#this shit just looks so good in black and white

[spamblog-w]

that's why I love Red, white and royal blue because book was a piece of shit, sorry not sorry, and they created a masterpiece with a movie - it hardly ever happens but honestly... I can't stand how book was written and can't even believe someone could like it so much besides for an idea to make it appear on the screen

it's full of boring political facts, characters are overly sexualised without much depth and love factor, there is no symbolism that you can see in the film version, everything is out of place/logic/time to the point I didn't even catch when they fell for each other nor that they truly care so I'm super glad I've watched it first instead of reading and as soon I finished the book - I sold it

nobody has to agree with me but this movie means so much to me you can't even imagine! how the actors play, how they formed a good story out of chaotic scraps, how you showed things without telling them - it's everything including how much I relate to the prince himself

so...

yeah I totally agree with the fact that it's important to stick to the original in a way like I'd love to finally see War of the worlds that is what it should be or I miss some important things from books I've read that turn the whole movie into something else (I try to separate medias - treat them as similar yet different things even if they have the same title as I guess that's just a vision of a director and not everything can be showed the way a reader wishes nor even the author as it doesn't work this way) but still would love people to make it better if it's already crap if you know what I mean

also am one of those people who absolutely hate when characters don't look like on paper - I have aphantasia so it's hard for me to SEE them but still when I see a blonde guy who used to have black hair and was for sure shorter and with scars to make him prettier my eye starts to twitch

The real problem with books-turned-movies isn’t “omg they didn’t include every single word in the book” it’s “omg they completely overlooked the main theme, threw out any significant allegories, took away all the emotional pull, an turned it into a boring action movie with a love triangle in it”

[dcxdpdabbles]

#holiday request Hi, I love your writing! Could you please update either "Danny's grill", "Congratulations! It's Triplets!" or "Phantom's number 1 fan"? Please and thank you

Jason is once again reviewing the map of potential areas Alvin could have been operating in when his burner phone rings. He snatches it up before it can pass the fourth ring, pressing it gently against his ear.

He offers no greeting. It's a tactic he uses to ensure that whoever is calling him has permission to do so. If someone attempts to conform his informants' and allies connection with him, Jason is not about to give them away by speaking first.

"Hey Boss," Honeycomb's voice filters through, edged by that familiar overdramatic southern draw she did when working. Apparently, the clients like listening to her use her accent. "I got eyes on that doll you've been searching for."

Jason sits up straighter. "Where and when?"

Honeycomb is one of the working girls who's been with him since his return to Gotham. She was the first to sign up for his protection, long before he did the whole heads in a duffle bag thing, and was one of his best eyes and ears on the street in exchange.

He didn't know her real name or age- but he was sure she wasn't underage. He made it clear he wouldn't allow it. All Jason knew about Honeycomb was that she had run away from her home in the southern states with nothing but her pretty face, blond curls, hazel eyes, and the clothes on her back.

She was feisty and could charm her way out of most problems with her silver tongue. Her manipulation of her clients was almost an art form, and she could get any information out of anyone with a well-placed hand on the air and a sweet little "darling" on her grubby lips. He often thought she would have been a lawyer if life had been fair to her.

"Just now, on Ruby Street. He was with a man in his late teenage to early twenties. About six feet five inches, black hair, blue eyes, and Caucasian. Alvin was wearing black tights and a red hoodie. The man is in jeans and a white zip-up." Honeycomb rattles in one smooth report, the huskiness of her accent making her articulation more pleasant to the ear. "Seems they were doing a photo shoot."

Jason is already moving towards his bike, switching her call to his helmet. His stomach turns slightly as he grunts, "What kind of photoshoot?"

"Not that kind, Darling. Seemed more like a scavenger hunt, according to Alvin. They are finding specific landscapes and making posses that are answers to some riddles." Honeycomb responds. Distantly, her heels clicking against the concrete echo a little louder, letting Jason know she has wandered into an alley. "I approached Alvin when the man with him went up a fire escape to take a picture with a gargoyle. I offered him my service to him as a cover. Once he confirmed his name was Alvin and he was already with a client, I left before he could get the idea I was attempting to steal his work."

"Good job." Jason boots up his bike, flying out of his hideout without hesitation. He was still twenty minutes away from Ruby Street, but if the pair was going to be a moment, he could close the distance between them and find a trail to follow once on scene.

He questions as he flies through two lanes, ignoring the honking of angry divers. "How did Alvin look? He's supposed to be with one of my contacts, so if he's with someone, it might be a John roughing him up."

I'll deal with Victorian later. He mentally swears How dare he not tell me, Alvin went back to the field after hiding out for so long without a ounce of protection.

"The sweetheart doesn't seem hurt, but I can tell his client is one of those problematic kinds." Honeycombs sighs, the edges of unease slipping into her voice. "He looks at Alvin like he's in love."

Shit. It's never suitable for working folks to meet someone who "loves" them. Nine out of ten times, it was just a wacko who became violent the moment the prostitute so much as hinted that this was only a job to them. Jason had pulled out three women's bodies from the Brown River the last time one of those clients fell in love.

Jason pressed harder on the accelerator. "Are they still there?"

Honeycomb hums "The John is on the roof now, but Alvin is waiting for him under the street pole-Oh shit!"

Jason nearly slams into a nearby car at her sudden yell. "What happened?"

She doesn't answer, but he can pick up the sound of her running and her fast breathing. He knows she is getting out of danger because if there is one thing Honeycomb is as a person, she's a survivor. He wants answers but would rather she focus on getting herself safe first.

He meanwhile, concentrates on the phone calls and the vehicles he's flying between.

It's a few minutes before she gasps. "Sorry, Darling, I had to run. Batman was on the roof with the John."

What.

"Batman just appeared out of nowhere and threw a bucket of mud at the john. Alvin didn't seem to notice, but I did. Batman made eye contact with me, so I ran." She concludes, pushing through her uneven breathing. "I have to go, Darling. Hideout before the Bats lock me up."

"That's alright. Stay safe." Jason tells her, taking a turn sharply as she hangs up the call without another word. The second she does, he double-taps his helmet to connect to the Bat communications.

"Barbie. I need to know what B is up to now."

_________________________________________________________

Bruce watches the Fae shake the mud out of his face after he has scrambled down the fire escape. Tim was at his side in a second, using a handkerchief to gently clean up the Fae's face.

There were a lot of whispered words, but based on what Bruce could pick up from lip reading, Tim had no idea he was up here. He just assumed the Fae got caught up in a juvenile prank.

Oddly enough, that was primarily due to the Fae covering for Bruce.

It was rather disappointing the repealing spell hadn't worked, but the Justice League Dark the mixture of John's Wort, primroses, and marsh marigolds mushed together with water socked in iron during the full moon should have made it possible to force the contact with Tim to break down.

Of course, this had been a desperate attempt, seeing as all the JL Dark had been unsure which method was best when he asked how to get a Fae to leave a human alone.

A lot of debate went into finding a solution, but in the end, Bruce had chosen a mixture repellent. He had even decided to use some holy water and trough in blessed soil and blessed iron just to make it extra powerful.

The magic users had all assured him it would work as long as it touched the Fae skin while Bruce chanted Tim's full legal name. It had felt rather ridiculous dragging a bucket half the size of himself through the city, trying to spot where Tim and his companion were, and even more so when he had sprinted across the rooftop screaming.

"Timothy Jackson Drake! Timothy Jackson Drake! Timothy Jackson Drake!"

The Fae had been in the middle of taking a photo. He set up his camera on a little tripod and, after pressing the time, had run to face the city- back facing Bruce- raising his arms to form a triangle above his head. Based on fact the camera was slightly lower then the Fae's torso, Bruce could deduct her was attempting to capture himself making the triangle top of one of the most iconic buildings in Gotham.

Spear tower.

He waited only long enough for the flash to go off, so by the time the Fae turned around, he had a face full of mud.

It splat all over his front, covering every inch of what should have set Tim free. The silence followed was louder than anything Bruce had ever heard, even as the Fae calmly picked up his camera and scurried to the ground.

Bruce let him go, wondering why he had failed. Thankfully, it seemed Tim and the Fae were getting back in their car- not the food truck for some reason- and were driving away.

Tonight, Bruce would find its lair and get his son home because letting him take a relaxing vacation was alarming to the rest of his children.

He rushed to the Batmobile, climbing into the driver seat and taking off after the pair. As he was driving, he could have sworn Jason just passed by him, moving like the devil was after him.

Bruce wondered briefly if he should check in on his third oldest but thought better of it when he noticed Cass, Dick, and Duke driving right behind Jason on their own bikes. His children had each other backs.

A few hours later, Bruce stood before a large empty field. He had watched the Fae drive into it and vanish from sight. None of his machines could pick up any hint on where they might have gone, but he was reasonably sure there wasn't any teleportation involved.

Sometimes teleportation left some traces in the airwaves. It's how Bruce could track people using the boom tub or find the Flash whenever Barry went on a craze.

Bruce was thinking that this was the Fae's court and his magical home was being protected by supernatural means. He just had to figure out how to get in and Tim out.

As he was considering the field, a soft, distant roar made him reach for his weapons. He turns one hand poise for a throw, his trusted batarangs in between his fingers, only to become surprised when he recognizes the vehicles driving towards him.

It was his spare Batmobile and four bird-themed motorbikes. His children.

"B?" Dick questions after spinning to a stop and sliding right in front of Bruce. He lowers his window, looking at him with apparent confusion despite the Nightwing mask blocking his eyes. "What are you doing here?"

"Following a lead on the Fae. What are you doing here?" Bruce asks, lowering his arm but keeping his weapon. He could never be too sure this isn't a trick.

"Following a lead on Tim." Dick responds, stepping out of his car. Two other doors open, and out steps Steph and Damian, both looking posed for a fight. Of all his children, those two tend to be the most territorial and have not taken to Tim being a semi-held hostage well. "Oracle was able to track him through the city cameras after he popped up taking photos."

"hmm"

Jason jogged over to them with Cass not far behind. "Wait,, you got a lead on your cases too? We would check in on Victorian and see if he knew anything about Alvin."

He gestures to those behind him, indicating Cass and Duke, but the daytime hero is not paying attention. Duke was staring at the field, mouth slightly open as if in awe. Bruce straightens once he realizes Duke can probably see or at least detect the magical castle.

"Victorian?" Damian asks, crossing his arms. "Who is that?"

"The owner of the giant mansion we're standing in front of. He's one of my contacts."

"Ugh, not to make you feel crazy, Hoodie," Steph speaks up, placing a hand on the crook of her hip and waving her hand to the field. "But there is literally nothing there

"What are you talking about. This place is bigger than Wayne Manor."

Bruce heard about this. Guests who have been here before or have permission to enter can see glimpses of the Otherworld that Fae deals in. However, it is surprising to know Jason has already been in contact with the Fae before and has not been kept.

Did that throw a wrench in his theory of Tim and Alvin being the same person? Why would the Fae ask Jason to find Tim if he was in the creature's home?

Before anyone could say anything else, a giant gate entrance suddenly manifested mere feet from where Bruce stood. A soft creek was heard as it was thrown open, and a glowing woman in an old mail outfit floated just a foot off the ground on the other side. She eyed them all in an eerie, emotionless face before bending her own into a low bow. "Welcome. My King wishes to invite you in."

Well, that's not ominous at all.

His children shared a look between them, silently letting each other know to be cautious as they followed the floating woman. She led them down an impressive driveway that slowly gave way to a massive mansion.

Bruce fought to keep the surprise off his face. Jason was right. This place was more prominent and grander than his manor. It didn't just scream wealth. It screamed nobility; it screamed royalty.

The group walked into the main hall, some muttering thanks to the bowing woman who opened the doors. "Of course. The King stated that his home would always be open to Master Alvin's kin."

She vanished from sight like mist fading away as soon as they crossed the doorway.

Bruce's eyes instantly landed on the figure standing atop the grand stairs. Tim was gawking at them, wearing nothing but a long, seductive black robe with fluffy collars and wrists. The front of the rob was open, displaying a large amount of chest and thigh, but keeping the significant bits out of sight.

Thankfully.

His skin was glowing, his hair tussled stylishly, and a dozen red roses were in his hands. Tim looked like he was planning a romantic evening in his get-up.

"Oh," He said dumbly. "You're not Danny."

"What the fuck is going on" Jason demanded after a long period of silence.

"Um...I was planning on seducing my friend. What are you all doing?"

"Regretting waking up this morning," Damian demands, pressing a hand over his eyes. "Please get decent. My nightmares are horrid enough."

Bruce nods. "You were Alvin Draper and are romantically involved with the Fae. He seems to be treating you well. That's good."

All of his children stared at him for a long moment before the hall erupted with displeased noises. Bruce was taken aback.

Did none of them know any of this? It seemed obvious to him.

[toniwritesshifts]

The Night We Met Pt.1

First FanFic if there's anything that should fix or work on please tell me I need the criticism

Damian Wayne x Fem reader

This is based off of my DCU DR... if you don't believe in shifting keep it to yourself cause I could careless I wrote this for fun. Reader is based off of me cause I love me. Reader, Damian and most of the people they interact with are in the 10th grade unless said other wise.

CW: slow burn like REALLY slow, swearing, reader has ADHD because I have ADHD, Split POV?

"Today is going to be a great day."

You stare at your reflection in your dorm bathroom mirror, leaning onto the sink to inspect your face. No glaringly red pimples—well, except for that one. Without hesitation, you pop it.

"I know I shouldn't, but I can't help it," you complain to yourself, grabbing a pimple patch and slapping it on.

With an approving nod to yourself, you back away, rush out of the bathroom, and immediately trip over a pile of clothes. You barely catch yourself before face-planting.

"Shit ok, note to self put these away before they actually kill me."

You shake it off, grab your backpack and cheer bag, and speed out of your dorm, locking the door behind you. As you make your way to the school building, you slip one AirPod into your ear and adjust your bags.

"Good morning!" you chirp, greeting every person you pass.

"You're late," a voice says the moment you reach the school stairs.

You scoff. "Nope, I’m right on time, actually."

Alex, one of your best friends since you transferred in the middle of ninth grade, rolls her eyes. The rest of your crew—Mia, Terra (yes, that Terra, the one who’s supposed to be dead), and Brinley—are already there, chatting about their schedules. After a few minutes of catching up, you all head inside to drop off your stuff before class starts. The last thing you need is to be late—especially since detention means suspension from the cheer squad.

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

Damian Wayne hated school.

It was inefficient, mind-numbingly dull, and filled with people he had zero interest in interacting with... well that's what he told his father. But here he was black backpack strapped tightly on, security lock in place (only he and Alfred knew the combination), wearing the standard Gotham Public uniform in blue, white, and black. In his hands, a single sheet of paper listed his dorm and locker number, along with his class schedule on the back.

After several frustrating minutes, he finally located his locker. Right next to the bathroom.

"This is disgustingly unacceptable."

He scowled, reluctantly opening it and arranging his belongings inside. He grabbed his massive binder capable of holding twelve six-subject notebooks along with his sketchbook and pencil case.

BANG!

A locker slammed shut next to him, the noise so sudden and aggressive that Damian whipped around, fully prepared to fight.

Instead, he found himself face-to-face with you.

"Are you new here?" you asked casually, balancing an absurd number of things—an oversized laptop that clearly wasn’t for schoolwork, a bag stuffed with library books, and a tiny, overstuffed backpack that was one bad tug away from falling apart.

But the thing that really made him frown?

That obnoxiously colorful pencil case sitting on top of your stack.

He scowled on instinct. You were chaotic. Loud. Distracting. He already disliked you.

"We have the same classes!" You say looking at his schedule over his shoulder "Cool. I'll show you around come on," already walking off without waiting for a response.

Damian blinked. Is she just assuming I'm going to follow her?

A part of him wanted to ignore you. Another part, the one that always sought information and efficiency, decided it was the most logical course of action. With an irritated sigh, he shut his locker and followed.

You lead him through the hallways, weaving through students while Damian silently trails behind.

“This is the cafeteria. The food is actually pretty good for a public school, but oh my goodness, whatever you do DO NOT try the mystery meat unless you wanna meet God early.”

Damian barely listens. He’s too distracted by the fact that ‘mystery meat’ even exists in a place meant for education and the absurd number of people who stop to talk to you.

Everywhere you go, someone waves says hi, or stops to chat. People throw out gossip, random compliments, and even inside jokes.

You know everyone.

It’s exhausting just watching you socialize.

Damian, used to go unnoticed unless he wanted to be seen, and he found it deeply irritating. He didn't like unnecessary attention. He didn't like small talk. And he definitely didn't like how effortlessly you commanded every room you walked into.

As you continue to weave through the crowded room, students keep stopping you some to say hi, some to ask questions, and a few just to gossip for the hell of it. Damian watches, mildly horrified, as you effortlessly jump from conversation to conversation.

"Anywho," you continue, not missing a beat, "the library is on the third floor, but I swear its haunted, so if you hear whispering, just keep it moving."

Damian raises an eyebrow and scoffs. "There is no such thing as ghosts."

You stop and turn to look at him with the most offended look you could possibly muster. "Says the guy who has classes with me, meaning he takes Advanced Mythology AND Paranormal Studies. Boom."

He opens his mouth to argue but then immediately shuts it.

"Touche," he says after clicking his tongue in annoyance.

You grin before turning on your heels to continue the rapid tour. Makeing sure that the tour ends right outside of your first-hour class.

By the time the first bell rings, Damian has already learned several things: You are absurdly social, you have way too much energy for one person, you talk with your hands, aggressively. (He nearly got smacked twice already, you are completely, utterly, and unapologetically YOU.

And for reasons he can’t quite explain yet,

But, it doesn't annoy him as much as he thought it would.

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

it took me 2 days to write this mainly because I was crocheting and working on my script buuuuut I'll try to make the next parts in about the same time span unless I get grounded 😶

[banditcoyote]

"Sorry, you just look so grown up." he said shaking his head. "Don't worry, there will be plenty of tears then too." he assured her and eyed the jewelry. "I'd be nervous too, especially since our group is crawling with thieves." he laughed a bit. "I'll get him to apologize, but it will have to be when you come back...even though..." he sighed as well. "It's not really any different than usual is it?" he said with a shrug, it was just that before his trouble making usually came in a different form. "I'll try and keep him on his best behavior while we're here. But I don't think he's been hateful Sasuga. No one here hates you." Here Shishi nodded. "We'll keep it fun." he assured her. "I'm looking forward to it all." Cal and Thom were the next to arrive, Thom looking gorgeous in a silver dress they had bought while they had been out with Yaroslava, Cal in a sleek suit with black tie and white shirt, he looked nearly like a spy. "Holy Shit, SASUGA you look so good!" her friend practically squealed when she saw her. "You look like a model....I forgot you ARE a model!" she said with excitement. Cal gave a little laugh at Thom's excitement. "I trust you look beautiful Sasuga."

Blood and Moonlight

Sasuga woke in what was at first an unfamiliar area but as she blinked fully awake she realized it was their closet that Coyote had decorated for them. She smiled and took a careful kiss from her mate who was still sound asleep next to her. It really had been an amazing night with the family and then with her husband. As she slipped from his arms, she took a moment to look at her reflection in the mirror, her fingers dancing over the fresh marks on her neck and hips. She couldn't have asked for anything more from the night and it was with some reluctance that she dressed. She picked out a pair of warm leggings and a short little skirt to pull over them with some knee high boots and a thick sweater. She slipped from the closet and moved to the bathroom to comb her hair and brush her teeth and get ready for the big day ahead. She gave a stretch and headed downstairs only to find a familiar face waiting for her. "Raphael..." she smiled and moved to greet him with a hug. "I see you are still alive." she smirked. "Want some tea? Coffee?"

@banditcoyote

[tojisprettylittlething]

Chapter Twenty Six: Jealousy is a Sharp Blade

Pairing: Assassin!Toji Fushiguro x Assassin!Reader

Warnings: Jealousy, possessiveness, tension, flirting, threats, and a whole lot of mutual territorial behavior.

Masterlist

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

You were expecting the neighbors.

So when you swung the door open, casually prepared to feign interest in whatever small talk they had in store, the last thing you anticipated was a man in a mask.

Black suit, gloves, silent as the night itself.

The air shifted instantly, your muscles tensing as the figure extended a single, pristine white envelope toward you.

Not a word.

Not a single breath of explanation.

Just an offering.

Your fingers hesitated before plucking it from his grasp.

By the time you glanced up, he was already walking away, disappearing down the dimly lit street without a sound.

You stepped back inside, shutting the door behind you, turning the envelope over in your fingers, feeling the thick weight of whatever message had just been delivered.

Toji was in the kitchen, cracking open a bottle of beer when you walked in, tossing the envelope onto the counter.

"That’s never a good sign." He eyed it, then you. "Who the fuck left that?"

"Some guy. Didn’t say a word. Just handed it to me and left."

Toji’s face darkened. He set his beer down with a soft clink before plucking up the envelope, ripping it open without a second thought.

Inside, there was nothing but an invitation.

Elegant, expensive cardstock, deep crimson wax seal pressing down a golden emblem.

A masquerade ball.

Hosted by a faction that—for once—wasn't actively trying to kill either of you.

Toji clicked his tongue. "Tch. Waste of time."

You arched a brow. "You scared, old man?"

His green eyes flicked to yours, unimpressed. "I just don’t see the point in putting on a fuckin’ mask when I can kill the same people without the theatrics."

"Well," you mused, plucking the invitation from his grip, "I think it sounds fun. Besides, when’s the last time we went out together? Properly?"

Toji scoffed. "Last week. We shot two guys and went to that ramen place after."

"That’s not a date, Toji."

"Was for me."

You rolled your eyes. "We’re going."

"And what if I say no?"

You smirked, tilting your head. "Then I’m going without you."

His jaw flexed. That possessive glint darkened in his gaze before he exhaled sharply through his nose.

"Fine."

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Of all the things you thought you’d be doing today, dragging Toji through an upscale boutique definitely wasn’t on the list.

"The hell is this?" he grumbled, lifting a black velvet blazer as if it physically offended him.

"It’s called fashion, baby," you teased, flicking through racks of gowns. "Try it sometime."

He scowled. "Gonna be covered in blood by the end of the night anyway."

"Then at least bleed in style."

You could hear him muttering under his breath, but he still begrudgingly tried on the clothes you shoved into his arms.

You, on the other hand, had a more important mission—finding the perfect dress.

And oh, did you find one.

Deep, decadent black, smooth satin that cascaded over your curves, a slit up the thigh that was just the right amount of dangerous. It clung to you like it was made for you, and when you stepped out of the dressing room, Toji—who had been waiting by the counter, dressed in his tailored black suit—went still.

His gaze raked over you, dark, heavy.

"Shit." His voice was low. "You look like trouble."

You smirked. "You like it?"

Toji didn’t answer at first. He just stepped forward, fingers hooking around your waist, dragging you closer.

"Yeah," he murmured against your ear. "Too much."

Your lips curled. "Good."

The masks were the last touch.

Toji picked a sleek, black one with sharp angles, something that made him look even more dangerous than he already did.

Yours was more intricate—lace patterns, delicate silver filigree that glowed against your skin.

You caught him staring as you adjusted it in the mirror.

"You keep lookin’ at me like that, we’re not making it to the party."

His fingers flexed at his sides.

"Then hurry the fuck up before I change my mind."

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

The ballroom was a symphony of decadence.

Gold-trimmed chandeliers dripped from the ceiling, casting flickering shadows across the sea of masked figures dressed in the kind o88f wealth that could buy lives—or end them.

You felt the weight of their gazes the second you stepped inside. Some were wary. Some were intrigued. But all of them knew one thing.

You and Toji weren’t the kind of people you invited unless you had a death wish.

Toji had one hand in his pocket, the other resting loosely at your lower back. His mask obscured most of his face, but the glint in his sharp green eyes told you everything you needed to know.

He was watching. Calculating. Deciding which one of these rich bastards would be the first to piss him off.

"Relax," you murmured, taking a champagne flute from a passing server. "Try to have a little fun."

"I don’t do fun."

"You did fun in the dressing room before we got here."

His lip twitched. "That wasn’t fun. That was me keeping you from being a menace to society."

"Uh-huh." You took a slow sip, glancing around the room. "So, who’s the host of this little circus?"

"Satoru Gojo."

The name alone was enough to make your lips curl.

"The Gojo? The untouchable one?"

"Tch. He ain't that untouchable."

You arched a brow. "You sure? I’ve heard stories. They say he can see through anything, read people like a book. That he's got no weaknesses."

"Then he ain't met you yet."

You laughed softly, swirling the champagne in your glass. "You flatter me, Mr. Fushiguro."

Toji smirked, leaning in slightly, voice dropping to that dangerous, hushed tone. "I’m just stating facts, Mrs. Fushiguro."

The title sent a shiver down your spine. You would never get used to that.

And then—

"Well, well, well. Look who finally decided to show up."

The voice was smooth, cocky, full of amusement.

You turned just as a tall figure emerged from the crowd—white hair, blue eyes that practically glowed beneath the low light.

Satoru Gojo.

The infamous, the arrogant, the annoyingly charming.

And the second he got close, his gaze raked over you like he was committing every detail to memory.

"Damn." He whistled, grinning. "You didn’t tell me your wife was this stunning, Fushiguro."

Toji's hand flexed at your back.

"Didn’t think it was any of your business, Gojo."

"Oh, but it is." Gojo’s grin widened. "You see, when a woman this beautiful walks into my event, I think it’s only fair I get to admire her a little."

Toji’s entire body tensed.

And you? You just smirked.

"Flattery will get you everywhere, Mr. Gojo."

Toji’s fingers dug into your hip.

"But," you continued, tilting your head. "I have to wonder...are you admiring me, or are you trying to piss off my husband?"

Gojo’s eyes flicked to Toji, and the air between them shifted—like two predators sizing each other up.

"Can’t it be both?" Gojo mused.

Toji rolled his shoulders. "You got about three seconds to find someone else to piss off before I take that mask and shove it so far up your ass, you’ll be coughing lace for a week."

Gojo chuckled, lifting his hands in surrender. "Relax, Fushiguro. I’m just having a little fun."

"You won’t be laughing when your teeth are scattered across the floor, Satoru."

The tension was palpable now, the kind that made the surrounding guests take a step back, sensing the storm brewing.

You just sighed, reaching up to adjust Toji’s mask slightly.

"Toji, darling," you said sweetly, "no murder before dessert, remember?"

Toji grunted.

Gojo smirked, tipping his head toward you. "Smart woman."

"I try." You turned to Toji, brushing your fingers against his jaw. "Come on. Let’s go dance before you break something."

Toji exhaled sharply, glaring at Gojo for a moment longer before letting you pull him away.

But the moment you turned, Gojo leaned in slightly, voice just low enough for Toji to hear—

"You better hold onto her tight, Fushiguro. Women like that don’t stay with men like you forever."

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

The dance floor was bathed in golden light, couples moving in slow, practiced steps to the melody of a live orchestra.

Toji didn’t dance.

He killed people.

But tonight, with your body pressed against his, he made an exception.

"You’re tense," you murmured, fingers trailing up his neck.

"He pissed me off."

"I noticed."

His hand at your waist tightened. "Think he’s cute, do ya?"

You smiled against his jaw. "I think he’s an idiot."

"Damn right."

You chuckled, tilting your head. "You jealous?"

Toji scoffed. "Please. Like I got any reason to be."

You leaned in, lips brushing against the shell of his ear. "Then why are you holding me so tight?"

He exhaled sharply. "Because I can."

You grinned. "Mm. That’s what I thought."

Toji’s fingers slid lower, pressing into the curve of your spine, keeping you flush against him as he led you effortlessly across the floor.

"I could fuck you right here," he murmured. "Make Gojo regret ever lookin’ at you."

Heat curled in your stomach.

"Tempting," you whispered. "But let’s not give the old-money bastards a heart attack just yet."

Toji smirked. "Later, then."

"Later," you promised.

And in that moment, with the world watching, the two of you moved like shadows in the candlelight.

Dangerous.

Unstoppable.

And completely, utterly untouchable.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Gojo approached just as the song was ending, his signature cocky grin plastered on his face. He clapped Toji on the shoulder, way too familiar for someone who was actively trying to piss him off.

"Mind if I steal your wife for a dance?" Gojo asked, eyes flicking toward you.

Toji’s jaw tensed. "Yeah, actually, I do."

Gojo chuckled. "Come on, Fushiguro, don't be like that. It's just a dance."

Toji didn’t move.

You glanced between the two, then let out a slow breath. "Fine."

Toji’s fingers tightened around your waist before he finally let go. "Watch yourself, Gojo."

Gojo just winked before offering you his hand. You took it, allowing him to lead you a few steps away onto the dance floor.

"You really like pissing him off, don’t you?" you murmured as he placed a light hand at your back, the other loosely holding yours.

"Comes naturally," he replied with a smirk. "But don’t worry, sweetheart. I’m here for business, not just to rile up your husband."

"Could’ve fooled me."

Gojo twirled you smoothly before pulling you back in. "I have a proposition for you both."

"Oh?"

"You’re aware of the bounty on your heads, right?"

Your body tensed slightly. "Hard to miss."

Gojo tilted his head. "I could make that disappear."

You narrowed your eyes. "And why would you do that?"

"Because I could use people like you." His voice dropped slightly, no longer playful but calculated. "I have resources, connections, and money. A lot of money. You and Toji? You’re good. Very good. But right now, you’re being hunted. That kind of lifestyle catches up to you fast."

You didn’t respond, letting the words settle.

"So here’s the deal," he continued. "You work for me, and in return, I make sure no one touches you. No more running, no more watching your backs every second of the day. Just a simple exchange of skills for security."

You exhaled slowly. "And what kind of work would we be doing?"

Gojo’s lips twitched. "The kind you’re best at."

"Assassinations."

"Bingo."

You glanced over Gojo’s shoulder, catching sight of Toji across the room, leaning against the bar with a whiskey in hand, watching the two of you like a predator waiting to strike.

"And what if we say no?" you asked.

Gojo hummed. "Then I suppose you keep running until someone finally catches up to you." He leaned in slightly. "And let’s be real, sweetheart, even someone as good as you can’t outrun death forever."

You held his gaze for a long moment. "I’ll talk to Toji."

"Good girl," he murmured, spinning you one last time before the song ended.

When he let you go, you turned on your heel and walked straight toward Toji, ignoring the way Gojo’s eyes followed you.

Toji was already standing by the time you reached him, placing his glass on the bar.

"What did he want?"

You sighed. "An offer."

Toji scoffed. "Bet I ain’t gonna like it."

"Probably not," you admitted. "But we should at least hear him out."

Toji exhaled, jaw clenched, then turned his gaze toward Gojo, who was already watching with that same knowing smirk.

Toji rolled his shoulders. "Fine."

But something in his expression told you that whatever happened next, Gojo wasn’t going to get the last laugh.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Gojo’s office was bigger than expected—modern, sleek, with floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the city skyline. He leaned back in his chair, feet casually kicked up onto his desk, like a man who had never once worried about being killed in his life.

Toji, on the other hand, looked two seconds away from putting a bullet between Gojo’s stupidly blue eyes. His jaw was tight, arms crossed over his chest as he leaned against the wall, silent.

You sat across from Gojo, exhaling slowly. "So, let’s be clear. You’ll wipe the bounty clean?"

Gojo nodded. "No one would dare touch you if you work for me. You two are good, but you don’t have an army at your disposal. I do."

Toji let out a sharp breath. "Tch. You think I’m gonna be your damn lapdog?"

Gojo smirked. "No, I think you’ll be an asset. But hey, if you’d rather keep running, that’s your choice."

You turned to Toji. "Toji, this is our chance. No more looking over our shoulders every second of the day. No more cheap motel rooms, no more worrying if the next knock on the door is a bullet with our name on it."

Toji clenched his fists. "You don’t think I know that?" His voice was low, dangerous. "But I ain’t about to put our lives in Gojo’s hands. The second we’re not useful, we’re dead."

You exhaled sharply. "And if we don’t take the offer, we’re dead anyway. The bounty doesn’t disappear unless we do."

Toji’s eyes burned into you. "So what? You wanna be his dog? Jump when he says jump? Kill whoever he points at?"

You stood, the chair scraping against the floor. "I wanna live, Toji. I’m fucking tired. Aren’t you?"

His jaw flexed. His breathing was slow, measured, like he was trying to rein himself in.

Gojo hummed. "Lovers’ quarrel? Should I step out?"

Toji shot him a glare so sharp it could kill. "Shut the fuck up, Gojo."

Gojo only grinned, entirely unbothered.

You turned back to Toji. "I don’t want to keep running. I don’t want to wake up every day wondering if it’s my last."

Toji ran a hand down his face. "Fuck, woman…" He turned away for a second, shaking his head. "You trust him?"

"No," you admitted. "But I trust that he values talent. We’re worth more alive than dead."

Toji was silent for a long moment. Then, finally, he exhaled, running a hand through his hair before looking at Gojo.

"You fuck us over, I’ll kill you myself."

Gojo chuckled. "Noted."

Gojo slid a thick envelope across the desk, the weight of it ominous. "Standard contract. Nothing too crazy. You work for me, I wipe the bounty, and in return, you get all the resources you need to stop running and start living."

You opened it, scanning the contents. The words blurred together, exhaustion pressing at the edges of your vision, but the meaning was clear: loyalty in exchange for protection. It was a deal with the devil, but at least this devil had an army.

You grabbed the pen, flipping to the last page without hesitation.

"Wait—"

Too late. You signed your name in smooth, steady strokes.

Toji let out a sharp breath, then snatched the pen from your fingers before you could set it down.

You frowned, yanking your hand back. "The hell is your problem?"

Toji didn’t answer. His jaw was tight, his shoulders tense as he signed his own name beside yours, pressing the pen into the paper with more force than necessary. When he finished, he practically threw the pen onto Gojo’s desk and pushed himself up from the chair.

You exhaled through your nose. Oh, so he was still mad.

Gojo, as always, looked amused. "A pleasure doing business."

Neither of you responded. You stood, following Toji out of the office and down the hall in tense silence.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

The drive home was worse.

Toji’s grip on the wheel was borderline aggressive, his knuckles white. His jaw was clenched so tightly you were surprised his teeth hadn’t cracked.

You watched him out of the corner of your eye before finally breaking the silence. "You gonna be pissed the whole way home?"

No answer.

You sighed, shifting in your seat. "Toji, talk to me."

Nothing.

You dragged a hand down your face, frustration creeping into your voice. "I swear to god, if you’re gonna sit here and sulk—"

"I’m not sulking," he snapped.

You scoffed. "Oh? So what do you call this then?"

His hands flexed around the steering wheel. "I call it not fucking pretending like we didn’t just sign our lives away."

You rolled your eyes. "Right. Because running forever was the better plan."

His voice sharpened. "It was better than being owned by Gojo."

"We’re not owned—"

"Aren’t we?" He let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. "Fuck, woman, you really don’t get it, do you?"

Your temper flared. "No, Toji. I get it. I just don’t want to fucking die."

His fingers tightened around the wheel, and for a second, you thought he might slam his fist into the dashboard. Instead, he let out a sharp breath and muttered something under his breath.

You crossed your arms. "What?"

"Nothing."

"No, say it."

He didn’t.

The rest of the drive was silent.

When you got home, Toji was out of the car before the engine fully shut off. He slammed the door behind him and stalked toward the house.

You followed, locking the car and stepping inside just as he threw his keys onto the table.

The moment the door shut behind you, he turned on you.

"You don’t fucking think," he growled, voice sharp with frustration.

Your brow furrowed. "Excuse me?"

He stepped closer, towering over you, the heat in his gaze smoldering with anger. "You signed that contract like it was nothing."

"Because it was nothing," you snapped back. "It was survival."

He scoffed. "Survival? You don’t even know what you just agreed to."

You threw your arms up. "Oh, and you do? Because last I checked, you were just as clueless as me!"

His nostrils flared, chest rising and falling with deep, slow breaths. "You should’ve let me read it first."

"Oh, so now you’re mad that I didn’t let you go first?" You let out a sharp laugh. "News flash, Toji—I don’t need you to babysit me."

"Then stop making reckless fucking choices!"

"Reckless?!" You stared at him in disbelief. "Toji, we were running out of options!"

"That doesn’t mean signing our fucking lives over!"

"Then what does it mean?!" Your voice rose, frustration bubbling over. "You would rather us keep running? Keep moving from place to place, waiting for someone to catch up? You think that’s a better plan?"

"Better than owing him."

You exhaled sharply, dragging a hand through your hair. "You need to calm down—"

He laughed, the sound humorless. "Calm down? You want me to calm down?"

"Yes!"

His hands flexed at his sides like he was holding himself back. "You don’t get to fucking tell me to calm down when you—"

"When I what?" You stepped closer, not backing down.

His lips pressed into a thin line, nostrils flaring.

You shook your head, lowering your voice. "Toji, I get it. You don’t trust him. I don’t trust him. But this is the best option we have. I made that choice. You made that choice. So stop acting like it was just me. You didn't have to sign the fucking contract. I didn't make you do shit!"

His jaw ticked, his breath steady but tense.

You exhaled, voice softer. "I know you’re mad. But don’t be mad at me."

For a long moment, he didn’t move. His eyes burned into yours, searching, measuring, something stormy and unreadable in their depths. Then, finally, he let out a breath and looked away, dragging a hand through his hair.

"…Tch."

The fight drained from him in slow increments. He didn’t apologize—he never did—but his shoulders lost some of their tension.

You let out a breath of your own. "We’ll figure it out. Together."

He didn’t answer, but when he turned back to you, something in his gaze had shifted.

Frustrated. Annoyed. But still yours.

And that was enough.

My lil taglist ₍₍ ◝(　ﾟ∀ ﾟ )◟ ⁾⁾ : @t4naiis - @crimsonxm00n -

[smytherines]

Spies are noir

[deoidesign]

Quick re-do of a 4 year old piece

[things-arent-what-they-seem66]

Slowly things went back to normal and a week went by and everyone almost forgot all about the photos.

Angel was so excited when his guy brought them in all perfectly framed with black and white frames that made the all red photos pop out more.

Angel: Thanks Frankie! Stunning work as always babes.~

They hugged, it was nice to do something for other people that don't require him to fuck someone else to get a good or service. Angel was really proud of himself.

Looking at them all he was blown away with how they came out, they were perfect!

The other photos that weren't framed were placed into personal photo albums for everyone. But the best photos were framed.

Angel wrapped everything up and when he got to Adam and Lucifer's he smirked, it's time to play a little matchmaker. He wrapped them up as normal, but switched the name tags.

-

Angel: Okay! Come and get them.~

Everyone grabbed theirs and Adam was nervous, what if he didn't look good?

Turns out him and Lucifer were the only ones who didn't open them right away.

Charlie and Vaggie cooed and awwed over theirs, they loved it. Husk even admitted that he looked good which had Angel swooning.

Alastor: Well aren't you going to open yours?

Adam: I will.... Alone.

Alastor: I suppose no one would want to see it anyway.~

Lucifer glared: You're just saying that because you know no one wants to see yours. I feel bad that Angel and that guy had to subject themselves to ugly ass.

He smirked when Alastor glared and went away, when is he going to learn that he won't win against him?

Adam gave a small grateful smile: Thanks.

Lucifer smiled: You're welcome, I'm actually going to open mine in my room too Soooo you're not the only one.

Adam had the urge to hug him but stopped himself. They went on their way to their rooms and that's when he opened the album first, he looked fucking hot! Damn Angel knows what he's doing.

He then ripped into the paper to see which one was framed and Adam choked on his spit.

This wasn't him. This was Lucifer.

Leaning on his cane, a sultry smile on his face, his eyes hooded and sensual with the colors inverted and his horns framing his hat perfectly.

He was wearing tight black leather and fishnets with heeled high boots, his mid section showing and the pants which were also leather were low-rise stopping just before it showed anything.

Lucifer looked fucking hot. Adam absently wondered if he had enough time to jerk off before the King noticed he didn't have his photo.

Adam: Angel you fucking little shit....... Wait.

If he has Lucifer's photo ........ Does that mean-?

Lucifer has his photo.

Pin Me (To Your Bed)

@beef-brisket

Happy Valentine's Day Everyone! 💖

-

Charlie was so excited to help Angel set up his idea, it was a great way to help people with their body image and self confidence.

Adam was leaning against the wall as he watched the photo shoot area be set up. Angel wanted everyone to do a pin up photo shoot for Valentine's Day to help their self-esteem and feel sexy.

Angel: Hey mister pouty pants, come help me with the outfits.

Adam sighed and made his way over, the clothing rack held many linguire outfits, short shorts, and leather pieces of clothing.

Adam: Angel, I've seen tissues bigger than this thing.

He held up what looked like a G string and Angel laughed.

Angel: Oh relax! And it's all in fun big guy, besides if you wore something sexy who's to say short, pale, and hunky won't be all over you.~

Adam flushed, he knew it was a bad idea to tell Angel about his feelings for Lucifer. But as long as the short King doesn't hear he guessed it was fine.

Adam: Shut up.

Speaking of Lucifer, he was just done hanging the lights when he floated down smiling at the pair.

Lucifer: Those are umm.... Interesting outfits Angel.

Angel: Aren't they?~ You're dressing up too aren't ya short King?

Lucifer coughed into his fist: W-Well, maybe. I have an image to maintain I can't wear anything too scandalous. You understand.

Adam tried and failed to not picture Lucifer only wearing that G string that would barely cover his dick.

Angel smirked: Oh yeah of course.~ I'll make it all very tasteful for everyone, all within a comfort zone they like. But how about you show a little skin? Like right here.~

He pointed to his stomach area and Lucifer felt warm, he looked at Adam who was looking at him maybe zoned out. Would he like that?

Lucifer: Y-yeah I guess that's fine.

[suntails]

B&W

[saitamastamaticsoup]

Not to be dramatic but since hiori is blasian in canon I need black x readers asap🗣️ like we are DEF not getting any cultural background on this kid (because they just slid it in there like we weren’t gonna recognize in the first place)not that we have any background on any of these children’s parents but I think he should explain how he feels being mixed in Japan because it’s just really funny having these two in the exact same anime, and they are both black 

This is ABSOLUTELY hilarious 😭

Edit: so I’ve noticed a pattern of EVERY character looking like their mother and barely sharing any resemblance to their fathers so ig he gets a pass for being pale BUT there’s even more melaninated characters so let’s give him some sun too!!🥺

Respectfully; come the fuck on

[s0lar-ch3ri]

okay hi waves im making a vers on here so the chat can read it (theres mentions of being sick ofc, animal death [its quick and about rats], and brief descriptions of kissing) I FINISHED IT LATE LAST NIGHT SO IF ITS WEIRD MAYBE THATS WHY ANYWAYS TAKE IT

Vyncent, or Virion, whatever name you’d like, he had no room to care right now, had lived on Prime for months. He might have even been here a year, hard to tell. Things get busy as an elf-boy superhero with your home world’s great heroes in your brain that give you use, who happens to have befriended a red head with so much energy and the power to kill the sun in a kick if he wanted, a white haired guy who had a book that could just make your worst of nightmares look tame and also sometimes a fairy, and a dead black-haired boy who couldn’t stop meeting the dead for some reason. Lots of stuff in Vyncent’s life.

So could someone explain to him that what was a common cold for anybody else here put Virion out of commission? Sure, he was more prone to getting sick, he’d face it like every other week, but at least then he could hide it! Sick wasn’t good back home. Sick was a death sentence, and this was why. When you can’t get up, you can’t run, you can’t fight. If healing magic didn’t fix you, it may work best to cut that loss yourself.

Unfortunately, Vyncent didn’t have healing magic, and trying to reach the Greats while you feel so uncomfortable and gross and, well, sick, you might rather eat rat poison. As such, he had to bug Will about it. He hasn’t even seen Will get a cough now that he’s thinking about it. Granted, he was dead and awesome, so maybe that had something to do with it.

“You’re not normally this hot, right? I have to make sure, again.” Will’s fingertips were slightly blackened, and the cold feeling on his forehead while nice almost made him jump. Right, dead boy cold. Cold dead boy. Cold hot dead boy- no, elf boy hot, dead boy cold. Yes, this made sense and was logical. Don’t question Vyncent, he’s normal and fine minus everything wrong with him.

“Mmm mmgh,” an excellent denial from Vyncent. He’s so good at this.

“Right, just…how long are you normally sick? Like, back home, does it get this bad? Do you guys even get sick there, or do you just, I dunno, shoot it better?”

He better not be mockin’ me.

He’s Will. He likes living, or whatever he is right now.

Right, the Greats. Not always Will’s biggest fans, but they weren’t going to come out while sick so rather than hear his voice insult his friend, he heard all their comments and thoughts insulting his friend. Bothering him, that’s what they’re “Great” at (he should leave the puns to the other guys).

“Mgh…” Great stuff Virion. Let’s see how William responds.

“Great stuff Vynce.” He puts a bowl on the table which seems to have a collection of ingredients that regular soup didn’t have.

“What’s-” He coughed a bit, cursed lungs. “What in that?”

“It’s a soup, just with stuff that you can actually eat. Like rats and stuff. I tried to put some medicine in it, just to see.”

“Where’d-” More coughs. “Where’d the rats come from?”

Will shudders. “I don’t think you want to know.”

Vyncent laughed a bit. He let his brain indulge itself, imagining what may have happened to get them. The image of him hunting the rats kept appearing in there. If his ears were a little more red, he’d blame being sick.

He just brought you soup, calm down lover boy.

Shut up, shut up shut up shut up.

[I think the kid’s embarrassed.]

Come on Stryder, pleaseeeeee.

Your pining is not hard to spot.

NOT YOU TOO ALPHONZ.

Vyncent turned over to his side, using the pillow to cover his ears as if that’ll work, groaning the whole time.

“You good man?”

“Yeah…’m jus’ feeling stupid…”

“Nobody feels too great when sick.”

“Mghh…”

“Can we try some soup? It should help, and you do have to eat.”

Vyncent had been so out of it, he forgot how long it had been since he ate. Maybe that’s why he felt so shit. Memory is dumb and should die forever. This is a logical conclusion. Vyncent was always a man of logic. You had to trust him.

He turned back over to Will, who happened to pull off the sickly look very well, attempting to push himself up so he could eat something. He could do things for himself, surely. Don’t ask him how well he’d do at them, because he wouldn’t lie and say he’d be great, cause that’s totally not lying. Totally.

I hope you can hear the sarcasm.

“No man, don’t- just sit back, it- it’s fine. You look deathly man, that’s coming from me.”

The emphasis was joking, making Vyncent giggle.

“Fine…”

“Save the energy.”

Like a baby, Vyncent was spoon fed soup, which the comparison he’d make would hurt more if he wasn’t just stuck on Will. His face was heating up, sure, but maybe it was less than the illness. Maybe it was more Will.

[He’s finally admitting it, good gods, took you long enough.]

Shhhhhhhhut it.

You’d think he’d have picked up on it by now, how bad you are.

Be ‘iet….

“Hm?”

“They're being loud…”

“Greats?”

“Mhm…they’re judging me.”

“About what? If they’re being dicks, uh- well, I couldn’t really fight Alphonz. Or Min. Or Ram. Or any of them- I’ll pretend like I can fight them!”

Vyncent laughs at this guy, this idiot he adores with all his heart, no matter how much of it will admit that. “Bout how pretty you are.”

Vyncent didn’t recall ever seeing Will blush, but this seemed, like, close to it. He starts nervously chuckling. “You really think that?”

“Mhm, ‘art of why I like you.”

He saw the cogs in Will’s brain malfunction and sputter. Did it make him lose it inside to have said that? Sure, but in the end, it’s Will. He’d hate to lose a friend right now, but he’s done worse and stuck around, and maybe in the end, Will could find someone who doesn’t get sick every other week.

“I- Uh- Vynce you feeling alright? Your forehead is really hot.” He starts nervously chuckling again. He did that a lot.

“Mhm, dead boy hot.”

Someone’s gained guts! Finally!

I actually have 0 idea what I’m doing and I don’t think I can back down now, so uh, thanks.

[Oh, yeah, no. You actually suck ass at this.]

Thanks asshole.

It is not a failure on your end. Your courting attempts seem to be affecting him well.

There was a detail in Will’s eyes. Just a glint of something. Was it hope, denial, something that was any more terrifying? Vyncent has little idea what’s happening at this point until they do. He’s going to hold onto that look though. He hopes it's something better than he could be. Just maybe something that gives him a sign.

“You- uh, you’re a hot elf boy, man, yeah.” He stumbled around his words, trying to not make eye contact. He sat on the sofa a bit awkwardly.

This is so stupid. I’m so stupid for this- the last sane thoughts of Vyncent as he moves- I’m so so terribly dumb for this. With a loss of any sanity and dignity he gets up and somewhat crawls over to William. He’s locked onto William’s eyes, and maybe his lips. Maybe this rotten dead man can be the medicine to cure him. His sickness feels a bit deeper than medical anyways.

“V-Vynce? W-Something up man?”

He cups Will’s face with a hand and rubs his thumb against his cheek. This is wrong, this is so so stupid and wrong and maybe Vyncent knows but also he has never felt this confidence and honestly? May as well use it to his advantage, the Fallen Ones know he would never get to do this again, not being this confident.

Vyncent had never kissed anybody. Kissing wasn’t exactly a Fauna thing, at least not what Vyncent learned, so this was new. It was a new sensation. On a regular level, this was just pushing his lips against another pair of lips. Emotionally, he was in a dream land. Things felt great. Will’s cold lips were a nice startlement, a shock turned to a calming cool throughout his body. They basically melted from the initial surprise into the kiss, Vyncent laying on top of Will as he light-headedly pulled back.

“...Woah.”

“‘Retty nice. You…your lips ‘aste ‘ice.” Vyncent had a love-strivenly stupid smile, and at this point, hiding from himself or Will was futile. It felt soft and comfortable in this moment, and knowing that even if he was weird inside, Will wasn’t going anywhere. He didn’t have to either, Virion could lay on this couch and he didn’t have to run. He didn’t have to hide. That was something to like. He snuggled into Will.

“Movie ‘ight?”

“I- sure man. Not the weirdest it could be.”

“I like this.”

“Love you too, Vynce.”

Love you too.

who up ghosting their sick knife

[artofapeach]

I like how you use references from 1940s for some of your Termina art. I don't feel like the fandom (and honestly, sometimes the game) really explores or takes advantage of the period piece aspect of the setting. Keep up the good work.

Thank you!! Admittedly, I’m just obsessed with classic movies and old stuff in general, and I shove it into any fandom I’m in. Termina just happens to actually fit that aesthetic 🙈

[longagoitwastuesday]

Jacob Elordi and Margot Robbie as Heathcliff and Cathy seems like out of The Onion

[trans-leek-cookie]

Thinking about geto because I want to pour milk on him and throw him against the wall. Imo his beliefs are inconsistent and self serving (which makes sense because he developed said beliefs at age 16/17 while his mental health was at an all time low). Because while he seems to have the primary motive of "only sorcerers = no curses" taking into account how he treats Maki, who has no cursed energy, it shows that the "no curses" thing isnt the main focus- bc while he decided on tbe "forced evolution" thing, theoretically he should not be Opposed to ppl w heavenly restriction bc. They still fuckin. Don't contribute to curses from what I can tell. Also heavenly restriction is pretty obviously something that is punished by uh. Is it just the Zenin's who have it. Anyway they hated Maki and they Hated Toji so he clearly isn't standing for "oppressed sorcerers" bc if so Maki should be like. The kind of person he wants to help more, as someone who would be oppressed by ppl who aren't sorcerers as well as the powerful clans.

Anyway. While getting rid of curses is for sure part of his motivation, as well as helping sorcerers (see Nanako and Mimiko) id honestly argue that his main problem that lead to him spiraling was. How do I put this. Being knocked off a pedestal

Because he was one of 3 people given the ranking of "Special Grade", and he and satoru are grouped as "the strongest". And consider that satoru comes from a powerful clan and literally has some weird omniscience and invincibility shit going on so that's a whole fucking. That's gotta be a wild ego boost, especially for someone who comes from a family of ppl who aren't sorcerers. Like you spend all this time being a fuckin weirdo and then someone finds you and it turns out you're actually incredibly special and strong, given the same rank as a fucking God Child? You're gonna have some wild self perceptions after that

Anyway then you get to watch your invincible friend get stabbed, watch the girl you became friends with and feel shitty about kinda ruining the life of get shot, and get your whole shit rocked by some guy who can't even use the magic power bullshit you have. (Though he's got a whole physical thing going on because of the trade off)

Also writing all of this out actually makes me understand the Cult Leader progression more, like besides the fact they killed ur friend and you want em dead. You're probably struggling with your ego (especially since your weird God like friend got a whole power boost from the situation) so you create a fucking eugenicist cult where you can consistently prove your superiority to yourself (surrounding yourself with people who will agree with everything you say).

Anyway in a similar vein I wholely believe in "a loving father is not inherently a good father" Suguru + Nanako & Mimiko dynamic

Final thought is roughly I feel like looking at Suguru thru the lense of "this character had a level of privilege that they felt they truly deserved, and after experiencing events that are genuinely traumatic and horrific for any person, they develop reactionary beliefs to try and regain a sense of superiority and control" rather than "oppressed minority who killed oppressors and wants to do eugenics"

[otomedomme]

I was so happy that infold allowed us to customise the chibi mc in the last event.

It's a first step, but l am hopeful that they will make a feature that allows us to customise the skin tone of the four star cards.

It's okay if we can not change the hair, but at least they should allow us to customise the skin tone of the cards.

Maybe one day they will add that feature to the game.

Yeah that's my hope too.

That event with the chibi characters is still my favorite for customization alone.

And at the very least they should give us that otherwise ima start headcanoning that they're seeing some white girl and My MC is gonna start knocking heads over it HAH!

As well I'm always going to be of the opinion if you're adding customization either go all the way or not at all (I've played a LOT of games that let you customize everything) I don't appreciate this half assed shit so if InFold goes that direction with the skin color ima hope for no more straight brown hair.

My MC is dark skinned so brown hair like that on her skin tone it just realistically bothers me A LOT. It doesn't look right-

Lemme have either dark 3C hair or different hair color PLEASE-

[chesedelhim]

Thinking About Shrimp Tank Thursday