#the sunsets are very pretty where i live

[brifdi-daily]

day 148

oh 2 be a little ds card in the grass....

[caimitos]

i already made a tumblr for my art (just as an archive) but i hate the thought of moving here for my art after ~5 years on artph / the local art community on twitter

like i'm not sure how to (re)build an audience on a website that just doesn't have my target audience in it and it makes me want to eat broken glass

[xiaq]

I want an AU where Steve is a werewolf and Eddie is a vampire except neither of them know about the other.

Eddie is the frontman of an up and coming band, but he's left his coven and surrounded himself with humans. They perform after sunset anyway so it's easy enough for him to hide his nature.

Steve has similarly left his toxic family pack and built his own pseudo-pack through the kids. He works as a park ranger. Or an ornithologist. Or something else nature-y/nerdy. But no one knows about his furry little secret.

Maybe Steve ends up attending a concert with one of the kids who has VIP passes and Eddie zeros in on Steve immediately at the meet and greet because he's pretty and preppy and delightfully out of place and also he smells good. And Steve is having similar thoughts, but he tries to play it off because there's no way an honest to god rock star would be interested in him and his polo and his boat shoes (also his hearing is temporarily fucked from the concert, so he doesn't register Eddie's lack of heartbeat).

After some light flirting, Eddie invites Steve back to his hotel and Steve is like, you know what? Yes. I am going to have a one night stand with the gorgeous front man of a metal band and I'll probably fall a little in love with him by the end of the night and it will break my heart when he kicks me out in the morning, but it will be an experience. Let me go drop off my kids and I'll be right back.

Except what he doesn't know is Eddie is planning to have a little snack while they're in the throes of passion––not enough to hurt Steve or anything, just enough that he'll have a pleasurable blackout and wake up tired but sated.

The only problem is that neck-biting (that breaks the skin) for wolves is the equivalent of marriage.

So when Eddie bites Steve, instead of a venom-drunk human, peacefully slipping into sleep in his arms, he gets a very horny, very confused, werewolf who is now insisting that they're married.

I can't decide if it would be funnier if Wolves/Vampires didn't know about each other, Ie:

"You're a Werewolf?" Eddie says, "What do you mean you're a werewolf? Werewolves exist? No. Shut up. Prove it."

And:

"Holy shit. A vampire. Vampires are real," Steve reaches for Eddie's face and Eddie is so baffled by the everything of this situation that he lets Steve pinch Eddie's top lip and peel it up off his fangs for a mortifyingly long moment. Eddie draws the line when he starts poking at Eddie's incisors, though.

"Why do I feel funny?" Steve mutters. "Will your venom kill me?"

"How should I know," Eddie hisses, only a little hysterical, "I didn't know wolves existed until two minutes ago, I've never bitten a wolf before."

"And you won't be biting any others, mister. Infidelity is not ok."

The other option is that wolves and vamps DO know about each other but stay so isolated in their covens and packs (and loners are super unusual) that they never interact. So Steve and Eddie are both like, dang, I'd been raised to think all of your kind were smelly/ugly/gross, but you uh, don't fit into that box at all. Weird.

Regardless, Steve (still naked, probably) crosses his arms all huffy, like, "well, we're married now, you're not going to bite me and then cast me aside like some harlot," and Eddie is like "...I'm weirdly ok with this, actually. No arguments here." And eventually they live happily ever after.

[leyiorr]

i wonder what i look like in your eyes.

gojo ⋮ geto ⋮ sukuna ⋮ toji ⭑ how they see you and what you are to them.

¡! wc: 1.1k

¡! genre: tooth-rotting fluff, awful + contagious cases of lovesick men, you're literally their reason for existence

¡! an: i dropped this on another account but then abandoned it so its being posted here lolz!

☆ - satoru gojo ⋮ a nebula

when it comes to satoru, he's always been alone in his orbit. a level of his own. he's a god among the mortal race; both blessed and cursed to walk the earth. he's his own galaxy - the brightest and the boldest.

yet his galaxy is unbearably lonely. it's expansive, a cosmic canvas of infinite possibilites. it's an inky black celestial wonder, one that leaves a hollow feeling in his chest.

until he meets you, and you become the only being in existence allowed to orbit with him. you're his nebula, chaotic and disorted yet so effortlessly the most beautiful element of his galaxy.

you blaze in brilliant, radiant light; core searing it's permeant place in the midnight backdrop. you illuminate the space with shades of the deepest indigo and violets, mingled with wisps of turquoise and teal. crimson and oranges are vibrant in your centre.

the colour stretches into the void forming intricate patters, ones he finds himself untangling to better understand you.

in the silence of space, your nebula spoke volumes; comforting him at his worst, lulling his mind into dreamless sleep. your edges are softer, the colours more muted as you bleed into him. no one can tell where you begin and he ends.

you are so so small in comparison to the void, but so unbearably bright that you light it all with practiced ease. he tends to watch in awe as you decorate his solar system; nursing new stars to weave into his soul.

with you there, his universe becomes easier to live in, easier to navigate. you're a cloud of interstellar stardust - held together by the gravitational attraction of satoru's galaxy.

☆ - suguru geto ⋮ the artist

to suguru, you're the best thing that's happened to him. ever.

anyone who sees him with you knows. they know he's infatuated, enamoured. he's so far gone that people often think that he's been blinded by love, but he has simply never felt an emotion so intense.

with you he thinks he truly sees the world in all it's glory, innocent and pure. with you he traverses unpolluted by the atrocities of the world, you who colours his world.

he looks at you like you personally hang the stars in the sky when night rolls around, like you paint the sorbet sunsets by hand. he stares at you adoringly, as if you chose the colour of the sea and dusted white on the peaks of mountains to keep them warm.

he peers at you like you solely gift the flowers with their petals, dipping them in shades you deem beautiful enough. like you create the sand from scratch and lay it in pretty semi-lunar shapes next to the ocean.

he gazes at you like diamonds were invented in tribute to your tears, like you drew the prettiest landscapes alone in the quiet, before the age of humanity.

he studies you like you've sculpted the very shape of his heart - every ventricle and atrium handcrafted with your pretty fingers. as if his very existence was molded by you, hence why you fit so perfectly together; two pieces of a puzzle.

he could stare at you for hours and days on end, eyes full of love for the person who introduces him to a plethora of hues and tones that he imprints on the back of his eyelids when he sleeps.

☆ - ryomen sukuna ⋮ the breath of life

sukuna is not a good person. everybody knows that. he's taken innocent lives, sapping their energy like it's nothing. he's all-powerful; he stands amongst the deities - gods who have the capacity to bend fate to their will.

but after millennia of having everything under his rule, he's gotten bored. he has servants to order as he pleases but nothing they do entertains him. the god of death is bored, embarrassingly so.

until he acquires something known as a significant other, the other half of his soul as the humans say. you're his breath of life, a release of old, stagnant energy. it's as if you breathe vitality into everything you touch, all life forms flocking to you naturally.

you're so much softer than he, touch delicate yet profound, an ethereal caress that lights sparks in his eyes. he tends to linger quietly by your side when you walk in the garden he constructed just for you - though he would never tell you that.

wildflowers are coaxed into bloom with you around, their colours a testament to your nurturing touch. the dew-laden grass basks in your presence, gleaming a shade brighter than before. even the trees seem to gravitate toward you, branches reaching for you as you pass by, their leaves sighing in contentment.

sukuna's convinced the waves follow your pace, each push and pull matches your breathing.

you were the essence of renewal. his world had found it's pulse, it's rhythm, as you dance the unending dance of life in the centre. you sustain his beating heart, so sukuna's oddly content with merely watching.

☆ - toji fushiguro ⋮ a lover

toji sees you as not only a lover, but the lover. the only one he will have in this life and the next. there's no after you. it's a forever kinda thing.

something so simple as the title of 'lover' is so complex for toji, a man who's a veteran assassin, a man who previously had no regard for anyone else.

you're the only person toji promises to protect, to never lie to, to make happy for as long as his heart pumps and his chest rises with each breath. you're a miracle gifted to him by the gods - though he doesn't know what he's done to deserve it.

he's rough around the edges but with your standing as 'lover', you smooth him out.

he subconsciously thinks of you, always worrying for your satefy. you must be a deep ocean of the emotion known as 'passion' because he's willingly drowning, not even looking for shore.

toji looks at you like you're an extension of himself, the other half of him that the deities intended for him to find. he can't remember times before you or imagine a future without you.

he makes a deal of reminding you that you are his, just as he is completely and utterly yours. as his lover you hold his bloody, beating heart in your hands; he knows you'll keep it safe.

he stares at you like you'll disappear; like he's not even sure you actually exist. you love a man like him after all - that's a miracle in itself.

[medusaesque]

Kim Kitsuragi and the pale-

Kim has a unique relationship to the pale, I tried dissecting it and making sense of it. Reposting with more thoughts after some good conversations with @binomech.

Warning- it's insanely long.

1. After life, death

One of the first thing you can learn about Kim is that he would hurl himself in death's way to save you. From the very first moment, Kim is related to sacrifice and death, it follows him wherever he goes-

The slaughterhouse.

He lost his parents at two years old. He worked a year in Processing (here's good post about that by @renmorris and @spilledkaleidoscope). He lost his partner, Eyes. People have taken a bullet that was meant for his more than once. His survivor's guilt is insane. He's killed six people. He's afraid of killing recklessly, and has a deeply unhealthy relationship with his gun (made another embarrassingly long post about that).

Kim also hears pale 'ghosts' on the police radio all the time, talks about it like it's normal, and says he doesn't believe in ghosts.

If harry is with Noid during the Moralist dream quest (more on it later), Harry can even wonder if Kim himself is a ghost, prompting this beautiful exchange-

And he's not entirely wrong. When Harry gets shot, after Kim fulfills Espirit's promise and stands in death's way for him, you can ask as you fall into darkness what will happen to you-

It's the living who are ghosts. You can leave them behind and rest. Go into the wild pale yonder, along with everyone else Kim has ever cared about. Or at least you can try to.

When death is at the door, you have two options-

2. After death, life again

Kim might associate himself with death, but Harry associates him with life again and again- Death is darkness, Kim has a light bulb halo. Death is a sunset, Kim is a sunrise. Death is where you are when the game start, it's ready to take you, and then- a clarion call, the sound of a motor carriage, a detective arriving on the scene, and you open your eyes.

Of course Kim is no actual saint, no guardian angel, but it's really telling that even in harry's deification the symbols of Kim's holiness are worldly, almost mundane, the matters of every day life- a celling's fan lightbulb, the engine of a car..

Or the way @binomech said it when discussing Kim's portrait: this is the only thing keeping you from the full brunt of the world in your mind #but truly you are already in the world #and he is just a man #and that's just a car and that's just a ceiling fan

The game is very clear about Harry being a ceaseless agent of the world, but he's not the only one. Harry stands at death's door twice, and Kim is his way back to the world both times.

3. After the world, the pale

So what is Kim's relationship with the pale?

As casual as he might try to appear, Kim is clearly uncomfortable with the pale, afraid of it even. When Harry brings up the pale, he intervenes, genuinely worried for the fragile stability of his mind, trying to protect him-

It's no more terrifying than water or death or that we're stuck behind our eyes for all eternity?? Sounds pretty terrifying Kim...

I think the key is in the moralist vision quest, When Harry attempts to reach the Committee of Responsibility, and he hears the pale crosstalk coming through the radio, when suddenly-

"Pale is a shroud of memories and it doesn't really distinguish to whom those memories belong to. You could hear anything." You could hear anything, but you hear Kim. Soona even says that the odds of us hearing him, out of all the voices in the pale, are astronomically low.

We know the past has not been harmless to Kim, we know it's full of ghosts and cold winters, but that's not the thing that's eating at him-

Kim is afraid of forgetting. He's constantly writing, he thinks through his notebook, always recording, so he wouldn't lose anything. That's why the pale is so terrifying to him.

4. After the pale. the world again

The world is what it is. God is in his heaven. Everything is normal on Earth.

That leads me to the expeditions through the pale-

Volta do Mar is a skill unique to Kim, according to the stats of this pilot jackets, and it's a Physique skill.

It's driving me crazy to think how Kim wanted to be revolutionary pilot as a kid, and is walking around dressed like a pilot as an adult, to give himself the ability to navigate the pale. To return from the sea-

DISTANT ENEMY OF HIMSELF?? kim....

Seeing how Volta do Mar is strengthened by his jackets, and the items' descriptions point out that most of the people who used to wear this jacket are long gone (alongside what they represented) and considering that the only real advance in pale transit is the speed with which an aerostatic craft can pierce it, is seems fitting that returning from the 'sea' requires the kind of armor that ghosts wear- the ghost of who you wanted to be but never could, of a home that was never yours. Glory to them.

@binomech said it best in this conversation we had about Kim's skills: "your traitorous race. your traitorous job. your traitorous parents. your traitorous senses. distant enemy of yourself: seolite, communist, cripple, faggot. and you wear it as armor"

Kim is equipped for Volta do Mar, he armors himself for it every day, for the thing that makes it possible to return sane, and discover a new world-

This is one of the most touching Kim moments in the game to me- putting his hand in the rain, looking up to the sky, mouth open, welcoming the spring rain, even knowing it'll bring death and destruction with it. He is devoted to this world and the role he has to play in it, or at least the role he thinks he has to play-

But we know Kim has a bigger role to play, he's trying to do his part right there, getting Harry to stay-

His connection to Harry can keep him on this world once again- keeping the two of them together. Their real work is down here, him and Harry are Revachol's only hope. If they stick together they might be able to keep her on this earth.

UNITY AMONG THE RANKS IS PARAMOUNT.

I NEED YOU. YOU CAN KEEP ME ON THIS EARTH. BE VIGILANT.

I LOVE YOU.

[maybank5]

𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐞

pairing ⤜ yn x jj

summary ⤜ a happy future fic, because we need some healing; jj on the beach with his family reflecting on his life.

a/n ⤜ how are we doing fam? me? not so well. this has been the hardest fictional moment that's ever hit me. i'm choosing to believe our boy is still off somewhere and gonna have the best, most fulfilled and loving future. sending hugs and love to each of you!!

song inspo ⤜ no song inspo for this one; but i did have 'nights in white satin' on repeat as i wrote

The sun is setting over the horizon, sinking down into the ocean and melting into streams of gold and orange against the shimmering water. JJ Maybank perches on his surf board for a moment, admiring it. He's never considered himself to be the most religious of people. Sure, he attended Sunday school as a kid, knows the bible stories decently enough; and yeah, there's times when he catches himself praying. Like the time John B got into that nasty accident, or when his son was born. There'd been complications, things had been touch and go for a moment. JJ had pressed his head against the glossy white wall of the hospital waiting area, hoping to God that things would be okay, as John B and Sarah rubbed his back comfortingly.

The one time JJ didn't pray might have been the one time he should. He'd been stabbed, by his son of a bitch father. Not Luke, the "real one" though JJ found it almost funny how he preferred to think of Luke fuckin' Maybank as his actual father. At least Luke had never tried to stab him. But that was beside the point; JJ had been stabbed, and things were not looking good. John B had felt for a pulse and had felt nothing. JJ can still remember the feeling of floating away, like riding a wave to the horizon. He hadn't prayed then. Instead, he'd made peace with his fate. He'd lived a pretty damn full life in 20 years, and if this was the end of it, so be it. At least on the other side, no one would be trying to hurt him, right? That sounded mighty nice to him. So he'd closed his eyes and let himself drift off towards that horizon.

Only instead, he'd woken up in a hospital, still very much alive. His best friends at his side. Pope and Kiara barely left his side, and John B had practically crawled into the bed with him to hold him in his arms until a nurse had yelled at him. JJ doesn't remember feeling such love until that moment. And that was when it all changed. He'd been given a second chance, and an opportunity to see just how loved and valued he is. He was never going to squander it or take it for granted again.

The sun is sinking lower, the water in front of him glittering in gold. JJ pushes his wet hair back off his forehead to admire it. Years ago he'd have just shrugged it off. Sunsets were a dime a dozen. Not anymore though. Now JJ takes the moment to sit and watch and appreciate.

He glances back to the shore, where his wife and baby are playing in the sand. Harley John Maybank's (it'd be a cold day in hell if JJ ever took the name of that man) new favorite thing was trying to rush to the water, his mom and dad hot on his heels. JJ could tell already that Harley was going to be a handful, and he couldn't fucking wait.

The waves were rising higher. It'd make for a sick surf tonight. JJ bites his lip, turns and paddles back to the shore. Some priorities rank higher than waves.

He tucks his board under his arm and hurries over to where the two of you are building a sandcastle with Harley's little castle-shaped buckets.

"Hey, baby," you glance up at your husband, reaching out and touching his cheek with his hand, always little assurances like that to make sure he's real, "Not surfing?"

"Nah," JJ shakes some water from his head, "Much rather'd build sand castles with this little one," he ruffles Harley's head of blonde hair, glistening in the sunlight.

You can't help but smile as he sinks down into the damp sand to help Harley stuff sand into his buckets. Moments like these is when it truly hits you, just how blessed you are.

JJ gently helps Harley, his eyes so soft and full of love and devotion. Harley John is his utmost pride and joy. He's always been soft with you, but the gentleness in which he treats your son is beyond anything you could imagine.

JJ packs the sand into the bucket with the back of a little plastic shovel. He wonders if maybe there was a time he'd done this as a boy, but shakes the thought from his head. It doesn't matter. He can do it now. He can do it with Harley.

"Sarah called earlier," your voice pulls JJ from his thoughts, "She and John B are going to have Baby Jackson christened. John B is supposed to ask you to be the godfather tomorrow, but Sarah couldn't wait to tell me. You know the two of them, it's not a church thing or anything. Just The Pogues and the ocean."

"Sounds nice," JJ says, wrapping his arms around Harley and pulling him softly onto his lap.

JJ reaches for your hand, pulling you to him as well. He presses a kiss the back of your hand, holding your hand and running his thumb over your knuckles. Nothing ever feels one hundred percent real unless JJ can feel it, touch it, revel in it. He tosses his head back as the evening breeze licks through his hair.

And in that moment, JJ can't help but stop and say thank you.

Because JJ Maybank lives every day in paradise.

[megaderping]

I feel like when people compare Akechi to Light Yagami, they fundamentally misunderstand his character. Their similarities really end at their designs, and Light is the kind of person Akechi would despise. Light Yagami lives a pretty privileged life at the start of Death Note. He has a stable home, with two parents and a sister who care about him. He's a successful student. There isn't really inherent tragedy to his life. The whole reason he starts using the Death Note is a mix of curiosity and a jaded worldview, and when it works it empowers him, very quickly goes to his head, as he believes he is one who can be a god of a "new world" once the shock of his initial kills wears off. While his first kill was to help someone, that altruism didn't last. He is in charge of his choices, while Ryuk mostly vibes and maybe eggs him on a little. Fundamentally, Light has something Akechi lacks: agency, and a comfortable life he took for granted. Meanwhile, Akechi is someone who lived on the bottom rung of Japanese society. His very existence is shameful there, between his mother being a sex worker, his status as an illegitimate/"throw away" child, and his mother's suicide. Years languishing in a foster system that is notoriously inhumane, in a country where 90% of the adoptions are grown men for inheritance and patriarchal reasons, while very few children in the system find permanent homes. When Akechi awakens his power, he approaches Shido not because he wants to kill people but for a stupid revenge plan cooked up by a traumatized child who's been nudged along by a malevolent god. He wants to build Shido up so that at the height of his power, he can expose him for the monster he really is, while another part of him genuinely wants to be useful to Shido, as Cogkechi later calls out. His feelings are a mess of contradictions, and so it's no surprise that Shido was able to mold him into his assassin at only 15 years old. It's also worth noting that Akechi only approaches Shido with his ability to cause psychotic breakdowns. Shido is the one who teaches and instructs him to do shutdowns. He's still complicit, very sunk cost with his revenge plan, but as I spoke of here, even if he wanted to quit, he couldn't alone. Shido's cleaner and control of the law and ability to effortlessly turn him in would render the Metaverse his only safe haven. I think people look at 11/20 Akechi and Akechi in the early parts of the engine room and assume that's just his "true self," when in reality it's another mask. Royal makes it very clear because in Rank 7, he outright warns Joker of what's to come via a pool metaphor and offers an out (though he's MUCH happier if you don't take it/stick to your principles), and in Rank 8, he goes on that big "I hate you" speech... while Sunset Bridge is playing. Y'know, the song that plays at the end of most confidants to reaffirm bonds. So when he smiles as he shoots what he assumes to be Joker, that doesn't mean he's genuinely happy. More likely, he's an emotional clusterfuck, given he also is disoriented enough to namedrop "Shido-san" over the phone, and in the subsequent meeting with Shido, tells him not to kill the Phantom Thieves and that Morgana is "just a cat." Yes, he says they'll make them fear for the rest of their lives, but remember, he's talking to Shido. The things he says are likely all incredibly calculated to sound appealing to Shido. And when you consider that he planned to utterly destroy Shido's reputation after the election, the "delay" makes even more sense.

Later, Akechi goes on about how the people he induced shutdowns on were deserving of their fates, but I don't think he believes it so much as it's the only way he could convince himself that it was worth it, and given how much society failed him, and given how many of the people he targeted were likely rivals/competitors or rich fucks, I think he'd be less inclined to assume good faith. Kunikazu Okumura was not an innocent little victim, after all. He was one of the people who requested breakdowns and shutdowns the most. I think Akechi enjoyed killing him not because of how it'd hurt Haru, but because of catharsis. Because Okumura is just as monstrous as Shido, so why should he feel remorse? However, I don't believe he feels the same about Wakaba, as when he discusses her with Shido, he mentions how her fate was because she refused to willingly work for him. It's another justification, but I personally think Wakaba's death was the most painful for him because he was effectively making Futaba just like him. That's why I think his reaction to Sae threatening Sojiro's custody was genuine. Anyway, evil grinning Akechi is just another mask, as I said. Keep in mind, this is someone who laments not meeting Joker years ago, someone who Morgana outright points out is lying about his hatred. And that's the thing. Light Yagami, while a really fascinating character, is not someone who had all this childhood suffering or lack of agency. He does not regret his actions in the slightest and goes down due to his own hubris in both the anime and the manga. While you can argue that Ryuk set him up by dropping the Death Note, Light was the one who picked it up and chose to use it. Any nudging from Ryuk didn't coerce Light into doing it because Light seized the opportunity. No, if Light Yagami is like anyone in Persona 5, it's Masayoshi Shido, not Goro Akechi. Both believe they are god/god's chosen, that they are the ones who will reshape the world to their ideals, and to be frank, both use and abuse women to serve their own purposes. Goro Akechi goes down sacrificing himself for the Thieves and pleading with them to stop his father and again in Maruki's reality when he refuses to let Joker accept a gilded prison of a world for his sake when he knows better than anyone what it's like to have no true freedom. If you max his confidant, you see him in the postcredits, leaving his survival entirely possible, and I think it works because at the end of the day, Akechi was meant to be a victim and a foil. Light is a villain protagonist and a cautionary tale. Though its his POV we follow, he isn't someone we're meant to root for, but I definitely don't think enjoying the character is a bad thing at all. He's really interesting! I just think that a lot of the Akechi and Light comparisons are surface level at best.

[yandere-wishes]

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆Doc-Ringo⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

✮ Yandere! Boothill x Reader

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Plot: There's a slick black-clad little gal who's been messing with his bounties recently. Boothill's been dying to rustle her up and take a bite

⁀➷ Warnings: Yandere behavior, blood, and gore, war trauma, Genie trying to do a cowboy accent.

⁺₊𝄞₊⁺: Crimson and Clover by Joan Jett

And I don't hardly know her,

But I think I can love her,

Ah, now when she comes walking over,

I've been waiting to show her,

My mind's such a sweet thing

I want to do everything

What a beautiful feeling

It's not like the movies, they fed us on little white lies.

~💜

The first time he sees you there's a tempest of bullets rattling off his chest. Metal singing metal, as shells vie for an opening. It's all very lethal,

like the center of a rabid dust storm. Kissing death and sucking in her poison. Boothill can't tell where the bullets are coming from only that there's a dozen at a time ringing over his head. He shields his face with the metal of his forearms peaking through the gap to catch a glimpse of black.

Pure black.

That's the first thing he notices as your frenzy yields, You're clad in black from head to toe, even going so far as to dawn an eerie familiar mask. He's seen this scene play out somewhere before, he just can't remember where. "Morning mister", he likes that voice, jejune and teeming with confidence. It reminds him of himself, back when the sunset used to mean something and he could still feel wheat stocks under his soft palms.

"Howdy lil'lady I reckon you're in my way. Mind stepping aside before you get yourself hurt?" Your answer comes in the form of an aimed pistol, spine straight, midnight serape caught on the wind. He thinks you look a little too much like the folks back home -back when there was a home- blood boiling over eager for a fight. His bounty is standing just over yonder, blocked partly by your stubborn shadow. Boothill doesn't think twice before firing two rounds.

He's met with four...

He's in a cheap motel on Penacony, screwing in bolts that came loose. In the end, you laid claim to his bounty. Dragging him away to the hills. He's left growling at the thought, bested by a muddle-fudging fox. Lil gal probably ain't never even been in a proper shoot-out. The screwdriver cracks under his metal fingers. Boothill ain't about to start letting some pretty little thing get in the way of him and his targets.

The TV screen flickers to a melancholy monochrome. The films are old, distorted, crippled in parts. But he keeps them around, much like everything else about him, it's a bygone thing refusing to die.

He still likes to play them from time to time, trying to elicit the tastes of home. Hearing Nick and Graey setting plates out for dinner as his siblings rush downstairs. The movies are older than the new universe in more ways than one.

They come from a simpler time.

He'd always wondered why someone would bother painting such precious things in black and white. Spilling melancholia into picture frames, leaving everything tasting of vodka and vanilla.

It doesn't matter though, not really. All that matters is the sound of hooves on sand and bullets shooting. So long as the cowboys live their stories, everything else can be forgiven.

But this time something's off. The bandit's black mask shines through, gleaming something awful making him grind his sharp teeth. That damn mask, sitting pretty over a sly smirk. it reminds him of you, little cutie with your slick attitude. What bandit goes around doing hero's work anyway? What kinda twisted little lady are you?

He's getting mighty sick of this. Do you think you own the universe or something? "Been seeing way too much of you lately." There's sand in his Synesthesia Beacon his voice coming out horse, brittle. He kicks the head of an IPC lackey trying to drive home a point. "You getting on my nerves cutie". The ground looks nothing short of a graveyard, bodies scattered some piled. The blood paints the sands in a deep maroon, reflecting the glint of the distant stars. The last soldier is cowering behind you, his whimpers singing in Boothill's ears, one more bullet, that's all it'll take. "This one's mine" you mutter, and he wonders for a moment if the dry weather is getting to you too. "Not a chance pumpkin" his gun's drawn, firing bullets before you can even feel for your holster. The smirking bullet impales your abdomen, aimed point blank at the officer's head. But before the last body can be claimed you kick the man out of the way.

"Damn it" Boothill's anger is tangible, he knows you can feel it between your teeth. He's going to kill you, tear off that star-saken mask, and riddle you with bullets. You're getting too confident.

He doesn't notice your bullets at first. Protostars trying to act all rough and mighty. There's a temporary cluster of dust, a fraction of a second where his eyes aren't pinning you down. That's all it takes and then you're off. Sinking into the darkness and swimming away, taking his target with you.

It's only after the initial anger wears off that Boothill notices a tear on his thigh. A letter scrawled on the frayed leather of his pants. So you've started leaving your own marks, ay cutie?

He almost wishes he could feel the sting of your blade on his flesh. Feel your nails scrapping along his shoulders as he pins you to the ground.

Boothill fires at the moon.

Next time.

Next time for sure....

He's been chasing you for some time now. But catching up with you isn't as easy as he first thought. Seems like you go wherever the wind takes you and he's too busy with revenge to be following your capricious whims. The IPC ain't going to kill itself you know. And Boothill damn well wishes you'd start sitting still. He's heard from a reliable source that the IPC soldiers are throwing a little get to together down in one of the bars. Just a happy birthday for a colleague, nothing fancy. The thought alone makes his mouth water, place will be crawling with pests just waiting to be gunned down. Maybe tomorrow he'll try looking for you again, but tonight? Tonight's his night.

The neons have dulled now, they never were terribly bright to begin with. Penacony may be the land of dreams but not even dreams can stop reality from seeping through. The bar's loud, some new pop singer's music blasting from every speaker. Boothill downs his drink, liking how the ice cubes chime like a bad omen. He shoots the speakers first, needing some peace to focus on what comes next. The peace corp's lackeys are drunk, they stumble over themselves trying to reach him. He shoots each one like a kid playing carnival games. It's almost too easy...

The door is stampeded over by a heard of reinforcements. Somehow even in his drunken daze one of those yella-bellied lapdogs called for help. They're swarming the place like panicked rats, pushing past tables and chairs. Firearms aimed at his head. And for the first time, in a long, long time, Boothill feels a sliver of panic run down his bionic spine.

Motherfudger...

Boothill hears the familiar tumult of bodies hitting the ground before he sees what's actually going on. He feels you before he actually sees you. You're pushed up against his back, guns drawn locked, and loaded. "Heard you needed some help" Even though you offer your usual bravado, Boothill still picks up the nervous lilt in your voice, despite everything he thinks he likes it. It almost tastes sweet. "Best get away before you get yourself hurt little fox." "And let you have all the fun? Never."

"Certe murmur pugnando" Boothill laughs, he remembers those very words coming from a buddy of his before a duel. 'At least we'll die fighting' Somethings never change, even if you've carved out every principle from your body with a rusted kitchen knife. You'll always have those pesky morals stuck inside. He hears you chuckle, wonders if you find it odd that a rowdy galaxy ranger such as himself knows a dead language.

Well, he knows a lot about the dead.

The shoot-out lasts longer than he'd have expected.

But the real surprise lies in how neither of you are dead. Boothill's half laid across the bar, looking at you from under his hat. You're making him a drink following his instruction like a good little wife, not contradiction dressed in ebony. Gunpowder withers on his tongue, the bullet smoke permeates the air mixing with the gleeful tang of spilled blood. "Your drinks sure are complicated" you mutter pushing him his cup before picking up a bottle and reading its labels. "What's so hard about it pumpkin? Little bit of white gem and gin. All's you need." He sips your drink slowly, savoring your flavor. He imagines he's gulping you down, holding you for ransom behind his teeth, feeling your delicate little fists pounding against him. "I don't drink" you mumble as you sit across from him, you look so damn elegant, like a little princess from a fairy tale he use to read to a certain someone. You drink deeply from your glass of ice and water. Boothill focuses on the gentle motion of your throat. He licks his lips, trying to push down the thought of ringing such a fragile thing between his palms.

"So little lady, s'about time you start answering some questions...The hell you doing? Running off with my targets?" You set your cup down, eyes locking on his, there's the deficiency he's missed all night. The trigger hair that's just waiting for the right push. "They're not your targets...not really. They're just people. People whose planet got muffed up. I've been trying to gather them all in one place." For a second Boothill thinks you're talking about his planet, his home, his people. But it only takes one more look at you to understand.

"So, how'd yours die?" There's shrapnel in his throat when he asks, open wounds bleeding once more, filling his throat with bitter memories.

You stiffen, and he knows he's thumbing a broken bone, letting his finger dig between the cracks and snapping their frail linings. "Don't know, wasn't there. All I ever got to see were a few limbs, nothing enough to make a full person." you squeeze the glass until your knuckles turn white.

There's vindication rooted in your veins.

He knows the feeling all too well.

"We ain't so different you and I, reckon we make a pretty good team." His metal fingers lace between your soft skin, tracing the lifelines like an old map.

There's a goldmine hidden behind your lips, he imagines he'll have to kiss you to find the little nuggets. Your lips part, eyes filled with an odd-looking sympathy. What he wouldn't give to feel your plump lips bleed between his jagged teeth. "So..." you ask as his mechanic heart skips a beat. "What about yours?"

You've been laughing for five whole minutes. Boothill shouldn't find the noise as ethereal as he does. His anger lays heavily on his bones, he should be even angrier, lounging a bullet through your thick skull. But he finds the noise a little too perfect to disturb its source. Even if it's only created at his expense. Instead, he has half a mind to slap you, hard enough to shut you u and another to kiss you so hard you forget to breathe. "Damn hell so funny, cutie"

You look at him with those luminous eyes. Filled with pain and riddles. Boothill never did like solving puzzles. He only likes tearing things into bits. He needs you spartan, easy to read and use, and kiss. Not something he needs to piece together first.

"Dear stars you have no freaking idea how ironic you are." You say between bursts of spiteful-rooted giggles.

Why do those words sound so haunting like a ghost kiss? they should open phantom pains, but they sure as hell don't. Why do you always leave his head spinning? Boothill rolls his eyes, then leans over to pull down your mask. You jerk back, rewarding him with a dark grimace. You're out the window before he can ask your name.

"See you next time, cowboy"

"Next time I'm drawing blood"

The moment's over.

Fiddlesticks..

That night, Boothill dreams of you. He's lying in a stiff musty bed. It's too dark, even the moon is scared of showing her face.

Boothill dreams of the old saloons back home. Of their cracked wooden floorboards and the worn-out plush of chairs. In the dreams, you're wearing a black lace gown, like the saloon girls used to. He finds it all too funny that even in his dreams you still haunt him in black. Only now you're smiling, really smiling. Not that sly smirk, or mirthless grin you gave him back in the bar on Penacony. No, this here is a genuine smile and he's damn sure he's the one who put it there. You reach out for his hand, he feels warmth.

His

Yours

The dream is thick and dense like swimming through molasses. In another scene he's dragging you through the old doors, laughing as bullets and card chips hit the floor. There's a horse waiting outside. His horse. At least he thinks it used to be his. He pulls you up roughly in front of him. He's high off the feeling of his fingers wrapped around the rugged reins. High off the steed he holds in a vice grip between his thighs.

He's riding faster than he's ever ridden before, clambering for the sunset trying to engulf the sun. You hold on tight, pressing your cheek to his chest. His heart is beating something fierce between his ribs. He feels like an Aeon watching the universe collapse under his galloping feet.

He feels alive.

With the sun's rays behind you, Boothill could almost mistake you for the star-dwelling angels Nick used to tell him about. There's something poetic in all of this. The cowboy standing off against the black fox.

Dare he call it cinematic?

Boothill creeps closer. Tilting his hat and watching you flash a nervous smile through his lashes. "Volo sentire te inter dentes meos" so you know that dead tongue too. "You will soon darling, that's what I'm hoping for" his reply only dwindles your smile.

He's missed the old duels. Missed staring into the eyes of the one who could kill you. It's all a matter of skill and luck. Whose faster, who the aeon will trust?

Somewhere in the distance, the tumble weeds begin to rattle.

"Now"

His bullet glides through the air, piercing through the dust and sand. Your bullet reverberates from your gun a fraction too late and ricochets past his cheek. Leaving a juicy trail of blood.

But his bullet was aimed at your chest.

And Boothill never misses...

You want vengeance he won't deny you it.

So long as you stay by his side.

He'll tuck you away somewhere safe.

Somewhere you won't be leaving him again.

Boothill cradles your body to his chest. "I promised you blood little fox, and Boothill never goes back on his word." His cheeks hurt from smiling as he lays his hat atop your head. He's Picking you up and walking into the sunset. He knows a good ol'doc who'll patch you right up. And then it's a happy life together.

Well for him anyway.

The end

Taglist: @hihellomy @salhanskkdbfkekfb @gasoline-eater @sp1cym0chi

[teacupwrites]

Vox, Valentino, and Angel with Moth! Reader

Vox

You were a sunset moth, wings black on the outside with gorgeous rays of rainbows on the inside

Initially he wasn’t the biggest fan of having a constant reminder of Valentino as his right hand assistant

You were pretty calm, and honestly very laid-back with your emotions

You did what you were told and he liked that about you

Look- living in hell was hard and you needed a job, and you planned on keeping it

I like to think that moth demons usually keep their wings concealed in a similar way that Val does

So whether you use it as a coat, cape, skirt, dress? Vox doesn’t think too much of it at first

He was in a relationship with Valentino and even he hadn’t seen them all too much

Though little did he know that was the key to your emotions

One time, you were walking alongside Vox, updating him on his schedule and marking off any meetings he wished to cancel 

But this dumb bitch kept interrupting you

It wasn’t uncommon for paparazzi to crowd at Vox- he was an Overlord, it’s to be expected

But this girl was being a real bitch

So you were quick to whip around, wings flaring and antenna unfurling as you seethed to the woman, nearly clawing her face off as she backed away

Then as she finally left, your wings drooped, but kept out, hanging behind you like a cape as you turned back to Vox, and read off the rest of his schedule 

However, the TV headed Overlord wasn’t paying much attention, instead he was much more infatuated with the colorful wings perched on your back

They caught attention, his attention

You were useful, and he needed to take advantage of that

Ever since then Vox brought you around everywhere, which brought even more attention to you

Safe to say, you no longer reminded him of Valentino

Instead, you were the pretty little moth that helped bring more attention to his business

“I still don’t understand why you’re using me as a model,” you muttered, quirking an eyebrow as Vox held and observed your wings, handling them very delicately despite his excitement. “I mean- can’t you use Valentino?”

Vox hummed in reply, bringing his hands away to quickly copy down more commands into his computers, modeling out a robot that took the shape of a moth, a spy tool

“Because you’re wings are better than Val’s,” he quipped, coming back over and gently pressing down onto the base of your wings, the sensitive area just behind your shoulder blade. “And he wouldn’t let me.”

You rolled your eyes, leaning back into his feeling touch with a grumble.

“Whatever.”

Valentino

Moth demons aren’t by any means completely rare, and Valentino knew that

It was just that most of them were…bland, lacking in color and any kind of beauty that would bring people to his studio

So he paid them no mind

But you were different

You were a rosy maple moth, colored bright pinks and yellows and attracting attention wherever you went

Valentino was out in a luxury restaurant with Vox and Velvette, discussing business

And then you came by, prancing in your little uniform as you brought them complimentary drinks since they were Overlords, carefully crafted alcohol each handed to him by one of your three free hands

To say Valentino was interested was an understatement

He purposely took a long time to order just so you could stay by for longer

You were quick and efficient, getting all of their orders correct on the first try, 

When you came back you showed off your arm strength, each one holding up their plates high and setting them down with utmost caution before the three of them

Your colors were so bright, so eye-catching

How could Valentino not get you fired just so he could hire you as one of his own?

You were quite easy to catch, trapped up in his little web where you now worked for him

Once you did, he made sure you worked in the most populated bar he owned

You still had no idea just how much Valentino manipulated you, but you aren’t to blame for that

He babied you incredibly, broke you down with strung up hands and then built you back up just to make you trust him even more

He struck your deepest insecurities, manipulating you by taking random girls and boys and making you stand nearby as those cruel demons mocked you

And Valentino would then shoo them away, and baby you

You were never in any films as one of the main characters, (the ones who have sex)

But you were always teased as such, and were actually pasted across many posters of said films

You were photogenic, and Valentino took advantage of this

“‘Greetings sir, welcome to the….the…’ shit,” you sighed as you forgot your lines, bringing out your script from the folds of your wings to glance at it. “Sir I don’t think I’m gonna remember this.”

You looked to Valentino, shifting from where you stood, giving the werewolf actor above you a side glance. He drooled like a madman, some of it even dripping down onto your antenna, making you flinch back.

“You’re doing great, baby,” he called from his director's chair, right leg crossed over his left as he looked at you, pink smoke billowing around him as he gave a toothy smile. “Just improv it.”

You shifted, slightly unsure of just how good you’d be able to ‘improv’ your lines. 

“Don’t worry about it too much,” he insisted, standing up and slowly striding over to you, resting one of his hands on your shoulder as you followed him with your gaze. “No one’s watching the dialogue, right? They just want to see this.”

He ran one of his free hands down the shape of your wings, making you shudder lightly, antenna unfurling and twitching high up into the air.

“So just say whatever, okay?”

You nodded slowly, blushing hardly as he held your waist and shoulders with his much larger hands, leaning down and pecking a gentle kiss on your cheek before returning to his chair.

“And….action,”

Angel Dust

Out of the three, he probably took the longest to trust you

Not only did you work for Valentino, but you also happened to be the same species of demon

You were an atlas moth, with colors reminiscent of cinnamon

And you were a camera man/woman

So you and Angel often were in the same room during shoots

He didn’t resent you- it just took him a while to convince him that you weren’t gonna hurt him

In-between takes you would skitter forward and quickly fix up his hair and makeup, 

Unlike a lot of the other workers, your touch was gentle and caring, gently running your clawed hands through his hair, and dabbing a brush across his cheekbones to fix up the color

Slowly but surely, you began to hang out outside of work

One time- you spotted him in a bar with Cherri (who wasn’t the fondest of you)

You came over, offering to buy drinks

At first, Angel was very cautious, watching how you handled their drinks, 

Cherri carried this too

Then- that one dreadful night, where Valentino was in the same bar

Angel had rushed forward to protect Niffty, where the moth Overlord looked down at Angel with a sickly sadism

But before Valentino could continue his taunting- and getting Angel to snap- you spoke up from the crowd

“Valentino,” you began, catching your boss’ attention. “Leave him alone, he’s off the clock so just drop it

For a long moment, Angel looked at you like you were fucking insane- but you stood your ground

And after a long moment, Valentino sighed- grumbling to himself before finally backing off.

Angel paused for a long moment, before you came over to Angel, taking one of his free hands and helping him to his feet.

“Are you okay?”you asked, voice soft and sweet as you looked to him in concern

Angel took a moment too long to respond, instead looking at you in a mixture of confusion and adoration

“I…I…”

“Val’s such an asshole, come on, let’s get back to your friends,” you offered, holding out a hand to him, and yet you didn’t take it by force.

You were lucky Angel didn’t completely malfunction that day

After that one moment, you became Angel’s one and only work friend

He loved Husk, Cherri, and Charlie- but you were different

You knew what it was like

After you two started hanging out more, he began to notice the little things about you

How you would chirp or squeak whenever he ran his hands along the bridge or base of your wings- apparently it felt good because it was hard to scratch and care for back there

Oh- and your antenna, you had special little brushes for them, and Angel loved them to bits- touching them, brushing, petting- all of the above

You were his work friend- his only one

“Ugh-” Angel groaned as he stumbled into your room, plopping down onto your fluffy and thick blankets, rubbing some of his makeup onto your pillows as you followed him inside.

“Just relax Angie,” you eased, crawling onto the bed beside him, fours hands planted on either side as you leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to his back. “He’s not here.”

Angel whined in reply, to which you picked up Angel by the waist, sitting him upright before using your low set of hands to gently massage the sore areas along his back and sides

Angel let out a low groan, easing into your touch to which you look to him in mild amusement.

“Thanks, dollface, really,” he managed to get out, smiling and reaching back to hold your face affectionately. “This feels amazing.”

“Just relax, Angie, and let go.”

[spectralreplica]

But do you think the plan will work?

Oumota: tarot reading edition! I had this idea during Oumota Week and just got around to finishing it now 😔. At first I thought about giving Sun to Kaito and Moon to Kokichi (a la Reversed Sun by grayimperia), but I think it works better to have them both in each card, to highlight the parallels. (If you want more explanation of my design thoughts, I'll put it under a cut at the end.)

General tarot meanings:

The Sun: happiness, confidence, success, optimism, innocence/childhood, inspiring others, internal motivation, truth

The Moon: illusion, imagination, uncertainty, secrets, confusion, intuition/the subconscious, fears influencing you, insecurity

The Star: hope, regaining inspiration, renewal, healing, moving on, new purpose, calm after the storm (Reversed Star: despair, lack of faith, pessimism, boredom, anxiety, being overwhelmed by past problems)

.

I feel like while Kaito is naturally more Sun coded and Kokichi more Moon coded, they have some qualities of both cards. And Star vs Reversed Star is so temping to bring in for DR.

I was thinking of it as a past, present, future kind of reading, but also maybe situation, action, outcome. Starting out with high self confidence and some childish black and white thinking. (Maybe a little over confident and childish to the point of egotism and inflexibility, shades of reversed sun...). Covering for insecurities by projecting a fake persona to everyone around, doubling down on the lies and self-deception a la chapter 5. Finally, either coming through everything stronger, with renewed hope, or else crashing and burning, overwhelmed by unacknowledged issues that have built up.

.

As for the specific imagery...

Sun: I stuck pretty close to the traditional imagery here. The flag/banner has their respective prints on it, and I put Kaito on Mars while Kokichi remains on Earth. It's also sundown or sunset for Kokichi; is he moving towards the Moon or away? The horse is obv. very chess piece inspired. Kokichi gets his King Horse a la the mask on his bed, and I gave Kaito a pegasus because flying.

.

Moon: Moving a little bit away from traditional imagery as more of the canon situation seeps in, but still pretty close. The moon floats "outside" the cage, wearing their respective false faces. (We know from the ending that the skyline on those glass panels isn't real...) They both have an Exisal in the background in place of one of the towers, but Kaito has a bamboo grove a la Princess Kaguya; Kaguya came from the moon and she will go back, no matter how much people on Earth love her. Kokichi has one of the racks that sits beside shrines where you're supposed to tie bad/unlucky omikuji (paper fortunes) so that the bad luck doesn't follow you; living in purposeful denial of bad things, but they lurk there on the horizon.

They both still have at least one dog/wolf, but I gave Kokichi a fox because of their association with being tricksters. Also, wolves and foxes, as predators, are framed as villains in stories, but at the same time it's also not uncommon to see them as heroes (stereotype of predator/hunter vs stereotype of bravery/nobility and cleverness). Also, contrast of fox and hound, like the clash of Kokichi presenting himself as childish + annoying vs a genuine threat. Kaito has the dog, monkey, and pheasant that accompanied Momotaro, continuing his fairytale theme.

Everyone seems to argue over what the crawfish means in the original, but I went with the interpretation of moving from water to land, evolution, things coming to the surface. So, Kaito has a koi. I think most people know about the "koi climbs a waterfall and becomes a dragon" thing because of Magikarp, but here it is again just in case! Kaito's got an aquatic creature struggling against its nature in hopes of someday actually transforming into something grander. Kokichi has a poison dart frog. Already amphibious, so it can go between water and land freely, but visibly harmful to anyone who tries to get close.

.

Star: The least traditional imagery and the most V3 canon imagery. There's still a tree, but it's a pine tree. ...I dunno, no explanation for that, it just looked nice 🤷‍♀️The two jugs are replaced with the poison and antidote bottles. Originally, they're supposed to represent the conscious and subconscious and pour in two different places, but here they're mixing together directly. V3 resolves the "truth vs lies" theme by arguing you have to accept ambiguity. Also, Kaito and Kokichi's whole plan rests on them managing to work together to obscure exactly who is in the Exisal in the end.

There's a figure in the foreground in Kaito's jacket, but they're just a silhouette (a la the culprit); it's not either of them, it's both, and they're reaching beyond the bounds of the game. The star in the sky is ringed by the trial podiums, since all of their hope for the future rests in derailing the next trial. Can they win? Well, Shuichi and Kiibo are at the top, the two people they (or at least Kokichi...) know can be problems, but Tsumugi is specifically blocked from view, always overlooked...

[spitgobbler]

Bunny Hop ! [rough ver.]

uh oh… Leon seems stressed. its a good thing he has a bunny to take it out on!

pairing: fem!reader x Leon Kennedy

tags: bunny hybrid, owner, biting/hickeys, knife, tactical gloves stay on, clit spanking, mean Leon, tail grabbing, p in v, mentions of breeding, reader is a bunny hybrid but gets put in doggy?! sweetness at the end 🫶🏻

note: my writing is a bit rusty so if you see a mistake, no you don’t 😭 also rough is kinda subjective but this is def rougher compared to the soft ver!

soft ver here!

masterlist

It was late, very late, and Leon still wasn’t home. The sun had gone down and the orange hues of the sunset went away and out came the moon and stars. It was way pass dinner too.

He messaged you briefly on the phone he got you once he took you in from the center, the purpose of it to remain in contact even when he was away for work, like today. Something about being held up and to be ready for him when he came home. Whatever that meant…

Leon’s messages were always short and simple over the phone, so you didn’t think much of it and just did as he said.

Laying there prettily on the couch watching some random movie on the TV in one of Leon’s shirts. It smelt like him and it just made you miss your owner even more. With his musk and cologne right on your nose because the article of clothing, it was hard not to let your fingers trail downwards to satiate yourself till he came home. But you were a good bunny and knew he would find out, leading to hours of denial instead. You shake the thoughts away and try to focus on the movie instead to forget that ache between your thighs.

Eventually, the door slammed roughly behind Leon when he finally arrived home, hinges squeaking from the abrupt strain. The sound causes you to jump from where you laid on the couch. He hasn’t said anything yet, and so with a twitch of your cotton tail and a cautious approach, you reach for his warm hand.

“O-Owner? Is everything okay?” You question softly, brows knitted as you look up at him.

Pure aggravation radiated off of him, his cock straining against his cargos. It was written all over his face that work was terrible today. Sure, his job wasn’t necessarily fun but it seemed like today was just a really, really bad day.

He releases an agitated sigh, free hand cupping your face and his lips press against yours hard. It’s steamy. Like you’re the ice to cool his heated emotions. He lets his actions speak for him.

You respond back to the kiss immediately, soft lips plush against his as your eyes flutter shut. Every question swirling in your mind about what has him so uptight flying out from Leon’s abrupt kiss.

Leon breathes out, his features tense. "I thought I said to be ready for your owner?”

His pretty blue eyes are dark when he looks into yours and it makes you feel that familiar feeling ignite in your core. Leon's calloused thumb rubs against your cheek gently before his hand teasingly trails down to your throat, his fingers ghosting around it possessively before moving away.

“Y-Yeah… I am.” You nod in a daze from the kiss. The affection making your heart thump from finally seeing the man you missed the most. Even if he was only gone for a few hours that day.

Your owner is the big bad wolf when he looks at you so angrily, so hungry. Strong arms and shoulders tense with frustration and aggression from a shitty day at work.

You know what he needs to make it all melt away. And so you let Leon snatch you up with his bruising hold, like you’re the prey and he’s the predator.

There’s no luxury of the soft blankets and pillows of Leon’s bed. He needed you now, and god, it was so primal how he pressed you against the couch beneath him in the living room. Hands finding purchase on his biceps when he cages you in and pressed harsh kisses and bites to your neck.

Tutting in disapproval, his hands push your thighs against your chest. Eyes widening and cheeks blushing at the stretch you feel in your legs. The gusset of your panties ruined with arousal, Leon lets out a deep groan at the sight.

“Next time,” Leon begins, his hands unsheathing his knife on his tactical belt, the sharp blade glinting in the light of the lamp. With care, he guides the sharpened edge to cut the cute panties off of you, his shirt you wore being cut shortly after as well, which left you bare underneath him.

“I mean that these better not be on you.” He murmurs, the knife sliding back into the sheathe.

You should be frightened by the way he used his blade to cut your clothes off impatiently but all it did was make you thankful he got them off so quickly.

It clicks in your head what his text meant now, but unfortunately, Leon is not in a forgiving mood. His calloused fingertips spank your clit and it’s like electricity sparking through your nerves. You jolt beneath him with a whimper and widened eyes.

“Owner, I didn’t know!” You try to protest.

Leon tuts once more, eye glimmering amused, “Is my poor bunny just as stupid as those rookies? It’s okay baby, I just gotta teach you for next time.”

More lashes of his fingers against your swollen clit follow, back arching with each spank. Your pretty little pussy quivering every time you feel the occasional leather texture of his tactical gloves.

“Good bunny, that’s it.” He praises, letting his digits slide over your wet folds as a reward.

He teases you, spitting right onto your cunny and smearing it all over, making you even more of a mess. His thick fingers spoiling you with such heated touches to your sweet spots.

A needy breathless whimper escapes, “T-Thank you, owner.”

The air is warm, heavy with intensity and you swear it’s almost like you’re in heat. Head gone in the clouds with an affectionate lust filled gaze. Leon always thought you looked so pretty like this. You were always pretty to him. But there was just something how you melted into a puddle of primal desires beneath him.

Slowly, he unbuckles his belt, slipping the long piece of leather out from each belt loop on his pants. He tosses it to the floor by the side of the couch, his own eyes trained on you.

Leon pushed you over onto your tummy and unzipped his trousers before freeing his aching length.

“You can thank your owner a different way.” He huffs, wanting nothing more than burying his pent up cock inside of you.

Your face burns at the position he has you in, features hidden against the cushions of the couch but your body on complete display. Hips raising from instinct, goosebumps form all over your heated skin when you feel one hand caressing your hip, knowing his other hand was occupied with smearing his precum all over his cock.

Leon groans deeply, lining the flushed tip of his cock with your needy entrance. His chest rising and falling with heavier breathes now. Leon’s gloved hand moves from your hip and up to the round stubby cotton tail above your plush rear.

A stuttered moan slipping when he grabs it but it’s quickly transformed into a lewd squeal when he uses it as leverage to yank you back and onto his cock.

No matter how many times your owner breeds and fucks you, there’s always a pleasurable stretch that makes your toes curl and your breath run away from your lungs.

Your sloppy little bunny pussy was molded and trained by him, there was no doubt about it. It causes his teeth to gnash together as a long guttural moan draws from his lips. His abdomen tensing at the relief of being inside his precious little breeding bunny after such a long day.

You whimper out sweetly, “Owner, please. I’ve missed you so much. Please move…”

Even if Leon wanted to instantly start pumping his leaking cock into your tight warm entrance, he knew he needed a moment. He always did. Each and every time he slid inside, it never failed to make him do a double take and cause him to almost shoot his load right away. He thought he was surely more experienced by now but you did always manage to make him feel younger.

“Mm, fuck.” He grits out. His fingers still curled around that cute cotton tail of yours and he uses it to make you fuck you back onto his fat cock.

The pace is slow and sensual but his grip on your tail is amplifying each drag of his cock against your inner walls, feeling every pulsing vein. It feels good and the only sounds you’re making is helpless whiny moans of pleasure. It’s good, really good, but you need more.

“Owner, c-come on. S’not enough, I need more of you owner.” A pathetic cry for your owner escapes.

He huffs audibly in frustration, “Greedy little bunny.” He places his other hand on your hip for support and snaps his hips harshly into you. “Shut up and fucking take it then.”

Loud slaps of sweaty skin colliding echo throughout the apartment, accompanied by erotic moans and whimpers and husky groans. Shutting up wasn’t an option for you with how his thick cock was filling you up and kissing at your cervix with each precise thrust.

Toes curling in delightful pleasure when he begins to fuck you how you pleaded for him to do. Soft bunny ears flopping around as your generous owner grunts from behind you.

Your jaw falls slack, erotic moans spill and overflow from your lips. “Owner, mm! I-I love it.”

A breathless chuckle escapes him at your messy slurred speech, completely dumb on his cock. You were being so loud though and you knew better. The apartment walls were paper thin with absolutely no sound proofing.

Strong hands reach for your trembling form, one arm around your waist, while he clamped his free hand around your mouth. Your sweaty nude body pressed back against his clothed chest, you try to whine when you realize he’s still in his work attire but it gets lost against his palm.

“I said shut up and take it didn’t I?” Leon breathes heavily in your ear, the warmth of his breath sending shivers down your spine and your pussy quivering around him. “I don’t need to deal with a noise complaint on top of everything.”

With your torsos upright and pressed against one another, Leon lets his hips buck wildly. His gloved hand concealing your lewd noises. He loved the sound of them, you were like the sweetest songbird to him but now wasn’t the time.

That coil of undeniable release tightens in your core, tears forming in your eyes helplessly. The soft fluff of your bunny tail tickles against his clothed abdomen from the closeness of this position Leon has you in and you’re so close to heaven.

He feels that delicious clench and flutter of your greedy wet cunt around him, he’s right along with you. Heavy sensual breaths fall from your owner, he begins to whimper here and there.

“Fuck, that’s it.” His arm tightens around you.

All of the passion and frustration, the longing and affection comes to a boil, pussy gushing and strangling his cock as you orgasm. Leon keeps rocking his hips, guiding you through your messy release. After only a few more strokes his hold becomes bruising, shooting his warm seed inside and breeding you like a good owner should.

He presses his face into your neck, whining quietly. Fuck, it was always like this. Always milking him with that perfect pussy of yours. Neither of you would ever be satisfied with a partner that isn’t each other.

“Need it again, cum on my cock again.” He groans out.

Leon lets his fingers slip into your mouth and his other arm relax so he could reach down and rub messy circles on your sensitive clit, making you squeal. He wanted to go again but between the shit day at work and then coming straight home to breed the stress away. He would need some time, definitely wanting to fuck you to sleep later but he also wasn’t gonna stop till he felt you squirm and clamp down on his dick again.

Your head falls back as your cry out in pleasure, thighs twitching and trembling. Swollen clit so sensitive after just finishing but it made it feel so good at the same time. Leon rubs and caresses the most delicious circles with the perfect amount of pressure, the callouses on his hardworking hands causing that coil to form rapidly again.

“Owner, owner, oh my god!” You whimper incoherently, spit coating his fingers as Leon continues to silence your moans.

He pinches at your clit and everything falls apart once more. Leon gets what he wanted, relishing in the way he feels your sloppy spent cunt make a mess all over him and squeeze down.

Your hips jerk, helplessly squirming in pleasure while your second orgasm washes over and causes all your nerves to be sent into overdrive. Leon held you up with care, making sure your shaking form is supported.

“Good baby, so good for me.” Leon cooed, breathing still a bit labored.

When the quivering that accompanied your afterglows calms, he finally helps you to lay down and relax on the couch. Soft gentle kisses are pressed to your cheeks, contrasting to his previous behavior now that he was not as stressed anymore.

You smile sleepily at him, brain still mushy but your senses are coming back slowly but surely. Cheeks and body still warm from the intense passion but your breathing was returning to normalcy.

Leon soothes you, “You did so good for me. Such a sweetheart.”

Caressing your soft long bunny ears and murmuring sweet words to you after the deed. To him, it was one of the most important things to do, to make sure despite his words and actions, he loves you. It’s just the heat of the moment. And well, he knows you like it anyways.

[katsukistofu]

not sure if ur still taking requests but if u are would u be willing to write a hawks x prohero!reader where he finds her wearing his own merch?? ty!! i came from ur coffee mixup fic and it was just soo good i sent it to one of my oomfs and we had a mutual freak out over it 😭😭🫶🫶

awww that’s so sweet and cute omg !!! thank you very much my love i’m so happy you two enjoyed it ( >▯<) <333

picture perfect

contents ౨ৎ ⋆ hawks x prohero! fem reader. fluff. cursing. slightly suggestive. reader has ice quirk. ★ your boyfriend sees you wearing his merch and just can’t get enough.

“Dooo-ve?” Keigo’s teasing, saccharine voice is laced with barely concealed amusement. He leans against the frame of your shared bedroom's door, taking in the view of you lying on your back with an appreciative look on his face.

His heart skips a beat, getting to see you on your rare day off from patrol. Watching you, sitting there all pretty in a sweatshirt with his face on it. Your hair is messy, your socks, albeit both very cute and fuzzy, don’t match in color in the slightest and the fresh coat of polish on your nails is already chipped even though he just painted them for you during your weekly spa day yesterday.

Keigo's breath catches as he stands there, and he swears he’s never seen a more gorgeous view in his life.

The numerous sunsets, the iridescent clouds he's been so close to that he could reach out and touch them, the bright stars in the sky as he flew under them, all paled in comparison to you. Even witnessing you knock a villain out cold with a blast of your signature ice yesterday on live television, still only came second to seeing you all comfy and cozy like this.

There's a soft, giddy smile plastered on his handsome face, and he makes it so, so hard to keep up your act. “What’s that you’re wearing?”

“Nothing,” you answer from your comfortable position his side of the bed. You nonchalantly swipe on your phone to continue scrolling through your feed.

Your boyfriend’s grin only widens, and his sweet butterscotch eyes are half-lidded when he speaks again. “Trust me, I know what nothing looks like and it’s definitely not tha—ow!”

He laughs when he receives a plushie of himself flying to his face, which he easily catches in his hands. Keigo’s lips fall into a cute, overdramatic pout. “You just threw me!”

“You’ve got wings for a reason, birdbrain.” You roll your eyes and stretch your arms out. “Now come cuddle me I’m cold.”

“Don’t have to ask me twice.” Keigo immediately puts the plushie aside and joins you on the bed, pulling you into his warm embrace with eagerness. You’re always cold, but he never minds. Just means more opportunities to hug you, which he gladly jumps at. “Back to my question though, is that my new sweatshirt that just came out from my merch line?”

“No?” Your tone is innocently coy, and it drives him insane. In a good way. “I think you mean my fellow pro-hero boyfriend, Hawks’s merch line?”

“Damn.” Keigo muses, playing along with your little charade. His finger grazes the hem of your collar and you shiver at his feather-light touch. “Your boyfriend’s Hawks? Lucky guy, having a pretty girl like you wearing his merch. Making me jealous over here.”

You out a giggle. "He says that all the time, actually."

"Oh? He better be, or I just might steal you away." His lip brushes over your ear as he continues to murmur. “And I couldn’t help but notice that your boyfriend looks a lot like me.”

“What a coincidence,” you tease, playfully running your hand through his soft, golden locks and bringing them to rest on his cheeks.

“God, you look so fucking perfect.” Keigo groans. You’re already a sight for sore eyes, and the feeling of your fingers in his hair nearly causes him to ascend heavenward. “Next time my marketing team drops something, you’re totally modeling it.”

“I’d rather it be for your eyes only,” you say, and the dimple that appears on his cheeks at that makes your stomach do a little flip.

“Shit, birdie.” Keigo uses a hand to fan himself exaggeratedly. “Is it hot in here or is it just you?”

“Still pretty cold actually, though that might be my quirk talking. I think you’re the hot one.” You hide a cheeky smile as you feel him he hook a finger through your belt loop and firmly drag you closer on the bed in response, forcing you to turn around until your knees hit his with a soft bump.

“Guess I need to work harder at warming you up then.”

A little while later after dinner, his hair is held back with a fluffy, pink Hello Kitty headband which matches the one on your head.

“Okay, I know you said for my eyes only but can I take a pic with you for my socials? Pleaseee, baby?” Keigo begs a little later, leaning into your touch while you carefully apply his sheet face mask on him. “You just look so good I wanna show you off.”

You frown. “I don’t want a bunch of your thirsty fans on my ass, Kei.”

"They're just jealous of what they can't have." He tips your chin up and says it in a tone so matter-of-fact it makes you let out snort.

"Pretty sure it's the other way around," you mutter, using your thumbs to gently smooth down the edges of his mask on his face, and your eyes catch his, brimming with affection so intense and unadulterated you catch yourself feeling a little breathless all of a sudden.

"What?" You tilt your head. "I'm right."

"Nah, I am. You didn’t get that award for hottest heroes on the charts for nothing.” At the comically skeptical look you shoot him, he huffs out a laugh. “I’m serious! Sweetheart,” Keigo’s voice softens. “I know you don’t believe it when the press says it, but when I’m always telling you you’re beautiful, you know I mean it, right? Every single time.”

With warm cheeks, you mumble out, “I know.”

“That’s my girl. You’re everything to me, y’know?” You nod shyly and the sweet, familiar curve of Keigo’s lips makes your insides melt into a puddle of chocolate fondue. “Good. I’m right and nothing you can say or do will change that.”

“Not even if I eat your last chicken nugget?”

“Not even if you eat my last chicken nugget.”

And he says it with such certainty that you can’t help but break into a smile of your own too.

[goodlucktai]

13 with sunset duo :)))

dialogue prompts

13. “I would believe that you’re fine, but you have a goddamn knife sticking out of your leg, so.”

x

Raph probably would have been successful in sneaking to his room if Mikey hadn’t decided to swing by the kitchen for a snack refill. When he flicks the light on, his biggest brother freezes mid-step cartoonishly and they both just stare at each other, one caught, the other confused. 

“Uh, hi,” Mikey says. “Is your Goon Gala with Casey over already?”

It’s what the former Foot recruit calls it when she and Raph get together to be rowdy and reckless and somewhat violent but like recreationally. Full throttle vigilantism. Mikey tagged along once and was so exhausted by the end of the night he had to be carried home—allegedly!!

The twins quietly disapprove, but they haven’t ratted Raph out to pops yet. They probably think the same thing Mikey does; that it’s good that Raph has something that’s his. It would be better if it was something safer, shared with someone slightly less likely to commit felonies for fun, but it’s a start. 

“Uh, yep,” Raph says awkwardly, standing kind of sideways. “Raph’s actually pretty wiped, I was gonna—”

Mikey’s eye for color pings. That’s the only explanation for why his subconscious was like hey something’s wrong about this picture and his gaze flicks down to follow the thought. 

It lands on the hilt of a knife sticking out of the thigh Raph is trying to keep out of view. Deep red drips down his knee.

Mikey drops the empty popcorn bowl, stray unpopped kernels scattering across the floor. 

“Hey, hey, no, it’s okay,” his brother says quickly, heading off the very loud reaction he can sense building up between them like an active geyser. “Shh, Mike, come on. I’m fine.”

It would work a lot better if one of the two hands he held up to shush him wasn’t bloody. Mikey’s panic wracked up another three levels automatically. 

“I would believe that you’re fine, but you have a goddamn knife sticking out of your leg, so–”

“Language,” Raph scolds by rote.

“Don’t language me!!” Mikey says shrilly. “What happened? No, don’t answer that. I know what happened, you got stabbed. You should be in the infirmary already! You go, and I’ll get—”

“No!” Mikey is grabbed by the shoulders, actually lifted off the floor so he and his brother are eye-to-eye the way Raphie has a bad habit of doing when tensions are high as Raph goes on, “Leo doesn’t need to know. I’ll take care of it.”

Mikey blinks, processing that. It takes a minute, because it might be the stupidest thing this particular brother has ever said directly to his face. And then he scowls. 

When he bellows, “LEO!” it’s in that particular baby brother voice that gets every older sibling in a mile radius moving with gusto. If Donnie weren’t at April’s for the night he would have removed the kitchen wall to get there two seconds faster. 

As it is, Leo tumbles into the room wild-eyed, probably wondering what the hell could have happened in the three minutes between Mikey asking him to pause the movie and this targeted attack on every protective instinct in Leo’s body. 

It takes him a second to clock that Mikey is present and correct and just sort of dangling in Raph’s hands still. Then he leans against the doorframe, playing it cool. What a nerd. 

“Guess this is where the party’s at,” he says, doing that thing where he manages to look at Raph without looking at him. “So what’s the cover fee? Any live music?” 

He probably would have kept going, but he’s processing the scene with sharp eyes, and that’s about when he connects the blood on Raph’s hand to the blood on his leg. Every single ounce of disingenuous charm and cheer evaporates from him instantly. His smile drops like a ton of bricks. 

“What the fuck, Raph?” Leo says in a tone Mikey doesn’t know if he’s ever heard from him before. “Is that a knife? Casey let you get fucking stabbed?”

He moves while he’s talking, so fast that Mikey isn’t a hundred percent sure he didn’t actually teleport. He has the daisy-printed dish towel formerly hanging on the oven door in his hands and he’s kneeling at Raph’s side, wrapping it around his thigh and pressing down hard. 

“Jesus, language,” Raph says, lowering Mikey to the ground before taking a resigned seat in one of the kitchen chairs. “Casey didn’t let me do anything. I’m fine, I’m handling it. You should see the other guy.” 

“You’re—you’re handling it,” Leo parrots blankly, as if those words in that order don’t make any sense to him at all. “I should see the other guy. Is this a joke to you?”

“Oh, that’s rich coming from you.” Raphael’s annoyance makes sense, since Leo has adamantly refused to take anything seriously since he was given the leader badge to wear. If Leo slacked off before, he is pointedly doing the absolute bare minimum now. 

He’s obviously trying to prove something to someone. Donnie just sighs when Mikey brings it up which means that he’s right but also that Donald isn’t going to break the disaster twins’ honor code by admitting out loud that he’s right. 

“This isn’t about missing training,” Leo grits out, really, properly angry. “This is about you sneaking around with a knife sticking out of your leg and scaring Angie and letting me find out by accident instead of—I dunno—calling the second it happened? Were you just going to go yank this out of your leg in the shower and put a bandaid on it?”

Raphie is in pain, and his temper has been poked, so he replies, “For the past month you’ve been acting like nothing matters to you anymore! You’ve wanted nothing to do with me, you don’t want my advice, you don’t want my job—the job that’s always been mine, that pops took from me and just handed to you. So where’s the line drawn? For all I knew, you wouldn’t want to help with this, either.”

If Raph had slapped him, the look on Leo’s face probably would have been exactly the same as it is right now. He’s kneeling there on the floor and there’s blood staining his fingers and the big brother he adores so much is telling him right to his face that he thought Leo would have rather just let him bleed than help. And Leo let him think it this whole time, all because he had a point to prove.

Mikey folds his arms tight, tucking his hands away so no one sees if they start shaking. There’s a saying April quoted last week when she was working on a paper for her Introduction to Literary Journalism class, can’t see the forest for the trees. Mikey didn’t get it then, but it makes an unfortunate amount of sense now.

He knows better than anybody how much his brothers love each other. He doesn’t understand how they could be so blind to what’s right in front of them. 

Raph is the kindest person in Mikey’s whole life and can always tell when a hit has landed too close to heart. Some of the anger coiled up inside him like an animal has no choice but to relax its jaw. 

“I don’t know what’s going on in your head,” he admits. “I don’t know what you want from me.” 

“I want you to stop,” Leo says. It’s not a shout, but it’s loud, bouncing off all the polished surfaces until it fills the whole room. “Stop believing in me. Stop acting like I could ever be half the leader you were. Stop—stop getting hurt and acting like it doesn’t matter. What would we do without you?” 

What will I do without you, he doesn’t say, when you’re not there for me to follow anymore?

Raph’s eyes are huge in his face, and he lifts his hands in an automatic response to a little brother hurting within arms reach, but Leo ties the dish towel and steps back. He’s doing the not-looking-while-looking trick again. 

“Bleeding’s slowed. Let’s get you to the infirmary, big guy. Angie, Dad and Dee aren’t home so I may need your hands, okay?”

Leo always trusts Mikey to be able to help. It makes him feel three feet taller. 

“You got it!” he says, hoping one of them remembers to clean up the kitchen before Splinter gets home and wanders into a crime scene. 

When he heaves himself off the chair, Raph staggers a bit. Both his little brothers flock to either side of him instantly, and he says, “Raph’s just a little dizzy, that’s all. Let me lean on you guys for a bit.”

“Of course, Raphie,” Mikey says, willing to carry him if that’s what it takes. 

“We gotcha,” Leo adds, every other thing he must be feeling back to being a well-kept secret behind every layer of armor he owns. 

Raph puts his arms around them both and holds them close for the walk down the hall. He said he was dizzy, but his steps are steady. Everything about him is as steady as it’s always been. Mikey thinks he’s pretty good at sniffing out a scheme, but if he points out that Raph was only angling for a hug, then Leo’s going to run away like a feral cat who can’t tell the difference between affection and an attack.  

So Mikey doesn’t say anything, and squeezes closer beneath the arm Raph has around him—smiling to himself when Leo squeezes closer, too.

[roseapov]

TWST Self Aware AU

The difference between 'The Player' and 'The Overseer' based on my observations and some Headcannons

Warning: Mentions of obsession, slaying people, stalking, cult themes and delusional worshippers

[TWST Self Aware AU] - [Masterlist]

The Player:

Everyone knows that Twisted Wonderland is just a game and they're the characters in it. They as a self aware AU communicate with you through Yuu, as it is their only form of communication with you (unlike the Overseer). They see you as their 'safe space' and can be/are possessive of you, cause of the comfort that you bring to them (some more than the others). They know you're somewhere out there playing and having your own life, so they really appreciate it when you do decide to play.

You don't have worshippers, just a bunch of students obsessively starved for your affection and attention - trying to harbor it all to themselves (Poor boys, shower them with affection - or not, Choose the safest option).

The Housewardens would be the most clingiest of them all. They have some real problems to overblot in the first place (-Kalim, +Jamil), but your presence seems to calm all their worries, so stay with them a little longer. Just. A. Little. Longer.

They're also not above stalking - when you play there's always someone following Yuu around, and when you're offline those with more magic than the others have the chance to infiltrate through your phone and watch your daily life through the camera as well as hear your voice through the microphone.

Since you communicate through Yuu, there are 2 options I see happening when you're offline:

Yuu is living their normal life without your influence as an npc, where they normally talk to everyone behind the scenes

When you log out, Yuu just disappears, which I think is pretty reasonable. Everyone then knows that you're offline and the only thing they can do is wait for you to log in again.

And of course, our very lonely Future Fae King tries to bring you into their world with his powerful magic, so he won't have to be alone anymore💕 The others also approve of this action, so See you soon!

The Overseer:

The characters there are a bunch of lunatic worshippers that see you as a God/Creator, and The Overseer. You're known there internally and Nations are worshipping you (unlike The Player who is only known by the characters they met). Their level of worship is different in each county, when in some (Briar Valley) you're the highest being to ever exist, while in the others you're seen as a respectable person who watches over them, but not as the deity to offer-everything-you-can to (Sunset Savanna, since they already have a Royal Family that rules for centuries - the irony since Briar Valley also have long ruling Royal Family).

You're a perfect being that soothes them, they're totally obsessed and very possessive of your attention. They have no problems with slaying everyone who's not respecting you enough *ekhem* Briar Valley/Diasomnia. They are elated when they feel your gaze linger on them a little longer than on the others.

They can feel your gaze on them, feel your touches but your silhouette is blurred/transparent for them (thanks to the screen, cause as we all know, the screen can't compare to the real experience), so they don't know your exact look (even tho they're dying to know *ekhem* Pomefiore, cause of their Fairest Queen opinion on you).

The Great Seven also met you (thanks to the Fairy of thorns), their God and Creator. They have made various opinions on your person (all positive, cause don't forget - they're all obsessed delulus), like for example: The Fairest Queen opinion on you is that 'You're the Fairest one of them all', all said while kneeling before your beauty.

Of course our current generation is also dying to meet their creator in all of their glory, so our most powerful and most delusional Diasomnia boys (mostly Malleus and Lilia) are trying to find a way to bring you into their world to worship you endlessly like you rightfully deserve.

You're not really communicating with them through Yuu, as they can see you through the screen of your phone (although blurry). They are always talking to you, always looking at you. All those lines, all for you, towards you, so answer them, look at them or things may get really ugly.

Some of my rambling now:

I know many days ago I posted that my first fic will appear in a few days, but it never did (sorry🙏). My first fic project was very ambitious and in the meantime I caugt a cold which numbed me totally, but it did gave me many ideas for fics in the future🤭. So instead of the fic planned to be my first one, this one will serve the purpose of being the first fic - pretty analysational and rational (I hope).

I'm still working on the fic that was supposed to be the first one, yet i have too little information on the topic to write it (it's also gonna be analysis like), so I'm going to take my sweet time with writing it and hopefully after the october (cause of the october writing challenge), succesfully release it.

I hope this fic came out good and y'all are satisfied with it, I am also open to any criticizm towards my works, so please feel free to tell me where i can improve!

I also apologize for all the mistakes that I could possibly have done here👀

Thank you all again and see you soon!💕

~roseapov

[a-memory-a-distant-echo]

there's something very uncomfortable about being in a fandom where all three of the main characters spend a substantial chunk of their lives disabled or chronically ill or both, and the show itself handles this far better than i would have expected, and the fandom handles it way fucking worse.

the frequency with which fics and meta reach for ableist rhetoric that the show itself avoids is absolutely mindblowing to me.

someone being disabled doesn't mean that the ending is unhappy. li lianhua, alive and happy but an ordinary person without powers isn't a bad ending. alive and happy and not in pain, without powers, and disabled in other ways isn't a bad ending.

also, though, an ending where he's dead isn't necessarily a bad ending, either. dying on your own terms isn't nothing. it is, in fact, more than many people get.

the other thing is that people who are disabled or chronically ill or mentally ill still deserve bodily autonomy. even if the people around them don't like the choices they're making; even if their choices cause the people around them pain.

taking away that autonomy and forcing someone to accept a treatment, even a possible cure, that they don't want is a pretty fundamental violation of their personhood. it's striking to me how often narratives in this fandom are like, 'we forcibly cured you against your explicitly stated wishes! be happy and normal again. ok, they lived happily ever after.'

i'm primarily an ot3 person. i am deeply invested in li lianhua being found on this beach by his ridiculous boyfriends and the three of them heading off into the sunset to have some kind of a life about it.

that life looks real different if li lianhua doesn't have agency of his own body. it looks sort of less like a life together, and more like captivity. and maybe you want that! maybe you feel like that's what has to happen! but if that's what you write, you should do so knowing that it's a betrayal and a violation, and that whatever harm li lianhua has inflicted—which is admittedly a lot—di feisheng and fang duobing are inflicting just as much in return.

disabled and chronically ill people still deserve bodily autonomy.

[ineffable-suffering]

Aziraphale, I love you. But you lied. And here's why.

Okay. I’m not gonna beat around the bush for too long. It’s time now for me to also throw my try at a personal Good Omens Season 2 Magnum Opus into the mix of already existing magnum op..i? Opusses? (Smited? Smote?)

If I’m honest, it isn’t fully my own magnum opus, as I read this meta not too long ago that made me go: „Oh! My God! That’s it!“ And I’m pretty sure a lot of other people have clocked this too by now. Of course I’m not saying it’s the objective truth but after having mulled it over for many endless nights and days, wading through the onslaught of coffee theories, body swap theories, The Metatron re-writing the Book of Life theories and many, many more, this is the one I think is most plausible and, if you look closely, most obvious.

And it goes as such: Aziraphale lied.

To all of us. All of them. And most of all, to Crowley. He lied to him. Well, he sort of did and also sort of didn’t. He certainly didn’t tell the truth. At least not all of it. I hear you ask: “OP, what the fuck are you talking about”. I answer you: Let’s start from the top and under the cut.

(Small note: this meta ended up being way too large for Tumblr, which is why I will redirect you to an external doc at the end of the post, where I have written it all down nicely and accurately. It's about 35 digital A4-pages long, just in case you want to save it for later.)

(Word count: 12.831 | Approximate reading time: 50 minutes)

Let’s start with a short recap of what happens before the Metatron crashes the bookshop party and everything goes to shit. The proper visuals for this are in my Tumblr post but I am absolutely convinced that right up until when the Metatron comes to take Aziraphale away and talk to him, the angel is fully ready to get into Crowley’s Bentley-chariot and finally ride off into the sunset (or Alpha Centauri-set or whatever). You can see it in his face and body language. You can see when the penny drops for him that a) Crowley loves him b) he loves Crowley and c) they can finally start their happily ever after. Aziraphale realizes this all throughout said Brielzebub reveal in the bookshop. And he’s such a lost cause once he does. 

I mean, look at that. Look at it. This (very shitty recording, sorry, I'm not tech-savvy enough to avoid the Amazon Prime screen recording blocker) is the very second Aziraphale realizes hat Crowley loves him. When he hears him suggest Alpha bloody Centauri as a getaway for Gabriel and Beelzebub, as Crowley has done to Aziraphale for so, so many times now. He finally understands what Crowley was trying to tell him with that all those times.

Aziraphale realizes this all throughout the Brielzebub reveal in the bookshop. And he’s such a lost cause once he does.

Right when Crowley suggest Alpha Centauri as a nice getaway spot to the two, Aziraphale looks at him and he gets it. That Crowley has loved him, has been loving him for millennia. Truthfully, they've both known that for a long while now. But there's a difference between knowing, wanting, craving and actually being able to finally have something. And that's exactly what we see on Aziraphale's face here. This is it. This is where it all starts working out for Crowley and him. This is were they can start their eternity together.

So from that second on, Aziraphale only has eyes for Crowley. He keeps physically pawing at Crowley with complete heart eyes, as if to say „Look, look, that’s gonna be us too! Finally!" He’s actually so smitten that he doesn’t even hear what Crowley is saying when he asks Shax if he can have back his apartment now because he’s sick of living in his car. (Also, what way to drop that bomb right in this moment Crowley, lmao). 

Once the Metatron comes in, the first thing Aziraphale says is that they don’t need to talk because „he’s made his position quite clear“. He doesn’t even want to talk to the Metatron, because in his mind, he’s already made the choice. Actually, he made the choice way before the bookshop showdown. For starters, I’m convinced that the Jane Austen Ball actually never was for Maggie and Nina but for Crowley and him (you can read more about that here). And apart from that, for this whole season we have seen Aziraphale trying to advance his relationship with Crowley romantically and domestically and move them to the literal next base (our car!). And after everything he just witnessed with Brielzebub, the final nail in the coffin of ethereal-infernal romance being possible, his choice is absolutely crystal clear: It’s Crowley. It’s always been Crowley and it always will be Crowley. And now it can be Crowley. They can be an us.

The whole of Season 2 is such a massive learning curve for Aziraphale’s character, with him remembering all those important pivotal points of his past,  and this very moment is the peak, with him not only understanding that Crowley loves him (because he certainly knew for quite some centuries now) but accepting that love, letting himself have that love, being allowed to want that love and taking that love and starting their new and final chapter with it. Nevertheless, the plot clock ticks for them. The Metatron saunters into the bookshop, evil and stinky as Metatrons do, and urges Aziraphale to come with him with his whole Take The Coffee schtick, which I will get into later. And Aziraphale, immediately sensing there’s Something Up, does. Can’t really turn down someone as high-ranking as the the voice of God, after all. Even if you were currently already planning how you were going to elope with a certain red-haired serpent of Eden. 

he next time we see Aziraphale on screen, it’s so painfully evident on his face that he is neither happy nor excited. Not even the slightest bit. We’d know if he was, thanks to Mr. Michael master-of-microexpressions Sheen. None of the usual “Aziraphale is happy”-signs are there. No blinding eye-smile, no giddy wriggling, not giggles and gasps. No, when the Metatron tells Aziraphale to „go tell your friend the good news“, his expression looks like this:

I’m gonna go out on an entire limb here and say: That does not look like someone who’s absolutely tickety-boo hyped to tell his demon soulmate that he just got the juiciest promotion and that they can both be angels and live happily ever after in ethereal eternity now.

This, folks, looks like someone who knows exactly that the news he has to break right now, are going to be tickety-shit awful and very upsetting to said demon soulmate. And already, from that very short snippet of conversation, we can tell that Aziraphale isn’t really given a choice by the Metatron. Because while the Metatron does tell him that he doesn’t have to „answer right away“, he immediately follows it up by: „Go ahead and tell your friend the good news!“ Very distinct and definitive choice of words here. It’s “good news” because it’s already been decided. Because it’s already a done deal. There is no “yes, no, maybe”. This is the only choice he’s giving to Aziraphale. Because it’s ‘Coffee or death’. 

And he already gave him the coffee. 

***

Tumblr won't let me continue this over a certain character limit and I am not even remotely done yet – so, I feel like this is a good moment to redirect you to the continuation of this insane meta before we're in too deep. You can do so right here!

I'd love to hear your thoughts and opinions about this once you've fought your way through it. Hope you have a good time with it!