#welcome to my hell fellas

[boyleblr]

sometimes i wonder why people follow this blog and what they expect

[tylurrs]

I feel I need to come clean to you guys… I sent the Capricorn crop top…

[not-neverland06]

𝙲𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚝𝚘𝚞𝚜 𝙷𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚜

Pairing ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ Arthur Morgan x fem!reader

Next Part - Hell Hath No Fury Series

A/N: my stupid poor-people photo editing app stopped working so now my cropping is all off and I'm sad. My aesthetic 😭

Summary: Something brews between you and Arthur, but as always, the camp comes first. Despite the growing tension, Arthur must leave to rescue one of the gang who'd been separated in Blackwater. Jealously brews as a loud-mouth Irishman returns to camp and sets his sights on you.

Micah’s cough echoes through the camp and you wince at the sound. “He needs to see a doctor before he gets the rest of us sick.”

Arthur shakes his head and sighs, “Caught somethin’ from the Downes fella in town.” He passes you some coffee which you take eagerly. It’s part of a strange morning ritual you’d begun with him a few weeks ago. Just after the hunting trip, you’d taken to having breakfast with him if he happened to be in camp that morning. It’s become your favorite way to start the day.

You smirk slightly and nudge his side. “You’re welcome.”

He laughs and shakes his head at you, “I’m sorry?”

“Well,” you start with a teasing tone. “If I hadn’t needed a gentlemanly escort into town for some shopping, it would have been you calling in on those loans.”

He opens his mouth to argue but it stays hanging as you see the cogs turning in his head. He snaps his jaw shut with a reluctant sigh, “Suppose you’re right.”

“I always am,” you tell him like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Arthur just laughs, passing you some bread. You hear a familiar set of footprints pacing outside the tent and roll your eyes, turning towards the entrance. 

Sure enough, Mrs. Grimshaw paces around the perimeter of Arthur’s tent like a cougar. She sniffs when she catches your eye and turns her nose to the air, wholly pretending she hasn’t been stalking you. 

“Shoo!” Arthur shouts, waving her off. 

You let out a bewildered laugh, smacking his arm. “Arthur, stop,” you hiss, but you don’t sound very stern as you giggle at Mrs. Grimshaw’s affronted look. 

“Go on,” he keeps going, pushing her further. “Get,” he snaps like he’s talking to a wild animal. Mrs. Grimshaw says something you can’t quite catch and stomps her foot once before running off. 

You press a hand over your mouth, fingers pinching your lips to try and stop yourself from laughing. Arthur looks at you for approval and you only shake your head. “Come on,” he tries, “she’s been botherin’ us all mornin’. What was I supposed to do?”

“She’s not a dog, Arthur.”

“You sure ‘bout that?” He teases and you swat at his arm again. 

You shake your head, letting out a heavy sigh. “I truly think she hates me,” you whisper, pouring yourself a little more coffee. 

“She don’t hate you,” he reassures. You tilt your head with a deadpan look and he chuckles. “Well, maybe just a little.”

You sigh and shake your head, “Just because I married rich doesn’t mean I had an easy life.”

“I know that,” he objects. 

You look up from your mug and furrow your brows. “Do you? You think I don’t see the way you look at me? You see the same softness they do. I just can’t figure out whether you like it or resent me for it.”

The playfulness of the morning is long gone. You seem to have a knack for ruining the moment. This question, though, has been haunting you for a while. Dutch is passive in his disdain for your upbringing—snide comments here and there but nothing quite so obvious. 

A few of the girls question you about the privileges of being a lady a little too long for comfort. Then, the conversation will end with one of them sniffing and saying, “Must have been a nice life. Too bad you’re stuck with us now.” 

There are always small moments like that to break the ridiculous idea you’ve got in your head, that you belong. No matter how hard you try to tell them, they don’t seem to understand that this freedom is better than anything money could have bought you. Your life hasn't been your own since the moment you were born. Sure, being on the run from the law and fighting for every penny wasn’t fun. But moments like these with Arthur would never happen if you were back at your estate. 

With the others, it’s easy enough to see their resentment. But Arthur’s better at keeping his cards close to his chest. It took a while for you both to settle into something easy like this. Most of the time you don’t spend more than half an hour together a day. You don’t have a good enough read on him to determine whether or not he holds your past against you. 

Sometimes, you think you might see just a hint of bitterness when he catches a glimpse of the smooth skin of your palms. But you never know if that’s real or something your paranoid mind has conjured up. 

Arthur swirls his mug in his hand, a bit of the coffee splashing over the edge as it does. You squirm uncomfortably in your spot beside him. The sun has begun to heat up the canvas tent, but you know that’s not why you’re sweating. 

He gives you a gentle smile that eases some of the dread building up in your chest. “I don’t care either way. And you shouldn't give a damn what the rest of these fools think. It’s what you’ve done with your life, with your money, that matters.”

You chuckle and shake your head, “You mean my father's money, and then my husband’s money. It was never mine. That’s why I care what they think. I’m dealing with their judgments every damn day and they know nothing about the truth of it all. I was a commodity, practically cattle to those men.”

Arthur’s brows furrow in that familiar way they do whenever you talk about the men of your old life. It doesn’t bother you to talk about them because you’re used to it and they’re gone. But you know it makes Arthur angry to think about it. 

You’ve grown comfortable with each other, but it’s still a cold shock when he casually touches you. You glance down, eyes wide, as you see his palm covering your own. You look back up with a soft smile. “You’re smart, Arthur. Smarter than half the people here give you credit for. And far kinder than anyone I’ve ever met. " Your heart kicks up a beat when you see the way he refuses to meet your eye. 

You’ll compliment him a million times a day if only to get him to start believing you. And maybe so you can keep watching that pink flush on his cheeks. 

“That’s enough of that,” his voice is gruff with something you can’t quite name. Having enough sense to know when to stop you hold your hands up in surrender. 

“Only saying the truth,” but you never can seem to stop yourself from pushing just a little bit further. Arthur shoots you a sharp look and you bite your lip to keep from laughing at him. You can see him start to wind up and prepare yourself for the brief scolding you’re about to receive. Once he’s done with that, maybe you’ll do what you’ve wanted for so long and ask him to accompany you to Strawberry. 

You’ve been trying to work up the nerve as your last two outings haven’t gone wonderfully. You’re hoping a redo might help the both of you grow just a little closer. Besides, being away from camp seems to be beneficial to you both. 

Approaching footsteps bring your conversation to an awkward halt. They’re not the heavy foot of Mrs. Grimshaw. This is someone else, someone much more welcome. You turn and smile at Charles as he hovers at the entrance of Arthur’s tent. Arthur scoffs and mutters something under his breath that you don’t quite make out, but it makes Charles grin. 

Charles gives you a brief nod but his intentions are meant for Arthur. “Whaddya want?” Arthur snaps impatiently. 

“Trelawney came back,” Charles answers shortly and your face pinches in confusion. Trelawney? You roll the name around in your mind but you don’t think you’ve ever heard anyone in camp mention him. 

Arthur’s head perks up, the frown on his face softening just ever so slightly, but it's replaced by something more bitter. Curiosity or nosiness, you’re not sure, but rather than give in to the rules of common decency you don’t leave them to finish their conversation alone.  

You try to lean back, pretending you’re not there so they’ll keep talking. “The hell did he want?” Arthur barks, tone still rudely short. You wonder what happened between him and Charles, they seemed to get along well enough a few weeks ago. 

Charles's gaze darts briefly to you but he continues, “He’s got news about Sean. Says he knows where to find him.” Now, that name you know, if only through vague mentions. You know Karen does her damndest to keep a mention of Sean out of everyone’s mouths. And that he made it out of Blackwater alive but got separated from the rest of the gang. Other than that, you don’t know much about him. 

Arthur gets to his feet and Charles backs away a few paces, leaving the two of you relatively alone again. Arthur looks down at you, something like disappointment on his face. “You need to go,” you assume before he can say anything. 

He nods and you give him an expectant smile, “Then you better get moving, cowboy. I’ll be here when you get back.” He lingers for a moment like there’s more he wants to say. But your mornings together have always been short, you can’t imagine why that would have changed today.

He sucks in a sharp breath before nodding and heading towards Charles. You watch him go, your plans for the day being tucked away. You’ll ask him to town another time. As long as it’s anywhere but Valentine. 

A prissy throat clears behind you and your head sinks between your shoulders with a heavy sigh. “Time to get movin’,” Mrs. Grimshaw commands, with far too much glee in her voice. 

You’re sitting on an overturned bucket, running someone’s pants across the washboard. You hate doing this, especially in the brisk of the early morning. Your fingers have already pruned up from the frigid water and you can barely feel them anymore. 

Your gaze drifts to your right, where the heaping pile of laundry lies, and you consider running off with Lady. You know whatever other chores Mrs. Grimshaw would come up with in retaliation would be a million times worse, but it almost seems worth it at this point. 

You dismiss the idea, deciding to honor the unspoken rule of ladies staying in camp, and continue scrubbing. You think this might be Arthur’s blue shirt. You notice a few fraying edges and holes and make a note to fix them up for him once it’s dry. You only hope you don’t stumble across Uncle’s clothes while you’re doing this. That man has got stains in places that make you want to throw them in the fire, rather than wash them. 

“Never gonna get used to a sight like this,” Sadie calls out as she walks up behind you. She kicks a crate over and throws herself down beside you. 

“You will soon enough,” you let out a bitter chuckle and shake your head, “Mrs. Grimshaw’s got some vendetta against me.”

Sadie shrugs and picks at some dirt under her nails. The sun seems to crest just perfectly over her head, almost making her blonde hair glow. She seems to be getting better. She’s put some space between her and the O’Driscolls and has found a place in camp just a little easier than you. 

Still, you know she’s struggling. She wants the freedom that your friendship with Arthur and Charles has granted you. You know she’s feeling cooped up here at camp. You’ll have to invite her for a ride sometime and see if that will help ease some of her anxiety. 

“Nah, it’s not just you. That old hag hates me too. She thinks I’ve got ideas above my station.” You and Sadie turn, glaring at the back of Mrs. Grimshaw who is fussing at Lenny. You shake your head with a huff of laughter and turn back to the laundry in hand. 

“I miss Jake,” Sadie suddenly blurts out. You freeze, hand still partially submerged in water as you debate how to approach this. Sadie’s always preferred the blunt way of going about life. You don’t think she wants simpering sympathy right now. 

“Which parts of him do you miss?” You ask, trying to keep your tone light as you toss the shirt into the basket beside you. 

“The non-controlling parts.” Sadie nudges your side with a laugh, “Relax, I’m not gonna start cryin’ on ya. I just miss runnin’ my own house, not being bossed around by a son of a bitch like that,” she says, motioning vaguely towards Mrs. Grimshaw. 

“She’s not much better than my husband was,” you grouse, trying to drown out the woman’s voice. 

“Ooh,” Sadie groans, tone laced with long-held resentment. “Forgive me for sayin’ it, but he was a real pain in my ass.”

You can’t help the grin that curls at your lips as you straighten up, momentarily abandoning the laundry. “You’re not my employee anymore, Sadie. Say whatever you want.”

“Right,” she shrugs, “He was a real bastard and I hope he became wolf meat.” Your lips pull back into something resembling a smile, but it's not fully there. You imagine the blood of your husband on your hands and it doesn’t fill you with the usually stifling nausea. Instead, it’s like a distant ache. You’re either growing numb to it or finally accepting that you’ve done the world a favor. 

You suck in a deep breath and nod, “I hope the same.” Sadie lingers for a little while longer, not helping with the clothes, but keeping you company. You don’t talk about anything of much substance. Mainly her irritations with everyone in camp and you echoing the sentiment. She doesn’t like Pearson always trying to force her to cook with him and you hate being his taste tester. It doesn’t matter how much seasoning he adds, he doesn’t know how to make even half-decent stew. 

When Sadie eventually leaves to finish her chores and you’re left all alone with your thoughts, you realize just how painfully slow the day passes by. You almost find yourself dragging the laundry out just to provide you some distraction from waiting for Arthur to come back. 

You’ve both been lingering on the edge of something. You need to see if it’s all in your head or if there might actually be hope for the both of you yet. 

You glare down at the basket of laundry at your feet and let out a heavy sigh. You reach for another shirt and begin scrubbing, keeping a careful eye on the camp’s entrance. 

It’s not until the sky is illuminated with glowing swirls of orange and pink that Arthur and the others come riding back into camp. You’d run out of chores a long while ago and had just been restlessly pacing since then. Every time you so much as approached Lady someone would come by and distract you with some meaningless task. 

You’d been sitting in the tent for the past hour, barely reading a book as you pray time moved faster. You stand now, hearing the cheers and whistles of the others. You move around the canvas, smiling when you see Arthur leading the men back into camp. 

There’s a man on the back of Diablo, a loud-mouthed redhead that you’ve never seen before. You can only assume this is the infamous Sean they’d been after. Judging by the look on Arthur’s face, you imagine he’s been running his mouth the entire time since they rescued him. 

He looks about ready to put a bullet in the young man as he drives him into camp. You see the others all taking notice of their return, Dutch being the loudest of them all. “Sean MacGuire!” He approaches Arthur’s horse, giving the boy a hand down and grinning widely. “Welcome back, son!”

His thick Irish accent catches you off guard, “Oh, ‘appy to be back, Dutch! ‘appy to be back,” he responds eagerly, a large smile on his face.  

You hesitate by the fire, waiting for Dutch to finish before you go darting off towards Arthur. “I do think a return like this requires a celebration!” Dutch calls out to the rest of the gang. They whistle and cheer for him, Bill already rushing off to break out the alcohol. The gleefulness of the moment catches up to you, it eases away some of the anxiety balling up in your gut and you find yourself cheering along with the others. 

Dutch keeps Sean tucked under his arm and begins to parade him through camp. You know this is a win for all of them. Even if someone here hadn’t liked Sean, getting one over on some bounty hunters is always a morale booster. Whatever your opinions on Dutch may be, you have to admit that he knows how to lead his people. 

Even if you happen to think manipulate is a better word for what he does. 

You watch Sean interact with everyone in camp, drawn into the boisterous energy he wraps himself in. It’s clear some of them are already beginning to find him a little annoying. But even his smart comments can’t seem to put a damper on the spirits of the night. 

Your mouth ticks up slightly when you see Lenny slug him in the shoulder, yelling at him for letting himself get caught. You divert your attention away from the interaction, looking for Arthur. You feel a little bit of the giddiness give way to disappointment when you realize you’ve lost sight of him. 

He’s no longer by the horses, Diablo having been hitched long enough to already start grazing the grass. You peer around the women’s tent and then take a few steps towards Arthur’s but he’s nowhere to be found. 

Just as soon as you let yourself be disappointed by this, you also chastise yourself for becoming so infatuated. You’ve always had a bad habit of getting in your head and boosting your hopes up over something mundane. You’ve only just begun forming a friendship with the man and already you’re starting to fret over him. You’re not a schoolgirl anymore, you’ll have to grow out of this at some point. 

You rub a tired hand over your face and suck in a deep breath. The aromas of camp rush over you in a wave. You can still smell the remnants of burnt morning coffee amidst the ever-present scent of the campfire and the fragrance of laundry that lingers on your hands. You can no longer tell if the mingling of odors comforts or irritates you. 

You look up to the shining stars above and pray for a semblance of sense. Wrapping your shawl tighter around your shoulders you resolve to get over this infatuation with Arthur and just enjoy the night. If anything is meant to happen, it will do so naturally. 

Dutch walks towards you as you begin to head towards the domino table. You force yourself to stop when you see the expectant look on his face. Sean trails along behind him now, already seeming to have found his way into some of the liquor. 

 “Mrs. Rowe!” Dutch calls out loudly, you give him a polite smile and he motions towards Sean. “I don’t believe you’ve met my good friend, Sean MacGuire. Mouthiest gunman in the west,” he adds with a smarmy grin.

You shake your head and hold your hand out to the boy. “Can’t say I’ve had the pleasure. And please, no need to be so formal.” You give him your name, and he perks up. Stumbling forward and attempting to shake the drunkenness off, he turns your palm and kisses the back of your hand instead of shaking it. 

You can’t help but laugh a little at his performance. Molly suddenly calls for Dutch across camp and the three of you turn to face her. “Dutch, over here for a moment!” She waves him forward and Dutch lets out a long-suffering sigh with an easy smile. 

“Duty calls, I believe the two of you can entertain each other for a little while.” He turns towards Molly, arms wide as he calls out, “Now, Miss O’Shea, what ever can I do for you?”

Sean quickly snags your attention again and you realize that he’s yet to let go of your hand. “Not a missus, eh?” He asks, his eyebrows waggling with what his drunken mind must think is seductiveness. 

You stifle a giggle and shake your head no. “‘Fraid not. He’s not been gone long, but I’m happier for it.”

“Oh, and so am I, fair lady.” You shake your head with amusement. He’s nearly charming with all of his limitless swagger. “Now, I’ve just been cooped up in a camp with about fifty men with mugs nearly as ugly as these,” he motions towards the gang and you let out another unbidden laugh. “Would you care to dance with me?”

Your brows furrow, a disbelieving smile on your face. Leaning in, as though you’re sharing a secret, you tell him, “There’s no music.”

He pulls a little bit back from you, meeting your eyes as your breaths mingle with proximity. “Are you sure?” He asks, a mischievous look on his face. 

You find yourself frowning in confusion, and then, almost as though they had planned it, Dutch puts a record on. It’s scratchy on his worn player, but the music fills the camp as he leads Molly into a sway. 

Your lips part in astonishment and you forget for a moment just how close the two of you are. If anyone else saw, they’d think you were going to kiss. “How did you know he was going to do that?”

He waves you off and leans back. “Magician can’t reveal and all that,” he dismisses. “Now, a dance?”

You’re charmed by him, as much as you hate to admit it. Perhaps he doesn’t have quite the same effect on you as Arthur. But he’s handsome in his own way. Besides, who are you to deny a magic man a dance?

You let him lead you towards the fire and he draws you close. You’re surprised when his hand stays firmly on your waist and he keeps a nearly respectable distance between you both. You’re still what modern society would call a scandal, but this is nothing for a gang of outlaws. 

“I’m sure I’ve never met you before. Where did they find you?” Sean spins you out and then twirls you back into his arms with a flourish that makes you breathless. You almost ask him where he learned to dance before you remember to answer his question. 

“Up in the mountains. Some O’Driscolls came through, killed my friend’s husband, and kept us in a cellar.” You’re no longer surprised how easy it is for you to admit something like that. You’ve become desensitized to situations like your own the longer you’ve been in camp. 

“O’Driscolls,” Sean’s face twists up with distaste and he shakes his head. “Nasty business.”

You scoff, “You’re telling me.” Sean’s gaze drifts behind you and the little color on his pale skin drains. It makes the freckles speckling his cheeks stand out remarkably. “Are you feeling alright?”

“Cutting in, MacGuire,” a rough voice calls out from behind you. Your feet still from where they’d been following Sean’s lead and you risk a glance over your shoulder. Arthur paints a fearsome portrait against the night sky. Impassioned by the sight of him, with the brim of his hat tipped low and the fire casting shadows across him, you hastily drop Sean’s hands and step back from him.  “I’d go find your lady if I were you,” Arthur instructs Sean.

Confusion swirls through you before you spot a very angry, very drunk Karen walking past. “Rotten Irish bastard,” she mutters under her breath, shooting both you and Sean a nasty look. Sean chases, taking quick steps towards Karen without another word to you. 

“Karen, it meant nothing, sweetheart. I only wanted a dance!” You let out a loud laugh as you watch him scramble after her. 

“He’s a damn fool,” Arthur says through a chuckle, walking closer towards you. You smile, turning around and flicking the brim of his hat up so he doesn’t seem so imposing. 

“You stole my dance partner, Mr. Morgan.” You accuse lightly, pretending to be cross with him. 

He rolls his eyes with an attitude you rarely see from him. “I did you a favor. You don’t want to get involved with Sean.”

“No,” you tell him, “of course I don’t. I was only dancing. Can’t do that anymore now, can I?”

Arthur’s mouth opens and closes before he lets out a huff. “Well, you two seemed awful close. I thought that-” he cuts himself off and you frown. 

You were only teasing him. Had he actually thought you were interested in pursuing Sean? You’d barely known the boy an hour. You pause, taking a step back and really getting a good look at Arthur. His shoulders are tense, though, not as tense as they had been a moment ago. The anger on his face, when he approached, had been real and not just the fire playing tricks. 

The pieces connect one by one and you find yourself astonished. Arthur Morgan had been jealous over you. 

That had to mean something. You couldn’t be reading into something like this. You might be a little desperate, but you weren’t a fool. You feel a flutter in your stomach and swallow down nerves. “Dance with me?” You ask, in a breathy whisper, sounding much more confident than you are. 

His eyes widen and he grimaces, rubbing the back of his neck. “I don’t know, sweetheart. I’m no good at stuff like that.”

You bite down your smile and lean forward, taking his hand in your own. They’re rough against the smooth surface of your palms but you relish in the feeling. “Neither am I. It was the one class I never managed to get the hang of in finishing school.”

You coax him forward slowly, drawing him into you and guiding his hand a little lower on your waist than you should. He takes your other hand in his own and leads you into a slow dance. It’s barely anything more than a sway, but you still feel exhilarated. 

Even with the warning, it’s still a little surprising how awful you both are at dancing. “Even if you're stepping on my toes Arthur, I’m still much happier to be dancing with you,” you tell him, sincerity coating your throat like honey. 

He looks away from you and sighs. “Don’t have to say that.”

Your brows furrow and you tilt your head, catching his eye. “Why would I lie?” He doesn’t respond, caught off guard by the question. 

“Well,” he starts slowly, finally facing you again. He laughs a little at himself and shakes his head, “I don’t know why you would.”

“Because I wouldn’t,” you retort. “I don’t want to dance with anyone else, Arthur.” You know that sometimes he doesn’t always catch the hidden meaning, but you’re hoping he understands this time. You don't know if you could be any more brazen than you currently are.

His brows furrow and you can practically see the dots connecting when you begin to hear it. Low grunting noises, something almost like a whimper, slip out of the closed flap of John’s tent. You both pick up on it at the same time, movements slowing until you come to a complete stop. You stand, tucked into Arthur’s chest, and listen to what seems to be two people having a lot of fun. 

“Is that-”

You’re cut off by a very loud, “Sean!” You gasp, hand covering your mouth as your eyes widen. 

“Oh, Karen,” he sounds on the verge of tears and you practically have to bite your tongue to not laugh. You bury your face in Arthur’s chest, feeling it shake as he lets out a loud chuckle. “I’ve missed you so much!” You hear him begin to cry and force yourself to turn away before they hear you both laughing at them. 

“Oh,” Arthur’s face screws up with disgust but he’s still laughing. “That’s just awful. Come on,” he keeps your hand in his, tucking you under his arm as he leads you away from the tent. He snags a bottle of something off a nearby crate as he guides you toward the trees bordering the camp. 

“Where are we going?”

“Somewhere we don’t have to listen to that,” he mutters, nodding back toward the sinful tent. You clench your eyes shut, trying not to picture what the two of them are doing. 

You feel your feet sink a little, mud lifting around the edges of your boot. You reach to lift your skirts, out of instinct, before you remember you’ve got your new pants on. It makes you smile a little, living without the weight of your old clothes. 

“Arthur,” you stumble into his back as you trip over a branch and he quickly rights you. “Were you jealous?” You don't give much lead-up, hoping to shock the truth out of him. 

He pauses and turns back to look at you. You smile a little impishly at him and he lets out a long-suffering sigh. “This way, woman,” he grumbles, tugging you towards a thinner patch of trees. You find yourself squeezing his hand absentmindedly, liking the comfort of holding it.

The moon illuminates your path forward and you feel your heart jump up to your throat. He’s led you to a small cliff face, a spot just large enough for the both of you, that feels incredibly intimate. The moon almost creates a halo around the area, lighting it up more than anywhere else in the forest. 

Arthur lets go of you to tug off his coat. He places it on the ground and motions for you to sit. So used to fending for yourself and always being the last priority, something as simple as that has your heart skipping. “You didn’t answer my question,” you tell him as you take a seat. 

He sits beside you, knee brushing against your thigh as he pops open the bottle of whiskey he’d swiped. He twirls it around in his hand for a moment before he places it down beside himself. Your stomach dips when he turns towards you, eyes intensely meeting your eyes. 

You almost want to look away, the blue of them too intense to face. There’s honesty in his gaze and an intention you can’t recognize that forms a lump in your throat. “Yes. I was.”

Your lips twitch and you shake your head, slightly bewildered by how easily he admitted that. “I’m jealous every day I don’t get to call you mine,” he adds.

You used to be someone else’s. First, you were your father’s toy and then your husband's. When they called you theirs it was always with the intention of owning and using you. But it feels different with Arthur. It feels like handing him your bruised heart and knowing he’ll keep it safe. He says those words, and finally, you know that someone other than yourself is looking out for you. 

His hand comes up, gently brushing some hair off your cheek and drifting down to the nape of your neck. You lean forward, following his guidance, as his head dips down. Your lips meet, and the warmth emanating from him makes you realize this is truly happening. 

Cold from the stone below you seeps through his jacket and chills your legs. The feeling only further intensifies the startling realization that this is real. This isn’t one of your silly little fantasies. He’s kissing you and you aren’t doing anything.  

You sit before him, stiff as a stone, not kissing him back or showing him any sign you’re enjoying this. He picks up on that and you can already taste the apology on his lips as he begins to pull back from you. So you dart forward, clumsily pushing your lips up against his before you completely ruin your chance. 

He laughs against your eager lips, but you feel his relief in the way his shoulders slump and he relaxes back into you. One of his hands drifts down towards your waist, tugging you slightly closer, and you could melt into the feeling of him holding you. 

He tightens his hold around you, drawing you back ever so slightly, his forehead resting against yours. “You sure you want to get involved with me? It ain’t gonna be easy.”

Unwilling to part for so long, you close the distance between the both of you and finally, let yourself give in to the sensations of this moment. His palm drifts into your hair and he tilts his head to deepen the kiss. 

Perhaps due to his gruff outlaw exterior, you’d had the misguided notion that he wouldn’t be a good kisser. Men like himself seem like the type not to enjoy something as simple as a kiss. They’re used to just getting right to the point. You’re happy to discover just how wrong you were. 

Those romance books Mary-Beth devours always describe something fleeting. There’s always fireworks going off as the two people you’ve been reading about finally kiss. This isn’t like that, there isn’t a spark that reignites a cold heart. You feel safe and comforted, like you’re finally coming home. This feels real, not like some passionate moment shared between two people that will never last.

Arthur pulls back, reluctantly, and you both catch your breath. “We should probably head back soon,” he whispers, eyes trained on your lips.

You nod your head, “Probably.” Neither of you goes to move, instead you tighten your hold on one another, basking in the moment of finally having what you’ve been coveting for so long.

Next Part end. — I do not own the characters or the game Red Dead Redemption 1/2, but this writing is my own all rights reserved © not-neverland06 2025. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

Hell Hath No Fury Taglist: @buckysblondie @littlebirdgot @heloixe @summerdazed @committingcrimes-2047

@m1stea @pokiona

[sweetbunpura]

Christmas party at NRC with students and staffs and special guests

Yuu's dress

Kassie's dress (Snowy Night)

It must've been a Christmas miracle because that was the only way to describe it. Crowley had actually done everything himself while setting up the party, of course he had help from the staff so that everything wouldn't go completely wrong. The cafeteria was all decked out in holiday decorations as everyone started filtering into the room. Many of them wore a basic suit and tie combo, with colors that matches the dorms they were in. Others went all out with the winter outfits and easily stuck out among everyone in the crowd.

Ace sighed as he leaned against the cocktail table. "Where are they?"

"She said they'd be here soon." Rollo answered as he eyed the Heartslabyul student. "And why, might I ask, are you so eager for her to be here?"

"One, I wanna ditch but I promised Yuu I'd stay until she got here and I fear for my life if I break that. Two, I wanna see what she has on."

"...Why?"

"Cause we all know Crowley didn't pay her enough to get her a proper winter party outfit." Ace glanced over at him. "Wait a second, why didn't you come with them?"

"Because I had to babysit them." Rollo gestured to where Fellow, Gidel, and Grim were basically raiding the buffet while Skully was talking to Sebek. "....Wait a moment, were you going to make fun of her?"

"Not fully, maybe tease a little." Ace smirked.

"While her mother and I are here?"

"....Okay, so maybe just a tiny bit."

Deuce shook his head. "Everyday, you seemly test the limits of your own survival."

"That's rich coming from you, Juice."

"It's never on purpose like what you do!"

"I don't wanna another fight between the two of ya!" Epel broke it up before they could start. "Last time Y'all did this, you split the punch all over Vil's white outfit."

They shuddered as they remembered the whole event and how terrifying Vil looked. Rollo muttered something behind his handkerchief while Jack sighed as his ears turned towards the entrance.

"They're-"

"What? Why so quiet-Holy."

Yuu and Kassie walked through the entrance, the Homuras were sporting a pair of cute, beautiful, and mature dresses. Yuu had on short black sweater dress with a single leg slit and a star pattern etched into the bottom of the dress and it's sleeves. It also had adjustable yellow lace as part of it. Kassie wore a dark blue cocktail dress with a snow pattern on it, the top of the dress was mesh. Anyone who had been talking stopped and looked at the pair as they made their way down the stairs. Crewel stepped forward and helped Kassie down the remaining steps while Leona, smugly, did the same to Yuu.

"Thank you, Divus."

"Of course."

"I didn't take you as a gentleman, Leona."

"Only for you, Herbivore."

Divus led Kassie to where the rest of the staff was while Yuu made her way over to the group with Leona lingering behind her.

"Thank you for taking the troublemakers, Rolls." She hugged him. "They weren't too bad, were they?

"You're welcome and no, they weren't."

"They knew better?"

"They knew better."

Yuu laughed and looked at the first years. "Cat got your tongue, fellas?"

"Holy shit." Ace muttered. "W-Why are you dressed like?"

"Like what?"

"Like a cute girl!"

The guys winced and looked between Yuu and Ace, waiting for the inevitable punch, but it didn't come as the girl shook her head.

"Cause I'm adorable as hell, Acey, and every now and then, I wanna show it off." She smirked and placed her hands on her hips. "Besides, it caught your attention, didn't it?"

"And everyone else's."

Yuu pats Leona's chest. "They know better. They can look, but they can't touch."

"Unless they want a broken hand." Leona placed his hand on her hip. "C'mon, I waited to eat for you."

"Aw, is the lion hungry~?"

Leona smirked as he whispered in her ear, which set her face a light and caused her to push him. Jack, thankfully, had lowered his ears before he could hear anything.

"Oh, Rolls, did you eat?"

"....I did not."

She pointed at the buffet with a sharp glint in her eye. "Go eat."

Rollo flinched and hurried off to the food, Leona watched him as he went before turning back to Yuu.

"You taming knows no bounds, Herbivore."

"Beast Master, remember?"

Leona's ear turned towards where Kassie was and he looked over to see the woman wrangling Crowley for something he said.

"Must be hereditary."

[tnsophiaonly]

HATED - SAGAU.

In which Self-Aware Genshin People loathe your existence and believe that you're the founding reason why they're not real.

-

Tired of this obsessive and lovesick creator or impostor SAGAU? Then what about this alternate? Be wary, it's dark and we'll mentions of torture something ig idk

Basically. This is impostor AU and the real creator who looks like you is horrible af. And you're an actual impasta.

Special mentions (♡): @sleepparalasis @haru-tofuu

--

Hatred. That's all they could feel when they see your face throughout the screen. Amusement. When they see your face wrinkle in pain and frustration when you get a standard character in through wishing or when you get the wrong stats in artifacts. After all, you were the one that made that right? You were the sole reason for your own pain, you made them in a fictional universe, where nothing is real. You're horrible for that and you should take the consequences of such.

That's why you're transported in this place, in which you thought the world was heaven before became your most terrorful nightmare. Hell, just like how it should be. Teyvat is hell. An upside down world, ruled by gods-demons and filled with darkness and pain. The world you created. Right? That's your fault. Your fault alone.

---

"Oh great heavens, that's cold..." you chatted out, freezing and shaking because of the cold. You face the wrath of the Cryo Archon's Nation. The home of the so-called organization, Fatui. Snow and ice were evident everywhere. And the cold, the cold was for sure affecting you. (Especially if you live in tropical areas or close to the equator? I feel so sorry for you)

Any bits of liquid that could be created were frozen within milliseconds. So you're sobbing just makes it worse, maybe if you actually used your feet and moved and found a place to heat yourself up instead of shining and sobbing, you could probably be in a great condition right now.

But you chose to cry. Pathetic really. And you expect this to be an impostor of me? The so great, almighty creator of The Genshin Universe? Absolutely not. I'd rather guide the Traveller to the absolute truth of this world at a fast pace than be, represented by you.

But fear not, I am sure I am able to at least give some potential to you... OFCOURSE I can do it. It's me after all.

But now i should really have this pathetic excuse of an impostor of mine to.. move and do something rather than cry and freeze to death. After all, I can't have my ungrateful people of Teyvat run after a very obvious impostor who's close to dying eh?

So, much to my dismay, I chose to give you guidance, see? Such a kind creator, you're a very lucky fella..

"ah-aaachoo-!" You sneezed, it feels like something just happened, but what? And why? Those questions are left unanswered. As you unconsciously started moving your freezing feet to walk and find some shelter to heat up.

Oh how the torturous snow storm causes you pain and despair. Why were you striving forward anyways? Your whole body aches. It hurts. Why. Why.

"You deserved it." The inner within of the core speaks.

You deserved it..? Why?

No one answers.

----

After walking away which felt like centuries, you finally are met with a bonfire, a large one in fact, the only problem was that it's within a fatui camp. Oh god...

"Well, well, well.. what's a worm like you doing here for?" A taunting and mocking tone says so to you. Oh my Lord, oh it just couldn't get worse thab this, bits of electricity shocked you slowly, you were feeling the wrath of The Balladeer, the 6th Fatui Harbinger. You could only stay in your spot as you feel electro build up within you, hurting you, killing you.

You're sweating bullets of fear just turns to ice because of the environment, it was no use to run.

"Well well comrade, what's with the guest? I didn't know you were quite the welcomer!" A mocking and sarcastic voice taunted the hat guy, which earned him a glare for, the ginger bread- hair man had a boyish charm and looks, almost looking innocent if you didn't know better. Well guess it got worse.

The ginger head guy's eyes widen, as his taunting smile quickly turns into a frown. The mocking gaze turns into a face of anger, annoyance.

"Is that..." he muttered, bewildered and angry. The ginger guy quickly launched unto you, with bloodlust and wrath causing you to flinch, that's before the entire electricity builds up within you and completely shocked you to oblivion, and the ginger's defense mechanism, of course he backed down.

The electro flowing within you caused so much pain, overbearing pain, yet you did not scream. You did not scream in pain. That one thing The Balladeer was hoping for. Maybe the shock was too strong you couldn't scream at all? Yeah, that's it..

The electro shock died down, and you passed out on the spot. Yet you were still not dead. Despite the fact that electro burns were evident, and that you were crisped to the spot, you're still alive. How lucky, or should I say unlucky?

The ginger- you know what I'm tired of calling him ginger, it's Childe. Childe went close to your passed out body. Caressing your electro-burned hand, before gripping it.

A bone crack was heard, oh did he crack it too hard? No worries, he doesn't care. The fatui skirmishers walked close to the place "We'll take care of it Lord Tartaglia." The pyro agent spoke.

"No." The Balladeer protested, as he grabbed a fistful of your hair and forced your head to look at him, ofcourse you're still passed out, and you had an expression of sorrow, The Balladeer could just smirk. It's the creator.

"I could make use of our Grace after all..." He spoke sinisterly. The agents were on the edge and so was Childe, it really was the creator, they were so close to jumping and killing you on the spot if it weren't for the fact that The Balladeer was there.

-----

The sound of chains vibrated throughout the dungeon, sweet little breaths and movements.

You looked around, it was pitch black and only one candle was the source of light, which was out of reach for you.

A swarming and overwhelming feeling of cold and warm was brushed against you, the electro infused chains hurt when you try to make even the slightest movement, why were you here? Don't act stupid, you're aware why.

You could partly hear the conversation outside. It sounded a lot like the fatui agents earlier, it seems they were discussing either transporting you or guarding you still.

Your breath hitches—which echoed in the room— when they mentioned Il Dottore. They're not planning on giving you to him right...?

You could feel yourself sweating bullets, your eyes showed fear as your expression scrunches into fear. There's a 50/50 chance, but you've always lost your 50-50!

The door opens, and someone steps inside, a blue haired fellow, walking slowly and causing an intense atmosphere. You could feel yourself shaken, not because of him, but because everything feels colder. At least that's what's on your mind.

The blue haired fellow caressed your chin. And forcibly made you look at him.

"My, what a wondrous pet The Balladeer has taken upon."

[icarusredwings]

Welcome to Tonys Pizza

Tonys is used to having heros (and likewise) frequent their joint. Mr. Laufeyson want a pie? Got it. Peter want a slice? A comin right up. Hell! A cocker spaniel and a mutt wanna kiss out back over a meta balla? Fuck it. This is new york! As long as dem dogs aint from jersey.

But one of their longest, and possibly weirdest customers is- you guessed it. Wade.

Here at Tonys we got one saying. You make miya mama cry? You getta slap with da pie. Unfortunately this was true until a lawsuit in '17.

But the point still stands.

So one day, when their friend comes with a bit of extra peperoni on him? Who are they to judge? However, They DO heavily judge the fact that he just ordered a large supreme minus everything except the olives and pineapple.

"What!?? Wade you're gonna make me ma cry!" Tony jr (Tony, being his father, who tragically passed when a group of fellas thought 'pizza' was code for dope and not actual pizza) yells, throwing his hands up.

"I know, I know, but you did it for me last time!"

"Last time, my father also kept pineapples just for you in the fridge! Can't be doing that anymore, bad for business."

"Oh but the rat manning the brick oven isn't?"

"Wha!- Who told you bout- cha know what? Fine. Fine!! Aye Vinny! Our pal Wade here wants the usual!"

"WHAT!?" Came from the kitchen before a man comes out, a long rat tail in the back under his hat. You can take this literally or metaphorically.

I don't care. Im just tellin this story not writing it.

"You want me a go buy a whole pineapple just for one pizza!?"

"Yes."

He sighs, loudly taking off his apron and slammed it on the counter, muttering under his breath. "Why always the crazy ones? Move to new york ma said. Its good buisness ma said. ALWAYS the crazy ones!"

"Love ya vinnnyyy~" Wade cooes, watching him leave. Just as he does, The bell rings again. He leans on the counter with a happy grin.

"Welcome to Tonys! Ya make my mama a- c-Cry?!"

"What's taking so long?" Logan grumbles, having just wanted to go home already.

"You're the wolverine.. ThEE wolverine! Aha!! I need to call my mom! She's not gonna believe this! The Wolverine is in OUR shop!!"

Wade giggles, watching as Logan tilts his head at the attention. "Whats with him?"

"You're the Wolverine, bucko. That's a big deal around this place. Now, what do you want on your pizza, big boy?"

".. they do chorizo?"

"Mhmmm~ why? In the mood for some sausage?" Wade teases, smirking more as he coud hear Tony on the phone in the back.

"Ma! Its him! Its really him! Yeah- no, Im lookin at him!"

"....people like you Logan." Wade smiles to him, seeing him frown. "..They like the old Logan.. they think im him."

Wade's toothy grin expands, standing and leaning against him. "With all due respect, Loagie? You're nothing like him. And I love that."

"Hm."

_____

"Alright thank you guys!"

"No problemo, extra pepperoni!" Tony calls, smilin because his tip jar was now full.

"What the fuck did he just call you?" Logan turns. It wasn't hard to tell he was nicknamed this after his skin.

Putting a hand on his forearm, Wade giggles. "Easy tiger. It's an inside joke. When I first came back- like this" he gestures to his face" I asked them for extra pepperoni. They asked how much, and I said as much as I got on my face. Ever since he's called me extra pepperoni. Hey why do you get to be "super cool wolverine" and im just extra pep?"

Logan shrugs, taking the pizza box as he looks at the label, stopping on a fairly not busy side walk a few houses from the apparentment.

"Wait a sec... Wade.. you did tell them one of these were mine right?"

"Huh? What do you mean? I.. I thought I did?"

Opening the boxes, there stood two perfect pinapple olive, chorizo pies. Steaming and ready to be devoured.

The label on the receipt said "Poolverine special"

Logan cringes. "You put pineapple on our pizza??"

But Wade gasps, eyes lighting up. "Sweet salty AND spicy!! Logan, you're a genius!!"

Lets just say.. Wade picked off all the pineapple from Logan's half of the pizza, and he definitely would be returning for more poolverine specials..

Inspired by @sirwadewilsonfromimgur

Enjoy your very stereotypical ficlet

[onceuponaoneshotfanfic]

Head Over Heels in the Moment

I'm Bright Baby Blue, Falling Into You

How Chelsea!Roy met his coach's daughter for the first time.

Roy Kent x Coach's Daughter!Reader 0.7k words Warnings: Language, Chelsea!Roy, Roy already being a fool for the reader

Roy Kent wasn’t nervous about going to Chelsea. No way in hell. It was just Chelsea. Legendary Chelsea, with its history of greatness and high expectations for him.

Alright, fine, he was a smidge nervous.

But the moment he laced up his boots and stepped on the pitch, his nerves dissipated. Because no matter where he stood and no matter what kit he wore, it was still football. And Roy Kent loved football.

Just as he was starting to feel comfortable, a flash of pink caught his eye. He glanced away from the drill he was meant to be doing to take in the sight of a bright summer dress and a beaming smile. Fucking hell. If he thought his heart pounded when he ran around on the pitch, it was nothing compared to now. He tried to remember the last time his palms were this sweaty or his mouth this dry; he was failing to think of any instance.

He tapped the shoulder of the fella next to him. “Who’s that?” he asked, nodding towards the vision in pink on the sideline who had yet to even glance his way, instead cheering the names of other players. Players he suddenly wished he was.

His new teammate chuckled knowingly. “Ah. That’s Coach’s daughter. She’s always hanging around. Visits from uni whenever she can.” He clapped Roy on the shoulder sympathetically. “Stay away, though,” he said in a warning voice. “She’s completely off-limits.”

Roy rolled his eyes. “Not like I’m gonna do something,” he grumbled. “Just curious.”

Another knowing chuckle rumbled in his teammate’s chest as they resumed their drill. “Sure, Kent.”

Roy remained curious for the rest of training. He kept glancing over, trying to catch her eye. But she never looked his way. She stayed by her father’s side, watching training with a small smile on her lips. Players who came her way were greeted with waves and high-fives, as though they were old friends. He caught the way some of them looked at her; he wondered if he had the same stupid, dreamy expression on his own face. Probably did, he thought. Probably looked like a fucking wanker.

His curiosity finally got the best of him when he caught sight of her alone in the hallway after practice had ended. Telling himself he was just getting comfortable in his new home and trying to get to know people (what a fucking lie), he approached her with a half-wave.

“Oi,” he greeted as she stopped to look at him, eyebrows raised expectantly. “’m Roy.”

She nodded firmly. “I know.”

Roy tried to think of the last time a woman spoke to him so plainly. Some part of him kind of liked it. “You’ve heard of me then?” He dared to lean a smidge closer. “You a fan?”

Her eyeroll somehow managed to be charming. “I’ve been running your paperwork to HR all week,” she scoffed. Despite her aloofness, he could see the corners of her mouth tugging upwards. With another cool nod, she turned on her heel to walk away.

“Wait.” She glanced over her shoulder at him, curiosity finally coloring her face. “You going to tell me your name or what?” He cocked his head at her. “The guys just called you ‘princess’.”

Her eyes sparkled at what he guessed was a familiar nickname. “Guess you better get used to calling me ‘your royal highness’ then,” she mused.

Fuck. She was kind of funny, he realized; Roy tried not to find her so fucking attractive, he really did, but it was impossible. So impossible that he couldn’t help the smirk that crossed his face as he shook his head gently at her. “Alright, next time I’ll be sure to mind my manners and curtsy pretty for you.”

That did it. She smiled at him, a real smile that filled her pretty face and made his heart stop in his chest. “Looking forward to it,” she hummed. With a wave over her shoulder, she resumed walking away, this time with a bit more of a spring to her step. “Welcome to Chelsea, Roy Kent.”

Roy unabashedly watched her walk away, his jaw slacking slightly. Off-limits, he reminded himself. Absolutely off-limits. But then she turned a corner, glancing back at him with that smile still on her face.

Fuck it, he thought. Maybe she’d be worth getting in a little bit of trouble for.

[ruhorih4ra]

Hello fellas 🧙🏻‍♂️ long time no see... Heheh

Get out of my way: the new exchange student!

She was doomed from the beginning. Since the first time her body appeared in that grim room, surrounded by demons. Demons! The one and only Lucifer, fallen angel and king of hell. Except he wasn’t the King of Hell and instead of being an horrendous monster he was a good looking jerk with an old-fashioned uniform. At the time he was kind and respectful, but she knew it, when she saw the demon’s eyes, those eyes that spoke for themselves, she was sure that Lucifer knew.

She is extremely capable to do her job, so she remained calm. When Asmodeus touched her body and exclaimed with a very sweet and fake voice that she was beautiful and how he couldn’t help but want to feel her skin, she knew he was merely doing a security check. That implied that Asmodeus aka The Avatar of Lust, also knew her secret.

Initially, Beelzebub was left in charge of her, The Avatar of Gluttony and King of flies looking after a human? She did her best to remain unfazed by his stature and stern features, but really appreciated when Mammon stepped in and demanded to be in charge. That was until he pinched her forearm so bad she felt a drop of blood slide down her arm, “Don’t try anything funny, human.” So, The Avatar of Greed knew too.

She did a quick report. Real demons, all have different eccentric traits, some have functional wings, others have tails, all of them are taller than the average human. They have unusual features and seem to speak English fluently. All of them knew her now not-so-secret secret.

She tried to look for the famous exchange student, the human who had been kidnapped. Sc only saw you for a split second before her vision was blocked by the prince of the Devildom. “Welcome to the Devildom, Sc.” He smiled and it was so honest and open that he could have fooled her. “Thank you, Your Majesty.”

When Diavolo finally introduced you, she felt relieved. You seemed to be a nice, kind person. So she assumed her reports were correct and you had developed Stockholm syndrome after being captured for a whole year. “Nice to meet you, Mc.”

“Nice to meet you too, Sc. Don’t worry, you’ll have a good time here.” You replied, your eyes were kind and you seemed genuine. Sc felt sorry, she knew right there that you were the only one who wasn’t aware of her intentions.

However, that was the first and one of the few times she could actually talk with you. Sc knew they would try to avoid leaving the two alone, but they were more stubborn than she had thought, always putting you in opposite directions.

She had received a particularly harsh reprimand one day after “helping” you with council work. She wasn’t trying to be sly, but you offered her information for free so why not? Lucifer seemed furious, Sc didn’t know what made him angrier the fact that Mammon wasn’t there and thus you had been alone or the possibility of an information leak. Mammon arrived before she could say anything relevant, but Lucifer probably knew that already.

However, that day he offered a free waltz class. She accepted, what else could she have done? “I told you to stay away from them, human. I know who you are and your reasons to be here, don’t bring Mc into this.”

Sc didn’t lose her temper and kept smiling, dancing as well as an expert. “Why? Are you afraid of losing them?” She was so sure that Lucifer wouldn’t try anything while you were under the same roof that she let down her guard. “Is that a threat?” Lucifer asked, staying calm too, leading the dance with the same softness of his voice. “You brought them here without their consent, forcing them to coexist with you and your brothers.”

Lucifer raised an eyebrow and Sc took it as an invitation to continue. “You put them in danger and manipulated them to love you. That’s not love, that’s codependency.” Lucifer’s grip tightened, squeezing the new exchange student’s hand more and more. “I see you have been thinking about it quite a lot, human. You can think whatever suits you best as long as you stay away from Mc.”

“That’s enough, Lucifer.” Sc felt his hand being slowly crushed under an unstoppable force. “If you try to hurt them I’ll break every single one of your bones with my own hands.” Lucifer smiled and tilted his head. “Almost as good as a cursed record, don’t you think?” Sc couldn’t reply, the pain of having her hand completely crushed was too much, her skin was pale, if she didn’t fall was because Lucifer’s hold on her waist. Before she fainted, Sc took Lucifer from the shirt collar. “They’ll realize what kind of monster you are and we’ll leave together.”

She couldn’t remember a thing after that, she woke up in her bed with her hand completely fine. However, after that the brothers reinforced their security, there wasn’t a moment in which one of them was not watching her and thus she couldn’t get close to you. Always playing with Leviathan, reading with Satan, sleeping with the twins, shopping with Asmo. It was torture.

“Mc love this game.” “This is Mc’s favorite book.” “Don’t touch Mc’s pillow.” “I remember that time with Mc when…”

Why? Sc wanted to pull out her hair in desperation. Since she arrived her mission had been impossible, she couldn’t get any information of the Three-Legged Crow Group and their recent growth in the human world, Sc knows that the prince is closely related but that’s all.

Oh, but in comparison, she knows lots of things about Mc’s whole routine, what they like and dislike. They were like puppies wagging their tails at the mention of your name, no, maybe it would be better to call them worshipers. They didn’t act like demons, not unless they thought she was up to something against their beloved human.

That’s when she decided to take action. Her contacts told her about a certain creep in a local market that was always ready to offer solutions. She asked Beel to take her there with the excuse of wanting to know more about the devildom’s cuisine and then… Beelzebub had been glued to her the entire time.

Sc hadn't completely overcome her fear of Beelzebub, but she had to admit that looking the gigantic demon cry over pudding had been a great help. Still, Beelzebub is a demon capable of swallowing her within seconds if he wanted and that’s something she couldn’t ignore. “No turning back now, not without Mc.”

“My lord, do you know that I am a spy who was sent to the Devildom to gather information about Lord Diavolo?” Sc spoke in her best professional voice. As expected, Beelzebub face remained neutral, nodding slightly. “Lord Diavolo tried to kill a human, they were at an amusement park.”

“That human shot Belphie, Lord Diavolo showed mercy, I would have shown him my fangs.” Beelzebub said with a mouth full of fries. “Following that logic, Lord Belphegor killed Mc, right? what should we humans do?”

Beelzebub stopped, he didn't look angry or threatening, he looked embarrassed. “Mc didn't die.”

“They died, in a sense. You know that, right? Why are they still here? Are you threatening them? Why?” Sc stood in front of Beelzebub, her heart violently shaking her whole body. “Mc is nice and understanding, they forgave us. I don't know why and no, we're not threatening them.” Beelzebub had stopped eating, he stood in the middle of the busy sidewalk, earning curious glances from passing demons.

“Are they nice and understanding or they have to be? How much of their love is just well-masked fear, my lord?” The woman knew that Beelzebub had been an angel, when he speaks about you she can even see some of that light in the demon's eyes.

Beelzebub wasn't a fan of overthinking, although he was an expert on the matter. The fact is that he didn't have time to do it while you were in his arms, feeding him his favorite desserts or sitting on his back sharing your day while he did push-ups. He had wondered those things too, but he had pushed them to the far corner of his mind. What if Sc was correct? What if they weren't protecting you?

Beel felt the sudden need to see your face and so he turned around. “We should go back to the house of lamentation.” he didn't wait for Sc, just walked along the crowd with stiff steps and a gloomy face. “Mc can leave if they want, they're strong and capable. They even confronted Lucifer more than once, protecting Luke and me and... don't tell Lucifer I told you this.” He stopped, not many demons were around anymore, the stalls and enthusiasm of the market had disappeared. “They don't need us as much as we need them. It must look twisted from the outside but I don’t want them to leave.” The red-haired demon stopped as a certain question forced its way through all of his troublesome thoughts. “How do you know what Belphie did?”

Beelzebub turned to see Sc, but he just found an empty street, that and the horrible silence that settles before the painful realization that he had been fooled.

Sc was taught to be discreet and silent, her steps didn't make a sound, losing Beelzebub had been easy once the demon's mind had wandered far from there. It was only when she was in front of the shady place that she started questioning her plan. It didn't even look like a shop and, if that wasn't enough, it was quite far from the local market too.

But she entered nonetheless, the classic sound of a small bell ringing was heard when she opened the door and peeked inside. Two white eyes that resembled a pair of marbles and were the only perceptible thing in the dark room met her eyes and left a sensation that ran down her spine and shook her nerves.

She thought of backing off, but she saw Beelzebub looking for her and quickly stepped inside.

“I need something to neutralize demons.” She walked towards the pair of eyes that laughed with a quiet delight. “Now.” She held the demon's gaze and cursed when someone knocked at the main door. The demon put a bird cage on the table. “10,000 Grimm.”

“What the fuck is this?! Those idiots are at least 6’0 tall, this crap is the size of a rat!” Sc hissed but the bell rang again and her muscles acted on its own, taking the cage and leaving the Grimm.

“What are you doing? What is that?” She had never seen the avatar of gluttony so angry and threatening. “I need it for my classes.” Sc said with the last shred of will she had left, feeling a pang of shame when she heard her own voice sound like a little girl on the verge of crying. Beelzebub inspected the cage first and then the seller, trying to choose the best way to proceed. “Fine, but you'll show it to Lucifer later.”

Beel dragged her carelessly through the Devildom's streets. She could hardly hold the cage and follow the demon's footsteps, before she could even think in the possibility, the cage slipped from her hand and rolled open on the floor. “Wait, lord Beelzebub!”

Beel stopped and picked up the cage in less than a second, handing it to Sc and resuming his previous race, but Sc’s movements were even more clumsy than before as she couldn't stop looking at a little black cloud swirling around Beelzebub's head.

“My lord, you have something on your head.” Sc murmured, stopping Beelzebub again from his hasty walk. The demon just looked around, the murderous scowl that had formed on his face gave way to one of curiosity. “I don't see anything.” He gave Sc a look that meant he wouldn’t stop again and promptly turned around and once again took her wrist to continue walking.

Lucifer found nothing out of the ordinary with the cage, he merely raised an eyebrow and sighed in annoyance, “I suggest something bigger.” He said as his only comment. Eventually she thought that everything had been a scam, surely the seller had seen a good opportunity to fool her and that was the end of her little feat.

That was until your blood stained the House of Lamentation and she saw for the first time since her arrival the fear painfully painted on the faces of all the brothers, from the youngest to the oldest. They had rushed to your room while she stood there, looking stupidly at the dried blood as a lump formed in her throat.

Perversely, and much to her shame, she realized that for the very first time since she set foot in hell she was alone. Nobody was watching her, she could wander around with no one to stop her.

Finally, she could do her job.

So she remained silent, even when she saw two little demons bothering you at the dining table. She kept quiet, even when a little demon (who didn't look so little anymore) threw a book at her head when she tried to catch him. She didn't say a word, not even when you fought with Lucifer and left everyone feeling miserable.

She could remember Satan's madness, the raw emotion, the demon had radiated, drowning Sc in a sea of anxiety and fear. But even then she remained calm, because surely you would forgive them, surely you would forgive her too, right?

She didn't mutter a single word because it was working. She had been forgotten even by the prince and his terrifying butler. She convinced herself that this was for the best and that you would thank her once you were both in the human world.

However, that changed one night, when Mammon arrived to the library and roughly tied up her wrists. “How did you know I was here?!” Sc struggled in an attempt to free herself from the rope. “I have eyes everywhere.” Mammon winked at her and forced her to walk ahead of him. “Where are we going? Where is Mc?”

Mammon stopped, but his hands stopped Sc from turning around. “Why are you askin’, human?” Sc felt the pointy nails of the greed demon caressing her neck. “They seem off, I’m worried. That’s all.” And wasn’t that true after all? You were different, ever since the fight you have been more rude and violent. Even she has retreated behind Lucifer’s back when you pass by.

“Someone attacked them.” The avatar of greed’s voice was cold and composed. “Those idiots dared to hurt them.” Sc felt Mammon´s nail pressing on her neck, exactly on the carotid arteries. “Do you know something about it, witch?”

“No, I don’t. Are they oka-!” The young woman couldn’t say anything else as the demon pushed her to the floor. “Ya wanna know somethin’ human? Truth is Mc’s not a bad liar, ya know? They had lied to me looking straight to my face without batting an eye.” Sc’s groaned when Mammon took her by the hair and forced her to stay still while he spoke just inches away from her face. “It’s unfair, you see, because we are demons, I can hear your heart screaming the truth, it’s so loud it hurts my fuckin’ ears.”

“Please, I ddon’t knnow anything.” Sc said in short breaths. “Are they okay?” Sc asked again. Mammon tightened his grip on the woman’s hair before releasing her. “Yes they are. I’ll take you to the attic and you’ll stay there until Satan beats the truth out of you.”

Luckily, she wasn’t held hostage for long and nobody ripped the truth out of her, no wonder why. They looked miserable, awful, lost. Sc had found what had happened, from the attack and the fact that the attackers remained unknown, to your decision to stay in purgatory hall.

Every time she saw you, you were surrounded by little demons. No, they weren’t little anymore, they were real copycats of the brothers. They were your guardian demons, spinning around your head like nasty flies. She knew it was her fault, after all, they had appeared after she bought that cage.

At one point she had decided that the mission wasn’t as important as you and that she should do something but then again, things were much better now that the brothers weren’t there all the time but bloody hell, things were worse now that you were alone with those pests.

She got out of her classes to take a break and that’s when she saw you sitting alone at an old and almost crumbling table. She counted them, there were 6 demons already, one more than the last time.

Sc looked at her hands, only one report left and you could leave the devildom. She only needed a little more time, then she could save you and show the world the truth. Almost unconsciously, her eyes landed on you again, sleeping peacefully in that lonely place.

Part 22?

She swallowed hard before going back to her business. Not even 5 seconds passed when she heard a loud sound coming from the place you were at before, she ran as fast as possible but when she arrived you had disappeared and the table you were in was now reduced to a pile of rocks.

I know I don't update this (or anything, actually :3) often, so feel free to tell me if you want to be removed from this humble taglist hahshaha.♡

Taglist: @yuumaofc @asmolover1234 @gallantys @prefesro @urminebutidontwantyou @fiveofspades @exrellian @kaiserkisser @cutestpatoootie @fandumshippr @frenchmess23yo @reject-queen @completelyshatteredbrokenmschf

[ice-cream-writes-stuff]

☆There's No Place Like Home☆

Episode 1: A Warm Welcome

[Pilot]

《You are new to this... Neighborhood? Where the hell are you?》

《Warnings: the subject matter this ARG has are potentially disturbing. DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT. Welcome Home was created by Clown @ partycoffin 》

-

Furiously wiping at your eyes, snot running down to your chin. You try to control yourself when realizing that the voices didn't sound like they were gonna hurt you.

"Oh, dear!"

"My goodness!"

"Are you alright!?"

Shaking like a leaf, you gaze down at the rainbow-colored pieces of paper falling down your shoulders.

"Wh-hat?"

You choke out, feeling spit and vile in the back of your throat.

"Neighbor, are you alright?" A soft voice questioned you, gazing up at...

That is not a person. What are you even looking at?

A yellow fleece-skinned puppet with blue hair styled into a tall, spiraled pompadour and 70s clothing greets you. He kneels beside you, reaching out a yellow hand to your back, rubbing it up and down gently.

His expression was rather calm than frightened of your well-being.

You wanted him to back away and didn't have the energy to shove him if you were honest. It felt like your skin was saggy and your bones turned into juice.

"I'm so sorry Neighbor, we didn't mean to frighten you. Right everyone?" The male puppet says, looking at the other puppets that stared at you with worry.

"O-oh, yes!" One of them rushes to you, causing you to lean back. "I'm so so so sorry! We didn't mean to come in without asking! Of course, we scared you! Poor thing!" The pink fleece-skinned skinned puppet exclaimed.

"Julie, maybe give them a bit of space, you're invading it." Another voice pipes up behind the female puppet. A gray puppet pulls the girl back by the arms gently.

"Oh, right!"

"What are you?" You whisper, and your pupils were blown out with fear.

"WHO. Are you?" You ask more loudly, catching the colorful group off guard.

"I forgot! Introductions are in order!" The pink puppet proclaimed.

"My name is Julie! Julie Joyful, oh, this is Frank!" "Frank Frankly."

"I wanna go next!" A voice boomed, and another puppet appears in your line of vision. "My name's Sally! Sally Starlet! And I'm a star!" She flaunts good-naturedly, her eyes bright with energy.

"Oh, I forgot!" Sally pulls a giant bird with rainbow feathers, a caterpillar-like puppet, and a mailman puppet toward your supposed "group".

"This is Poppy, Eddie, and Howdy!" They smile at you kindly before Howdy pulls out a cake, (from seemingly out of nowhere.). He holds it out with a smile with his multitude of hands.

"We brought a welcome cake from my bodega! We hope you would enjoy it," Howdy said showing it out to you from your position on the floor. The cake was layered with white frosting and rainbow sprinkles slathered around the giant frosted words: Welcome To The Neighborhood.

Little signatures surround the bottom of the bolded words. "Oh.. Thank you..? That's very, uhm, sweet."

You pause, recalling your words in your head and becoming quiet.

"Hahah! Good one bud'!" A big blue puppet dog laughed, slapping his paw on his knee. His laughter was contagious as the rest of the marionettes giggled along.

"You're gonna' fit right in! Names, Barnby B. Beagle, your new Neighbor."

The dog winked, holding out his hand for a shake. Yet moves his hand away when he pulls the yellow puppet from beside you. Holding him by his armpits and showcasing him like a shiny trinket. The blue-haired puppet seemed unfazed and still had his soft expression.

"This nice 'fella here is Wally, a real Darling! Hehe, a pal of mine! My best-est buddy, and hopefully, your's too!"

Why did it feel like this was a commercial or a horrible skit you weren't in on?

"It's lovely to meet you, Neighbor," Wally replied.

You nodded, looking away from his eyes and focusing on the cake.

You felt better than earlier when you thought you walked into some murdered party or cult-type thing. But was it worse than talking puppets without strings?

You aren't sure yet?

Was this cake even real? Was any of this real??

"W-ell, thank you for the hospitality. But this isn't my home... I'm not even sure where this place even is?"

The puppets grow quiet at your words. Their confused stares made you uncomfortable and queasy. "This is Home, where inside your Home silly! Isn't this all your stuff?"

Poppy points out, gazing at the clutter of unopened boxes and furniture.

"Hmm, they must have forgotten. Moving is tricky business, especially on short notice." Frank states thoughtfully.

"N-no that's not-"

You feel your tongue become limp and your eyesight blurring into meshes of color.

"Are you okay, Neighbor? I bet all that stress of moving got ya' pretty tired. C'mon, let's eat some cake!"

Barnby states, letting go of Wally and helping you up.

Everyone cheers as Sally goes off to find cutlery in one of the boxes. Howdy places the cake on a table hidden away in a corner while Eddie and Frank round up any chairs they could find.

Wally pulls out your seat like a gentleman, handing you a plate of cake as everyone chats and eats

-

[Taglist closed]

@tearjerker666 @trzppyghxuls @cookieswithay @luna-charlie @isometimeswritestuff @kazi-pop @lightspectre-universe @jjowithastar @smilingfox22-blog @jayysnotjoyful @cadaverous-coop @heather-hutchcroft @camilo-uwu @pauldanosbandonedirection222 @sweetheartturtle2007 @pretty-please-just-let-me-sleep @welcomehome102

[Hiya! Thank you guys so much for such the positive comments! I need some more, I crave. Readings ya'lls reactions are the best and make it easier for me. Thanks! Art is always appreciated!]

[redfoxwritesstuff]

For Eternity, Chapter 2 of 13

Alastor x Angel!Wife Oc (Isabel) Rated: Adult - this fic contains content inappropriate for minors. Chapter Warnings: Suggestions of sexual assault

Masterlist AO3 KoFi

“Welcome back, Ladies!” Alastor was in the hotel lobby as soon as the doors opened. “How did your ill-fated endeavor go?” 

“Bad.” Vaggie answered, not wanting to talk about any of it. The less people that knew her angelic origin story, the better in her mind. 

“Alastor?” Charlie tried to find the similarities between the man in the picture she had spent most of the trip home looking at and the one standing before her. 

“Whatever can I do for you?” He was in front of her in a heartbeat, leaning into her space slightly, hands planted on his cane as was his way.

“I think maybe I have something for you?” Charlie held out the silver pocket watch. 

“Angelic steel?” He asked as he stepped closer, eyebrow cocked in curiosity. “As a pocket watch? What a silly trinket to bring back. Pocket watches were a thing of the past long before my day.”

“It was given to me. A woman, she asked me to give it to you. At least, I think you’re who it’s for. Maybe there’s another Alastor? Or one who isn’t dead yet. Or one that already had their soul destroyed. Or-”

Alastor bounced the watch in his hand a few times, enjoying the weight of a well made pocket watch in the palm of his hand. Wristwatches had indeed replaced the pocket by in his time on earth. Still, they had an elegance he had favored in life that few knew about. 

They made handy trinkets to fiddle with. In life, he’d run his thumb over the faceplate of the watch his wife had gotten him while he stalked his victims… or while he sat through pointless meetings. 

She had gotten it for him as a gift early in their marriage, upon discovering his rather modest personal collection. It’s weight lived in his pocket during those few short months they had spent together. In the time after her death however, he had wore the faceplate smooth, running his thumb over it again and again as he went about his daily life. 

Alastor froze as he opened the watch. A face he had spent what felt like eternity trying to forget looked up at him.

He had hoped that was where she was. He had feared she had already perished in hell, having been damned for one wrong thought or some childhood action like so many of the weakest sinners in the realm. 

Static jumbled his voice, radio filter going heavy, “Where did you get this?” 

“A woman, she gave it to me.” A shiver ran up Charlie’s spine as Alastor clicked closed the watch and slipped it in his pocket, moving without a trace of the dangerous flair of power he had displayed. “Do you- is she-”

“My wife.” He confirmed. Though they had been separated in death, he wouldn’t deny her. He had spent decades trying and failing to forget her, but he would never deny her outright. 

“You had a wife?” Angel was too shocked to add any quips to his question. Alastor having a wife ment that surely, at some point he had an interest in more than just himself. “Does that mean that you do-”

“I advise you to speak carefully,” Words came nearly lost in static as shadows deepened, lights dimmed and Alastor’s back twisted and his neck turned far more than should have been possible so Angel was faced with his terrifying face. 

“What is she like?” Charlie was eager to settle the mood and learn more of the woman who she had only gotten to meet for a fleeting moment.

“She was sweet as honey. A woman truly deserving of Heaven.”

“How’ed she end up with a fella like you?” Angel stuck his neck out to ask the question on everyone’s mind, not having enough sense of self preservation to keep his mouth shut after the first warning. 

“I was far from deserving of her,” Alastor felt like such didn’t need saying. “We had family connections pushing us together. Is she well?” 

Charlie hesitated, her mind replaying the way Adam manhandled the wisp of a woman. 

“She’s in Heaven.” Vaggie answered, as if that was an answer. 

Alastor accepted it with a nod, “I thank you for bringing me her trinket.” 

“She said to tell you that she loved you,” Charlie blurted out. “No, that’s not exactly it. She would always love you, that was it. I didn’t have a chance to talk to her but she said she would wait forever for you.”

The wide toothed smile on Alastor’s face closed, pulling tight, “She shouldn’t.”

“You can try for redemption.” Charlie felt renewed hope for him. He had someone to be redeemed for!

“No, thank you.” Alastor’s smile grew again, cut wide by his sharp teeth. “I am hardly the man she knew. I thank you again, for the trinket, and carrying my Isabel’s message. Good Night.”

~~~~~<3

Adam was in a rage as he threw her against the wall. Isabel wished for nothing more than to die. If this was heaven, she didn’t want to be here. 

“What were you talking about!”

“I just wanted to find him.” She whimpered in the face of Adam’s rage. He was held up as the perfect man, the first man. If he was placed next to the man she loved though, he couldn’t even live up to his shadow. 

“He’s a disgusting Sinner!” Adam grabbed her again. “Why do you hold out for him? You could have me, the original dick.”

“You’ll never be half the man he was!” 

Adam threw her on the floor and loomed over her. “Take what I am willing to give you,” His hand grasped her ankle and pulled her toward him as she tried to get away. “And I will make you forget him.” 

“You’re as much a sinner as anyone in hell!” She kicked at him, “This is no Heaven. This is but a beautiful blasphemous lie. This is Hell!” 

~~~~~<3

Alastor sat in Rosie’s parlor, teacup of rich warm blood swirling as he was lost in his thoughts. Across from him sat his dearest friend in Hell. Her territory was a refuge for him, somewhere without cameras and where those who would spread idle gossip about him were not eager to wander inside.

“Alastor Dear, As glad as I am to see your face, what troubles you?” 

Rosie had been sitting in silence, watching him. She waited patiently for him to open up before her soft prodding, though she wouldn’t dare push or pry. Maintaining a friendship with her often chaotic fellow Overlord took some delicacy and respect for his many boundaries and walls.

“My wife,” Alastor’s smile was subdued yet ever present even as the weight of his punishment in hell crashed over him once again. 

It was a weight he had long ago gotten used to. He had learned to thrive under but when he was forced to remember this part of his living life, it was a stone around his neck that threatened to try to drown him. There wasn’t a chance in hell that he would let it.

He needed to once again cast aside the stone. She was where she belonged and he would never be with her again. So what if she waited for him? So what if she still loved him? She didn’t know the sins he carried. He needed to throw her memory aside, once again, and leave the past in the past. 

There was nothing that could be done to change anything. 

She sat back in her chair, back perfectly straight and empty eyes wide. Sure, she had been privy to the fact that at one time, he had been married but most gave up such ownership over their spouse after a few decades, referring to them as former, ex or late.

It was easy to assume due to his apparent lack of romantic or sexual drive that he had mentally divorced himself from the relationship long ago, shed the shackles that societal expectations bound him with in his life. They hadn’t spoken explicitly about his preferences or desires, it wouldn’t be proper, but she had a way of knowing these things. 

Or at least, she had thought she did.

The idea that taking a wife had been anything more meaningful to him than the socially expected and proper thing to do hadn’t crossed even her mind. All things exist in a spectrum, she supposed, and matters of the heart were rarely anything less than complex. 

Alastor placed a open pocket watch on the table between them after she was all but certain that he wasn’t going to discuss the matter further, “She’s in Heaven.” 

“How did you get this?” She asked, picking the silver watch, gleaming in a way things in hell rarely did, and examining the picture inside. 

It was hand sketched and ever so detailed. Crafting the image clearly took a significant amount of time. Someone had slaved over the artwork inside for a great many hours to produce something that had near photo results. 

“Is this-?” 

“My Darling and I, the day we wed.” Alastor confirmed. “She had always been a talented artist, though I’d say her skills have progressed significantly in the decades since she left my side.” 

“It’s very good,” Rosie said, “You made a lovely couple.” 

“Our Darling Princess delivered it when she returned from Heaven,” Alastor took a long pull from his teacup. “A gift from Isabel.”

“I’m so sorry, Alastor.” She slid the watch back toward him, not sure what the proper thing to say to him in that moment was. 

“No need, my dear friend.” He absently responded as he pocketed the watch, sparing a moment to run his thumb over the faceplate hiding the picture inside. “No need. She is where she belongs, as am I.” 

“Yet it weighs on you,” Rosie pointed out, “You long for her?”

“Perhaps.” Alastor wasn’t fond of the questioning but thankfully, Rosie did so with tact and respect. It was something lacking from the hotel residents who struggled to picture him caring for anyone, let alone as a husband. “She is safe, as she should be.”

“It’s a relief then?” Rosie asked, plucking a lady finger from the plate between them. “To know she didn’t parish in an extermination?” 

It hadn’t occurred to her that he had been looking for, hunting for anything more than the powerful demons he killed as he arose to power. Perhaps there had been a bit of something else driving the events of those days. Now wasn’t the time to ask however.

“To know that she is where she belongs,” Alastor countered.

“Which isn’t with you?” Rosie delicately tried to untangle the complexities of her dear friend. 

“Which is somewhere safe,” Alastor corrected. “You know just as well as I, Hell chews up and spits out those who are not savage enough to earn respect and take power.” 

~~~~~<3

Sulfur stung her nose as the portal to Hell opened. This was her chance, she had humored Adam though it had made her skin crawl to get to this moment. Adam wasn’t an intelligent man but still, it wasn’t easy to allow him to believe that she was finally willing to entertain his advances, his hands on her. 

It was too much to hope for that he would know anything about her husband but he was her ticket to where he was. It was common knowledge that Adam took his warrior angles between Heaven and Hell in order to protect the gates. 

There’s no way she could convince Adam to take her with him. Manipulation wasn’t her strength in the slightest. Just pretending to accept Adams advances was challenging enough. 

It wasn’t for nothing at least. It had gotten her here, standing at the front of the select crowd who would see off Adam and his warriors to the mighty battle as the citizens of Hell once again rose up to try and overtake the gates. This was a war only a select few knew about and being one of those few took work. 

Golden sparks kicked to life in the air in front of the army. Sparks grew, swirling to life into a large portal from what had started as a pinprick. Adam offered her a cocky grin that she did not return before he lead the first wave of his army though.

This was her chance, Isabel knew. It was now or never. If she let this chance pass by, she wouldn’t get another. 

Counting, Isabel prepared herself to do something she knew she could never come back from. 

One. Looking in the distance she saw her Mother-in-law nod her blessing. How she had managed to get that close, Isabel would never be able to ask her. Everything she had learned, everything she had feared, everything she had experienced in Heaven, she had shared with her dear Alastor’s mother. If anyone knew how much being separated from him was torture to her, it would be his mother. 

Two. She fluttered out her wings, tensing muscles and ruffling feathers. To pull this off she needed every feather in place. She needed every muscle to propel her forward before anyone could stop her. Hopefully at least. 

Three. One last deep breath of the cleanest air she would ever breathe as the hot sulphuric air wafted into heaven from the open portal. Just a few more rows of the army were left. 

 Now. She ran, long dress clutched in one fist as she hiked the hemline up to her knees, wishing she had worn the dip hemline she had favored instead of the ankle long hemline Adam liked. She had to manage without getting caught. She had to make it through and out of reach of the angels while she fell. 

One powerful beat after the other allowed her to pick up speed as she ran forward, going as fast as her legs would carry her. Then she was going faster, feet grazing the stone floors as she shot forward into the stream of deadly angel warriors.

Fingers grazed the feathers of her wings in a startled attempt to stop her as she shot away from the army. For a moment, she was disorientated. 

They were supposed to be high above hell, defending the gates from one of the frequent uprisings. She had planned to fall, hoping to miss the battle and fall fairly safely.

Instead, the portal all but threw her out into the battle near the grounds of Hell. This wasn’t right but Isabel had no time to get her feet under her. The air burned her lungs as she gulped  air as her wings beat with all the strength she could manage. 

Dodging out from the army, a black tentacle nearly knocked her out of the air. She had to get away from here, where ever here was before she could do anything else. Flying from rooftop to rooftop, she did everything she could to try and put distance between her and the battle without drawing attention to herself.

Once the fighting was over, she would look for him. First she had to find somewhere safer to wait out the violent fighting taking place around the large building. Surely, everyone would be paying attention to the battle and one lone angel wouldn’t draw too much attention, right?

~~~~~<3

TagList: @catticora, @alastor-simp

[jellyfishoreo1206]

hey dude! really like ur work lol :3 can you write a tf2 medic with a fem or gn reader who is alternative (like punk/goth?) it can be headcannons or a drabble or whatever u want :) thanks bud!

Medic with an Alt! Reader (gender-neutral)

Notes: Of course! Again, I'm sorry if it seems like I ignored your ask! For that, I'll attempt to make it extra long :3 Please correct me if I get anything wrong about the history of Alternative fashion/music, I mostly referenced Wikipedia, but I don't think there was enough information for me to go on. I didn't know if you wanted this to be a romantic pairing or just platonic, so I'm doing both!

So coming back to this, I realized that the first half of this is talking about Alt Reader, but then the next half it's literally just romance head cannons that have nothing to do with the ask. I've been carried away by the amount of ideas that have been flooding my brain at night that I completely forgot what I was doing in the first place. At this point, I'm just rolling with it, I'm sorry Anon

Warning(s): Medic being medic, cussing, mentions of reader smoking, slight spoilers for the TF2 Comics.

M/C = Merc Class

---

Platonic

Considering that this is the late 60's (and alt becoming a thing somewhere in the 1970's or 80's), Medic would take a keen interest in you.

Whether you take interest in Emo, Goth, Hip-Hop (which apparently is a form of Alt fashion! Good to know), Punk, Rocker or Grunge fashion; all of them have a few things in common, they all stand out from the mainstream fashion going on in that time, some are more artistic and attention-grabbing, and some coming to be as a break from beliefs.

I'm not going to lie to you, at first he thought it was some type of disorder

"I want to find out what's wrong with them" That's what's going through his mind 😭

He's so curious, you're going to be his new subject of interest until he has studied every inch of you

Whether that be operating on you or studying how you behave from afar.

---

Several days have passed since you've joined the mercenaries. You seem to be adjusting well enough to the team, getting along semi-okay with your teammates (if you ignore how the on your first day Soldier nearly killed you because he mistook you as a demon, shouting absolute nonsense). Engineer has been one of the most welcoming out of your teammates, offering to show you around and letting you know what to watch out for.

But there is one teammate that you can't even bring yourself to being around. The Medic.

God, you would think that the Engineer would at least warn you about him and his behavior, dude is seriously all kinds of creepy.

Ever since you got here, he's been watching you like a hawk. Always seeing him out of the corner of your eye, conveniently always being in the same room as you; Hell! Even following you out in the battle field. You even think you woke up to him crouching menacingly in the corner of your room, watching as you slept with a creepy smile on his face and an insane look in those eyes of his. (Desperately wishing that it was some kind of paranoia-filled nightmare and praying to whatever god that is up there that it wasn't real.)

"I swear! Was it something I did??" You decided to express your concerns to the Engineer, considering he is one of the more reasonable one's out of the mercs, and being the first person you hit it off with when you first arrived. He hummed in thought—putting down the sentry gun that he was tinkering with—turning to face you as he pushes his hard-hat back into place.

"Medic is a strange fella, I know tha'. But I don' think I've ever heard him act like this..." His response only seemed to add on to your distress, sitting yourself on the floor of his workshop with a loud groan. Great, so even he doesn't know what's going on either. "I'll hafta talk with him la'er, see wha's up with 'im."

"I appreciate it, Engineer."

"Please, call me Engie."

---

When the Engineer brought up the Medic's behavior to him, he just laughed it off

"Oh Herr Engineer, you must know as a man of science that this is simply an observation!" "...What exactly are ya' observin'?" "Haven't you noticed? How they dress! Is it a form of trauma? Or a type of disorder! I must find out!" *Cue him holding a bloody hand saw in the most menacing way possible* "Then..why don'tcha jus' ask them up front?" "I like my methods better."

Yeahhhh, he has a really bad case of autism

When Engie told you what the Medic told him, you just got even more confused.

What would the way you dress have anything to do with your mental state?

I mean, yeah, you've turned heads whenever you went out to do mundane tasks back home (such as picking something up from the store or returning something to a friend), and you had several people tell you that'll they will pray for you, but you've never had someone assume that it was straight up a disorder??

The thought itself just confuses you

Engie was right about him being weird..

---

A month has passed, and it seems like the Medic's behavior has calmed down a bit. Emphasis on a bit.

He stopped following you around out in the battlefield as much and seems to be getting back into his regular schedule of being the medic for the team; but you're starting to notice something else...

It seems he's attempting to talk to you! The whole entire time you've been here at the base, you two never actually had a proper conversation (mainly it was because you were attempting to avoid him as much as possible at the start, and Medic because he just saw you as another subject). The first time it happened was late at night, almost the early hours of the morning. You were in the kitchen, making some coffee for yourself and the Engineer (who has yet to go to sleep). You were pretty sure it was only the two of you awake at this time, since you didn't hear anything else other than the distant clinging and clanking of the engineer's machinery.

With both hands occupied with a mug of hot coffee, you were about to make your way out of the kitchen when you felt your heart drop. Jesus FUCKING CHRIST, HOW LONG WAS HE STANDING THERE????

Might as well be called The SPY instead with how fucking quiet he was.

You both made awkward eye-contact—awkward for you anyway—he seemed tired, but that didn't stop him from smiling at you—teeth and all.

"Ach, guten morgen!" He offers a small wave, his voice cheery despite his obvious exhaustion.

You didn't say anything, you bolted out of there.

Nope nope nope nope nopenopenope-!

---

The Medic didn't seem to take that reaction personally

If anything, it made him more curious

So he attempts to strike up another conversation, but this time with company around, since he was scolded by the engineer the very next day

Whether it was during dinner-time, before a match, or even game-nights (as chaotic as they can be); he always attempts to strike up conversations, whether you don't respond or you give one-word responses.

Going on to long rants about any topic that comes to mind, whether you want to listen or not; most of them are usually about the human biology or his previous experiments

You wish you could erase the memory when he told you he got a man pregnant with baboons.

When you asked why he wanted to talk to you, he merely gave a shrug and a almost sheepish smile

His response?

"Oh for no reason, I just got bored when I realized there were no results in my observations."

Yeah

You kept your distance as much as possible, still feeling a bit uncomfortable around the man

Though it eventually started to slowly fade away when he kept attempting to talk with you, a big part of it was also due to his birds perching themselves on you whenever you needed something from the medbay, cuddling up to you in a mass of feathers

You actually started to enjoy the conversations when he asked why you dressed the way you did

---

"Let me give you a brief summary," You start, sitting on the worn-out couch with the Medic on the far-end, a freshly lit cigarette in-between your fingers, "-there's a small community of us, people who also dress like me. But like I said, small community, not many of us." Taking the first drag of your cigarette, you see from the corner of your vision Medic holding a scolding look, eyeing the cigarette in your hand with disgust.

Blowing the smoke out in small puffs, you continued, "But, the reason why we dress the way we do, there's several and it varies from person to person."

"It could be a way of self-expression, a break from the mainstream style, or...damnit, I always forget the last one's. But there's many reasons why is what I'm trying to get at."

"What was your reasoning?" The Medic finally spoke, crossing his legs as he (un)discreetly takes out a notepad, writing down the information that you have just stated. The question processes in your brain, taking a long drag, repeating it over and over until an answer formed.

"Mm, nearly everyone dresses the same, no variety in their fashion." Finishing the last of the cigarette, you put it out in the ash tray atop the coffee table, leaning back into the couch with a stretch. "Everyone is always expected to dress the same. I wanted something different."

"Interesting..."

---

Romantic

Now for the romantic part of the relationship, it would take him FOREVER to figure out that he likes you

YEARS if nobody brings it up

He would just brush it off as excess adrenaline from the battles (even if there was a ceasefire)

He would also began to show a certain type of favoritism towards you (his birds especially)

Whether that be storing a jar of lollipops in his office for you to take from (and only you), telling you a in-depth explanation/step-by-step of his experiments before anybody else, scolding you whenever you do something that's unhealthy, or just treating you like a normal doctor whenever it comes time for the yearly check-ups (like not experimenting on you/doing a random surgery or injecting random chemicals into your body to see what effects it'll have on the battlefield.)

---

"Aye, doc! How come you only give M/N loli's!" For what seemed to have been the tenth time that day that Scout has complained about the same thing—over and over again—it was starting to get on the doctors nerves as he attempted (emphasis on attempted) to rescue his beloved bird that has somehow snuck his way inside of the scout and got himself tangled in the intestines while the Medic was preforming surgery.

"And for the last time, Scout." A sharp snap fills the tiled-room, a small piece of the Scout's rib cage in-between the Medic's gloved fingers, throwing it somewhere behind him without much concern for it as he continues with his current task at hand, "They aren't such a nuisance, unlike you."

---

That's his only excuse whenever someone asks really :/

He always seems to enjoy your company the most out of all the mercs and is seen with you more times than anybody else on the team

It's until one of the mercs bring up his favoritism from another point of view that he begins to think...differently

Not a bad differently, but a "What do I do" differently

Like that's the moment when he begins to realize his affections for you

Personally, I believe that man has never been in a romantic relationship/had romantic feelings for someone

So him being in love for possibly the first time in his life, he's stumped

Like what does he even do in a predicament like this???

Would probably go to Engie or Heavy about this predicament for some sort of guidance.

His behavior around you would change a bit

He would still act like his regular self

But with you around he could be seen fidgeting with whatever he has in his hands and stumbling over his words more often, maybe even calling you pet-names in German

There will be times where he'll have a red flush seen on his normally pale face whenever you do something he sees as attractive/adorable (whether that be ruthlessly killing the other team, laughing at something one of the mercs did, cooing at Archimedes, etc.)

Like, flushed to the tips of his ears down to the nape of his neck type of blushing

You can tell he's blushing whenever his glasses fog up <3

---

"Who's a pretty bird? You're a pretty bird!" Said blood-covered dove cooed at the various praise he was receiving from you, flapping his wings in a joyful matter. You came to the medbay to ask Medic for something that the Engineer needed but quickly got sidetracked when a certain dove flew down from his perch and decided to greet you.

Bringing a finger up to the dove, you give him small gentle scratches atop his head, continuing to coo at the bird with a big smile stretched across your lips.

Medic watches as the whole thing happens from his desk, a look of adoration in his eyes as he watches the on-going interaction between you and his bird. A feeling of warmth began spreading across his face, the beating of his heart increasing just from the sight alone.

He's absolutely clueless on what to do—the well-composed Medic, the man who has made a deal with the Devil and tricked him, sowing 8 souls to his very own, and has done many experiments that should be impossible to achieve—is confused on how he should proceed with his arising feelings for someone he considered a colleague and friend.

What a very troublesome situation.

---

He would probably be a bit straightforward when he decides to confess to you, probably in a private space like in the Medbay or when it's late at night so nobody is awake to walk in on the two of you

When I say "a bit straightforward", I mean like he'll beat around the bush for a brief few seconds before just going for it, and keeps eye-contact throughout the whole thing

If you accept his feelings; he's ecstatic! But he doesn't know how to act, to say.

'What do couples do??' 'How does one act when they are in a relationship?' Mainly the questions that are going through his mind

If you reject his feelings; he'll become quiet and distant around you. He might even be a bit mad at himself, whenever he's by his lonesome; staring at his reflection on his bone-saw as his birds attempt to comfort him

Like, you guys will still talk, but it'll just be awkward—a tension between the two of you

Okay moving on.

Once entering a relationship with the Medic, it's best if you take things slow; discuss boundaries with one another, what to do and what not to do, etc,.

Would probably become a bit more touchy? Like, small brushes against your hand or one of your limbs, holding you hand or just linking pinkies with you whenever the two of you are alone

Like those kind of touches, soft.

Kisses would probably start off small too; small kiss to your knuckles or a kiss to the palm of his hand to bring a flush out of him (Though he prefers both of these in private)

Would absolute want to attempt to do your hair and make-up

I feel like he's either the kind of person to keep his love life private, but also not? Like, he would drops hints that he's in a relationship with you, but they are so subtle they fly over a few of the mercs heads

---

Again, Anon, I'm sorry for going off-topic

[itsallmouthwashing]

Ghost Adventures AU- Survivor!Curly (Part 1)

Alright fellas, I got stupid high last night and rubbed this out with some editing while I'm at work. Please enjoy and feel free to write your own interpretations of this AU!! I don't really want to claim 'ownership' or whatever (if that's even a thing with AUs? Listen I haven't been in fandom for a while before Mouthwashing. It hath risen me from the soil like a necromancer and I am it's silly little skeleton minion) I just want to see what everyone else thinks may be going on

Anyways, please enjoy part one (out of Only God Knows) of the Ghost Adventures AU!

“Are we ready? Cameras are rolling? Yeah? Alright… We’re here at the site of the historic Tulpar Massacre-”

God, I thought I could handle this. He’s not even said anything but Tulpar. Fuck, I need to tune it out. The images are already flying through my mind. I’m reliving it all at lightspeed and it keeps fucking repeating. Every second I’m seeing it all-

“Behind us is a long-haul freighter that belonged to a company known as Pony Express. This corporation was known for cheap and speedy deliveries, along with being one of the last few companies to rely on human employees in an age of automation.”

I hope they know. We’re all heroes today.

“However, while Pony Express may have provided jobs to hundreds of people, the abuse these employees suffered is the real root of this tragedy.” Zac puts his hand up and turns his head to me. “Would you like to say a few words?”

“Huh, oh- No, I trust you.”

He nods, short and with a small smile like he’s seeing it all happening behind my eyes. Maybe he knows I'm not listening. Trying to, anyway.

“Employees aboard Tulpar were only allotted a mere FIVE hours for rest. This does not include recreational activities, which they were not allowed to do in the other nineteen hours in their day. NINETEEN hours, non-stop working around Tulpar.”

His eyes are on me. He wants to know if I’ve changed my mind.

“That’s not the worst part, oh no, friends,” He says when he realizes I won’t, “For a company that claimed to care deeply for its employees, they made it hell to file complaints or go to upper management for help. While on this year long trek-”

My stomach is in hell. I cover my mouth, pretend I’m stifling a cough, and swallow the vomit before it floods their headquarters. Think about something else. 

Anything, Anya. Anything.

“Joining us for our lock-in tonight is the sole survivor of this tragedy, Captain Grant Curly.” He opens his arms to welcome me into the frame. “We’re happy to have you here, Captain.” He says, shaking my hand.

“Happy to be here with you, fellas,” I lied. 

We aren’t even to the door and I already see the inside. We’re simply standing in a residential space travel unit, on the landing pad, which connects to the main door. To the lounge, my quarters. The cockpit, the medical bay. The lounge. Utility. The Pod.

“Captain, off the record,” He nods for his partner to turn off the camera,” In all seriousness, I want to express my appreciation. Please know that at any point you can bow out. Or if you don’t want to be in the episode at all. You just let us know if you need a break or leave all together.” 

I smile. I have to or else I may break. 

“Of course. I think more people need to be aware just how awful Pony Express was to us. It’s great that you guys are covering this.” 

They’re all waiting for me at the door. Swansea and Jimmy cross their arms and grumble something about dying to get started. Two grouches on the ship could be difficult. But Anya and Daisuke are chatting about expectations. She’s stitching the air, mimicking the motions shown in a textbook on her lap. Daisuke copies her and she rolls her eyes playful, remarking that she’s glad he’s not her intern. Swansea tells her to not give him ideas.

“Captain, where’d you go-”

“Besides, who is a captain without his crew?”

“You really loved them, didnt you?”

“Yes,” I say.

They were my responsibility, I don’t. 

Zac smiles back at me before stepping back and observing the map of the ship. He mumbles something to his crew, all of two other people, and they go separate ways to gather equipment. Zac marks something with what looks like a bingo blotter around the blown-up image of my ship. 

“Zac?”

My face looks back at me in question. I’m in my uniform, bent over the blueprints of my ship. My belt buckle, a gift from the company when I was promoted to Captain, shines in the harsh light of the ship. 

“Yes, Captain?” I ask. 

“Uh,” I start, running a hand over the dim and rusted buckle of my own, “Why do…” I have that look. The one like he sees it all before it all comes back to the front of my mind. Zac blinks and leans forward.

“What’s up, Cap?” He asks. 

“Can you read minds… or something?” 

“Ha!” He laughs, hearty and true. “No, nothing like that Mr. Curly.” He wipes moisture from his eyes. “I’ve been told I’m something of an empath."

“Ah, no wonder you’re so kind.”

Zac starts to say something, but his crew is back and dropping equipment on the floor with heavy grunts and sighs. 

“Guys! You need to be careful-” Zac rushes over, but I’m still standing at the table.

[will80sbyers]

Do you still have the list of movies that inspired ST4? I had a picture of it but I lost it and I haven't been able to find it since. Please and thank you in advance.

Yep!

Long post warning lol

300

2001: A Space Odyssey

47 Meters Down: Uncaged

12 Monkeys

28 Days Later

13th Warrior

Ace Ventura: Pet Detective

Ace Ventura: When Nature Calls

Altered States

Amelie

American Sniper

Analyze This

Annihilation

Aristocats

Armageddon

Assassins Creed

Avengers: Age of Ultron

Arrival

Almost Famous

Batman Begins

Batman V. Superman

Basket Case

Battle at Big Rock

Beauty and the Beast

Beetlejuice

Behind Enemy Lines

Beverly Hills Cop

Bill and Ted’s Bogus Journey

Billy Madison

Black Cauldron

Black Swan

Boondock Saints

Borat

Bram Stoker’s Dracula

Burn After Reading

Broken Arrow

Blade Runner

C.H.U.D

Con Air

Cast Away

Congo

Constantine

Children of Men

Cabin in the Woods

Crank

Casablanca

Carrie

Crimson Tide

Clueless

Dukes of Hazzard

Don’t Breathe

Death to Smoochy

Doom

Dark Knight

Dogma

Deep Blue Sea

Dreamcatcher

Drop Dead Fred

Die Hard

Die Hard 2

Die Hard 3

Don’s Plum

Dances with Wolves

Dumb and Dumber

Edward Scissorhands

Enter the Void

Ex Machina

Event Horizon

Emma (2020)

Forrest Gump

Fargo

Fisher King

Full Metal Jacket

Ferris Bueller

Fallen

Fugitive

Ghost

Girl with the Dragon Tattoo

Ghostbusters

Good Fellas

Girl Interrupted

Godzilla: King of the Monsters

Get Out

Good Will Hunting

Hackers

High Fidelity

Hellraiser 1

Hellraiser 2

Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets

Hidden

High School Musical

Hurt Locker

Heat

Hunger Games

Highlander

Hell or High Water

Home Alone

I am Legend

It’s a Wonderful Life

In Cold Blood

Inception

I am a Fugitive from Chain Gang

Inside Out

Island of Doctor Moreau

It Follows

Interview with a Vampire

Inner Space

Into the Spiderverse

Independence Day

Jupiter Ascending

John Carter of Mars

Jurassic World: Fallen Kingdom

James Bond (All Movies)

Julie

Karate Kid

Knives Out

Kingsmen

Little Miss Sunshine

Labyrinth

Long Kiss Goodnight

Lost Boys

Leon: The Professional

Let the Right One In

Little Women (1994)

Mad Max: Fury Road

Magnolia

Men in Black

Mimic

Matrix

Misery

My Cousin Vinny

Mystic River

Minority Report

Mr. and Mrs. Smith

Neverending Story

Never Been Kissed

No Country for Old Men

Nightmare on Elm Street 3: Dream Warriors

North by Northwest

Open Water

Orange County

Oceans 8

Oceans 11

Oceans 12

One Flew over the Cuckoo’s Nest

Ordinary People

Paddington 2

Platoon

Pulp Fiction

Papillon

Pan’s Labyrinth

Pineapple Express

Peter Pan

Princess Bride

Paradise Lost

Primal Fear

Prisoners

Peter Jackson’s King Kong

Reservoir Dogs

Ravenous

Rushmore

Road Warrior

Rogue One

Reality Bites

Raider of the Lost Ark

Red Dragon

Robocop

Shooter

Sky High

Swingers

Sword in the Stone

Step Up 2

Spy Kids

Saving Private Ryan

Shape of Water

Swept Away

Star Wars: Return of the Jedi

Star Wars: The Empire Strikes Back

Superbad

Society

Swordfish

Stoker

Splice

Silence of the Lambs

Source Code

Sicario

Se7en

Starship Troopers

Scrooged

Splash

Silver Bullet

Speed

The Visit

The Italian Job

The Mask of Zorro

True Lies

The Blair Witch Project

The Lord of the Rings Trilogy

Tangled

The Craft

The Guest

The Devil’s Advocate

The Graduate

The Prestige

The Rock

Titanic

Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles

The Fly

Tombstone

The Mummy

The Guardian

The Goofy Movie

The Peanut Butter Solution

Toy Story 4

The Ring

The Crazies

The Mist

The Revenant

The Perfect Storm

The Shining

Terminator 2

The Truman Show

Temple of Doom

The Cell

To Kill a Mockingbird

Timeline

The Good Son

The Orphan

The Birdcage

The Green Mile

The Raid

The Cider House Rules

The Lighthouse

The Book of Henry

The A-Team

The Crow

The Terminal

Thor Ragnarok

Twister

The Descent

The Birds

Total Recall

The Natural

The Fifth Element

True Romance

Terminator: Dark Fate

The Hobbit Trilogy

Unforgiven

Unbreakable

Unleashed

Very Bad Things

Wayne’s World

What Women Want

War Dogs

Wedding Crashers

What’s Eating Gilbert Grape

Welcome to the Dollhouse

Welcome to Marwen

Wet Hot American Summer

What Lies Beneath

What Dreams May Come

War Games

Who Framed Roger Rabbit

Weird Science

Willow

Wizard of Oz

Wanted

Young Sherlock Holmes

You’ve Got Mail

Zodiac

Zoolander

[purfectstormzz]

Enchanted | Elijah Hewson x reader (social media au)

Summary: In which Elijah Hewson is enchanted to meet the band’s stylist.

Pairing: Elijah Hewson x fem!stylist!reader

A/n: In honour of Eli’s favourite Taylor Swift song being Enchanted.

Masterlist

Vman

Liked by Yourusername, Inhalerdublin and 876900 others

Vman: Inhaler in our latest photoshoot. We want to say a big thank you to the band’s stylist @Yourusername for styling the band in our latest collection.

Comments:

Inhalerfan65: Everyone say thank you Y/n!

> Elijahhewsonsguitarstring: Thank you Queen 👑

BobbySkeetz: What a bunch of good looking fellas.

> ElijahHewsonsgf: You’re so real for that Bobby.

Yourusername: Always lovely to give these boys a good outfit. (They don’t have any fashion sense😅)

> ElijahHewson: Excuse you?? We have very good fashion

> Yourusername: A leather jacket with jeans is not very fashionable😋

> ElijahHewson: I want a new stylist, this one is mean.

Yourusername

Liked by Inhalerdublin, Inhalerfan2 and 764800 others

Yourusername: I tried to put them in something other than leather jackets but they insisted on wearing them😒.

Tagged: @InhalerDublin

Comments:

ElijahHewson: I’m sorry that you don’t understand how highly fashionable leather jackets are🙄.

> Yourusername: Whatever you want to believe Hewson😚

> Inhalerfan24: Why do I kinda ship them🤔

> Bobbyskeetzzzzzfan: Same tbh they would be cute together.

Elijahhewsonsguitarstring: it’s the Alex Turner effect.

RyanMcmahon: We still look handsome as hell😌

JoshJenkinson: Excuse you? I wore a jeans jacket!

> Yourusername: Thank you Josh at least there is someone that listens to their stylist😊

Yourusername:

Liked by ElijahHewson, Bobbyskeetz and 765000 others

Yourusername: Mission get Elijah in something else than a leather jacket: completed💪🏼

Tagged: @ElijahHewson

Comments:

Elijahhewsonsguitarstring: The last picture OMG🥵!!

ElijahHewson: Are you happy now?

> Yourusername: Very happy Mr Hewson😚

Inhalerfan23: Everyone say thank you Y/n!!

> BobbySkeetz: Thank you Y/n.

>RyanMcmahon: Robert wtf?

JoshJenkinson: What a handsome looking fella☺️

> yourusername: Josh you only speak facts😏

>ElijahHewsonsguitarstring: she’s not every trying to hide the fact that her and Eli are together☺️

> inhalerfan75: Right, I mean they’re hanging out alone and she just called him handsome…

InhalerDublin

Liked by Yourusername, Bobbyskeetz and 7649000 others

InhalerDublin: Love will get you there music video is out now. Big thanks to @Yourusername for the outfits.

Comments:

Inhalerfan2: Ryan is looking a little too fine in that suit🥵

BobbySkeetz: That guy in the first pic is looking mad fine.

ElijahHewsonsguitarstring: Thank you Y/n for putting Elijah in that suit🫠

> Yourusername: You are very welcome😌

Yourusername

Liked by ElijahHewson, Bobbyskeetz and 435000 others

Yourusername: Soft launch ig🩶

Comments:

ElijahHewsonsguitarstring: We all know who this is Y/n.

Inhalerfan23: I swear if this isn’t Eli..

> Bobbyskeetzzzfan: it’s so obvious that this is Eli

ElijahHewson

Liked by Yourusername, JoshJenkinson and 875000 others

ElijahHewson: 🩶

Comments:

ElijahHewsonsguitarstring: it’s definitely y/n!!

> inhalerfan2: They both posted a soft launch a day after each other that’s so obvious.

Yourusername

Liked by ElijahHewson, Bobbyskeetz and 876000 others

Yourusername: Perks of being their stylist is hanging out with them.

Comments:

Bobbyskeetz: We all know that I’m your favourite😋

> Yourusername: You wish, it’s Josh😗

ElijahHewson: I knew you actually loved us😉

ElijahHewsonsguitarstring: Again a picture of just Eli. They’re so in love!!!!

JoshJenkinson: We love you Y/n!

Yourusername

Liked by Bobbyskeetz, ElijahHewson and 765000 others

Yourusername: My favourite fashion icon🫶🏼

Tagged: @ElijahHewson

Comments:

ElijahHewson: 🩶🫶🏼

Inhalerfan3: Mom and dad🫶🏼

ElijahHewsonsguitarstring: I knew it!

BobbySkeetz: Finally!!!!!!

JoshJenkinson: So happy for the both of you☺️

ElijahHewson

Liked by Yourusername, Bobbyskeetz and 875000 others

ElijahHewson: When I have her on my mind🩶

Tagged: @Yourusername

Comments:

Yourusername: My love🫶🏼🩶

ElijahHewsonsguitarstring: Cutest couple ever!!

Inhalerfan23: I want what they have!!

[mwolf0epsilon]

Sometimes being in the SW Fandom is about diving into the annals of the internet researching the most obscure tidbit of batshit insane Canon or EU Lore imaginable to man (which is honestly my favorite thing to do because people have done some pretty insanely funny things with this universe and characters). But for the majority of the time, being in the SW Fandom is also watching people repeat a cycle of asinine arguments that make an absolute ass out of them for the worst possible reasons.

So here's a quick reminder of past arguments to be mindful of and always consider, when you see something in the tags that makes you wrinkle your nose at:

Everyone has something they like or dislike about the overall universe and story. Be it the Original Trilogy, the Prequels, the Sequels, the Animated series, the Live-Action series, EU stuff, Novels, etc. No one is above or below anyone else just because they don't love the entirety of the universe and/or the direction the current writers are taking it.

Canon can be a good baseline for your own creative purposes. You don't have to love it (because yes the whole thing can be inconsistent as hell), but don't get to a point in your fanfic/AU world-building where you vehemently deny that canon is an actual thing. This goes hand in hand with your personal depiction of characters vs someone else's depictions. Reading comprehension and the creative process depend on perspective and how you process the information you're given, so it's only normal that no two person's idea of a character is the same. But saying that your headcanons are how the characters should be written by everyone is not gonna do you any favors in the long run, because it's not up to you to decide on that. Don't forget Blorbo's actual roots and what it took to get him where you took him, but don't try to force someone else to accept the journey you orchestrated for them!

No one's OC should be put on a pedestal. It's good that people feel comfortable enough to play Barbies with each other's OCs in roleplay sessions, or even add a cameo in a fic to a character of a friend and/or artist/writer they admire from a distance. Hell, the fact many people are passionate about someone else's little fella/s is great! But the moment someone's OC becomes an object of obsession within a Fandom community, things can go a little wrong... It stops being fun to be in that kind of space that goes from welcoming OC discussions to suddenly shunning new people in favor of someone's Ultimate Blorbo who now has a Cult Following and should be written into every fanfic ever.

No one is evil for lacking knowledge or self-awareness of certain grievances that people rightfully have with the source material. The SW Fandom has always had a long-standing issue with racial stereotyping, whitewashing, cultural appropriation, sexism and many other equally serious topics that have been more eloquently explained in posts made by people much more eloquent and qualified than I am or ever will be. However, one must recognize that not everyone who joins the Fandom is immediately aware of these things. Especially the younger generations that have either not been exposed to these concepts due to one reason or another (upbringing, biased educational curriculum, etc), or because they were simply never in a position where they could delve into these topics with someone knowledgeable on them (some experiences simply aren't universal, especially if you come from a more privileged family). For the most part, SW is just a silly sci-fi universe that is nothing more than a simple means of escapism or dumb fun. Not everyone is going to study it under a microscope or go through it with a fine comb. That said, another important thing to remember is to listen to those who know their stuff and that have had personal grievances with any of the topics above. You can be excused for lack of knowledge, but you cannot be excused for purposefully ignoring the voices of those who provide you said knowledge for free if you go searching.

This is kinda returning to the second and previous topics, but I really need to put emphasis on this: If you're going to cling to certain design choices with an iron first and incorporate them into your personal ideas/headcanons, please always consider how it SOUNDS when you say characters that are written with basis on real POC people/communities are much better/superior if they have phenotypical trait expressions that are not present (or considered rare/atypical) in their real world basis. This is a CONSISTENT problem I have seen crop up specifically within the Clone Wars and Bad Batch sides of the fandom, especially when talking about Rex (who is a blond) and Clone Force 99 (who do not look like standard clones). Always remember: The problem isn't that Rex can't be naturally blond (genetics can be unpredictable and we really don't have an extensive look into the cloning process), the problem is the way some people think he'd be inferior in some way if he were a bottle blond who chose to distinguish himself (almost as if having darker skin, darker hair and darker eyes is somehow worse than having lighter skin, lighter hair or lighter eyes.. How curious isn't it?). Needless to say, I don't think I need to elaborate further on why CF99's "desirable mutations" giving them considerably lighter skin and less ethnic features, while also making their most POC presenting member look and sometimes act like a moronic brute (something which this Fandom pushes further by infantilizing him relentlessly), is a bit of a red flag...

Star Wars has always been political. It is literally in the name and in the meat of the writing. The entire thing is basically a political and social critique presented in a sci-fi/fantasy wrapper, with colorful plasma swords, cool spaceships, and kickass explosion bow on top. You cannot separate the political conversation from the universe's overall lore, and trying to do so makes you look foolish. Disney may have taken creative liberties with some of its shows, but at the end of the day they can't ever eliminate what the Original Trilogies and even the Prequels tried to tell us about. With that said, complaining about how some of the new shows are "too Woke" or PC is the equivalent of saying you read Romeo and Juliet and that the story is relationship goals. You might need to revisit the original material.

For the love of god if you don't like something, don't go after someone who does, it's not worth it. Sometimes the best thing you can do is either filter something you actively dislike/that makes you feel uncomfortable, or simply unfollow/block whoever is repeatedly bringing it onto your doorstep. And you also have no real obligation to explain your decision to block someone, especially if they hound you for questions. Rule of thumb: Don't like something? That's perfectly fine and valid. Take the steps to make yourself comfortable then, but don't go out of your way to be a royal asshole to someone else just because they themselves enjoy it. This encompasses things from anti-jedi demonization, actual ethnic cleansing in canon, siding with personifications of alt-right extremists, proshipping apologism, etc. The block button was added to this hellsite for a reason. Use it.

Sometimes you can't change someone else's opinions on a matter and that is perfectly fine. Just don't start a feud. People come and go, and their opinions vary (we're all individuals with out own perspectives and unique experiences after all), but getting up in arms every time someone either refuses to yield in a long-winded argument, or continuously tries to shove their unsolicited opinions/advice onto you, or even makes incredibly uncomfortable/forward/gross comments that they definitely shouldn't be saying to a complete stranger on the internet, is kind of pointless and will drain you of energy faster than you can say Death Star. You're not the lesser person for walking away from a lost cause. It's ultimately not your job or responsibility to fix/better someone else. Especially if they don't want to change.

[billygoat26]

Puzzle Park (WOTFI 2024 song) Lyrics

Red: Mario

Blue: SMG4

Orange: Meggy

Purple: SMG3 and others together

Green: SMG3

Blue and regular: Tari

Regular: Mr Puzzles

Pink: Mario, SMG4, and Meggy together

Welcome everyone, to Puzzle Park! Lights and magic, it's a work of art! When you enter here, the fun will start You're MINE, you'll never part! Oh, it's going to be so much fun!! Getting you to watch you pay For all you've done! 3,2,1 There's wondrous fun and games inside, attractions big and small, like a 100 foot tall mega-slide that splats you on the wall!

Not-a so fast!

Stop right there!

You better be prepared!

'cuz we'll end this when we find your secret lair!

I'm-a havin' fun! Let's-a stay!

No, cut it out, there's no time to waste!

He's just this way Today, we'll teach him justice and we'll make him pay!

Step right up, my friends, to Puzzle Park! Sights and frights, not for the faint of heart! Don't you break away, you won't get far! Keep your hands and legs inside this ride is right about to start! Don't take my word for it!

Take it from US!! The food here is a must! In addition with your ticket, You get PuzzleVision Plus!

Try the gift shop!

You can't miss it!

And get yourself a plush! Mr Puzzles is a fella you can trust!!

Evil demons, go to hell!!

Ugh, this isn't really going well!

We don't have much more ground to tread The engine room is straight ahead!!!

Step right up, my friends, to Puzzle Park! (You best prepare.) Sights and frights, not for the faint of heart! (We’re almost there!) Don't you break away, you won't get far! (So say your prayers!) Keep your hands and legs inside this ride is right about to start!

Well, it took you a while to find out, but you found out my secret hideout! Like to say congratulations, but it's time for you to die now

We've got to end this ride

You go left!

I’ll go right!

Betcha thought you would win this fight, but you went and messed with the wrong side!!

You can't just barge in here and act like you're in charge! I'd like to see you dodge a barrage of flaming rockets and tell me you're feelin' large!

You're as good as evicted!

Say goodbye to your park, there's nothing your magical wishes can do to stop us!

You've just been tried and convicted!

You think you've won?? Well, I'm gonna turn your filthy corpses into gushing mounds of blood! Your lives are as good as done!!

No, stop! I know there's a scared little child inside you. He's hiding away, wouldn't want me to fight you. (No!!) It's not too late, reach out and take my hand and we can change your fate

Oh, Meggy dear... That child is gone, six feet under right were you and your stupid friends belong!!!

Step right up, my friends, to Puzzle Park! Sights and frights, not for the faint of heart! Don't you break away, you won't get far! Keep your hands and legs inside this ride is right about to start!