, Raphael wasn't home, and it was the perfect opportunity to get you in his master's bed for an evening. Hopefully that would remove this-... Whatever this is. When the massive demon placed his hands on your waist and pressed your back against his near bare chest he purred out the honeyed tone he was so well known for. "Such an exquisite little mouse, you'd be a favorable meal. Come to bed with me, won't you?" Except that didn't happen. You had turned your head to him to answer, not a single hint of voluptuous desire in your eyes. "Now that I think of it, I could use a moment to lie down. Would you like to nap then?" Quite obviously he didn't expect that in the slightest. Much like his master, he didn't show much in his expression. Only a beat of silence before a rather content reply. "... Yes, a nap would actually be quite delightful about now."

-- Kar'niss --

The poor drider was quite upset, how come his chosen beloved didn't see how much he adored them and everything they ever touched? Was it because he was unsightly? Was it because he was cursed with his semi-chitinous body? In reality, it was probably because you just thought he was thankful you saved him from his demise, which he was! But even now as he hunkered down to hold you close to his chest, even using his pedipalps to keep you close. "Please, my savior, I need you!" Unlike the other times he grabbed on to you, this one felt proper; he was being gentle. His chin rest upon your head as a low growl softly reverberated in his throat. The bitter smell of old moss hit your nose like a freight train, but he didn't let go or tighten his grip. "Bless me with your warmth, just for a moment." You couldn't hear his next words, only mumbling as he was slowly losing the ability to hold himself together. "Please, one day you will love me too. Silly bug, one day I'll have you in my web, just you wait."

-- Zevlor --

While this wasn't a date in your eyes, and since he didn't tell you that it could be considered one either, Zevlor was slightly anxious. Who wouldn't, though? He brought you to a rather nice library, and he was worried how you would even consider going on something like a date with him. Then again you were sitting in his lap as he was trying to teach you some Infernal writing. The book laid in your lap as his arms came in front of you to point out the rather intricate looking letters. "That right there says 'Charming', I know the look a little close together." He placed his hand over yours and helped you point to the word, helping you pick out all eight letters of the word. "Does that mean the word I just read a moment ago spelt 'charred'?" You ask with humor in your voice. You could hear Zevlor give a delighted huff behind you, trying not to breathe on your neck. "That is correct." He slowly moves his hand away from yours. The tingle of your skin still lingered on his palm. "I think we might be reading a cookbook. I think this is... Beef Wellington? Would you like to make it together some time?" Hope was evident in his tone, but you couldn't tell if it was from the prospect of spending time together of making something for dinner.

[karniss-bg3]

Something I think about an bit is spiders are cold blooded so are driders and if so how dose kar’niss del with winter or the shadow lands they look quite cold and last question could you ever tell me how you think an drider book lung works (aha sorry that’s all and I love your posts)

I had to go down some wacky rabbit holes to really hash this one out. One thing I will say for this blog, it’s made me more educated about topics I never would’ve considered before. I expect by the time my tenure is finished I’ll walk away a certified genius.

...Or just as goofy as I’ve always been. Either way it’s a net positive.

Here is the problem I run into when trying to work out the intricacies of fantasy creatures...I don’t know what rules to use. By that I mean there are nuances to consider when asking “How does Kar’niss _____?” Am I basing this off of real world examples or examples from the world in which they are from? If so how does that impact the overall conclusion I come to? Is it fair to compare a drider to an animal from our planet without knowing the physics of Faerun? Is their gravity the same, the climate, the oxygen distribution, the atmosphere? It’s the classic “Adrian overthinks bullshit because he doesn’t know how to do otherwise” story hour. That isn’t even taking into consideration how magic may impact the answer especially considering magic is intangible and a made up concept whose rules change from medium to medium. This is the world’s most frustrating fun house where every mirror reflects a different outcome and I’m too derpy to consider them all.

Now that I’ve got the long winded non-sense out of the way, here is the best assessment I could cobble together.

The problem with Kar’niss’ anatomy is it’s unclear how the two halves work together. Spiders in our world do have lungs but they do not have active breathing mechanisms like a diaphragm in humans. However, Kar’niss has the ability to speak, ragged as it may be. This leaves me with the assumption that the lungs in his torso still function, giving him the ability to inhale and exhale in order to talk. But Kar’niss’ heart and lungs would be far too small and pathetic to maintain the spider half with as large as it is. So I have to conclude that even if the two halves of them are attached, the only thing shared between them is a digestive tract. The blood he consumes has to go somewhere and he can’t nourish only one half and neglect the other. I believe all of his digestion is done in the spider half and the stomach in his drow torso is basically non-functional as a result.

Where we run into a bit of a hitch more stems from how big Kar’niss is. Even if his spider body doesn’t have to worry about maintaining the drow torso via heart and lungs, it has another issue; Available oxygen. Prehistoric insects from the Carboniferous period were huge, far larger than anything we see today. This is because of how dense our air was with oxygen which allowed them to increase in size without side-effects. So I have to ask, how high is the oxygen content in Faerun? Does it matter? Probably not! It does make me wonder how an arachnid body that large, whether drider or giant spider, survives if the oxygen in the air is low. Humans, giants, demons, driders and all manner of creatures can co-exist in a fantasy realm where the rules are made up and the points don’t matter.

While I could go into detail about the difference between human lungs and spider lungs I think I’d be splitting hairs at that point. When it comes to Kar’niss I think both bodies have working organs that are suited to the body they are in, which is the only reason this macabre union works at all.

As for how Kar’niss survives the cold that is also an interesting question to answer. Driders don’t usually wear armor but they can if so inclined, which means they aren’t worried about being naked as a jay bird. This question is a bit compounded by the fact that most driders don’t leave the Underdark, an area notorious for lack of sunlight. So I had to tap dance my way back to real world spiders to find a reasonable answer for this.

The first step in how spiders survive the winter is by adapting to the cold temperatures. They do this by increasing their metabolic rate, which helps them generate more heat. This allows them to stay warm even in the coldest temperatures. They also produce antifreeze proteins, which help them survive in temperatures as low as -10°C. Another strategy spiders use to survive the winter is by avoiding freezing. When temperatures drop too low, spiders can start to freeze with the water particles surrounding them. To prevent this, spiders produce cryoprotectants, which help them survive in sub-zero temperatures. These cryoprotectants act like antifreeze, preventing the spider’s cells from freezing and allowing them to survive even in the coldest temperatures.

While I am not sure if this is the same thing driders would do, I imagine they must come with some way to contend with ambient temperatures to keep themselves from freezing. I vote slapping a striped scarf on him and hand him a cup of hot cocoa. It’ll taste like ass to him, but it should do the trick all the same. Just don’t let him spit out the hot liquid onto your face, I am not responsible for any burn related injuries that may occur.

I hope even a fraction of this made sense. It was the long way of saying “RANDOM BULLSHIT, GO!” Eh, close enough.

Thanks for the ask!

(Side note: I just learned drider vampires exist. As if things weren't already fucked up enough for the poor bastards.)

[demonslayedher]

Do you think that after noticing Genya can get hurt by her flames, Nezuko somehow manages to make it so that even when he’s in demon mode, he can’t get injured?

Hmm! If she could have that much control over it, I don't see why not! She's a bit of a simple fighting using the same very basic kicking adn scratching techniques on the fly, but she comes up with other abilities in a moment's notice if the situation calls for it--gotta get small to fit in a basket, gotta fry the spider, gotta keep body parts from flying everywhere you wanna stay in the fight, gotta master the sun, no biggie. Since her fire can differentiate so well between demon poison and human cells--even humans cells thoroughly corrupted by demon poison--then it stands to reason that she could differentiate between Genya's demon and human attributes.

The rest question come to Genya's anatomy, which is the biggest question in this whole series anyway, Kokushibo couldn't even figure him out even though he's encountered someone with the same ability before. I've analyzed how his ability works as best I could in response to this Ask, but it's still not totally clear what the boundaries and workings and risks of it are (some of which Genya found out, unfortunately).

If we assume he has a mix of demon and human cells, then I think Nezuko's fire could be limited to just affecting his demon cells (still, ouch, and kind of problematic in a fight). If we assume his cells remain human but take on demon attributes, perhaps Nezuko's fire could be honed to recognize the humanness and ignore the demon attributes. If there was something to turn down the demon-ness in the response his cells have to demon ingestion, that could perhaps lessen the effects of Nezuko's fire, but it would make his use of the technique weaker over all. I wondered if maybe she could train her cells to recognize Genya's, but seeing as Genya's cells were virtually indistinguishable from Kokushibo's, that might require retraining every time.

I would say it's up to Genya to make this work, but he barely knows how it works in the first place, so... maybe they should just try to avoid Nezuko lighting Genya on fire.

[shadowgale96]

I love the idea that the androids in pirates cove create. That there are androids that have been created for specific amusement parks and androids designed for specific seasons and holidays.

Like there’s probably Santa Claus Androids and elf Androids. Maybe fanciful or Greek mythology themed Androids like fairies, satyrs, centaurs , Etc.

Hell, aquariums could probably even get a mermaid android.

But I am mostly hyped about the potential of Halloween androids made for Halloween stores, haunted houses, or creepy amusement parks. androids that look like reapers, demons, angels, ghosts, zombies, or even a pumpkin headed android. Honestly my favorite idea is a Arachne Android built for a haunted House.

But imagine a half human half spider android just walking through the town freaking people out and strolling up to new Jericho trying to find housing as a giant mechanical spider monster. How would you even deal with that? Where would you put them? Would they even want to be modified to have standard anatomy?

Then there’s the other question of how you would help android Who aren’t mobile like the fortunetelling android from pirates cove or a mermaid android. would they even want to be modified to have normal legs or do they prefer their bodies as they are?

These are the questions the Detroit become human universe has got me asking.

[spider-mar2004]

🕷 Pocket Spiders Pedia 🕷

What are Pocket Spiders?

Pocket Spiders are small quadruped creatures of very small size, basically comparing like a hamster. They are called like that because apart of their size, their bodies are super agile and can enter smaller spaces like cats due their anatomy, and fact they love being in pockets due warm.

Diet:

Usually their diet is omnivore but most commonly are fruits, depending the Pocket Spider likes, so they can eat anything to be honest, but fruits are more important due they need more of the vitamins from them.

Social Life:

Many of them are social, in case of Kaine as introverted, lonely and territorial is a bit rare case, Usually they like to live in groups of any size, again, depending what they like. In case they live in groups/packs, they always has an alpha leader, no matter the gender.

Care:

Their care is a bit basing on hamsters (exept they are not aggressive little demons-) and Guinea Pigs, usually, i keep them in huge cages with toys, comfortable beds, food, water, space for run, etc.

⚠️ Things that need be careful ⚠️

- Make sure the place is comfortable, warm and safe. Pocket Spiders when if they dislike the place they can escape very easily, they can climb walls and other surfaces

- Fights, A fight between Pocket Spiders can be very dangerous for both, there can be a case of they can kill each other! Thankfully, didn't have that case but still would take so much attention and care of it.

- Pay attention to their diet, if their diet are like sweets and unhealthy stuff, can be very risky, foods like high of calories can carry them a heart attack and death.

- Look what you step, their small sizes can confuse you as a toy figure or even also not notice! Their bodies and bones are fragile so.

That's the basic info of Pocket Spiders! Any questions feel free ask hitting the ask button!

Note: ALL OF THIS IS JUST FOR FUN, The Pocket Spiders ill post are mostly canon spidermen/women from the universes, games and movies. Aswell some of my Spider OCs.

(Can also do some friends' too! But i decide if yes or no)

[pogbur]

had the idea of an enderman origin living in the desert and the art demon took over

Please it is 12:00 and it took 20 minutes to write this I will be drawing their friends please stop me please I have school tmrw please

Digitigrade legs suck to draw, just the anatomy took AGES

Some headcanons I thought of while drawing

Ender origins see enderman the same way we see look at apes. Still intelligent, still animals

Ender origins don’t really have a concept of gender. Enderman and the Enderman origin can reproduce asexually or with another no matter the gender. So gender is often fluid, and children are often raised as gender neutral or as all genders

There are many Ender origin towns in the badlands, desert, and savanna as it rains rarely. Most Ender origins live in the end, however

ok now some about the character

No name yet, ideas?

Born in the end, but went to the over world for ✨adventure✨

Prefer They/Them and Xey/Xem pronouns but use any

Best friend is a elytrian based from some random desert bird and an arachnid based off, you guessed it, some random desert spider I haven’t thought of yet

Ask me questions about them I will not be going to sleep any time soon (lying, hopefully)

Reblogs and Reply’s appreciated!!!

[littleliteraturersj]

Slashers Stuck On An Island. PART TWO:

PennyWise: -Penny is quite fascinated by all of the life forms that decorate the island. Whether it be by land, air, or sea, the clown has (often a wandering) eye for them all regardless of their size. An almost child-like thrill seizes him when he discovers something new. He likes to ask the elder human about the organisms and items he finds. (It is the primary reason he resists indulging in the taste of the good doctor's flesh) Greg the camera man on the other hand.. -During a rather intense stare down in a one-on-one camera session with Michael Myers, Greg notices something behind the Haddonfield Slasher and pans his camera a bit to the side to zoom into the background of the shot. There the lenses focus on the once blurred image of PennyWise's pale face. The camera wobbles ever so slightly when the camera man makes out the fact that the clown is staring him down specifically. His eerie golden gaze is skewed as one eye travels farther to one side than it should; His pallid face struggling to keep attention while he drools monstrously. Greg can not shake the suspicion (in spite of the boys frequently joking that they might serve him up on the fire pit) that the clown wants to eat him. -Unfortunately for Greg, he is right. During the biggest and admittedly entertaining argument among the group, all on the peak of their own mental break downs with being on the island, the rule of "safety in numbers" goes right out the window. Greg tries to get their attention but all to soon he is captured and mindless under the gaze of the Deadlights. The boys take note too late that those questionable noises in the background had in fact been the sounds of Penny swallowing and consuming the poor camera man whole: Only the camera has been spared. They do not retrieve Greg from the clown's maw soon enough. The group later on hold a small funeral for the lad and some end up missing him. -Penny is hungry again all too soon. He is not satiated by Dr. Lecter's improvements to the already lackluster food that the island offers. He craves meat. And eventually, he starts eyeing his fellow slashers with mouthwatering curiosity on who he ought to eat next.. -He decides that Freddy should be his next meal. (And it certainly doesn't help that the dream demon does look a lot like raw meat) So in the dead of the night, Penny creeps up to the snoozing dream demon and begins a slow savoring of his arm between countless rows of teeth, like some weirdo clown snake. -Ghostface (who has now taken it upon himself to take up Greg's mantle as camera man) captures the sight of the clown slowly making work of swallowing Freddy's arm. Freaked out by the prospect that the clown intends to have them for dinner he wakes them all up loudly. With a shout, Freddy embeds his gloves into Penny's face, generally attacking and kicking to get the clown to let him go. The boys chase off Penny and the clown scampers off into the dark jungle like a fucked up spider. He has made an enemy of them all.

Ghostface: -The boys have put him on fish preparation as a way to tease him of the classic catchphrase; "I'll gut you like a fish." Dr. Lecter instructs him on the proper way to go about it, though Ghostface often insists that he does not need the doctor's help. Our esteemed cannibal sits nearby nonetheless, comfortably preparing the fish he and Michael catch alongside him. -He is the first to obtain coconuts for the group. Upon his fruitful return, he lifts both hands to mimic the heft of large breasts. With a feminine swagger befitting the immature joke, he flirtatiously implores the rest; "Come and get it, boys...We got coconuts!" Cue a lot of shameless anatomy jokes. Jason can only shake his head. -The only times he had talked to Greg had been to enjoy his "fifteen minutes of fame" in the one-on-one sessions. Most of it he'd spend complaining about his peers, and the rest of his interactions were largely based on the internal jealousy that he wasn't the one to man the camera instead. So when Greg's passing comes, Ghostface is all too pleased. Good riddance really. Now it was time to show off how to really work a camera. -By this time the group has slowly worked off the threat of Penny coming after them in the night. Their usual banter and crude jokes end up becoming the group dynamic once again. Pranks are included in this, especially Freddy's disgusting game of "Piss Off!". Ghostface is laughably possessive of Greg's camera and the only time it can be properly messed with is when the phantom is asleep. So it comes as no surprise when one night arrives and the view is of a camera looking down in the dark at a fast-asleep 'Father Death'. Freddy and Chucky are gathered to watch, stifling their laughter as Michael Myers, the one holding the camera, unzips his coveralls and let loose a stream onto the masked face below. It splats and pools in the dents and shapes of the mask and come morning, Ghostface is left to wonder why the fuck his face smells. Those in one the joke, suggest that a monkey may have pissed on his face in the middle of the night. -Ghostface eventually learns the truth of the matter when he replays the footage. He is furious but he is patient, so he bides his time to enact revenge on the Shape. We cut to a camera view of a few days later. Michael is motionless on his back, assumedly asleep. Ghostface, with camera in hand, attempts to take his turn in "Piss Off", only to be scared shitless when Michael snaps a hand around his ankle just as the sound of pants being undone is registered. The proceeding view through the device is a fumbled mess of clips aimed at the ground and the sky, rocking and jostling, followed by the sounds of Ghostface desperately insisting it was just a joke. Meanwhile a looming white face in the dark speed walks as fast as humanly possible to tear the ghost a new asshole.

~Chucky's part is going to be in Part 3. (Tumblr reeaally did not want me to fit his notes in for fuck sake)

[poisonedspider]

If Alastor had any concern that Angel was going to judge him for anything about this encounter, he was sorely mistaken. Angel Dust was absolutely the last to judge anyone for anything - except maybe their poor taste in fashion. Alastor had nothing to be afraid of when in the porn star's hands, because other than just being a good lay, he was actually a good lover. Knew how to please others. Took the time to check in and give after care when all was said and done. Everything he never got.

Which was why he wasn't pushing to get Alastor fully undressed, if that wasn't what the other wanted. It might provide a level of intimacy that neither of them were completely comfortable with, or perhaps take it a step further than a simple hook up. Angel didn't know if he was ready to be in that spot, if that was the case. It scared him. He'd never been in a real relationship, and the closest he had gotten was Valentino.

Though he doubted Alastor would have even considered something like that with him. The Radio Demon didn't seem the type for romance and relationships, though up until walking in on him that one night, Angel hadn't thought he was the type for sex either. Everyone came with surprises. But Alastor was an Overlord, and he was just a broken addict from the streets. Isn't that what his own owner always reminded him of?

His mismatched eyes watched in curiosity as Alastor finished undressing himself, seeming to gain a spike of confidence as the silence hung over them. Angel sat up on his elbows, smiling gently, eyes trailing the other - again, as if he had never seen him naked before (spoiler alert, he clearly had). "Yeh' look good, yeh' know. Don't know why yeh' so shy about it." Alastor was beautiful. Angie knew beauty when he saw it.

His own thoughts were elsewhere for a moment at the older's words, biting into his lower lip. Alastor seemed to have such high hopes for this encounter, and the spider was so concerned about disappointing him. Ninety-five percent of the time, Angel didn't even have his cock visible. He kept it retracted like his other set of arms - it was easier that way, easier to hide in the short skirts and lace panties. Plus it made him feel a little less freakish, what in also being a vagina owner.

Compared to a ton of demons he had slept with in his career, he was definitely on the smaller side in that regard, too. Just because he was a porn star didn't mean he was well hung, especially when he was the one whose holes were usually railed. He hated that he was getting anxiety about something like this, but it was hard not to when voices in one's head got loud. Val had even joked about how small he was before, his cute little prick. Thinking about it made him ill.

He was just glad that he had had the sense to make sure to get his dick out, so to speak, before Alastor had reached for his groin. Slight arousal poking through the slit in his body, groaning right as Alastor pressed down against his crotch. "Fuck....ain't used t' bein' touched there...." He wasn't lying. It seemed the he was the only one to touch his masculine anatomy nowadays, and so he could barely even speak as Alastor was suddenly in his lap.

At the suddenly shy question, Angel found himself laughing. Not meaning to insult the other, but - "Yes, Al, it's fine. It ain't like ah' ain't used t' this. All th' time." He hummed, a hand moving up to the bobbing arousal that was dripping into his fur, running a thumb over the tip and bringing it into his mouth with a moan, eyes flickering as they looked up to the Overlord on his lap.

"'M just worried about disappointin' yeh' is all." He shrugged. He was a good five inches, but he knew that was below what most would consider average, and while he was fine with his own size, he didn't want Alastor to remove his pants and change his mind due to let down. His eyes moved up to the stag's, snorting a bit. "There's a reason ah' ain't no two dollar whore, as yeh' so kindly put it. But remember ah'm mostly a bottom, so just..." He sighed, hands on the other's hips. "Don't make fun of me."

[thecreaturecodex]

Sahkil, Kwevencha

Image © Wizards of the Coast

[Commissioned by @annotaremonstrorum​. I’ve talked about d20 Modern’s category of “fiends” before, and how they don’t play super nicely with evil outsiders in either D&D or Paizo’s categories. So the question arose of how to convert them when I got a whole bunch, this time from the D20 Modern Menace Manual. The commissioner suggested I make the kwevencha a non-demon Abyssal outsider, and a servitor species of Mazmezz the Creeping Queen. I looked into Mazmezz, and in Book of the Damned bebiliths take that “favored servitor” role... and have a fun relationship with her where she ignores and makes excuses for them hunting and killing demons. So I went with a Plan B here: an embodiment of arachnophobia. It’s a little redundant with the wihsaak sahkil, but as any bug loving eight year old can tell you, spiders are not insects.]

Sahkil, Kwevencha CR 7 NE Outsider (extraplanar) This creature looks something like a mammoth spider, but it has two pairs of hatchet-like mandibles, and its front set of legs is modified into wicked hooks. It has a cluster of eight forward-facing eyes. Its skin ripples and bulges as smaller spiders crawl over, into and through its bulbous abdomen.

A kwevencha is a sahkil embodying arachnophobia. The long legs and staring eyes of spiders inspire more than their fair share of fear, and kwevenchas have impossible anatomies that combine the worst traits of spiders of all kinds. They can reach into the minds of giant spiders and steer their actions, and areas with especially active monstrous spiders may have a kwevencha pulling the strings.

In combat, a kwevencha prefers to attack from ambush whenever possible. It maintains range for a few rounds with its impressive mobility, only descending to melee when enemies are entangled in webs, weakened from poisonous spurs spit from its mouth, or both. Those that succumb to the look of fear of a kwevencha feel the sensation of creeping and crawling along their flesh. The body of a kwevencha is covered in a skittering carpet of spiders, which help to protect it from attacks and punish those that would dare strike it. These can be temporarily destroyed by area of effect spells, leaving the monster vulnerable while it regenerates its shield.

Kwevenchas are somewhat stupid, but clever enough to be dangerously full of themselves. Their plans to spread fear and misery are often overly complex and filled with multiple interlocking layers, like a spider’s web. Any minion that dares point out the flaws in a kwevencha’s designs is consumed as an example to others. They often work with monstrous arachnids of all types, ettercaps, and lesser sahkils. They never work with wihsaaks, and attempt to eat them or disrupt their plans whenever possible.

Kwevencha     CR 7 XP 3,200 NE Large outsider (evil, extraplanar, sahkil) Init +5; Senses darkvision 60 ft., Perception +15, tremorsense 30 ft. Defense AC 18, touch 10, flat-footed 17 (-1 size, +1 Dex, +8 natural) hp 85 (10d10+30) Fort +8, Ref +8, Will +9 DR 10/good or silver; Immune death effects, disease, fear, poison; Resist cold 10, electricity 10, sonic 10; SR 18 Defensive Abilities shroud of spiders Offense Speed 30 ft., climb 30 ft. Melee bite +13 (2d6+4/19-20 plus poison), 2 claws +13 (1d6+4 plus grab) Ranged venom dart +10 (2d4+4 poison) Space 10 ft.; Reach 5 ft. Special Attacks emotional focus, look of fear, web (+10 touch, 10 hp, DC 18) Spell-like Abilities CL 7th, concentration +9 At will—detect magic, greater teleport (self plus 50 lbs. only) 3/day— unadulterated loathing (DC 17), unholy blight (DC 16) 1/day—aura of doom (DC 18), summon (2 fiendish spider swarms, 100%, 3rd level) Statistics Str 18, Dex 13, Con 16, Int 8, Wis 15, Cha 15 Base Atk +10; CMB +15 (+19 grapple); CMD 26 (38 vs. trip) Feats Blind-fight, Great Fortitude, Improved Critical (bite), Improved Initiative, Nimble Moves Skills Acrobatics +14, Climb +25, Intimidate +15, Perception +15, Stealth +10 Languages Abyssal, Celestial, Infernal, telepathy 100 ft. SQ arachnid empathy (+16), easy to call, skip between, spirit touch Ecology Environment any land or underground (Abyss) Organization solitary, pair or cluster (3-6) Treasure standard Special Abilities Arachnid Empathy (Ex) This ability functions as a druid's wild empathy, save that a kwevencha can only use this ability on spiders, scorpions, solifugids, whip spiders and other giant arachnids. A kwevencha gains a +4 racial bonus on this check. Arachnid empathy treats swarms as if they were one creature possessing a single mind—a kwevencha can thus use this ability to influence and direct the actions of swarms with relative ease. Look of Fear (Su) 30 ft., Will DC 19, staggered 1d3 rounds. This is a mind-influencing fear effect. The save DC is Charisma based and includes a +2 racial bonus from the emotional focus SQ. Poison (Ex) Bite, shroud or venom dart—injury; save Fort DC 18; duration 1/round per 4 rounds; effect 1d3 Str damage; cure 2 consecutive saves. The save DC is Constitution based. Shroud of Spiders (Su) A kwevencha’s body constantly produces monstrous spiders that cling to it. It gains partial concealment as long as its shroud of spiders is active. Any creature striking the kwevencha with a melee weapon, natural weapon, unarmed strike or touch attack must succeed a DC 17 Reflex save or take 2d6 points of piercing damage and be exposed to the kwevencha’s poison. A weapon with the reach property protects its wielder from this effect. If a kwevencha takes 10 or more points of damage from an area of effect spell or ability, its shroud of spiders is destroyed, but is replenished in 1d4+1 rounds. The save DC is Charisma based. Venom Dart (Ex) As a standard action, a kwevencha can spit a dart made of hardened webbing and venom at an opponent. Treat this as a thrown weapon with a range increment of 30 feet. A creature struck takes 2d4 damage plus the kwevencha’s Strength bonus, and is exposed to the creature’s poison. A kwevencha can make an infinite number of venom darts.

[killerqueenlux]

Thanks to my dear @nico-cab for tagging me 🤍🤍 sorry it took me ages to do

MUSIC

fav genre? I couldn't choose just one, I listen a lot pop-rock, pop-punk, rock and folk-rock

fav artist? Well favorite bands are The Killers, 1D, The Lumineers and Mumford & Sons. Solo artists, I obviously love Louis Tomlinson, Harry Styles and Regina Spektor

fav song? Hear me out hahha I have a fav song of all times (Carry on my wayward son by Kansas), fav song of the moment (Hey Angel by 1D) and fav song in spanish ( Contigo by Joaquín Sabina)

most listened song recently? according to Spotify, Little black dress by 1D

song currently stuck in your head? AHHAHAHAHHAHAHA Lovebug by Jonas brothers

5 fav lyrics? uuufff this will be a bit long

"The good old days, the honest man, the restless heart, the Promised Land, a subtle kiss that no one sees. A broken wrist and a big trapeze. Oh well, I don't mind if you don't mind 'Cause I don't shine if you don't shine. Before you go... Can you read my mind?" — Read my mind by The killers

"For evey question "why" you were my "because " — Walls by LT

"We don't know where we're going but we know where we belong" — Sweet Creature by HS

"Hold on to me as we go, as we roll down this unfamiliar road, and although this wave is stringing us along, just know you're not alone... 'Cause I'm going to make this place your home" — Home by Phillip Phillips

"You're my Waterloo, I'll be your Stanley Park, well I'm so glad we know just what to do, and one's left, stumbling around, fumbling around in the dark" — You're my waterloo by the libertines

Radio or your own playlist | solo artists or bands | pop or indie | loud or silent volume I slow or fast songs | music video or lyrics video | speakers or headset | riding a bus in silence or while listening to music | driving in silence or with radio on

BOOKS

fav book genre? magical realism, fantasy and maybe poetry, does fanfiction count?? Hahaha and obviously I prefer queer literature

fav writer? Gabriel García Márquez, Juan José Arreola and Gabriela Mistral the three of them are Latin American writers, in English I love E.E Cummings, Neil Gaiman and my king Tolkien

fav book series? Lord of the Rings and Percy Jackson 🤍🤍🤍🤍

comfort book? The Hobbit (and my comfort fic is unbelievers haha I think I read it more often than the Hobbit)

perfect book to read on a rainy day? any Larry fics or The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes, quite entertaining for an afternoon

fav characters? ANNABETH CHASE AND LUKE CASTELLAN from Percy Jackson and the olympians (obviously i love percy but they are my babies) I'm also going to add Harry from Unbelievers because I had never identified as much with someone as I do with him

5 quotes from your fav books that you know by heart?

This one is in Spanish so I'll do my best to translate. "El hecho de que alguien no te ame como tú quieras, no significa que no te ame con todo su ser"/ The fact that someone doesn't love you the way you want, doesn't mean that they don't love you with all their heart" —El amor en los tiempos del cólera, Gabriel García Márquez

"Evean the smallest person can change the course of the future" — The lord of the rings, J.R.R Tolkien

"There are no safe paths in this part of the world. Remember you are over the Edge of the Wild now, and all sorts of fun wherever you go" — The Hobbit, J.R.R Tolkien

"I am here because when all else fails, when all the other mighty gods have gone off to war, I am all that's left. Home. Heart. I am the Last Olympian" — Percy Jackson and the Last Olympian, Rick Riordan

"Time is fluid here, said the Demon" —Fragile things, Neil Gaiman

hardcover or paperback | buy or rent | standalone novels or book series | ebook or physical copy | reading at night or during the day | reading at home or in nature | listening to music while reading or reading in silence | reading in order or reading the ending first | reliable or unreliable narrator | realism or fantasy | one or multiple POVS | judging by the covers or by the summary | rereading or reading just once

TV AND MOVIES

fav tv/movie genre? Fiction, fantasy romance and true crime

fav movie? HAHAHAHAHHA just loveeeee Titanic so much, Fight Club, Inglourious Basterds, Across the Universe, Stardust and The imaginarium of Doctor Parnassus

comfort movie? Spiderman into the spider verse, Love Actually and any of the lord of the rings or harry potter movies

movie you watch every year? I always watch Lord of the Rings: The return of the King on Christmas and Titanic on New Years and of course V for Vendetta on November 5

fav tv show? Doctor Who, Sense 8, Pushing Daisies, Supernatural and bbc Merlín

comfort tv show? The Good Place and Teen Wolf

most rewatched tv show? Oh boy, my guilty pleasure is Grey's Anatomy I have rewatched all the seasons thousands of times

ultimate otp? Merlin/Arthur and Aragorn/Legolas

5 fav characters? Rose Tyler (Doctor Who), Jack Dawson (Titanic) and Samwise Gamgee (Lord of the rings)

tv shows or movies | short seasons (8-13 episodes) or full seasons (22 episodes or more) | one episode a week or binging | one season or multiple seasons | one part or saga | half hour or one hour long episodes | subtitles on or off | rewatching or watching just once | downloads or watches online

i'd like to tag @chispitalovesruby @moonelust @touchoflouis @holyshit @ialwaysknewyouwerepunk @celestial0ne @booksmusicandsodapancakes

[exkernal]

Philosophy Class for Rock Bottom Demons: 1/3

A/N: I don’t know why I’m finally getting around to posting this old fic now, but I’m in a hellstrop mood

As Michael watches the humans snipe and scurry about (he doesn't care what Eleanor says, that cockroach analogy was on point) he thinks, this is rock bottom. A demon begging his torturees for help; that's as low as it gets.

Then Eleanor tells him he has to take philosophy class.

Does she forget whom she's dealing with? He's not some zit-speckled check out boy who will "remember" that he already scanned her margarita mix if she yells enough. Despite his appearance of bespectacled innocence, at his core he is pure immortal evil that has been torturing humans since before her grandmother's grandmother's grandmother's grandmother was even conceived, thank you. Does Eleanor know how much force is needed to pry the nail from a grown man's big toe? Does she know the sound a human makes when tossed into a giant juicer? No--but Michael does, and she'd best not forget it.

Except maybe he's the one who's forgotten whom he's dealing with, as Eleanor throws his words back in his face until he's well and truly cornered.

So now he's taking philosophy class.

Now this, this is rock bottom, Michael thinks, as Chidi, in all of his sweater-vested glory, hands out their neatly printed syllabi.

"Right. Now that we all have our syllabi--"

"Oh, dip," Jason says, his eyes impossibly wide. "Are you sure that's safe?"

Chidi blinks. His forehead scrunches up in that way it does.

"Pardon?"

"I mean aren't those those weird monster thingies that make you like mad horny?"

Michael catches Eleanor's eye, and they quickly look away.

"I--you're--no. Jason, you're thinking of a succubi. These are syllabuses." Chidi winces, as if the improper grammar physically pains him.

It doesn't clear things up.

"Chidi, man, if you need to see a doctor I know this dope one in Jacksonville. She accepts food stamps as payment and doesn't ask questions if you come in with jellyfish stings around your ding dong--"

"Jason, you're thinking of--you know what, never mind."

Then again, maybe it won't be so bad if he gets a front row seat to Chidi being tortured by his students.

                                                                                               * * * * *

The syllabus is garbage. Human philosophy is garbage. Every higher being knows that, even the stuck up angels farting around in the real Good Place.

(Not that Michael's actually met an angel before, but still).

He'll just have to fake it. Put on his best face, lure the humans into trusting him.

It'll be easy.

                                                                                                * * * * *

This is rock bottom, the knowledge of existence's fleeting nature. Of the expanding, gaping maw of the abyss that will devour them all as easily as dog-spiders devour human eyeballs. How can anyone expect him to go on like this, knowing the fate that almost certainly awaits him (because let's be real, Shawn will find out eventually)? Why was he even created all of those eons ago if this is his ultimate fate? How can existence even continue without Michael, who's always existed before? How can--?

It's okay. Eleanor's showed him. If he can just push those feelings down, and keep pushing and pushing and--

Eleanor's towering above him. Huh. Usually she's not because she's so ridiculously tiny. He remembers the reboots where she got so angry she physically attacked him--it was hilarious, like a chihuahua barking at a grizzly bear. Her eyes are more blue than green tonight, maybe because of her dress.

"All humans are aware of death," she says,"so we're all a little bit sad, all the time. That's just the deal."

"Sounds like a crappy deal," he mutters.

"Well, yeah, it is," she says, sitting down, "but we don't get offered any other ones."

Eleanor's gaze is absent of any judgement or mockery or disdain. He can't recognize what he sees, because no one's ever looked at him that way before, not humans or demons or Janets. It's not sad but not happy either; it's more like she somehow knows what he's feeling even if he doesn't say it, and that's okay. Her eyes tell him that it's okay.

It doesn't make it better, exactly, but maybe it's not rock bottom either.

                                                                                                 * * * * *

"It's so forking stupid! 'How can you tell if an action is good or bad blah blah blah?' Because of the points, dummy! The points tell you if it's good or bad, Professor Know It All."

"I feel you, bud," Eleanor says, lounging with her feet on the coffee table, a notebook propped up against her legs. "But--and don't rip my head off or whatever you guys do--"

"It's rip your head off," Michael says.

"Right. I'm just saying, maybe things would go a little better if you didn't rip the pages out of every book Chidi gives you."

She might have a point there.

                                                                                               * * * * *

"In this experiment, people continued 'shocking' patients even after they heard them beg and scream. The influence of authority was too strong, and overrode their moral instincts. So the question this possess is how do we stick to our morals in the face of conflicting authority? Yes, Michael?"

"I don't understand the problem. When your superiors tell you to up the voltage, it's a good thing. Why wouldn't I want to use the shocks--why are you all looking at me like that?"

All four humans stare at him like his human disguise just slipped.

Chidi squints. He rubs his hand against his forehead. Michael can see the sweat beading on his face.

"Michael, you're still thinking like a demon. From a human perspective, we don't want to torture people. I think you need another ten lines."

Michael sighs, but he doesn't question it.

"People good," he mumbles, as the chalk screeches against the board.

"Keep it up, bud," Chidi encourages. "You'll get there eventually."

                                                                                             * * * * *

"Why did you give me Les Miserables? That thing's almost as long as your stupid thesis!"

Chidi frowns. "Thank you, once again, for casually insulting my life's work."

"Come on, man, you gave Jason Are You There, God? It's Me, Margaret."

"Did you seriously just compare your intellectual abilities to those of Jason Mendoza?"

"...fair point."

                                                                                           * * * * *

What was Chidi's problem?

Michael searches for Eleanor's eyes. She's good at explaining things; out of all of the humans, she makes the most sense. But Eleanor won't look at him. She actually looks away from him, following wordlessly after Chidi.

Michael doesn't understand.

                                                                                           * * * * *

"I can't high five that!" Eleanor shouts. "No matter how much I want to."

Michael turns away, laughing. She seems like she's mad at him too, but then he gets her laughing with the reddit story. Things can't be that bad if he can still make her laugh.

It doesn't last for long.

Eleanor tells him that this is entirely up to him to fix, then leaves, before he can think of a retort. He's left alone to wonder how the here he can worm his way back into Chidi's good graces.

Wait, what? Why does he even want to make it up to Chidi? He should be thrilled; he didn't want to attend those stupid, worthless, stupid, boring, stupid classes to begin with! Now he can have his proverbial cake (teaming up with the humans) and eat it too (no dumb classes). This is perfect.

Now he has more time to write fake torture reports instead of reading up on those old farts. Or complaining about reading with Eleanor and Jason and sometimes Tahani. Or seeing Tahani's shocked delight whenever he shares some surprising tidbits about her celebrity pals. Or trying not to laugh at the expression on Chidi's face during yet another of Jason's long winded anecdotes. Or sitting besides Eleanor, occasionally cheating off of her, each doing their best to make the other laugh. Now he doesn't have to waste any more time with any of that nonsense.

It's perfect.

                                                                                           * * * * *

There's something wrong with his chest as he watches Tahani clutch her diamond and Eleanor gush over her shrimp dispensary. It's warm, not warm like whenever he got too close to the fire pits, but softer, and not exactly unpleasant. He still doesn't get Chidi's deal, not entirely, but he's back on Team Cockroach, so everything's fine.

                                                                                           * * * * *

He's on his best behavior for his first day back to philosophy class. He doesn't rip the pages out of his book, doesn't talk about torture or mention humans' stupid anatomy. He doesn't even laugh at Eleanor and Jason's many jokes about happiness pumps, though that's partly because he doesn't get most of them.

                                                                                          * * * * *

Chidi passes back last week's philosophy papers. "Everyone's made great progress since we've started. You should be proud."

Eleanor leans over to Michael. "What did you get, bud?"

He shows her.

"Dang, A. Good for you, Michael."

"Well, I am a superior being," he says, rubbing his leg and smiling like a dope.

"Hey, we should celebrate. Do demons celebrate? Or is that just torture for you guys?"

It's just torture. He knew better than to ask Eleanor if he can have a go at one of them (like forcing Jason to listen to a blow-by-blow recap of every Jaguars defeat). Besides, he doesn't really want to, anyway.

Huh. Imagine that.

Instead he says, "In some of the other reboots, you would try to distract me from investigating the neighborhood anamolies by doing fun human stuff. We played aracade games, sang karaoke, went bowling--"

Suddenly, Jason jumps into the conversation. "Laser tag! Did you play laser tag?"

Michael thinks. "No, we never got around to that."

"Yo, homies, we have to play laser tag. I am a beast at laser tag. Me and Pillboi would do a bunch of shrooms and then go crazy all over the place. Also, I think I shot a mall cop once. Or maybe that was a dream."

Eleanor nods. "Laser tag could be fun. Don't know about the shrooms part."

She eyes Chidi, silently asking him.

"Definitely not," he says.

Twenty minutes later, thanks to Janet, Michael finds himself wearing purple plastic strapped over his chest and carrying a fake gun, surrounded by enough multi-colored smoke to fork up the humans' vision but not his. Without ever explicitly agreeing to anything, he and Eleanor have formed an alliance. He saves her from Jason's sneak attack, and together they shoot him in the chest twenty times.

"Yes!" Micheal shouts.

"Eat that!" Eleanor screams.

"Aw, man," Jason says, with the same dejected look as when he popped Pikachu.

He and Eleanor high five.

Then his chest lights up.

"Ooh," Tahani says, smiling like she can't believe her luck. Michael can't either. "I'm starting to get the hang of this!"

She notices the murderous glint in Eleanor's eyes, and bolts into the smoke.

"Don't worry, I'll avenge you," Eleanor tells him, then she shouts after Tahani, "You're going to die, you sexy skyscraper!"

That's the nicest thing anyone's ever said to him.

                                                                                    * * * * *

So he can't marbalize Janet. And also may have teared up in front of her, despite no known demon ever crying before. So what?

                                                                                    * * * * *

Eleanor Shellstrop is an enigma. Nothing about her behavior on Earth indicates she should be able--or willing--to sincerely change, and yet she has. She has a limited human brain yet she keeps outwitting him. No one can rile him up like her, yet no one understands him quite like her, either.

Also, he made him a paperclip bracelet that one time.

That's why he visits her instead of Chidi when he's feeling frustrated with ethics. Because even if she is a human, she understands him more than his own kind ever did.

They sit across from eachother. In the artifical light, he can't tell if her eyes are more blue or green.

They talk a while, and in the end, she tells him that she believes in him. That she believes it will all work out. He doesn't fully understand why, but the words stay with him long after he leaves, keeping a smile on his face that he can't wipe away even if he tries. He's still smiling when he walks into his office and sees Shawn at his desk.

                                                                                   * * * * *

Shawn tells him it's everything he ever wanted, and he can't disagree. Because it is. As an apprentice, toiling away on others' designs, he dreamed of the moment that his own work would be recognized. Micheal the Architect, senior staff member, exhalted in the Bad Place.

It would be so easy to snatch the pin, place it on his lapel, and pretend that the last few months never happened.

He's not sure what will happen to Janet, though. It's not like they can realistically sneak her back to the warehouse. Maybe they'll reboot her, and reuse her for a replica neighborhood. As for the humans, he knows exactly what will happen to them; they'll be tortured forever. He tries to imagine it. For some reason, he keeps going back to the moment that Trevor threw his arm around Eleanor, prepared to take her to the "Bad Place," and the way she looked, resigned and disgusted all at once.

He remembers stretching his hand out to her, and her accepting. He remembers leading her back to the fake Good Place.

It turns out he's already made his choice.

He doesn't even regret it.

                                                                                    * * * * *

He collapses into Eleanor's arms like a puppet whose strings were cut, resting his chin on her shoulder.

"I was so worried for you! You're my friends and I wanted to save you!"

Eleanor whispers that it's okay. He wishes he could believe her, he really does, but he can't escape the fact that they're completely and utterly forked. The humans still think he can get them to the real Good Place, but he knows that they don't have a chance. They're at the end of the road. They've seemingly run out of options.

But maybe he can figure it out, if he stalls long enough. He's done it before when he thought he hit rock bottom, and he can do it again. He always figures something out.

                                                                                    * * * * *

He doesn't figure it out.

                                                                                    * * * * *

The Shellstrops are right about one thing: drinking really does help.

He tells stories about past reboots that get everyone laughing. Someone (Eleanor or Jason, he can't remember which) suggest Never Have I Ever. Michael figures out the trick after two turns, getting everyone, even Janet, out with gems like "never have I ever been rebooted," "never have I ever smashed food holes," "never have I ever had a beating heart," and "never have I ever been to Earth." By the time they try to gang up on him ("never have I ever tortured humans," "never have I ever worn a fake human suit," and Jason's "never have I ever worn a bowtie", which gets both Chidi and Tahani fuming  because Micheal and weird turtle dealers aren' t the only one's who wear bowties, Jason) it's already too late.

"That's not, that's not even fair," Tahani says, swaying sligtly. "How do we even know--can you even get drunk?"

"I can," Michael says with dignity. "It just takes longer."

"Prove it!" Eleanor starts up the drunken chant, getting the others to all chime in. "Prove it! Prove it!"

So Michael downs an entire bottle of whiskey in one go.

In retrospect, that might not have been his smartest decision.

                                                                                   * * * * *

In the end, Eleanor's the one to come of with the crazy, bound to fail plan. The humans slowly trickle back to their beds, since humans need to be well rested before facing off against impossible odds, until it's just him and Eleanor left sprawled on the blanket, their legs stretching out before them. Eleanor rests against his side. Tonight, in the Michael-made starlight, her eyes look more green than blue. There's a pleasant buzz in Micheal's brain, leaving him light and (despite everything) happy.

"Micheal," Eleanor says suddenly. "Do you think there's something wrong with me?"

"Not particularly," he says. "Why?"

"You said that me and Chidi were 'in love,'" she starts to use air quotes but gives up halfway. "But now we're not. Or he doesn't feel that way, or can't decide what way he feels, I don't even know. I don't know if it's me--if there's just something unloveable about me."

Something about that statement hurts Micheal, but he's not sure why. He's no good with feelings talk--he only just learned what 'guilt' means. But Eleanor was there for him when he needed it (a smile across a table, a hand patting his back) so he gives it his best shot.

"Chidi's just Chidi," he says. "He's trapped in his own Chidi world, which, just between us, is what made torturing him so fun. There's nothing wrong with you. Whatever Chidi's dealing with, it's not beccause you're 'unloveable' or whatever."

They're quiet for a moment.

"Hey, Micheal? Do you really think kissing is that gross?"

His face twists in disgust. "Yes. But to be fair, I think a lot of human bodily functions are disgusting."

"Cuz we're like cockroaches," Eleanor nods sagely.

That's not...entirely right, but he can't figure out why.

"Sooooo," she says. He knows that look in her eyes. "Does that mean you wouldn't ever try kissing? Just to say you tried it?"

He barks out a laugh. "When would I ever get the chance to try it?"

"Well, we could. Right now. If you want."

Michael feels too warm again. He's having trouble meeting those more-green-than-blue eyes. He's suddenly aware of how close they are, pressed together like this.

"Why--would you--you, you actually want to?"

"Sure."

He's always trusted Eleanor before when it came to human things. And he can't lie to himself: he does like the feel of her in his arms, pressed so closely that he can feel her heart beat, away from everyone else. He doesn't want it to end.

"Okay," he says softly.

It's a little awkward at first, because Micheal doesn't know what to do while Eleanor shuffles around, positioning herself in front of him. She closes her eyes, so he does too. Her hands are on his back and her lips press against his. It's...nice. Her lips are soft and warm and not as gross as he expected.

She pulls away too soon. She leans forward, like she wants to sit on his lap, but loses her balance. He catches her before she faceplants the grass.

" 'm okay," she says.

A voice in his head, which sounds suspiciously like Professor Buzzkill, tells him she's not.

"Okay, it's time for bed," he says. "Sleep it off."

She lets out a disappointed whine, but she doesn't fight him. He pulls her to her feet and walks her back to the clown house. Just as they reach the door ("Ya know," Eleanor slurrs, "tonight I'm not even gonna mind the creepy clowns watching me sleep."), a terrible thought occurs to him.

"Eleanor? Was I a rebound?"

"What? Pff, no. You're not a rebound. You're...you're Micheal."

He pretends that he knows what she means.

                                                                                       * * * * *

Why didn't he grab another pin? Stupid, stupid. Eleanor watches him fumble through the jackets, trying not to freak out, but he can feel the tension radiating off of her from the seventh dimension.

It's too late. Shawn's on the balcony. He has two options. He could go through the portal after the others, leaving Eleanor behind to be torture. Forever. Or he could give her his pin, be retired for sure, while Eleanor has only a slim chance of winning her case.

Once, there wouldn't have even been a choice. He doesn't want to be retired. He remembers his existential panic when Chidi explained death to him. He thought it was the worst possible fate.

Now, peering into Eleanor's panicked face, he can think of another.

She doesn't understand as he explains the trolley problem, not until he removes his senior staff pin and pins it on her dress.

"No," she says.

"Take care of the others," he says. He is sad that he won't get to see them all on the other side, but he knows that they're all in good hands if Eleanor's there to guide them.

"Goodbye, Eleanor," he says, pushing her through the portal. He's tempted to kiss her before she goes, because that warm feeling is building up in his chest and it needs an outlet,  but there's no time. He hopes she understands all of the things he doesn't say, because he sure as hell doesn't.

She vanishes. She's safe now, he thinks as he waits for Shawn to reach him. He knows that he's facing rock bottom--in all of eternity, only eleven demons have been retired--but he can't find it in himself to care.

[pax-2735]

Got Fanfic: Come Into My Parlor (2/3)

Notes: Part 2 of this little Halloween story is up - if you haven’t read it yet, here’s part 1

Summary: When Sansa goes to the Targaryen’s annual Halloween bash, the last thing she expected was to come face to face with her demons.

Come into my parlor

She was making her way towards the bar, since her drink was long gone and she might as well take advantage of the expensive booze, when someone grabbed her arm. Feeling giddy and carefree – because she was not going to let that prick Joffrey ruin her spirits - she had spun around with a smile on her lips. And then she froze.

Drumroll please, as we welcome into our midst asshole number two.

She had met Harry Hardyng during her second year of college. He was sweet and polite, bumbling his way around campus with a map on his hand and a confused look on his face. Her manners had kicked in and she had offered to help him and he had dazzled her with a brilliant smile.

The fumbling ways of their first encounter had given way to a charming, confident man by their second meeting and that had been it. Harry was everything Joffrey wasn’t - he was kind and funny and had a way of listening to her as though he really cared about her opinions. In a word, he was nice.

She hadn’t loved him, no. She had never said the words to him nor had she tried to pretend as though she felt something she didn’t, but Harry had never pushed her. He never lost his patience and he never asked for more than what she was willing to give.

She had berated herself for it at times. There were days when she told herself she should just put an end to it if they weren’t going anywhere, and not lead him on. There were days she convinced herself there must be something wrong with her for how could she not love a man who was as perfect as Harry?

As it turns out, he wasn’t.

Three days into their second year together, she had run into him on campus by accident. He had a map in his hand and a confused look on his face and a pretty girl talking to him and Sansa’s world came crashing down. All of the sudden, every night spent studying, every late night phone call that went unanswered, his understanding nature and accepting demeanor, all of it reeked of lies.

He hadn’t even denied it, the smug bastard. If anything, he was completely unapologetic about the number of times he had cheated on her and if Sansa wasn’t as much of a lady she would have punched that brilliant smile right out of his face.

It was the same smile he was wearing now as he stood in front of her and Sansa took a deep breath, trying to dispel the urge to smash his teeth in.

“Sansa! It’s so good to see you,” he said. “How have you been?”

“You mean after you broke my heart? Pretty good actually.”

There was a skeptical look on his face as he answered. “Come on now. You know there were never any hearts involved.”

Alright, so that hurt. He was right, yeah, but it still stung to hear it spelt out quite like that. “How about honesty? Apparently there was none of that either.”

He at least had the good grace to look slightly embarrassed. “That was a failure in communication. I honestly thought we were on the same page.”

“Is that why you were so secretive about all your affairs?”

A group of super heroes clearly intent on saving the world one drink at a time knocked into her side as they passed them on the way to the bar and Sansa stumbled forward. Harry’s hands flew to her arms to steady her. “Are you ok?”

“Fine,” she answered with pursed lips. This close, seeing his eyes and his smile, it was easy to remember why she had been so eager to lose herself with him. She felt goosebumps prickling her arms as the temperature seemed to drop suddenly, and she shivered.

Harry was smirking – no doubt believing she was shivering because of him – when his gaze flickered over her shoulder and she watched as his whole posture changed abruptly, his shoulders squaring and his back straightening as his eyes widened at whatever he was seeing. She turned around to see it too.

The blonde was stunning, she had to give him that. Even her zombie makeup wasn’t enough to take away from the fact that her face was perfectly proportional, her blood red lips and dark eyes incredibly enticing.

She turned back to Harry with a raised brow. “Seriously?”

That seemed to break him from his spell. “Sorry,” he muttered, his gaze still flickering between the blonde and Sansa, “I thought I knew her but that’s not…” He shook his head, as if trying to clear the cobwebs.

“What? There were so many you can’t remember all our faces?” His head snapped back towards her, a troubled look on his face. Yeah, she was being a little bit of a bitch but he was a sorry excuse of a man so… she figured she had earned it.

“Sorry,” he said again, this time with a grimace. “That can’t be her. She’s… I mean, well… she’s dead.”

“Zombies usually are.”

He looked back towards the blonde, her voluptuous form now surrounded by a small entourage of corpse-looking guys salivating around her, and he visibly froze. His face grew pale and he looked quite literally as though he had seen a ghost.

“Sansa.”

“What?”

“Do you see them?”

“The dead guys? Yeah,” she snorted. “They’re kinda hard to miss.”

“So you do see them?”

She turned back to him, eyebrow raised and an incredulous smile. “How much did you have to drink?”

There was no answer to her quip but his grip on her am grew painfully tighter and she could feel her heart start to hammer inside her chest as she tried to loosen his grip.

“Harry you’re hurting me.”

A shadow moved on the corner of her eye and suddenly Jon was there, his own hand tightening around Harry’s wrist. “Let her go Hardyng.” Harry didn’t seem to be listening, his eyes still fixed ahead of him and Jon’s voice drew lower as his grip grew harder. “I won’t tell you again,” he hissed. “Let. Her. Go.”

Harry moved as though in slow motion, his eyes landing on Jon before widening like saucers, as though he was just now seeing him there. He stumbled backwards, finally letting go of her before mumbling out some apology or what-not and hightailing it out of there like a bat out of hell.

And then it was just her and Jon.

Goddammit.

She and Jon had known each other since she was literally in diapers. Robb’s constant companion, the two were more like brothers than anything else really. To her though, he was… more like a cousin or some shit like that. A sweet, handsomely hot cousin.

But really, with his soft curls, dark eyes, pouty mouth and sinfully delicious body, well… who could blame her really?

Yeah, she had a crush. One she’d been sporting for a while now – ever since her teens really, but in her mind she was still closer to that than to the dreaded 3-0 she was about to turn in a couple of hours. But the point was, they were friends. Close ones at that.

Jon was still looking at Harry’s retreating form with a dark look. “What the fuck’s wrong with him?” she heard him mutter. When he turned to her though, he visibly softened. “Are you alright?”

She gave him a shaky smile. “I’m fine. Thanks for stepping in.”

“Anytime.”

“I don’t know what happened. One minute he was fine and the next he was going all I-see-dead-people on me.”

Jon gave her a sardonic smile. “I can see half a dozen of them without even blinking.”

“I know right?” She looked back towards the corpses who seemed to have frightened the shit out of Harry, not that she minded, but they were nowhere in sight. Her eyes did a quick sweep around the room, but even with their garishly decadent clothing and incredibly real face paint, she couldn’t spot them. They seemed to have vanished into thin air.

Shrugging, she returned her attention back to Jon. “Whatever booze you’re serving here tonight, it packs a mean punch.” She dropped her eyes to where his hand was holding her wrist, his fingers smoothly drawing circles on her reddening skin.

His eyes followed hers and suddenly his fingers stopped their soothing motion. He didn’t let go though. “I don’t know what they’re serving. Rhaenis took care of that.”

His eyes were boring into hers again and she gulped. “Where is she anyway? I haven’t seen her in ages, I’d like to say hello.”

“She’s not here. Her mother isn’t well, she had to fly down to Dorne to be with her.”

“Oh. I’m sorry to hear that. Did Aegon go with her?”

“No, Aegon’s around here somewhere,” he said with a wolfish smile. His eyes swept over her briefly before changing gears. “Your costume is nice.” He waved his hand around, indicating her bodice. “I like the spider bit.”

“Thanks. I’d return the compliment but…” she let her eyes very pointedly roam over his black pullover, down his black jeans all the way to the tip of his black boots before letting them journey back north. And if she lingered a little bit over certain parts of his anatomy, well – let it never be said Jon Snow didn’t know exactly how to pick a pair of fitted jeans.

So sue her for indulging.

He chuckled before giving her a mock hurtful look. “You don’t like my costume? You wound me Stark.” At her questioning look he took a small step back before giving her a little bow. “I’m a brother of the Night’s Watch.”

“Aren’t they supposed to have capes and swords and stuff?”

“Well I had a sword.” He took a quick scan of the room. “But your brother took it. Said he needed to save a fairy from some brain eating zombies.”

Her eyes mimicked his earlier move, scanning the ever growing crowd. “Where is Robb anyway? I haven’t seen him ever since we got here.”

“Probably huddled in a corner somewhere, seeing what kind of magic that fairy can do.” He waggled his brows suggestively and then laughed when she frowned at him. “Wanna go find him?”

“Thanks for that mental picture,” she mock shuddered. “And no, I don’t. If it’s brain eating zombies he’s up against then I’m sure he’s fine.”

“Well hello my lovelies.” Margaery Tyrell sidled up to them, wrapping them both in a hug and keeping her arms casually over their shoulders as she gave Sansa an appraising look. “Darling you look beautiful. Doesn’t she look beautiful Jon?”

Fuck. Sansa could feel the blush creeping up on her cheeks as she risked a look at Jon, relieved to see he was looking a little flustered himself. Good.

“Yeah, I was just telling her that.” His voice took on a deeper, dare she say it, huskier tone as his eyes once again roved over her costume. Better.

She cocked a brow daringly at him. “No, you weren’t.”

“Aye,” he raised a brow of his own, “I’m pretty sure I was.”

Her face was pensive as she pretended to concentrate to remember exactly what he had said. “I believe the word being thrown around was ‘nice’.”

“Nice?” Margaery’s tone was dripping with sarcasm. “Oh my sweet summer child,” she tutted at him.

Jon flushed even harder, the tips of his ears turning red and a healthy blush spreading down his neck, and Sansa wondered exactly how far down it went and how much she’d like to find out. Preferably with her tongue, but she was open to suggestions.

“Although that works in my favor as it makes me feel much less guilty about stealing her away,” Margaery was still saying. “Darling, I’m in desperate need of your assistance.” She batted her eyelashes prettily and Sansa laughed.

“What, the corpse bride needs a wingwoman?”

Margaery scoffed. “It’s a much more mundane affair I’m afraid.” She waved Sansa closer and dropped her voice in a conspiratorial manner. “I need to go the bathroom and I need you to help me lift up my skirts.”

Jon was openly chuckling as Sansa turned to him with an exaggerated sigh. “Sorry. Duty calls.” Margaery was already pulling her along when Sansa turned back, shooting him an over the shoulder look paired with a wink. “See you around Snow.” He narrowed his eyes and she could swear the look in its stormy grey depths was ravenous. Perfect.

Helping Margaery with her skirts turned out to be much more complicated than she had anticipated, the layers upon layers of skillfully torn fabric easily catching on the embroidery of Sansa’s own dress. Not that it mattered, Margaery was saying, along with thousands of other crap ranging from the cute quarterback from hell with whom she hoped to have a nightmarish evening to how Jon was looking at Sansa like she was the Little Red Riding Hood to his wolf. Thankfully her voice was mostly muffled underneath her skirts, so Sansa only caught every few words.

“Thanks doll. You’re a lifesaver,” Margaery said as she washed her hands.

“What are friends for right?”

Margaery was looking at her through the mirror. “Sorry I interrupted your little chat with clueless guy wonder.”

Sansa gave her a little frown. “He’s not clueless. He’s not interested either. At least, not like that. See the difference?”

Margaery shook her head. “I swear to the gods, one day I’m gonna lose my patience with the two of you.” She finished drying her hands before extending one to Sansa. “Come, let’s get back to the party.”

“Go ahead. I think I’m gonna go too. Since I’m already here and all.”

“I’ll wait for you.”

“No,” Sansa said, waving her hands at Margaery in a shooing motion, “go get your quarterback. I’ll be right out.”

“You sure love?” Sansa gave her a stern look and Margaery laughed. “Alright sweetie. See you in a bit.”

The hallway leading back to the main floor of the party was only partially lighted by the time Sansa started back, the soft glow of the lamps mingling with the retreating shadows to create an eerie atmosphere. Perfect for Halloween.

Not so perfect when she heard a familiar voice calling her name.

Ladies and gentlemen, please put your hands together for the star of our show, asshole number three.

Although asshole was hardly the right word to describe Ramsay Bolton. Harry was an asshole, and a downright great one at that. Joffrey was a prick and creep. But Ramsay, well… Ramsay was a monster.

When Sansa was a child she loved playing monsters and maidens with her siblings. Those were the kind of stories she used to beg Old Nan to tell them, the ones where the beautiful princess was captured by a horrible monster until a fair and handsome prince came to rescue her.

It’s funny how the stories never warn you that the worst kind of monsters are the ones wearing a human mask.

And there are no princes coming to the rescue.

She had met Ramsay during her first job. He was a quiet, unassuming guy, the sort you wouldn’t look at twice if you happened to notice him the first time around. Most people didn’t. He seemed to have mastered the art of disappearing into the background until he was needed and then he was suddenly there, ready to help before blending back into the shadows.

After Joffrey’s and Harry’s over exceeding confidence, she had liked how quiet Ramsay was. There was a quality about it that almost reminded her of Jon. He seemed safe. They had a world wind romance and before long they were living together.

It was only when the key had turned on that lock for the first time that she had realized she was trapped.

And in spite of how far she’d come after putting an end to that relationship, after leaving all traces of Ramsay Bolton behind – not forgetting, no, never forgetting, the marks he had left on her skin and on her soul a constant reminder, a never ending lesson – in spite of it all, that’s exactly how she felt as soon as she heard his voice. Trapped.

“Hello Sansa.”

His voice was sickeningly sweet, coating her form like a spider web thinly veiled with drops of honey. His blue eyes were what gave him away, its icy sparkle shining from amidst the shadows, long before he stepped forward so she could see him.

“I’ve missed you.” His smile was something akin to a snarl, a pulling of lips over teeth as he stopped just a few steps short of reaching her.

“Ramsay. You do remember the restraining order don’t you?” Sansa was proud of how even and strong her voice came out even as she felt the airs on her arms prickling and her hands curling into fists at her sides.

“I had no idea you’d be here. You haven’t exactly kept in touch.” He shook his head slowly at her. “But you’ve always been a naughty girl haven’t you Sansa?”

Another step towards her and Sansa stiffened. She stood her ground though, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of backing away. Instead, she gave him a disbelieving look. “My brother’s best friend’s family is hosting the party.”

“Is he your friend though? Or perhaps something more?” There was a hint of something dangerous lurking underneath his casual tone, something that Sansa recognized immediately. Something Sansa chose to ignore.

“You knew I’d be here,” she accused him.

“Are you calling me a liar?” He moved forward again and this time Sansa did step back. The shadows flickered over the walls as her back collided with the lamp, almost sending it tumbling to the floor. Ramsay smiled. “Alright, maybe I did have some idea. What can I say? I’m a hopeful romantic.”

“If Robb and Jon find you here –“

He cut her off abruptly. “They’ll do what? I was invited here, just like everyone else.”

“You can’t be here.”

“Sansa, Sansa,” he said, shaking his head in disapproval, “don’t be difficult. This house is big enough for the two of us, I’m sure we can manage something.”

He seemed to be pondering something before he stepped back, putting some space between them, and Sansa breathed again. “I’m gonna take a tour of the gardens now. I hear they used to have some lovely kennels here. That should put the necessary space between us,” he turned his head, giving her one last glance over his shoulder, “until we meet again.”

It was only after his footsteps faded, the sound of a door closing in the distance, that Sansa forced her own feet to start moving. Not towards the now dim sounds of the party, no. The last thing she wanted at the moment was to go back in there and risk another chance encounter. It was hard to imagine this night getting any shittier but the way the universe was treating her lately… she wasn’t about to take any chances.

Turning around, she went in the opposite direction.

[ventivante]

Part One summary | can be found here! genre | jennifer’s body!au, college!au, horror, supernatural, humor, angst, demon!wooyoung; wooyoung x reader, mingi x reader warnings | language, discussions of death, some blatant blasphemy, and very bad/cliche humor word count | 2.1k

DISCLAIMER: this fic contains lots of dark subject matter and i will put any specific trigger warnings before each part. i do not condone the unhealthy relationships portrayed in this fic, nor do i believe the characters’ real life counterparts to display these behaviors.

happy halloween y’all!

“God, just shoot me in the face,” Wooyoung whined aloud, leaning his head back to emphasize just how unhappy he was with studying.

“Stop, you’re gonna get us kicked out again,” you whispered across the table at him.

“Good! I hate this place anyway, it reeks of decaying dreams and B.O.,” Wooyoung announced dramatically, his voice still at full volume.

Against your better judgement, you’d invited Wooyoung to study with you at the library. It was against your better judgement for two reasons: first, because Wooyoung didn’t function well in environments where you needed to be quiet and you were both already on the librarian’s shit list, and second, because you felt like you owed it to him after ignoring him all weekend.

Another unspoken reason you weren’t ready to admit was that Wooyoung had been acting . . . weird over the past few days. Even weirder than he normally was. For starters, he had dyed his hair—gone were the black locks you had grown up alongside, now replaced by sandy blond, perfectly gelled movie-star hair. His response to being asked why he’d changed it?

I got bored, he had told you, as if it were the simplest question in the world.

Of course, you knew that abrupt hairstyle changes usually took place in the midst of an emotional crisis, but you hadn’t pressed the issue further. If Wooyoung wanted to talk about things that were bothering him, he eventually would on his own terms—you had learned that the hard way.

Not only had he changed his hair, but he had started dressing really different as well. Normally Wooyoung opted for comfortable sweaters and hoodies, with some standard t-shirt-and-jeans ensembles thrown in the mix. Now he dressed as if his daily commute was on a Harley Davidson motorcycle. You didn’t know where his sudden sense of style had come from, but you guessed it may have had something to do with the aftermath of the party yet again.

Despite all of the red flags, you wanted to find out just what had caused the sudden changes, and you felt partially guilty that you had been the source of it. You figured if you spent more time with him, he would open up to you and finally forgive you.

“Come on, let’s get out of here and grab some sushi, I’m staaarved,” Wooyoung pouted as he rested his head on a propped fist, eyes wide and lower lip protruding in a wholly pathetic display.

Even though he had been acting strange, Wooyoung had been in very high spirits. He was constantly joking with you and laughing over the smallest things, not common indicators that Wooyoung was undergoing mental duress. His current behavior also wasn’t a surprise, as he’d always had a distaste for studying.

“Let me just finish these last couple sections,” you sighed as you flipped the page of your anatomy book.

“I can give you the short version: Adam shoves his dick into Eve’s vagina, boink boink boink, and that’s the miracle of life,” Wooyoung explained crudely, even throwing in a few vulgar gestures for added emphasis. “There, I even included curriculum for the Bible thumpers.”

You grimaced at his tactless anatomy lesson and shut your book without another word. “That’s gross and blasphemous.”

Wooyoung only shrugged before folding his hands on the table’s surface and fixing a now serious look on you. “Don’t tell me you’re still squeamish about sex, Y/N.”

“I’ve never been squeamish, I just don’t need to shout about it from the rooftops.” You hoped that the blush you were undoubtedly now sporting didn’t undermine your words.

“Oh, boo, so boring,” Wooyoung rolled his eyes and slumped back onto the table, his chin resting on his forearms.

“Hey guys.”

You jumped as someone slid into the seat next to you, scaring the daylights out of you. Your pen was raised, ready to attack your would-be assailant before you realized it was only Yunho—one of your and Wooyoung’s few mutual friends—who had made a sudden appearance.

“Can you not just drop in like that?” you asked, lowering the pen now that you were no longer in danger.

“I announced myself! Maybe you just need to have more awareness for your surroundings!” Yunho whispered shrilly.

“Shh!” A fourth person joined in, this time from the librarian desk, where the older woman was giving the three of you the evil eye as she let out a particularly firm shush. You ducked your head bashfully and gave her an apologetic wave, hoping to convey that you would keep your friends in check.

“Have you guys heard?” Yunho started again, now lowering his voice to a more library-friendly volume. “They found a dead kid in the woods out by Hongjoong’s frat house, where that huge party was this weekend.”

You straightened at the news, feeling your heart skip a beat. “What?”

“Well, not a kid kid, it was a student here,” Yunho continued. “But they found him just yesterday. They think it was some kind of animal attack—dude was ripped to shreds from what I heard.”

“Jesus,” you breathed, your stomach beginning to churn at the thought. “What kind of animal?”

“I dunno, a wolf or even a bear maybe?”

“Dumbass, there’s no bears around here,” Wooyoung chimed in, looking positively bored with the shift in conversation.

Yunho cast an offended glare on the newly-dyed blond. “Hey, it’s possible! Climate change, bitch! Animals can come crawling here from all over now, the polar bears are migrating.”

Wooyoung rolled his eyes. “So you think this kid got mauled by a polar bear?”

“I’m just saying it’s possible.”

“Shhhhh!”

This time a student at the next table over had expressed their own irritation at the rising volume yet again. You sent them an apologetic nod of the head before turning back to your friends and lowering your voice once more. “Do we know for sure it’s an animal? Is there going to be like, an investigation or something?”

The taller boy shrugged and leaned a little closer to you to match your tone. “Cops were all over the place earlier but it’s calmed down a bit now. I think it’s officially been listed as an animal. Or, what they think it is at least. But I wouldn’t rule out the possibility that it’s some psycho killer, stalking young, vulnerable co-eds.” He grinned widely at the end of his statement, waggling his eyebrows in an exaggerated motion before poking you in the side.

You swatted his hand away and released a noise of discontent. “Don’t scare me like that.”

“Yunho, why don’t you make like a tree and leave before I chop you down at the knees?” Wooyoung posed, leaning forward on the table with an acidic smile stretching over his features.

“Come on, I’m just kidding,” Yunho laughed. “I’m sure that they’ll find whatever animal it was and put it down.”

You wished you could be as lighthearted about the situation as the other two, but the news brought on a sense of dread that was seeping into your stomach like sour milk. Had it really been a random animal attack? And if so, what kind of animal could rip a person to shreds, as Yunho had not-so-delicately put it? Or worse, what if there was a murderer wandering around campus waiting for their next victim to come along? Were you actually safe?

“There’s probably nothing to worry about at this point,” Yunho added, as if he were reading your mind.

“Good to know. On that note, I think it’s time for us to leave.” Wooyoung rose from his seat and gave you a pointed look.

This time, you actually agreed with him and began to gather your things, shoving them haphazardly into your bag. Wooyoung was at your side in the next second helping you before focusing his attention back onto Yunho.

“Try not to get eaten by a polar bear on your way home, Yunho,” Wooyoung winked.

“Bite me,” the taller boy quipped, but you and Wooyoung were already on your way to the door.

Darkness was quickly approaching as you walked beside Wooyoung back to your apartment. It made you weary, especially after hearing Yunho’s news about the attack. Your best friend, however, seemed completely unfazed by the potential danger as he slung an arm over your shoulders and hummed quietly.

“You aren’t worried?” you asked him.

“Worried? About what Yunho said?” he scoffed then and only pulled you closer to him. “Definitely not. And you shouldn’t be either. You’ve got me to protect you!”

You let out an amused bark of laughter. “You? The same person who makes me kill the spiders in your room?”

“That was when we were ten!” Wooyoung whined, giving you yet another pout. “I’m a man now, in case you hadn’t noticed!”

“Please spare me the toxic masculinity spiel,” you retorted, albeit with another giggle.

A comfortable silence fell over the two of you as you continued down the sidewalk. You allowed yourself to enjoy the moment, because it felt like it had been years since you were both this close—not just physically, but also on an emotional level. You took a second to glance up at your longtime best friend and study him.

Wooyoung’s skin glowed in the waning rays of sunlight, blemish free and smooth as fine porcelain. His nose was a little large, something he had always been concerned with, but you saw absolutely nothing wrong with it. Even his dark eyes shone brightly as the day faded into dusk. And if you weren’t mistaken, you could have sworn he had been hitting the gym too—the arm wrapped around you was firm and not as wiry as you remembered it being during childhood.

You hadn’t admitted it to him, but he had grown up to be very handsome, and sometimes you found yourself wondering how things would be if the two of you had been more than just friends. It had always been a passing thought before, but now as he held you against his side and you looked up at him, the thought didn’t seem . . . particularly bad.

Just as you were rounding the last corner before your building came into view, you decided to ask Wooyoung what you had been meaning to for the past few days.

“Wooyoung, you’re not mad at me, are you? About the party, I mean.”

There was a short pause and you felt Wooyoung’s hand squeeze your arm gently, just as your phone chirped from your pocket. Automatically, you reached for it, digging it out and bringing the device up to check the notification.

It was a text message from an unfamiliar number, which made you squint in confusion. A split second later, realization dawned on you and you let out a small gasp.

It had to be Mingi, the boy you had met at the party.

You smiled at the thought then quickly remembered you had been waiting on Wooyoung to answer your question. You glanced back up at him and saw that he was eyeing your phone with a furrowed brow. His arm now felt tense and heavy around your shoulders but his voice was still light when he spoke again.

“Your friend from the party?”

“Oh, yeah, I think so. I’ll text him later—”

Wooyoung’s arm dropped from your shoulders and he took a step away from you, creating distance that might as well have been a brick wall between you two. He stared down at his feet for a few moments then lifted his head and smiled weakly. You noticed that the smile failed to reach his eyes.

“Listen, Y/N—forget about what happened at the party. I told you, it wasn’t a big deal and I’m over it. I’ll catch you later, okay?”

Wooyoung started to turn away, shoving his hands into his pockets as he went. You felt your small window of opportunity slipping away, so you reached out for him, latching onto his jacket.

“Wait! Don’t you wanna come up and watch a movie or something?” you asked, eyes wide with an unspoken plea.

Wooyoung peeked over his shoulder at you while his lips curled into a lopsided smirk. “Maybe some other time. I’ve got dinner plans.”

[banqbanqbaby]

🥃 thankfully I’m pretty sure you have all of your clothes on today but while we’re on the subject. Do you tuck or don’t? I’m not sure what kind of demon spider anatomy is under there but I’m pretty sure it involves a dick in some way.

‘ I have BOTH genitalia actually, and my dick is pretty small even when fully hard, which I don’t mind. It doesn’t take a lot to just tuck it against my furry body and wear some tight lingerie, cmon if you expect me to drink gotta stop askin me questions about sex, it ain’t a subject I’m shy on. Considerin I’m a porn star. ’

Shots: ( 1 )

[bobombun]

Thanks for @sinunen for tagging me! :D

Rules : answer 17 questions and then tag 21 blogs you’d like to know better Nickname: Ikey, Salt demon Height: 169 cm, probably (so 5ft 5) Last film I saw: Film, huh... I’m not sure. I know the last show I watched was Grey’s Anatomy (half of the episode, actually) but... might’ve been about half of Titanic? Star sign: Leo! Favourite musician: I don’t really have one, but Siamés makes nice songs I like Song stuck in my head: Actually none, since I woke up not too long ago, and haven’t listened to any music yet. Though the first song that came to mind was Die House from Cuphead Other blogs: I do have one, but I’d like to keep it a secret~ If someone guesses it I’ll tell ya, but that’s unlikely to happen Do I get asks: Sometimes! Not on a weekly basis or anything like that though Blogs following: 166 What am I wearing: Black (and very very broken) pants with a sweet black chain, a Spider-Man t-shirt (that I am sure won’t last for a long time, the material is... not good) and a comfy red flannel with a hood Dream job: Making art for games! Especially character art, I love character design. Though the pressure in a job like that wouldn’t be nice, but I’d learn to take more responsibility that way, maybe~ Dream trip: I don’t really have a country I’ve always wanted to travel to, but maybe just a lil trip to Sweden to visit my buddy @crowcrownprince Instruments I play: Unfortunately none, though I’d love to play, I’m just not good at playing, haha Languages: Finnish, English, Swedish, and Japanese, in order of fluency (not sure whether I’m better in Swedish or Japanese though) Favourite food: Hmm... I am known to be a popcorn and other salty snack lover, like chips. Chili salmiakki (salty licorice) ice cream is also really good! Yes, that is a real flavour Favourite songs: It changes a lot, but usually either something melancholic or something I could dance to. I do really like Lone Digger by Caravan Palace though, I guess Random fact: Me and my mother both have B as our blood type, but with a different rhesus, though neither of us remembers which one is B+ and which one B-

Tagging: @crowcrownprince @back-that-sass-up @skarchomp @wild--mountain--thyme @filibusterfrog @sciderman @alexisjeager @yamujiburo @ruttotohtori ah that’ll do, I don’t know too many blogs that I could tag here