#you don’t mess with the realm unless you want it to mess with you

[tanglepelt]

Dp x dc idea 62

Danny has been reaching out to the league for help.

He thought he had it handled but then got sucked into a different dimension, had his town almost fed to plants, the town had a sleepy time nap, and for crying out loud vortex literally messed with the weather all around the globe.

Out of everything he thought vortex would of made them realize he was serious.

being sick of it he starts researching. If they won’t help them by choice and keep ignoring him he is gonna force the matter.

Too bad he can’t figure out who any of the hero’s are. But he does find a newspaper that might take an interest in his information. Especially with the anti ecto acts being brought into the conversation.

Is showing up at a random reporters apartment without being announced that smart. No. But he is desperate.

Clark did not expect to have a random white haired teen show up at his building.

Now he has answers about the mysterious attacks and questions of why weren’t they alerted.

[punkpandapatrixk]

🧜🏻‍♀️What’s Your Signature Style? ♦︎ Timeless Pick A Card

I promise you that you can be “THE” SLAYEST when you rock a style that is your own. A style—or styles—that is your own is one that reflects outwardly the core essence of your Soul Expression.

If you know yourself, and acknowledge your unique Light, there is not a trend or fad in this mortal realm that could ever shake your confidence in what you’re already doing!

Remember, trend-makers are never individuals known to follow trends to begin with! Are you a satisfied with yourself for being a trend-follower? Gosh, that's such loser NPC behaviour. I know you're so much more than that, you su-su-su-Superbeing❣️❣️

SONG: Supernova by aespa

MOVIE: 千年女優; Sennen Joyuu (Millennium Actress) (2001)

[PAC Masterlist] [Part 2] [Part 3]

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☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

Pile 1 – Bitch Barbie

VIBE: Jackie (2016)

core spiritual essence – Knight of Wands Rx

YOLO, Spiritual Gangsta! You’re a badass bitch who’s actually a lot nastier and vainer than outer appearances may give LMAO You’re such a drama queen, too. You wake up in the morning and ready to stir up some shit. You’re naughty. You’re playful. You’re creative and a bit of a prankster to the detriment of some of your closest friends. And if you have an enemy, you’re the type that’d pour gasoline on their motorbike and let them catch fire on their own!

You really like colourful stuff. Since you were a kid, you’ve always been interested in cute or weird shapes and bling knickknacks. Colours and shapes are integral to your fashion expression as a means to let your passion through. From another angle, this is also how you show people not to take you lightly. You’re attracted to weird or bold shapes and vibrant colours because they also send word to the outer world that you’re not one to mess with.

You LOVE being seen as a weirdo. It benefits you to be seen as a BITCH, too. This is a form of self-preservation AND protection. You want to weed off boring people who are only there to feed off your precious spiritual creative aenergy! You’re the school’s boss bitch who says, ‘You can’t sit with us,’ to practically everybody because you value only strong and weird, high-quality bitches who are just like you. Deep at your core, you keep to your tribe and will protect them with your Life <3

people’s first impression – XIV Temperance

You’re an enigmatic character who’s admired and feared at the same time. Because you have such a strong presence, unbeatable charisma, people can’t help but be attracted to your aenergy. And for the most part, you’re really somebody who has a pleasant smile and good manners. People’s first projection of you might be along the lines of being a good gal LMAO You seem at first glace a temperate person who adheres to social protocols. I mean, that’s only because you’re chill~

But try and get on your bad side? The psychopath takes over. You’re very serious when working towards your goals and you don’t like it when people bother you with unwarranted criticisms or unsolicited advice. You like figuring things out yourself unless you ask for other people’s opinions. When people see this side of you, then they understand you’re not all that friendly or welcoming and that they’ve been blinded by their own expectations.

From afar, people can tell you’re meant for great things in this Life. Since you’re quite unapproachable to many, they may never say this to you but they gossip amongst themselves and speculate about what such a unique person like you could achieve in this world. They shudder when thinking about all your potentials! How can such a smart badass even be real?? It feels so unfair…

fatal attraction! – Ace of Pentacles

You’re the type that should never buy fake designer items. Buying cheap-ass things that are your style is one thing, but buying fake luxury items? NAH, NO. Your Venus will cry. Check out what your Venus sign says about your values as a person and try to match your fashion style with that. For the majority of you tuning into this Pile, being bold in all the ways that suit you is the way to go. Price is not necessarily key here, it’s boldness that plays into your self-expression.

You’re the kind of person who can wear colours and accessories that usually will make other people look like clowns XD People wonder what enables you to pull off those strange colours, shapes or combinations, not knowing it’s your CONFIDENCE in yourself being able to pull them off that makes them work. It’s the RIZZ, baby~ No matter what you look like, no matter your size and skin colour, you have the power to make WHATEVER you wear on you look like something they show on the runway.

I betcha you get a lot of requests to model for your photographer friends? XD Some of you reading this have even modelled casually before. And some of you are meant to be scouted into the modelling or fashion industry in general! If not to that degree, you’re still the kind of person who could make occasional appearances on fashion magz or insta or have your face be a poster for something quite creative. You should charge good prices for your contribution to people being able to sell their shit! v$o$v

A MILLION DOLLAR STYLE~🔻💙

vanity – Silver Geographer (Francis Drake)

sassy – Priestess of Integrity

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☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

Pile 2 – Brooding Maniac

VIBE: The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo (2011)

core spiritual essence – 4 of Cups

You one spooky bitch XD But truly, your Soul is full of colours if only people could see it! It’s just that these are colours most people won’t understand or even approve of. You possess the ability to feel and process immensely complex emotions as well as thoughts. It’s more like you think in feelings even if you identify as someone very logical. Your emotions often get heavy if you don’t learn to control them. And…you’ve really taken it to quite an extreme how well you can control or suppress your emotions now.

Some of you reading this probably have strong Earth placements, especially Capricorn, but could also have some Scorpio and Aquarius influences. The way you feel your emotions is quiet and almost…jaded. I think your Soul gets easily tired by Humans for their lack of intelligence but also for their lack of appreciation for different varieties of Beauty. You think most people are narrow-minded; just thinking about it is super exhausting.

That’s why you don’t easily show your colours to everybody. People’s disapproval of the depths of your emotions could kill your spirit on a daily basis. You’d rather not deal with that, so then you chose to sport a lot of black in your outer appearance. You could also be the type that chooses solid or ‘dull’ colours like grey or white, essentially to just…not tell people anything. The only other way you actually show your emotions, in a subtle way, is through some colours that could be found in your accessories and…HAIR <3

At least some of you dream of having colourful hair if only your society or workplace would allow that XD

people’s first impression – 8 of Cups

Instantaneously, people get this impression that you’re elusive as fuck. Like, you’re not exactly unapproachable—no, no—it’s more like, even if people try to talk to you, they already think you’re the type that won’t respond too well. You seem like you don’t talk much if at all, and people get this feeling that you’re uncomfortable with being talked to. Kinda feels like, you’re ready to flee the scene the moment someone comes up to talk to you BUHAHAH Most likely because you give off this nervous/awkward energy in social situations XD

As for your fashion, you dress so uniquely, out-there-ly, alien-ly, and people simply can’t catch up. They know they won’t be able to copy you, at least not properly. You possess a strong and unique aura that shines through your fashion sensibility and you don’t even try that hard if you’re being honest. And yet, anybody who tries to emulate or copy you will 100% look like a cheap knock-off of whatever style you’re rocking.

There is something about you that screams ORIGINAL. And yet, this is mostly caused by your lack of interest in other people’s business. You have this cold, detached aura that makes you stand out in a crowd exactly because you don’t give a fuck. At first glance, people think it’s your fashion—your clothes and accessories, your hair or nails that make you look ORIGINAL. Maybe even you think that. But no, it’s your brooding AURA that says so. You’re a maniac who ain’t interested in mingling, that’s why~

fatal attraction! – Queen of Wands

You’re a divisive character who’s either despised or admired, to an extreme. There’s no in between. Seems, indeed, like some Scorpio/8th House aenergy or some harsh Plutonian aspects XD To varying extents, and depending on your mood on a given day, people’s extreme reception of you could be mentally draining. The way I see it, you yourself don’t even understand why people are damn drawn to you. You kinda wish people would leave you alone. At least the ones you don’t care about.

But…you definitely are incredibly pretty. You have a very attractive face, you know that? And then there’s your fashion sense that tells the right kind of people that you truly are a creative/artistic person who has many stories to tell because you feel very deeply. And yet, you don’t talk to people at all and that’s mystifying. Meanwhile, the haters are also attracted to your aenergy because something about your originality is a direct insult to their lack of AUTHENTICITY ho ho ho~

You give people a reason to connect and unite in their petty hatred and that’s very refreshing for those types of people to talk about LMAO Ain’t you a hero, my dear? Anyway, this may sound so random but I’m getting that you might wanna hang out at some art gallery or library? You could meet someone or see an ad/announcement for an event that could change your Life for the better! Your brooding style could get you some unique opportunities that could potentially make you very happy <3

A MILLION DOLLAR STYLE~🔻🧡

vanity – Silver Alchemist (Ramon Llull)

sassy – Priestess of Inspiration

Access full reading + cards on Patreon🌸

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

Pile 3 – Plutonian Siren

VIBE: Flesh and the Devil (1926)

core spiritual essence – 8 of Pentacles

Daym, you’re a total hustler babe, aren’t ya? For one, at the core of your being you know that you were born into this world with a strong purpose. When you were a kid, you probably didn’t have the words to describe this knowing but it was clear to you that you weren’t supposed to fit in or be ‘normal’, whatever ‘normal’ meant within your norm XD You’ve always been the kinda person who deviated from your mainstream society. You couldn’t help it; you just had to be an anomaly.

Truth be told, you’ve a strong Sirenian spirit (if that’s even a word). You’re like a combination of a bitch barbie and a brooding maniac. You’ve a strong dark Plutonian and chaotic Neptunian aenergy about you and this is SCARY to a lot of people. If you grew up in a toxic household, I betcha an adult in your ‘family’ despised you for just being you. Could be a mean uncle or auntie as well if you had a good relationship with your own parents ;P

Did you know that in some literature Sirens were actually not mermaids? They’re more akin to evil harpies? XXD You’re an evil harpy at your worst and a singing mermaid at your best. I tell you people shouldn’t mess witcha. The karma will be heavy on them because you essentially come from a strong lineage of powerful witches! <3

people’s first impression – 9 of Cups

Wherever you are in the world, when you walk, you’re like a dream come true. You possess a natural charm that transcends race, culture, localised standards or whatever. In every situation and all nations you are beautiful, magnetising and charming. Your sheer existence makes people daydream. I’m sure you’ve heard this a lot, ‘You smell really nice.’ ‘Y/N always smells nice.’ ‘When you’re around it always smells nice.’

You’re so fucking unreal for this mortal world. Due to your Neptunian aenergy—could also be strong/significant 12th House placements—people project on you without a care for your feelings. Or should we say, they project on you without a care for their own safety? When somebody crosses the line, you snap like a sea dragon and they’re done, forever LMAO

As much as people are intrigued by you they are afraid of you. There is this depth to you that makes people suspect that once they’re in they’re never gonna be able to crawl out of your aenergy field. You’re kinda like Tomie now that I think about it. So the ones who are able to sense this swirling darkness in you will try to steer away from your charm~ Good for them because most of the time, you don’t even like it when people are up in your ass non-stop XD

fatal attraction! – 5 of Pentacles Rx

Of all the Piles, your natural charm is definitely chaotic. It’s almost demonic! Yours is a fatal attraction for sure because you will cause insanity in the minds of whoever tries to get a taste of your aenergy. And you’re out here chillin’, completely clueless as to what’s going on with the idiots around you. Why’s everybody simping? I ain’t even do nothing.

For whatever personal reasons, most people have this fantasy about you saving them from whatever boring Life they’re living. Some really sick minds could expect—even demand—you to be their stupid little Pixie Dream Girl when in reality you’re the FURTHEST thing from that. People could get SO dangerously unreasonable when it comes to desiring you.

I’ve got to say that you’d better protect yourself good, girl. Do everything in your power to steer away from bitter and jealous aenergy, because the people under your involuntary spell might indeed endeavour to cause you harm. Beware of men who could assault you and women who would trick and tarnish your reputation. I’m reminded of this quote by Claude Debussy:

‘People don’t very much like things that are beautiful… they are so far from their nasty little minds.’

For being such an unrealistically beautiful creature with an aura of mysticism, lots of people are attracted to your magnificence because they want to make it their own or destroy it, not because they appreciate your existence. Be selective with who you allow to get to know you~ <3

A MILLION DOLLAR STYLE~🔻💚

vanity – Green Astrologer (Robert Fludd)

sassy – Priestess of Love

Access full reading + cards on Patreon🌸

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

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[audreyscribes]

Ω PJO DEMIGOD HEADCANONS: 🔮 HECATE: Goddess of Magic, the Mist, Crossroads, Necromancy, the night and moon🌙

Author's note: Hello everyone! In lieu of posting the major gods demigod headcanons, here is the minor gods version!As usual these headcanons will contain what it's like being claimed and what it's like for the respective god and cabin, followed by a small story between you, the reader, and the respective demigod of that god. Thank you for reading and please like and reblog! [PJO MINOR GODS DEMIGOD HEADCANONS MASTERLIST] Disclaimer: To new fans or strictly TV watchers of the PJO series, future spoilers for the entire PJO series books will be referenced. Read at your own risk.

Out of the ‘minor’ gods, a child of Hecate is powerful and just as dangerous as a child of the major gods. As powerful as a child of Ares, Athena, and Apollo, but closer to a child of the Big Three. 

When you get claimed, a rolling mist rolls in and you feel power sparkling at your fingertips. You always have felt the magical power within you but with this claim, it courses through your veins. The spell you cast at your claim is a tell-tale to your half-siblings what kind of magic wielder you are. One time, there was a child of Hecate who summoned the dead beneath their feet and everyone had a meltdown thinking it was another child of Hades until Chiron pointed out the claim symbol belonged to Hecate, and Necromancy is within her domain. Which can be utterly terrifying or cool. Just don’t actually mess with Death itself and stay in your lane, unless you want either Hades or Thanatos having a word with you; either or both. Nico di Angelo becomes a common sight around the Hecate cabin as he acts as a sort of liaison for his father’s domain. 

Hecate’s domain is very broad and large, and you guys have a lot to figure out. Aside from magic, every child of Hecate has a mixed bag of what powers they inherited from Hecate’s domain. Some have others that others don’t. You have shared headaches with the children of Hermes, who are in a similar boat.

As cheesy as it might sound, your power is stronger at night and when the moon is out. Of course a full moon is when you’re at peak strength, but what people don’t know is that your powers can be at peak strength depending on the phases of the moon. This is determined by finding out what phase of the moon the day you were born on, and the phases leading up to that face you feel stronger but the phases afterwards feel less intense for you. If you were born on a full (and/or old) moon, well, more power to you. Literally. 

While not all common, there’s a high percentage of children of Hecate being born in the evenings and night. 

“With great power there must also come great responsibility” - Spiderman, Stan Lee. These words are similar to the Sword of Damocles, that Mr. D and Chiron tells you and the Hecate cabin that power cannot simply be enjoyed for its privileges alone, but necessarily makes its holders morally responsible for what they choose to do and what they fail to do with it. As a child of Hecate, with magic at your disposal, you have to work and study hard to control the magic and command it to your will, however it is a heavy burden to bear and magic can be not only bring miracles, but can take on a form of its own if their wielder isn’t convicted enough. 

Along with magic, the mist is your next inherent power. You help maintain the mist between the world of the gods and the mortal realm; maintaining the balance. The power of the mist comes naturally to you and you can use it to create illusions or manipulate the veil over mortal eyes. However, be careful of it because if you mess with the mist too much, you might pull the mist’s veil over a mortal’s eyes too powerfully and affect their mind, distorting it; it’s cautioned to only manipulate the mist that is still tethered to reality. Worse, you also might get lost in it yourself; or worse find yourself between the borders between the living and the dead. Limbo if you will.

Hecate may seem a bit cold and solitary, but she does care for you. Especially after the 2nd Titan War, where many of your unclaimed (read: unrecognized by the camp) half siblings had perished during the war. You might get the occasional words of advice with magic, magical items, or what your siblings have collectively understood as vague magic teaching moments. You definitely feel her guiding hand when you command more magic that threatens to lash out at you, and you feel her hands guide you to mould the magic in a way you want like a potter’s hand.  At least one thing is for sure, Hecate loves all her children equally…even including Lamia and Circe who are pretty hostile to you guys. 

On that note, you have definitely performed a magic spell you’ve seen on TV, Book, Movie, or Game, and proceeded to tear it apart on how it should not have worked and how it should work before creating either an entirely new spell or an even better one. At the very least, you have a laugh and lead you into discovering and creating new spells. 

You can use magic with your hands, but you could also use a wand or staff, or what have you. With wands though, it has never been easier walking around among mortals and spell-casting magic, and playing it off from certain franchises or being a very dedicated DnD player. The latter is very true and you have no shortage of LARPers.

You know the roles like “The Fairy Godmother”, “The Wicked Witch”, “The Wizard”, and etc? Oh yeah. Every child of Hecate starts to come into one of these roles and leans into it completely. What is yours? 

You and your siblings have an awkward relationship with Lamia, who was a former daughter of Hecate, who became a monster, and is the reason why all monsters can find half-bloods. Sure it was out of spite at Hera for killing all of Lamia’s children, but like….really?  You’re not entirely sure if you guys are safe from Lamia’s curse but on the other hand, given the amount of monsters you’ve encountered and the latest news from one of your half-siblings, Alabaster who was hunted down by Lamia from Gaea, it’s really up in the air. There’s a long research by all the Hecate cabin on how to break this curse or at least mitigate it.

When you get claimed, you feel the veins in your body growing both hot and cold, with power sparking wildly from your fingertips. The small well of bubbling power that had always been in you suddenly burst open and was overflowing, like the seal on it had been ripped off. Wind was kicking around you with the ground trembling and cracking under your power. You could see the mist rolling in and twisting around you with the wind, cutting you off from the outside world. 

With what you could see outside it was utter chaos. People were running around doing damage control with a few brave, offensive demigods taking the front as they knocked away any flying debris and were keeping your magic from breaching the red zone as they batten down the hatches. 

You weren’t sure what to do with this power but you couldn’t just turn the tap off either, you had to release it somehow. But just shooting raw magical power wasn’t desirable since the magic could take on the form of the cognitive power of those around you, whatever that was. 

You tried to remember a spell you were familiar with. Something that was familiar to you that was almost as easy as breathing. You remembered it but the power of the magic within you was too much. It felt like you couldn’t breathe, the extension part of you had to move how you want like you were discovering growth pains, your limbs feeling almost feeling foreign to you. You tried to squeeze the magic into form but it pushed back between the gaps of your fingers like you took too much clay. 

You started to breathe heavily as sweat clung and soaked your being, the strain becoming unbearable. Then you heard yelling as you felt something open beside you. Then you felt someone press up against you, hands grabbing yours that was also flowing with magic. 

You gasped and looked at the person, seeing a girl with dark hair and with glowing green eyes. 

“What-” you tried to say to say how and why she was here and that she shouldn’t be, but then before you could see anything more, she gripped your hands harder and you felt her magic flowing into yours, as if smoothing the gaps, helping you grasp your raging power. 

“Do you know a spell?!” she yelled over the raging, howling wind. 

You stammered to reply but nodded instead as she nodded back. “Alright! Use that spell! I’ll help you enforce it!” 

You were confused but you could feel the magic about to explode soon so you pushed everything aside and focused on what was at hand. You remembered that spell from earlier, taking deep shaky breaths as you tried to manipulate the magic into a form. You could feel it oozing from the gaps of your fingers again but with the girl’s help, she smoothed it and followed your hands, shaping it with you. 

You took form and you threw it in the air as the energy took on a form, taking the wind and mist with it. All tension in your body left you and disappeared with the spell , making you collapse immediately. You were out of breath and out of focus so you weren’t really paying attention to what was happening. All you heard was a boom, sprinkles, oohs and ahhs with gasps and peals of laughter. 

From your starfished position on the ground, you heard feet crunching on the ground beside you and you peaked to see see the girl from earlier, hands on her hips with an exasperated smile on her face with a thin sheen of sweat; even she looked a bit winded. 

“So that’s what kind of magic wielder you are” she commented, crouching beside you. 

“What?” you tiredly said, confused. 

She gestured to the air, “This kind of situation isn’t unusual for children of Hecate, even if yours is a little bit on the extreme side. Every child of Hecate that gets claimed has a spell that they have to unleash and we figured out the first spell they instinctively use is a good indicator what kind of magic wielder and person they are.”

“Oh” you uttered dumbly as you took in the open sky above you. The adrenaline was just dying down and your mind caught up. Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion as you sat up and looked at the girl. “Wait, how do you know this?”

The girl grinned and stood up, holding her hand out to you as you clasped it. “My name is Lou Ellen Blackstone, daughter, head coven, and cabin leader of the Hecate cabin” she introduced herself as she helped you up. 

“Oh…wait, does that mean-” you asked as Lou Ellen nodded.

“Yup, you just got claimed by Hecate which makes us half-siblings” she said as she patted your shoulder and helped you steady yourself as you headed towards the Apollo kids, “Let’s get you checked up just in case. Suddenly being able to have that much access to your magic takes a whole lot of you.”

“So this isn’t new?” you asked as a child of Apollo checked you over. 

“Nah. While some children of Hecate can access their magic before they get claimed, when Hecate claims you, it suddenly feels like the cap on our magic is removed. Don’t worry too much about it, with some practice and integrity, you’ll get a hold of your magic soon enough. In the meantime, you have the entire Hecate cabin to help you.”

You smiled at the thought as you felt yourself drifting off to sleep due to the exhaustion. 

[clockwayswrites]

This is why Moku and I are dangerous to each other:

clockways — Today at 2:01 AM

OKAY Danny/Tim where Danny is either ghost king or working for Clockwork or playing Reaper or something showing up to talk to Tim like "MY DUDE, you have got to stop killing so many people, even if it's in the name of good, esp when they're surrounded by rancid ectoplasm"

And this is now the Bats learn about Tim's LOA kill count

Mokulule — Today at 2:12 AM

Heheheh oh yesss

Does Danny show up in the middle of like a supposedly secure location in the middle of a mission?

Like “dude please, I do not need the assassin influx, you have any idea of the trouble you caused killing so many at once?”

Mokulule — Today at 2:19 AM

I’m kinda imagining these new ghosts still following Ra’s Al Ghul fanatically unless Danny can somehow get them rehabilitated and imagine if they found their way to the living world?! Do you want that madman to have a ghost army?

clockways — Today at 2:19 AM

I think a mission or right in the middle of the cave, yeah

and totally, like the pit waters have a Not Good effect on the ghosts so they're even more off than normal I think

Mokulule — Today at 2:22 AM

Okay but I am liking the implication here that Tim has been having this ongoing crusade against Ra’s in the background of everything where he keeps blowing up LOA bases and somehow managing to keep it secret

Here B thought Ra’s was his nemesis, turns out attention had shifted to Tim years ago

clockways — Today at 2:25 AM

Yes, Tim is 100% the Detective now and Ra's keeps being a creepy obsessed mo-fo and Tim just keeps finding ways to blow shit up. if it started at 17 could say Tim is 20, 21 now so they've been at it three years or so

Mokulule — Today at 2:26 AM

And like Danny has had enough, there’s so many of them they have their own realm in the realms and are stirring up trouble trying to find ways back into the living world

clockways — Today at 2:27 AM

Yeeeees They're basically segregated into a specific area of the realms and are still causing shit

Mokulule — Today at 2:28 AM

Maybe they even have their own pseudo pit from gathering rancid ectoplasm and it’s messing up the ecosystem and they’re hurting the blobs that would otherwise be cleaning that shit up

And the pseudo pit is definitely not helping their mental stability

Just trash assassin baby ghosts

clockways — Today at 2:29 AM

LOL Blob ghost sucker fish! yes xD

Mokulule — Today at 2:29 AM

They need rehabilitation and a bath and like it’s really not helping that Tim keeps sending more

clockways — Today at 2:30 AM

Every time Danny starts to get a handle on it BAM more assassins and more bad juice

And then Danny has to ramp up the blob ghost breeding again

Mokulule — Today at 2:31 AM

Yeah and he can only handle a couple at a time and he also has to make sure they don’t go back once he’s gotten them out and it’s just a mess

clockways — Today at 2:31 AM

OKAY OKAY WAIT. Danny makes an appointment with Tim as Wayne CEO

Shows up in his human guise with Tim as just Tim which sets up all sorts of alarms

Mokulule — Today at 2:32 AM

Ahahahaha yesss this is like a corporate problem 😂

clockways — Today at 2:32 AM

How is this normal seeming dude associated with the LOA?? What does he know about Tim??? Who is he???

Dany is just :) Look at me, using the proper channels!

Mokulule — Today at 2:32 AM

Danny is trying to go about this the right way official like

🤝

clockways — Today at 2:32 AM

🤝

Mokulule — Today at 2:33 AM

😂 everyone is very suspicious of Danny Fenton

clockways — Today at 2:34 AM

It doesn't help that he has officially been missing in the living realm since he graduated high sch9ool

(someone ((lancer)) finally noticed and reported him)

Mokulule — Today at 2:34 AM

Oh yeah even more suspicious for potential LOA connection

The fact that it was an old teacher and not his parents reporting him missing despite having graduated high school is also concerning

clockways — Today at 2:37 AM

mmmmy hum just all these red flags and it's very frustrating for the whole batfam.

Mokulule — Today at 2:38 AM

And like the guy looks like Danny Fenton, but is he really? He’s somehow very careful about not leaving prints and DNA where he goes, they’ve not been able to get any surefire confirmation this is indeed Danny Fenton

clockways — Today at 2:38 AM

AND THEN there is a gala that Ra's also shows up to... as does Danny. Just... to keep an eye on things. (He's worried about ghost assassins.)

But Tim sees Danny out of the corner of his eye and !!!

(Danny just went intangible through the wall, he's totally not on the guest list)

Mokulule — Today at 2:40 AM

Oh yes, he’s dressed up well enough, he’s had to learn that as a king and fits in just fine

clockways — Today at 2:42 AM

Tim can't help but recognize that Danny is handsome.

Mokulule — Today at 2:43 AM

Tim thinking he’s got two enemies at the gala now - has Tim told the other bats about Danny or is he hiding that? Cause then Tim might think the others have Ra’s handled so he has to handle Danny- and yeah okay he is very handsome, now that he’s not busy internally freaking out over what he knows (which he was at the first meeting)

clockways — Today at 2:45 AM

Depends how much the Bats know about Ra's interest in Tim. If they're aware at all, he's told them I think since Danny know is a threat to them all. 🤔

But I do still see him handling Danny either way since Danny hasn't met the family- keep things separate until there is no doubt.

Mokulule — Today at 2:46 AM

Okay but Clock, has Danny in his attempt at going through proper channels and requesting a meeting completely forgotten to mention the word ghost since he thought that was implied when he said the dead assassins were a problem for him?

clockways — Today at 2:47 AM

100%

He is still a disaster at explaining things

And look Tim is damn cute, Danny was a little flustered.

Mokulule — Today at 2:48 AM

So when Tim asks him what he’s doing there at the gala and he tells him that he’s keeping an eye out for assassins - Tim maybe takes that as a threat - like Tim thinks they’re playing 5D mental chess here, but Danny is a disaster and is not even playing chess

clockways — Today at 2:49 AM

!! OH Added bonus, Danny's etiquette training is all be like Dorathea and Pandora and etc, so he has a rather unusual speach pattern in King Mode which makes him seem that maybe common english isn't his first language but if he is Danny Fenton that doesn't track....

Mokulule — Today at 2:50 AM

Oh yesss good

clockways — Today at 2:50 AM

They have to end up on the dance floor, of course.

Mokulule — Today at 2:50 AM

Of course

Obligatory

clockways — Today at 2:51 AM

Danny is just all :) I'm putting my training to use! This is going so well!

Tim >:| What is this man playing at...

Mokulule — Today at 2:51 AM

Yes XD

clockways — Today at 2:52 AM

Ra's takes an instant hatred to Danny because he is Taking Tim's Attention!

Mokulule — Today at 2:52 AM

Eventual reveal is going to be hilarious

clockways — Today at 2:52 AM

Which makes Tim think that Ra's and Danny are old enemies

Mokulule — Today at 2:52 AM

Oh yess hahaha Ra’s now trying to have Danny killed

Now Danny is having to deal with both living and dead assassins he is not amused, but if he gets them away from Ra’s in the living world that will help some problems down the line. Just every assassin Ra’s sends disappears and no bodies turn up

clockways — Today at 2:55 AM

It's driving both Tim and Ra's mad

Things maybe come to a head when some of the ghost assassins try to go after Tim and Phantom shows up?

Mokulule — Today at 2:57 AM

XD Does Tim realize this is Danny or does he now think there’s another player?

Are they aware of Phantom as a ghost hero?

clockways — Today at 2:59 AM

HUM so I kinda want to say Tim does put 2 + 2 together- at least at some point. Maybe just because Phantom's new outfit mirrors what his formal clothing had. Not like perfectly but there's a lot of parallels in color and things

Maybe not till he's safe and- if they know of Phantom- they're back somewhere secure

Tim just holding an ice pack to his head jolting up and pointing a finger at Phantom "You're Danny!!!"

Phantom: Uh, yeah??? Of course I am?

-

And then @mokulule got distracted by fic and I went to sleep cause it was 3am. But my can we go from 'random statement' to 60% of a fic outline in no time. (Not it.)

[starlight-eclipsed]

Rockets Pointed Up at the Stars (Pt 2/2)

Part I

Despite what Phantom had implied, tracking down Batman wasn’t done in an instant.

Sure, they’d be back seconds after when they left. But with time travel in the mix, that could be hours or days apart. They’d already followed him back to his initial landing time, when Neanderthals were still around (and wow, was there a difference between factually knowing some people had been around since the dawn of humanity and physically seeing Vandal Savage in the flesh as a caveman). According to the trail left by Clockwork, the ghostly guardian of the timestream, they were getting close.

Apparently Bruce couldn’t make things easy and was also making jumps through time, which if left unchecked would cause the timeline collapse that Clockwork had recruited Phantom for. Specifically Phantom, as it turns out the thief that liked messing with him on weekends was also the Master of Space and the King of everything.

(Phantom insisted it was just a title, and he was only king of the Ghost Zone. It just so happened that the Ghost Zone was also known as the Infinite Realms, which contained every reality of every universe in existence.

And he’d won that title by defeating the previous ruler in single combat.

The High King had to scramble to catch Tim when his knees gave out at the realization that he had unknowingly gone toe to toe with someone who made Darkseid look like a toddler in a sandbox. What the fuck, Phantom.) 

As of now, they were waiting for the actual Blackbeard’s ship to dock to investigate the fabled Black Pirate he supposedly fought a week ago, whose description matched Bruce’s. Phantom had gone to grab them something to eat while they waited in a tavern, leaving Tim to save his seat. If someone told him even a week ago that this was where he’d be, Tim would’ve interrogated them for hours to try to figure out what it meant.

But no, he was just sitting at a table in the 18th century, a medallion from the Master of Time hung around his neck, waiting for his hero-turned-king-gone-rogue to return with food while they waited for Blackbeard the legendary pirate to show up. Jason would probably kill to be here in his place.

Tim was broken out of his thoughts when Phantom returned, two bowls of soup in hand and balancing an additional plate of tough-looking bread on his forearm.

They’d been forced to ditch their masks when Puritans tried to have them hanged a century ago, now dressing in more accurate clothing to better blend in. Phantom had apologized for discovering Tim’s real name, going as far as to reveal his own secret identity: a black haired blue-eyed teen named Danny.

“Heads up, it’s gonna be either too salty or bland as wood. I’m pretty sure the cook wanted to strangle me for asking too many questions about the ingredients.”

Tim snorted, accepting his bowl, “Is that why we don’t get spoons?”

“Nah, the owner doesn’t trust customers to return the utensils. Drink from the bowl, though you might want to soak your bread if you don’t wanna pull a muscle chewing it.”

“Noted.” Tim dared to take a sip, mulling over the taste. It wasn’t anywhere near Alfred’s level, but a step above his own adventures in the kitchen before getting a hard ban post-pancake incident. It tasted closer to brine than soup, but it went surprisingly well with the bread.

Phantom hummed in pleasure, proving yet again that his standards for food consisted of ‘isn’t actively resisting consumption’. Tim could hardly judge him for it, seeing as his own bar wasn't much higher.

“So, I’d say we have an hour or two until our man arrives. Want to go over the plan again?”

Tim shrugged. “Unless it’s changed from ‘confirm Bruce was already here before following the nearest skip in time’, I think we’re good.”

Phantom nodded, silence falling over them as they ate their way through dinner. Tim kept an ear out for trouble, but the tavern was quite peaceful this time in the evening. It was likely to change once the Queen Anne's Revenge finished docking, but for now he’d savor the ambiance.

“Wanna play twenty questions?”

He blinked, refocusing on Phantom sitting across from him. “Huh?”

“I just figured it might pass the time. Twenty questions, no lies, though you can reject them if you don’t want to answer.”

Tim considered it before nodding, “Sure. How old are you?”

Phantom grinned, “Seventeen, same as you. Why Robin?”

“I wanted to help Batman after the previous one died. Nobody else would intervene, so I stepped in. Why Phantom?”

“Okay, hear me out…it’s a pun.”

Tim paused, gesturing for him to elaborate.

“Before I was half-ghost, my last name was Fenton. So as a ghost, Danny Fenton became—”

“Danny Phantom,” Tim groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I can’t believe I ever thought you were subtle.”

“Hey, nobody expects the dead guy to moonlight as a living person. Sunlight? Whatever. Favorite hobbies?”

“Photography and skateboarding. Favorite power?”

“Ooh, that’s a hard one. I’d have to say flight. Nothing beats flying at night. Sexuality?”

Tim spluttered, making Phantom laugh as he blushed. “What the heck?!”

“Hey, you can always skip,” the asshole offered.

“No, it just caught me off guard. I’m bi. You?”

“Pan. And trans, while we’re at it. Ghosts can shapeshift, so I got a perfect transition at the low cost of death.”

Tim snorted, “Death is an ally.”

“Absolutely, it comes for us all,” he winked. “If you had a single power, what would it be?”

“Something so I wouldn’t need to sleep. I can manage otherwise. What determines the things you take?”

Phantom grinned, “Once a detective. But seriously, I just aim for things that look cool and won’t be missed too much. Some people will kick up a fuss over their trash if they think it’s worth stealing. Thoughts on soulmates?”

He stopped, some part of him catching on how serious the otherwise silly sounding question was phrased. As if the way he answered this could mean life or death. “You mean, a couple acting like they’re made for each other?”

“Ah, I wasn’t sure whether you had them in your universe. On my Earth, everyone is born with some kind of connection to at least one other person. Shared thoughts, a timer countdown to the time they first meet, stuff like that. Platonic or romantic, they were called soulmates.”

“So…someone you’re destined to meet and get along with? Is it magic based?”

A nod. “Humanity’s done research but they haven’t concluded on that yet. I asked an Ancient whose domain was centered around it, and they said it was determined by a soul’s resonance. I don’t know the specifics, but something about how all souls that resonate a certain way are born with soulmarks, so that they have an easier time finding each other. There are studies about how soulmates tend to understand each other easier, but other than that there’s no empirical proof that they’re different from any other relationship.”

Tim considered it. What it might’ve been like, to be told the second he met Dick that fateful night at the circus, ‘this boy will permanently alter the course of your life’. To have been able to approach Batman that first time, point to his wrist, and automatically be listened to instead of resorting to blackmail. How much easier it would have been to avoid the misunderstandings that defined their whole family.

Then again, it would be just his luck to have been born in that world and not have any soul connections to the Wayne family, making him work twice as hard for the same level of trust. Or to be born without resonance at all, and be left knowing that he was truly beyond reach. What would that do to him, in a society where people could point at the worst criminals and say ‘even that monster has someone they love’? To be soulmates with a genuinely terrible person?

“It sounds like a mixed blessing,” Tim said, meeting Danny’s gaze directly. “I would love to have someone like that by my side, and I’d be terrified of being defined by it.”

Danny leaned back, wearing a self-deprecating smile that Tim was quickly learning to recognize. “Yeah, that’s fair. Your turn.”

“What…what is your personal experience with soulmates? If I’m allowed to ask.”

He hissed out a breath through his teeth. “Yeah, that’s exactly what I thought you’d say.”

“I can ask something else?”

Danny waved a hand in dismissal. “I’ll answer, just lemme figure out how to put it.”

“I’ll return our dishes while you think through what you want to say.” Tim stood with his empty bowl, easily accepting the other bowl and plate as they were handed to him.

Walking back, Tim cataloged the people hanging around the tavern. A group of friends huddled around a dozen plates, decked out in gear that made it look like they just finished having some grand adventure. The bartender, a sly smile on her face as a drunken man clumsily flirted with his own wife. The cook instructing a boy to retrieve the dishes from Tim, sending a calculating glance in Danny’s direction before nodding at Tim and turning back to the fire.

Tim didn’t spend a lot of time in public anymore. His fame attracted far too much attention now that the press could consistently recognize him. But maybe once things settled back down again, he’d try civilian life again. There was something different about living alongside the people he worked to save, instead of far above looking down.

By the time he returned to his seat, Danny looked ready to talk.

“My soulmate rejected me when we were little.”

Tim blinked. “You can do that?”

“Ah…sorta? Depending on the connection, one side can choose to shut it down. Mine let us exchange messages. I was a dumb kid, and sent out a ton every day to try and get any kind of response that they were out there. They got sick of it and blocked me.” Danny laughed, but it wasn't very funny.

“I’m sorry. That sounds awful.”

“Don’t be. I annoy everyone—it was only a matter of time before I did something to chase them away.”

“Would you stop doing that?”

Danny blinked, tilting his head in silent question.

“Look, I get that you went through a lot of shit before coming to Gotham. But you keep acting like it’s a given that everyone you meet will be awful to you, and it sucks to hear you talk like that when I’m having fun with you. It wasn't your fault, so stop claiming credit for it. If I can’t justify losing Robin, you can’t justify being abandoned.”

“...alright then.” Danny huffed, folding his arms and pouting. “Neither of us can talk shit about ourselves.”

The twinkle in his eyes was enough for Tim to know he got through to him.

— - —

Tim leaned up against a fence in the Wild West, shifting uncomfortably in his dust coated clothes. Danny was perched beside him, smugly radiating a cool breeze that may very well have been the only thing keeping Tim upright in the summer sun.

“There’s too much sunlight here, it’s unnatural.”

“That’s just your Gothamite showing, city-boy.”

“Fuck off.”

Danny’s laughter had become a staple of the past few days spent traveling through history. In turn, Tim found himself happier than he’d been in ages, making sarcastic comments about anything that caught his eye in an attempt to get Danny to laugh more.

So far, he’d yet to fail to bring at least a smile to the other’s face.

Right now they were in the late 19th century, following rumors that Bruce had somehow crossed paths with Vandal Savage again. It was bordering on ridiculous, and a part of Tim wondered if this was why the legendary criminal stayed well away from Gotham waters. He was going to have to ask Bruce what was up with that after this whole mess was over.

“So,” Danny started, leaning closer to him. “Have any plans for when we’re back in modern day?”

Tim shrugged, “I see a lengthy report to Batman, hours spent explaining everything he missed while he was gone. I swear I’ll be up all week helping him catch up.”

A snort. “I meant about Robin. No offense, but you looked miserable in your new costume.”

He paused. He hadn’t quite processed the knowledge that bringing Bruce back wouldn’t also bring back his role as Robin. It was obvious whenever he actually thought about it, but to him Bruce coming home was still synonymous to going back to how things were before he was lost in time.

“I don’t know…Red Robin was just supposed to be temporary. It was one of Red Hood’s old aliases, not really mine.”

Danny turned to him. “Do you want a new one? If you decide now, we can lay the basis for some local legend to act as future inspiration for the new title.”

Tim elbowed him, “We aren’t messing with the timeline to establish lore for my new identity.”

“C’mon, it’ll be fun! I did it back in my original world, there’s ancient frescos of me winning chariot races and everything.”

“How are you and Clockwork still on speaking terms?”

“Oh, he totally finds it as funny as I do. He just has to pretend to be serious all the time so the Observants don’t crack down on him for shirking his duties.”

“You’re a bad influence on the embodiment of time,” Tim concluded with wide eyes.

A wide grin stretched across Danny’s face as he lied through his teeth. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“How did you even—he’s millennia older than you!”

“Counterparts, remember? It’s not a soul bond, but it’s easy to see ourselves in each other. Besides, time is relative; he's like a weird grandpa-uncle-cousin.”

Tim shook his head, but couldn’t quite force down the laughter in his lungs.

“Hey, I know for a fact I’m not the only bad influence here. No matter how much you claim that sleep is for the dead, I’m physical proof against that.”

“Whatever. You know when the next jump is?”

Danny tilted his head, as if listening for something only meant for his ears. “If Bats already came through here, there’s only two big timesinks left he could be in. Either sometime in the 20th century, or in a designated Vanishing Point.”

“Vanishing Point?”

“Yeah, it’s something of a collaboration between the Observants, Clockwork, and Ghost Writer. Each universe has an archive set right around its eventual heat death. It’s like an empty room in a video game with props the devs left in to keep the system running after inadvertently designing the whole code in reference to a lemon.”

“I…never mind. Why would Batman be there?”

“Oh, ‘cause he’s traveling through time without one of these,” Danny tapped Tim’s chest, right where his Time Medallion lay under his shirt. “They’re designed to safely disperse the energy gained each time we make a jump, among other things. Otherwise we’d just be building up enough to wipe the timeline from existence. Or something like that, I wasn’t really paying attention.”

Tim suddenly realized that this was what his former teammates meant when they complained about him executing strategies without explaining his thought process first. He still stood by his stance that it was more effective to explain things as they happened, but he was developing a new sense of empathy for them.

“Okay. Batman is a time-charged universe level bomb threat, and is getting funneled into the Backrooms so he blows up with everything else in existence. What can we do to stop that?”

Danny blinked. “Sorry, I thought it was obvious. I already carry a medallion with me wherever I go, so I was just gonna have you put the spare Clocky gave me on him to filter it out.”

Yep. This was karma for never giving people the full story behind any of his plans.

“I’m going to need you to go over everything we need to do when we get to this Vanishing Point. Twice.”

“Okie doke! So I’m gonna leave you with my spare medallion to help Bats while I throw down with Darkseid’s hyper-dimensional mind slave he sent after him to ensure his demise—”

Gift baskets. Tim owed so many people gift baskets for putting up with his bullshit.

— - —

When Tim found him, Danny was perched on the same apartment building they’d last met on.

His hood was down, freeing his flaming white hair to burn without heat in the night. His face was turned towards the sky, looking for all like he was somehow stargazing in spite of the thick smog that blanketed the city. It would’ve made for a stunning picture, if not for how soul crushingly lonely the scene felt.

Danny startled when Tim’s grappling hook latched onto the rooftop beside him. The halfa was quick to brighten upon seeing Tim down below, scooting over to make room for him as he reeled in the line and pulled himself up.

“Fancy meeting you here, Detective.”

Tim huffed, readjusting his utility belt. “The others won’t stop pestering me about how Batman was brought back when I shouldn’t have access to any time travel devices. It’s a miracle I was even able to get out of the Batcave without getting smothered.”

“You didn’t tell them about me?”

“You didn’t want them to know.”

Danny looked stunned. He physically shook himself out of it, a glowing green blush rising to his cheeks as he turned away. “Thanks.”

Tim absentmindedly nodded as he smoothly slipped a black marker from his belt while Danny was distracted. This had the potential to either go very smoothly or backfire completely, but it had to be done to sate his curiosity. Now that Bruce was home and he’d gotten the time to think over their conversations, pieces had started to align in his head. It was just a matter of taking the leap and confirming it for himself.

Reaching up to his own cheek, Tim wrote in practiced motions, focusing on the thought of sending it through to whoever was on the other side.

Danny jumped, hand slapping to his own cheek as he whipped his head around to stare at Tim in open shock. He shrugged sheepishly.

“Your description of soulmates was familiar. Between that and the cloak, I really should’ve put it together sooner.”

“You’re…not mad?”

Tim shifted, stashing the marker back in its rightful place. “I wish I knew sooner. I never meant to hurt you—Batman was getting on my case about the writing on my arms being recognizable in costume, and I never thought to wonder why it was happening in the first place.”

Danny shook his head, a wet chuckle escaping his lips. “You couldn’t have known. It would’ve freaked anyone out, getting messages from a different universe on their skin.”

“Neither did you. Know, I mean. Me blocking the connection was never on you.”

“Well…”

“I mean it.”

“Fine, fine. So…does that mean…?”

Tim carefully reached out his hands to grasp onto his soulmate’s, intertwining their fingers. It was remarkable how easily they fit together. “I don’t know if it’s romantic or not, but I’m willing to give it a try if you are.”

Danny collapsed forward into Tim’s arms. He could hardly make out the muffled affirmative, but the message was crystal clear. Leaning down to set his chin on the top of Danny’s head, he let himself savor this moment.

Tomorrow, he could beg Danny to experiment with the extent of their bond. They could talk about new ideas for his hero name, and Danny could get another shot at convincing him to go on a worldwide anti-multi-billionaire tour. The two of them had potentially forever to work out this newfound aspect of their relationship.

For the time being, Tim relaxed back against a chain link fence with his soulmate in his arms, the word ‘BOO’ scribbled in black marker across both their faces.

— - —

And that's a wrap! There's definitely room for more, but these were the all the scenes I wanted to cover ^-^

I think in this universe, Danny and Tim end up working as a slightly morally grey hero duo. They go global for a bit, Tim wanting to train under more people to better keep up with Danny (who follows along invisibly as backup). This eventually gets the attention of Ra's, and you can imagine how that goes XD

They're a bit overly attached; neither of them really have a healthy sense of boundaries, which causes a bit of conflict here and there. Tim is the one that insists on taking breaks to avoid becoming too codependent, which only really results in them deepening the soul bond to a ridiculous degree. Ironically it's during this that Tim discovers how he can send pressure marks through to Danny, who immediately converts it to morse code (oops).

Thanks for reading!

Tag list:

@skulld3mort-1fan @profoundsoulsong @daemonlogical @bobred18 @ashoutinthedarkness @hilariousseagoat @undead-essence @ekatkit @wolfjackle @awkwardmaiden @vehan-tikkun-olam-and-stuff

[blues824]

I read that angels and demons have true forms, and theoretically, everyone in obey me might have a true form. And going with mc being descended from Lilith who was an Angel, maybe they are resistant to the whole “see nonhumans true form makes you lose your sanity” thing, I kind of want to see this scenario: Simeon and Luke: “Be not afraid.” MC: 😐”…I think I just wet myself”

I am combining these two into one! Basing it off of this picture. This is platonic.

Lucifer

You had pointed out his wings and shattered halo, along with the horns and fangs at a time where he wasn’t showing his demon form at all. Not just that, but he never had fangs or a halo in the form you’ve seen. You tell him that you have always been able to see their true forms.

He has reason to suspect that it came from your descension from Lilith. It grew to a very concerning point when you even said that you could see his former angel form, the one with the eyes and wings. No human has ever seen that and lived… are you sure you are human?

Mammon

He let out a shriek when you said that he looked kind of creepy with all the eyeballs and wings and broken halo. He hasn’t seen that form in millenia! You had to be joking somehow, but there was no way you would have been able to see that form of him.

He immediately went to tell Lucifer, and when he saw the concerned look on his older brother’s face, he knew that it was serious. You were already different because of your connection with Lilith, but now you’re saying that you can handle seeing their true forms as angels and demons.

Leviathan

He definitely did not like it when you asked him about his fallen angel form, especially when you asked about details that there was no possible way you could ask about unless you could actually see it… oh no.

Once you had left, he texted the House of Lamentation group chat (the one that excluded you) about what just happened. The chat immediately blew up with curiosity and concern, along with a bunch of questions that no one had the answer to.

Satan

You had pointed out his true demon form, and even commented on how he looked like a typical demon that was portrayed in medieval paintings. His neck turned so fast you would have been afraid it would snap if he were human.

He reported the incident to Lucifer and Diavolo, and the latter reasoned that it could be because of your connection to Lilith. You were a mystery, one that Satan didn’t truly know if he would want to solve. After all, you just reminded him of the thing he could never truly escape: Wrath.

Asmodeus

He was doing your makeup when you asked if his true angel form felt uncomfortable. He didn’t know what you were talking about until you elaborated. You told him how you were able to see his broken halo and the wings and eyes that littered his body.

Asmo quickly changed the subject, but he didn’t forget about it. He texted the HoL group chat about it, asking Lucifer specifically if he knew what was going on. After all, no one has seen their true forms in millennia.

Beelzebub

When you asked about his true angel form, but with the messed up halo and tears falling down from the many eyes, he was definitely freaked out. You usually don’t see him so stunned, so you were concerned.

Beel quickly told Lucifer, who reasoned that it might be because you are related to Lilith. The typical human would go mad if they saw their true forms, so your angelic roots might have made you immune to them.

 

Belphegor

He hasn’t seen his angelic form in thousands of years. When you point it out to him, he’s hit with nostalgia of playing with Beel and Lilith in the Celestial Realm. It’s all bittersweet memories that he can never experience again.

It made him wonder if you could see everyone else’s form, and you confirmed that it was the only thing you could see rather than their typical demon forms. He told Lucifer about it, and they deduced it to your relation to Lilith.

Simeon

He was scared when you said that his wings and many eyes looked beautiful. He cared about you too much to allow you to go insane, but he let out a sigh of relief when he realized that you seemed alright.

He thinks that it could be because of your connection to Lilith, which makes the most sense. Angels were immune to other angels, and that was the explanation that seemed to ring true in this case.

Luke

You weren’t prepared for the scream he let out when you told him that his angel form was beautiful and majestic. You did not cover your ears in time. Luke was squeezing you so tight, begging you not to go insane.

He was almost in tears with fear, until Simeon told him that since you were related to Lilith, you were completely okay. Now the young angel let out tears of joy and relief. You thought it was adorable how much he cared about you.

[gilverrwrites]

Somehow I feel like Roman would totally baby trap Wayne Reader. Maybe she was thinking about leaving him cause her brothers found out and are “messing with her head”. So he would get her pregnant and play it like a total accident. Don’t worry sweetheart he is gonna take care of you, just let him make every decision for you after all it’s for your own good you can’t hurt the baby. Move in with him, let him put a ring on your finger. I can just see him taking already heavily pregnant reader to some kind of event and Bruce is there seeing Roman with his little girl, his daughter. And Roman is just smirking, with a hand on reader’s waist and her belly

CWs: Babytrapping, manipulation

Slipping off the condom or hiding your birth control is definitely in the realm of possibility for Roman, but I really think his first port of call is manipulation. To coerce you into wanting to start a family with him. It's your idea, he's just giving his best doll what they want. He'd do anything to see you happy (and reliant).

“Your family just don't understand you the way I do.”

“One day when we have a child of our own, we’ll be a real family. We’ll treat each other right.”

“They’ll never see you as an adult, you’ll always be the baby of the family. Well, unless…”

“When? Well whenever you're ready baby. You and our baby, you’ll never have to want for anything. I'll take care of you. Anything you need.”

“Of course I mean anything doll. A baby? You want a baby now?”

“Are you sure you want this? It's a big responsibility. I know you can handle it, you and me, we’ll be a great team but what will your father think?”

Lies, its all lies.

Why? So when anyone of them, but especially Bruce catches a glimpse of your plump, round baby belly being paraded around a gala like a show pony and snaps!

When he makes a scene, storming through the crowds, yelling until he's blue in the face.

When he gets in Roman's face about defiling and impregnating his child.

Roman can say you begged him for it.

[akanesheep]

0-death How dark do they go?

Lucifer:

This man is about quick decisive action, and he’s too busy to fuck around. He has work to do (Dia, give him time off). He’ll give a warning for minor infractions, but if you’re messing with MC, his family, or acting against Diavolo’s plans, he will kill you, he will not waste time with words, your pleas will not be heard, and he isn’t interested in making a deal. If you have information to share, he’ll turn you over to Barbatos and Asmo, unless you don’t make it obvious fast enough, in which case your story does with you.

Rating: 9

Mammon:

This demon is the one to make a deal with, unless you cross him on MC or his family. He usually doesn’t find himself in violent situations unless he’s on a mission from Lucifer or Diavolo, or if you cross him as stated above.

If he’s sent to deal with you, it’s because a statement is being made, and rules are rules.

In personal affairs that are strictly on him, he brushes a lot off. If you do push him, it’s mostly bluster. If somehow you DO manage to make him take action, you done messed up… but he isn’t unreasonable. He’ll make a deal with you. It will cost you everything you own, but you’ll live another day.

Rating: 3

Leviathan:

-sighs- this boy has no time for you, he has raid in 5 minutes! If you somehow managed to encounter him in person, it was by rare chance, he isn’t the aggressive type. He’s most likely to shrink away and hurry home. His family? He’s convinced they can handle it against almost anyone. He would step at the last moment if someone had managed to get the upper hand…

Mess with MC tho and he’s gonna feed you to Lotan. He isn’t much on negotiating. You’re a headline faster than he can whip his tail. Don’t mess with otakus, you never know when they’ll snap ;3

Ranking:5

Satan:

What? Is this a discussion?

Well??

Honestly that depends on him. Catch him 90% of the time and he makes you a squishy toy with little thought and less effort.

10% of the time, when he’s in a particularly cheerful mood, and it isn’t something pertaining to MC or his brothers (except maybe Lucifer), you could manage to get a glare, or a growl, a shove, but you’ll live.

Rating: 9.5

Asmo:

The most beautiful creature in the three realms, the gregarious, social butterfly that is Asmodeus. He looks so fun and easy to get along with. He prefers it that way. Few see the insecurity and the darkness bubbling beneath the surface. He’s quick to forgive an errant demon bumping into him in the hall, or someone stepping on his foot in a club. That drunk demon just said he was ugly and overrated though? Well, guess who just fucked up? He won’t dirty his hands on them, just charm them into submission and then tell them to take themselves off the census.

His work with Barbatos to interrogate those who cross Diavolo have made him quite efficient at disposing of problems.

Mess with MC or his family though? He will delight in getting his hands dirty. His charm will make you beg for the pain of being eviscerated, simply because it feels so good to you. He’ll drop the charm before he makes the death blow however, because he wants you to look at him, your mind unclouded as he reminds you of exactly what you did.

Rating: 8

Beelzebub:

In contrast to Satan, he’s so mellow, that he can brush off most things.

Now, you threaten MC or his brothers, or make the mistake of coming between him and his food, and you will be his food. You’ll simply be a memory, not his, but surely somebody’s.

Defending the Devildom? Beel will do his duty. He’s a dutiful soldier so long as it doesn’t conflict with family.

Rating:3

Belphie:

When he’s asleep, you’re only 50% safe. He can be impossible to wake, but knows everything happening around him. Our sleepy demon is 100% fuck around and find out. If he must, he’s swift and efficient with his knives, but he’d prefer to simply take note of you, let you go home, enjoy your evening, go to sleep. He’ll be waiting inside your dream, where he will put you through every kind of tortuous experience… Should you manage to survive the night, which most do not, you simply leave.

Belphie is the second most likely to ignore aggression toward Lucifer… but only to a point. He’s got his beefs with his eldest brother, but Lucifer is still family. Proceed at your peril.

Rating: 8

Solomon:

This bastard… he’ll make you wish he’d killed you. He’ll treat you like a friend. You wanna make a pact? Very little motivates this man to violent action, but cross him at your peril. He’s had thousands of years to study magic, as well as torture techniques. What? Did you think this laid-back sorcerer never thought of non-magical pursuits? Now that you’ve crossed him, you’ll see that smile continue to persist as he has you screaming and begging for mercy. Of course, to get this reaction from him it wouldn’t be a slight to him personally to draw his ire. He would defend himself, but wouldn’t go for the kill. But if you go after those he loves, you’re going to see this man show you things you won’t want to live though, he’ll make sure you do, just so he can do it again, and again.

Rating: 2.5

Simeon:

An Angel from above in all ways. He’s so sweet. He’d forgive almost any slight. Wouldn’t harm a fly. Right?

Well, until you try to harm his loved ones. Mc & Luke are his precious family. He also adores Lucifer and the brothers.

Erasing you with angelic light wouldn’t take more than a snap of his fingers, but for you he needs to make an example to others to never be so foolish. He’ll tell you how much he doesn’t enjoy it, but you see the smile on his face as he ‘purifies’ you with a magical sphere, one limb at a time. Taking his time to ensure no one could miss your screams.

Rating: 2

Barbatos:

The thing about the calm and unflustered butler to the Prince of Devildom is that he is exactly that. Certain, efficient, fast, and calm. Like Lucifer he is far too busy to have to deal with your shit. Do not try him. For something minor, he’ll teleport you to a very dangerous place, good luck surviving. A step further? You’ll be in the dungeons, he’ll deal with you when he’s finally done with his duties for the day. You will not enjoy it, and should you manage to survive, he may decide to keep you around for stress relief. Congrats, you just became his squishy toy.

Plot or attempt to cause harm to Diavolo or MC? You won’t know you’re dead. He’ll have beheaded you, or ripped your heart out and have it still beating in his hand before you even sensed his presence. He won’t even care enough to pity your foolish actions. For a group, he’ll identify one to teleport to the dungeons, after all, intel is as good as gold. The rest are expendable, and he’ll ensure that they are no longer a problem.

Rating: 9.5

Diavolo:

Intimidating to most anything with a pulse, despite his calm and gregarious manner. Only fools would cross him haphazardly. Immense physical strength and magic deep enough to write and re-write the Devildom itself… yes, only the most foolish would dare draw the ire of this monarch.

That being said, he generally delegates most of the disciplinary actions to Barbatos or the Avatars of Sin. It boosts their standing within the Kingdom, and helps ease others into being more direct with him.

He doesn’t get angry when someone disagrees with his ideas, he encourages debate, he genuinely wants to hear the truth from his subjects, as well as diplomats from other realms. It’s all taken into account before he finalizes any plan. He’s quick to change course when needed, and not stubborn when he knows he’s wrong.

He really is the best type of ruler for the vision of the Devildom he has.

It isn’t often he’s genuinely angry. When he is, the weather can literally change, the already sunless kingdom becomes visibly darker and the air will crackle with energy. He’s good at keeping it under control, only those closest to him notice the subtle changes that indicate his growing irritation.

He isn’t generally angered at personal attacks. That’s part of the job. He does get irritated when he cannot sort out a solution to give him the result he wants, but it isn’t worth the fight, he’s quick to realize.

However, put his loved ones or his kingdom at risk, and the archangels in the heavens couldn’t save you. He’d be on you before even Barbatos or Lucifer could react. You’d be dead before their heads finished whipping your direction. If he doesn’t physically attack, he could snap his fingers and you would simply cease to be. He’ll regret it after, because he knows that the human and celestial realms will find it disturbing that the Demon Lord dirtied his hands, however, they’ll also understand that some offenses deserve a hands on response, even if they don’t say so.

Rating: 5

These seemed to get longer as I wrote, sorry about that… Hope everyone’s doing good, and enjoying Nightbringer. I took several days off from trying to write just to get through the story XD.

[sapphires-and-silver-linings]

More | One-Shot

“I would never compliment you just to get something out of it.” “I’m not asking what you’d do, I’m asking what you want."

You and Leon have some time alone in a closet.

Pairing: DBD!Leon S. Kennedy/F!Reader

Tags: Fluff, Smut, Blowjob (Giving), Vaginal Fingering, Cunnilingus (Receiving), P in V Sex

Notes: Hey guys! This one-shot was originally part of a collection, but I've decided to reupload it as a standalone. This is my first ever (posted) one-shot and smut piece! Enjoy!

Masterlist Catalogue

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You wake up early that day, a plan forming in your head the moment you open your eyes.

You get dressed, something simple and comfortable, before you go about your morning routine.

After getting ready, you head towards the storage closet that holds all of the survivors’ extra clothes. 

You’re going to get a new outfit today. 

Hopefully something sexy, but easy to maneuver in. You aren’t sure if your little scheme would make much of a difference, but why not try?

You hear your name as you beeline towards your destination, the familiar voice pulling you from your thoughts.

When you turn, you find Leon standing beside you, clearly having to jog to catch up. “Hey, you look like a woman on a mission. Going somewhere?”

You laugh. “You could say that. I wanted to dig around in the storage closet. Hope to find something new to wear.” 

“You mind if I join you? I’ve got nothing better to do. Besides, I could use a change myself.” 

You’re a little surprised by the offer. You and Leon have started becoming friends over the last few months, but he usually keeps his distance unless you happen to be in the same space. You’re enthralled by it, however, as you’ve formed a massive crush on the young cop. 

“Sure! Maybe I could even pick it out for you,” you say, that last part more of a joke. 

“I can’t promise I’ll like it, but you can try,” he replies, chuckling lightly. 

You reach the closet, locking the two of you inside with the hook latch that was installed, put there to prevent anyone walking in on those changing in the small room. 

You ask Leon his sizes and make him turn around while you pick out clothes for him, informing him it has to be a surprise. 

You finish, telling him to turn back towards you, shoving the pile into his hands. He looks skeptically at the items before glancing at you with a raised brow.

“Well, go ahead. Try them on,” you encourage. 

“In front of you?” 

You roll your eyes good-naturedly, facing away from him as you reply, “I’m turning around, obviously.” 

He takes a few minutes but lets you know as soon as he’s done. 

You look over at him, taking in his appearance with a low whistle. It isn’t anything crazy, just an open flannel with the sleeves rolled up, hanging off a well-fitted t-shirt. There’s a pair of bootcut jeans that sit snugly on his bottom half.

“Looking good, Kennedy. I think this is a winner.” 

“I like it,” he responds, appraising himself in the full-length mirror on the back of the door. “Though the pants are a little… tighter than I’m used to.”

“C’mon, with a butt that cute, you can’t keep it all to yourself,” you tell him, giving him a mischievous grin as you get an eyeful. 

He scoffs. “Is that so?” 

“Mhm. Only rivals your face. In fact, you probably have the prettiest face in the realm.” 

You can see a blush spreading across his cheeks, but he hides it with a small smile. “Not half as pretty as you.” 

You quirk a brow at him. “Oh, so we’re lying now?”

“I’m not lying,” he replies, defensive. 

“So you’re not trying to butter me up for something?”

“No, I’m not. Are you usually this bad at taking a compliment?”

“Only when it’s from pretty boys like you.” 

He rolls his eyes at that, exasperated. “Just my luck, then.”

You laugh. “I’m sorry, I was just messing with you. I appreciate the compliment. On a more serious note, I guess I’m not used to being flattered like that. Especially by someone—oh, I don’t know—more on the conventionally attractive side of the spectrum?”

“Really? I don’t get why. You’re gorgeous.” 

“I’m not everyone’s cup of tea, maybe. But when I do get complimented by a guy, it’s usually because he wants something from me,” you explain, shrugging, before searching for your own outfit on the racks. 

“Like what?” 

You give a disbelieving laugh at his naivete. “Sex, Kennedy.”

“Oh… Well, I wasn’t trying to get into your pants or anything.” 

You turn back to face him, a dress folded over your arm. “So you’re telling me you don’t want anything from me?” 

“Of course not!” He seems appalled by your insinuation.

“Not even… a kiss?” 

“I would never compliment you just to get something out of it.” 

“I’m not asking what you’d do, I’m asking what you want.” 

“I don’t want anything from you! I swear!” 

“Hm. A shame. Turn around so I can change, please.”

Looking more than a little flustered, he does as you ask, though he can still see you in the mirror in front of him. He tries not to peek, but he finds it hard to avoid taking a quick glance at your backside, the soft curve of your ass making his fingers twitch. 

“Did you… want me to kiss you?” he prods, folding his arms across his chest and feeling suddenly diffident. 

“Well, I’d never deny you one,” you respond noncommittally, pulling the dress over your form. “You can turn around now.” 

He follows your command and you see his eyes rake over you appreciatively. The dress is flowy, the billowing sleeves cinched at your wrists and the skirt reaching just below your knee. 

What really catches his wandering gaze, though, is the tight bodice, which exposes an excessive amount of your cleavage. 

His face is turning hot as he forces himself to peel away his stare. “Wow. What’s the occasion?” 

You look at yourself in the mirror. “I thought maybe I could use this as a distraction for the killers in trials. Obviously, there are many that wouldn’t even care, but some of them still have… human urges… under all that monstrosity.” 

Leon laughs. “My concern would be distracting us survivors instead. Or worse, garnering too much attention from a killer.” 

“Hm,” you reply, swishing out the skirt. Regardless of its usefulness, you’re going to keep it. “I guess that would be a problem. Well, I’m going to change back.”  

Leon nods, turning around yet again. 

There’s a moment of silence between you and, against his better judgment, he says, “You know, I’ve thought about what it would be like.”

“To?” 

“Kiss you.” 

He meets your eye in the mirror as you spin on your heels, only in your underwear. He quickly looks away, ashamed that he was caught ogling you. 

Unabashed, you stride up to him, grabbing his arm to turn him towards you. “Is that so?” 

His breath is caught in his throat as he looks at you, now able to see your exposed front. You were in a bra and panties and he wanted nothing more than to touch you. 

“All the time,” he admits further, trailing up his gaze to your own. Your eyes are blazing, but not in anger like he worried. No, the look is determined. Challenging. 

Full of lust.

You get closer, trailing your hand up to rest on his cheek. He leans into the touch, entranced by how silky the skin of your palm is against his face.

“Well, would you like to make that a reality?” you ask, giving him an out. 

He would never take it, not when all he’s wanted since meeting you is dangling in front of him like this. He thought about the conversation you just had moments ago and felt a twinge of guilt. 

He’s a goddamn liar. He did want something from you.

No, not just something. Everything.

He doesn’t answer, instead surging forward and kissing you. 

It’s gentle, his lips soft against yours, but there’s a desperation and eagerness in it that catches you off guard.

He grabs your face in his hands, your own bracing against his chest as you open your mouth to him. He wastes no time in dancing his tongue against yours, a sigh trapped in your throat. 

After a while, you pull away and he looks down at you, confused. “Is something wrong?”

“No, of course not,” you reply, a little breathless. “I was just gonna ask if you wanted to take this further.” 

His eyes widen, shocked that he would be getting anything more than the taste of your lips. He drops his hands to his sides and glances at the door apprehensively. “What if someone wants in here?”

You giggle. “Well, it’s locked, so we have time to get dressed. Besides, people rarely come into this room. And no one knows to look for us here.”

He swallows thickly, turning back to face you, “I’ll be honest, I’m not exactly… experienced.” 

“Are you a virgin?” There’s no judgment in your tone, just curiosity.

He shakes his head. “No, I’m not, but it’s just been a while.”

“I’m shocked,” you say. “I figured someone like you would be getting tail left and right.” 

He lets out a soft puff of laughter. “Sure, there have been girls interested in me, but I’ve always been kinda particular about who I get intimate with. I've only had one girlfriend, back in high school. We broke up when she went to a college out of state and I decided to join the police academy. It took me a while to get over her, and I never really clicked with anyone else.”

“Are you insinuating we click, Kennedy? I feel special,” you tease, gently traveling a hand to his neck and caressing the hairs at the nape of it with your fingers.

His eyes are warm as he regards you. “I guess that’s exactly what I’m saying.” 

“If that’s the case,” you respond with an impish smile, backing away from him and leaping to perch on the dresser set against the far wall, “then there’s no reason to stop now.”

He follows you—because he knows now he always will, forever—and situates himself between your open legs, leaning down to kiss you again, even more fervently than before.

His hands lay still on your waist and you whine into his mouth before pulling away, “Touch me, Leon.”

He exhales a nervous breath as he slowly trails his palms up to press against your still-covered breasts. Feeling impatient, you reach behind you and unclasp your bra, revealing your naked chest to him. 

You let out a quiet, raspy moan as he touches you, looking at you with awe. He gently pinches your nipples to hear your noises again before replacing one hand with his mouth, sucking on the hardened peak. 

You pull his face up to yours and kiss him again, vigorously, before asking, “What all have you done before?”

He doesn’t stop moving his hands against your breasts as he replies, “Fingering. I’ve gotten a handjob a few times. Sex itself, obviously. That’s about it.”

There’s a gleam in your eyes, “So you’ve never been sucked off before?” 

He shakes his head, feeling embarrassed. 

You slip off the dresser and he worries he’s lost your interest due to his inexperience before you turn him to lean against the piece of furniture, kneeling on the concrete floor in front of him.

“What are you doing?” 

You look at him, trailing your hands up his clothed legs. “What do you think I’m doing, Leon?”

He shudders as you open both his belt and his jeans, pulling them down to his ankles before gliding your fingers across his already hardened length tucked behind the cloth of his underwear. 

You waste no time in freeing his cock from the confines of his boxer briefs, sliding them down to rest atop his crumpled jeans.

It jumps to attention in front of you, the length and girth of it practically perfect in every way, just like the rest of him. His pubes—dark blonde like the hair that falls over his eyes as he stares down at you in anticipation—are trimmed and well-groomed, which you take a second to appreciate.

You grab his member in your hand and give him one long, languid stroke, looking directly at him. He gasps, those beautiful pink lips parting into a lovely “O” as he grips the edge of the dresser. 

You continue to pump him in your hand for a few moments, using the pre-cum that beaded at the tip to slicken his shaft. 

You lean forward, lips ghosting along the head of his cock. “You ready for this, Kennedy?” 

He nods quickly, practically heaving from the suspense and teasing you’ve subjected him to. 

You smile and open your mouth, taking him as far as you could down your throat in one swift motion. 

He moans, the sound beautiful but far too loud in the small space.

You pull back for a moment. “If you’re so worried about getting caught, Leon, you should really be more quiet.” 

He looks sheepish, but the expression is quickly replaced with one of ecstasy as you take him back into your mouth, sucking and licking as you slide up and down his length. 

You fall into a nice rhythm, Leon’s knuckles turning white as he grips the wood of the dresser hard, trying to keep himself from bucking up into you or grabbing you by the hair and pushing you down further. What a gentleman.

After a few minutes, he does card a hand through your hair, gently. But instead of pushing you forward, he pulls you back. You release his member from your mouth and look up at him expectantly.

“I-I’m getting close,” he says, panting. 

“You don’t want to finish in my mouth?” 

He groans, clearly affected by your words, but shakes his head.

You stand up, palming his cock as you lean into him. “Use your words, Kennedy.”

He scoffs, but is clearly too invested to fight against your teasing, pulling you into a heated kiss before replying, “I want to feel you.” 

“Good boy,” you respond, peeling your panties off of you before sitting back on the dresser and spreading your legs. “But you could at least warm me up first.” 

His breath hitches as he looks at your cunt, now completely bare before him, bringing his hand between the two of you to slide a finger through your folds.

You whine as he teases you like that for a moment, a jolt of pleasure shooting through you as he rubs against your clit in a slow, careful circle. 

He dives his finger into you, curving it at a delicious angle as he pumps it in and out. He adds another finger, the slight stretch only barely scratching the itch you so desperately needed. Regardless, you can feel yourself reaching your peak and you had no plan of denying yourself that. 

To your dismay, he pulls those lovely, lithe fingers completely from your now-drenched core. You’re about to complain until you see the way he looks at the mess on his fingers, his expression curious as he brings them to his lips. He sucks them clean as you watch him, eyes lidded. 

“I want to taste more of you,” he whispers, waiting for your approval. 

“Please do.”

That’s all he needs as he falls to his knees in front of you, pulling your legs to rest over his shoulders. He kisses up the inside of your thigh as he reaches your aching center, desperate for his touch. 

Your eyes meet and he swipes his tongue through your folds experimentally. Your mouth falls open as you look down at him, the expression enough encouragement for him to keep going. 

He tongue-fucks you for a while as he traces a finger over your clit, the motions getting you near the edge, but not quite enough to push you over.

“More, Leon. Please,” you beg in a hushed voice. 

He switches up his movements, opting to return to using his fingers to massage inside of you as he sucks your clit between his lips.

You start rocking your hips forward against him, desperate for release, not realizing your moans were getting louder with every passing second. 

He pulls back and you cry out in frustration, his free hand pressing firmly against your hip to stop you from squirming, his tone snarky as he says, “Who needs to be quiet now?” 

You dig your fingers into his hair and tug his face harshly towards your dripping sex, a gasp escaping him at the rough action, warning, “Watch it, Kennedy.”

You feel him smirk against you, but he doesn’t push his luck, falling back into his previous ministrations. You keep your hand in his hair, your other one formed into a fist and pressed into your mouth, biting down on the flesh there to keep yourself from getting any louder.

Finally, you reach your climax, moaning against the skin of your knuckle as you offer a muffled, “I’m cumming, Leon!” 

A wave of euphoria washes over you, your back arching as you grind yourself against his face to ride out the high. 

He pulls back, fingers still moving inside of you for a few more moments until your legs stop shaking against his shoulders. He looks smug as he stands and wipes your juices from his face, your legs dropping to dangle in front of the dresser once more.

“That was really good,” you tell him, grinning as he pulls off the flannel and t-shirt, ogling the lean muscles of his body that are now fully exposed to you. “Hard to believe you never did that before.” 

“Well, I had to make up for the way your mouth worked me over earlier,” he replies, pressing his lips against your neck, softly nibbling on the skin there. 

“Ah, equivalent exchange. How civil of you.”

He pulls back, his hand now laying against your cheek, his thumb tracing your lower lip as he smiles down at you. “I’m a public servant after all, ma’am.”

You laugh and he chuckles lightly before pulling you into a deep kiss, hushing you. He wraps his arms around you and draws you closer to him. You do the same, your bare chests pushed against each other as you both squeeze tightly, your bodies and lips molding together perfectly. 

You pull from the kiss and he chases your mouth, tugging your bottom lip with his teeth before releasing it. 

“You still want more?” you ask lowly, running a finger along his spine.

You feel him shiver under your touch as he responds, “Yes. I need it. I need you.” 

You kiss him again before letting him go, leaning back on the dresser, supporting yourself on your bent arms. He sighs wantonly as he runs his hands down your sides to your legs, pulling them over his shoulders once more.

He grabs his cock with a single hand, the fingers of his other digging into one of your thighs to keep them apart. He slides the head through your folds before pressing against your entrance, not yet moving forward.

“You ready, sweetheart?” he questions, those beautiful cerulean eyes trained on yours, waiting for your signal.

You nod, desperate for this. “Please just fuck me, Leon.”

He hisses as he pushes slowly into you. You let out a whimper at the stretch, burning so good it makes you close your eyes, your head falling back against the wall.

“Fuck, this feels amazing,” he laments, pulling his hips back before snapping them forward again.

You start with soft gasps, but he picks up the pace, the sound of his moans triggering your own to spill from your mouth.

He seems to realize he lost himself for a moment, gripping the back of your neck and pulling you forward to kiss you so passionately, it makes your head spin, your legs moving to hook around his waist.

“Almost there, sweetheart,” he tells you, but you already knew he was close by the way he shudders against you. 

“Cum for me, Leon. I want you to cum inside of me,” you reply breathlessly, dragging your nails down his back, hard enough to leave marks.

He tangles the hand at the back of your neck into your hair, making you look at him, his eyes dark.

His other hand braces against your lower back as his thrusts become sloppy, pushing you farther onto him—his cock as deep as it can possibly go—as he cums with a groan. 

You kiss him as you cry out at the feeling, the two of you swallowing each other’s bliss. 

He stills and breaks the kiss, panting as he looks down at you. He seems to come back to himself and searches your face for any sign of discomfort. “Are you okay?” 

Heavy breaths beginning to calm, you laugh, pressing your lips to the corner of his mouth. “Just peachy.” 

He smiles lazily, pulling you back into a kiss. There’s less desperation in it, the movement of his lips slow and soft, but you can feel the sense of want that radiates from him. It’s so sweet and romantic, it almost brings tears to your eyes. 

Eventually—begrudgingly—he releases you from the kiss.

He’s about to pull out of you, but you stop him, not wanting to make a mess. “Could you grab that scarf over there?”

He looks over at the accessory, hanging close to the two of you from the left-hand rack, before grabbing it. 

You thank him and you both hiss as he gently pulls out of you. He quickly brings the scarf between your legs, catching the cum that leaked from your now sore sex. He wipes you clean, for which you’re grateful, and then tosses the scarf to the floor, the two of you changing back into the clothes you walked into the closet with in the first place. 

He gathers up his new outfit—the one he just fucked you in, to his disbelief—in his arms, watching you as you grab the dress you tried on and the scarf from the ground.

He looks at you questioningly and you say, “Would be pretty rude to leave it in here for someone to find, don’t you think?”

“Fair.” 

“Besides, I could always use another scarf. It’s so damn chilly here.”

“You’re actually going to wear it?”

“I mean, after I wash it, yeah.” 

He flushes a bit at that, realizing that every time he would see you in the accessory, he’d be reminded of what transpired between you. 

He wonders with a sudden fear if this was all you wanted to do with him. Would this be the only occasion he would get to share this intimacy with you?

You head towards the door to unlock it when he grabs your wrist. “Hey, was this just a one-time thing?”

“Did you want it to be?” 

He’s shocked by the question. Of course he doesn’t. He’s wanted you for months, and if you asked him to marry you tomorrow, he would in a heartbeat, no matter how stupid that would be. 

He doesn’t understand this feeling, how visceral it is. He loved his ex, he knows he did, but whatever exists between you and him is denser than a black hole and burns brighter than any supernova.

“No, I want…” How could he even word it? Could he ever explain this desire? This endless yearning that only seemed to grow in intensity now that he had the chance to be with you?

He can imagine what a life with you looked like, even despite the grim reality of the world you both were trapped in. Daydreamed about it often when he was alone in his room at night. 

He already did his best to protect you in trials, and you often healed him as thanks for taking a hit for you. But if you were his, he could see you fussing over him as you worked on whatever injury he would sustain, and he’d steal a kiss as you admonish him for not being more careful. 

He can see himself waking up to you in his rickety old bed, those lovely eyes of yours half-lidded as you look up at him. He can envision the way they’d crinkle at the edges as he tickles you, making you laugh that wonderful, musical little giggle he can’t seem to get enough of. 

All of it was laid out so plainly before him, but how could he manage to make you see it too? You’d probably think he was crazy if he even tried. 

“More?” you offer, smiling at him in a way that makes his stomach flip.

Maybe you understood after all.

“Yeah, if that’s okay with you.” 

You walk up to him, eyes bright, and pull him into one last, searing kiss.

It tastes like a promise. 

“I think I’d like that, Leon.”

And with that, you were out the door.

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Masterlist Catalogue

[honourablejester]

More TTRPGs and Spreadsheets, Heart The City Beneath Edition

I just really like crunching numbers about things. Spreadsheets soothe the soul. Or my soul, anyway.

I wanted to get an idea of class access to skills and domains in Heart: The City Beneath. Because when you’re browsing, you do notice missing elements. Most classes can get access to most skills and domains, mostly via Minor Abilities, but not all of them. There are the occasional skills or domains that certain classes cannot gain access to. So I wanted it laid out.

Skills

Spreadsheet:

There are two classes, Hound and Cleaver, who can get access to all of the skills. There are two classes, Heretic and Vermissian Knight, who are missing two of the nine skills. Everyone else is missing access to one.

Amusingly, both of the least skilled classes are barred from Sneaking, which somewhat makes sense on the Knights, but apparently Heretics are also opposed to going quietly in this setting. Which, actually, maybe that does make sense. The other skill Knights lack is Evade, and the Heretics are also missing Delve. So Knights don’t get to dodge or sneak (because they’re tanks), and Heretics don’t get to sneak or explore (because they’re more civilised?).

Of the classes missing a single skill, Apiarists also can’t evade, which I’m not sure makes sense to me? Given that they can break themselves down and reassemble themselves if they want to, though granted that takes a minimum of an hour if you’re dangerously rushing it. But eh. Incarnadines, also civilised, again don’t Delve, Junk Mages are too burnt out to Endure, Witches also do not Evade, that is beneath their dignity. And Deadwalkers, ridden by death itself, cannot Mend.

Everyone can gain access to the Compel, Discern, Hunt and Kill skills. Evade is the skill the least people have access to (3 classes can’t), followed Delve and Sneak (2 each).

Compel, Delve, Hunt and Mend are all primary/guaranteed skills for two classes each. The Junk Mage gets the lonely Discern primary skill. No one is guaranteed Endure, Evade, Kill or Sneak.

Domains

Spreadsheet:

When it comes to domains, nobody gets access to everything, all the classes have at least one realm where they don’t tend to tread. Cleavers have two places they don’t feel at home, possibly to make up for having all the skills. (This leaves the Hounds as the most generalised class).

Haven and Occult are the two most polarising domains, having both the most classes barred from them and the most classes that have them as primary domains. Haven is barred from 3 classes and the main domain of 2, while Occult is barred from 2 and the main domain of 3. Technology and Wild also have 2 classes that can’t access them, though Technology is one class’ primary domain to make up for it.

Everyone can gain access to the Cursed, Desolate and Warren domains. Warren and Wild are the two domains that no one gets guaranteed access to.

Of the domains that everyone’s missing, Cleavers don’t like Havens and Technology, which makes sense as they’re wilderness survivalists. Deadwalkers don’t like Havens either, which is slightly less explicable, unless it’s just that even in the Heart most places don’t welcome the partially undead? Same goes for the Deep Apiarists, maybe they’re just a bit too fucking weird for most places. Heretics and Hounds don’t like the Occult, one presumably on religious grounds, and the other just from generalised ‘I ain’t messing with that shit’. Vermissian Knights don’t like Religion, possibly because their armour has become a demi-religion in and of itself and they don’t truck with other gods? Not fully sure on that one. Witches, obviously, as very very occult beings, are not keen on Technology. And neither Junk Mages nor Incarnadines like to be outside in the wilderness, loving as they both do the vices (and powers) of civilisation.

End Thoughts

Now, granted, outside of a class’ main skill and domain, all other skills and domains are optional, you only get them if you pick the right Minor Abilities in most cases. I think the Enlightenment calling is the only way to gain access to them outside of that, granting the Discern skill, so it’s all down to your ability choices otherwise. Though, you get three minor abilities just to start out, and more when you complete minor story beats, so you should have a comfortable collection of them unless you really are building exclusively for resistance protection and buffing up your major abilities.

I do like the thematic thought that went into what everyone can and most particularly can’t access. I have some questions on some of them (Deep Apiarists and Evade, Vermissian Knights and Religion), but there’s definite logic involved, and I enjoy it.

[seizethedre]

(In the Land of Gods and Monsters)

Chapter Eighteen: Take My Soul Away

“It’s dangerous,” he said, slowly. “The King of Hell and an Overlord, I mean. There may not be much order in Hell, but the governing structures we have now are what keep it working. That balance is precarious at best, that’s why I don’t get involved unless I absolutely have to. Too much involvement can damage the ecosystem,” he explained, taking a hesitant step back towards Alastor. He didn’t move, which Lucifer took as an indication to keep talking.

“This is a bad idea,” he trailed, even so while dropping his stare to the demon’s lips, the taste of him still ripe on his tongue.

Had someone had asked Alastor a month ago whether there was a single being in Hell who was capable of surprising him, or taking his breath away for that matter, he would have promptly laughed in their face and then threatened to eaten them for even assuming that he’d be weak enough to allow anyone to have the upper hand on him in any situation.

But this was not last month, and all of the breath that he was in possession of had been thoroughly and completely evacuated from his lungs thanks to one Lucifer Morningstar. Though, he supposed if he had to admit to being bested, the King of Hell was a worthy foe and certainly no sinner in the entirety of the Pride ring would hold a loss at those hands against him. 

That information, however, though sure to reassure him should he find his way back to that train of thought sometime in the future, was understandably eclipsed by the inconvenient little predicament which he found himself in. Please, do note that by ‘little’ he meant quite the opposite, and by ‘predicament’ he was referring to the fact that said monarch not only had his hands on him, but was panting into his open mouth with all the fervor of a dog left out in the sun.

His open mouth?

His subconscious had seemingly caught on to what was happening before the rest of his body had, rending the air with a shock of a record-scratch that snapped him out of whatever trance he’d been under. His eyes flew open. Both of his hands came up, but stopped halfway towards Lucifer’s frame, as though incapable of deciding whether they wanted to push him away or pull him in even closer.

Before he could stew in his indecision much longer, the breath was once again stolen from his lungs, though this time there was a notable lack of lips and breathy heat as he was abruptly shoved away. Alastor’s static hissed as he caught himself, his smile twisting into a snarl as he whipped his head over towards the culprit.

Lucifer was standing stunned in front of the sofa with his arms still outstretched from his assault. His mouth was open, lips flushed, and his face was practically glowing, soft and golden. Unlike a few minutes ago, the only emotions visible in his wide eyes now were shock and something else that made Alastor’s stomach churn hotly and violently despite not having eaten anything for a while.

The demon’s eyes narrowed, flashing dangerously. He was apparently not yet in full control of his faculties as a traitorous hand reached up to feel the hot, tingling mess of his mouth. The skin of his face felt like it was on fire while being stampeded by an army of creeping, crawling insects. To his horror, his ears were pressed flat against his skull, the cursed appendages giving away just how weak and pathetic he felt on the inside.

“ You ,” he spat, leveling the devil with a look cold enough to freeze the entire realm over. Lucifer visibly paled, the gold blush receding minutely from his cheeks before flaring up again as he blinked and tried to formulate a response.

“I-I’m sorry. Wait–no–I mean, yes! Yes, I’m sorry! I don’t know why I did– What I did that for. But you, you came in and–and last night and then this morning, too, and I was thinking about it, about you , and then you spawned out of fucking nowhere and I–I…” 

Lucifer trailed off, eyes wild as they darted everywhere in the room except in Alastor’s direction. His hands, which had been gesturing madly as he fought to procure an explanation, dropped lamely at his side. His shoulders hunched inwards as though he were trying to hide himself away from the sinner’s glare, trying to make himself appear as small as he felt in that moment.

He looked up finally, fleetingly meeting Alastor’s gaze and cringed as their eyes connected. Alastor, for once, was speechless. Incapable of scraping out a scathing offense nor a well-aimed insult. The desire to inflict something upon the king was there, the urge to strike as present as it had always been, but in all other manners he was incapable of following through with his impulses. 

His heartbeat was too quick and it had seemingly migrated towards locations it otherwise had no business being in, his throat for starters, and also his ears. Not to mention the annoying thumping of it against the walls of his chest cavity. He was briefly aware of the fact that his hand still hadn’t dropped from his face and damnit he was still too fucking hot . He curled both hands into tight fists, forcing them both to his sides lest he do something truly regrettable with them, like pull the other man back in or rip his head clean off of his shoulders.

In a bizarre, near-instinctual turn of events, the next time Alastor opened his mouth was not to hurl a biting remark at the angel, but rather so he could sweep his tongue over his bottom lip. It was a quick movement, occurring faster than the blink of an eye, but it had captured unwanted attention from both parties nonetheless. 

Lucifer latched onto the sight immediately, gaze locked-in as his jaw slackened slightly in a horribly pathetic display. He followed the swift motion of Alastor’s mouth and suddenly all he could think about was the taste of him, bitter and hot and tantalizing as he breathed him in, and the fact that he’d had him just minutes ago made his head spin and his chest ache.

Alastor couldn’t claim to be faring much better. His unintentional probing had collected something sweet and foreign on the tip of his tongue, and any natural disgusted reaction that he would have normally felt had to be forced, even as the flavor of the angel spread across his mouth, stirring a hunger so primal in him that, had he acted upon it, one would assume he hadn’t feasted at all since he had last been alive.

And he was angry. So, so , angry that this wretch in front of him had acted so brazenly, like Alastor was nothing but a street performer he could entertain himself with whenever and however he pleased. Angrier still that the angel had nothing to say for it, save for a few half-witted attempts at a response.

How dare he touch him, how dare he kiss him. Without so much as a word! And he ought to say something, now would be the perfect moment to say something, strike the devil across the face for his audacity , or even dissolve into his shadows until he could formulate an appropriate response for such heinous crimes committed against him. But the opportunity never came. 

Lucifer, one step ahead of him once more, took another step back away from him. He clenched the fabric of his waistcoat in one of his fists as he looked up at Alastor, his eyes now somber and full of regret. A portal opened behind him, swirling and sparkling and red. Alastor could only watch as the angel took another step back, one foot on the other side of the vortex while his jaw clenched and unclenched like the devil was chewing his words. Finally, he sighed, having lost whatever mental back and forth had been warring inside of him. 

“Not you,” was all he came up with. “Not with you.”

And in a dazzling display of red, glittery sparks, Lucifer was gone and Alastor stood alone in the middle of the parlor, disbelieving and dealing with the lingering feeling of sickness in the pit of his stomach. 

It had been minutes since their kiss, minutes since Lucifer had invaded his space so aggressively, and yet the air still came to him in quick, shallow breaths, as if his lungs were still fighting for relief, as if he were still right there to steal it straight from him. 

Alastor was trembling and he wasn’t sure why.

He wanted to say it was because he was overwhelmed with anger that Lucifer had fled like a coward, running away instead of facing Alastor’s confrontation head-on. It would certainly explain the tight clench of his jaw and the pin pricking pain in his palms where the tips of his claws were digging into them. It would certainly explain the heat that flushed him and the tension that pulled his nerves taught.

But a nagging intuition told him that anger wasn’t quite the reigning emotion in this scenario.

He could make all the excuses he wanted, reason himself into believing that anger and its effects were all he was feeling, but that didn’t explain the heaviness in his gut, the lost fluttering of his ears as they hugged his scalp, or the ice that was rapidly spreading from his chest. 

He winced as his lip tore beneath the sharp edges of his teeth. Alastor hadn’t even realized that he was biting down. It was a foul habit of his, an unsettling indication that he was feeling unnerved and something he hadn’t done in years. Vaguely, he noticed that the metallic taste of his blood had erased any lingering taste of sweetness, a fact that should have relieved him, but only made him feel colder. 

Alastor raised his left hand back to his mouth and his breath quickened. 

Not you. Not with you.

The king’s parting words rang through him like rolling thunder, echoing and monstrous as they reverberated across the dark, lonely chasms of his mind and heart. Perhaps most shocking was that, when all was said and done, the fires of his rage had snuffed out faster than they had flared to life. Strange to him was the empty, cold feeling that rooted him to the spot. He had never been fond of the cold and it irritated him to feel it now so close to places within him that one would consider damn-near sacred.

Not you.

Alastor was no stranger to rejection. He’d known it intimately both in life and even in death. He was well aware of who he was and how he was perceived. In fact, he often prided himself in his self-awareness and the fact that most found him off-putting and best left to his own devices. The amount of people who tolerated him was minuscule at best. His circle of people who he would consider confidants and allies was even smaller. He was the Radio Demon and he did not care what anyone thought of him. Not even the King of Hell.

It didn’t matter that Lucifer had been so persistent with his insistence that they be friends . That somehow, and by means unbeknownst to Alastor, he had burrowed under the thick layers of his resolve and implanted himself in the demon’s good graces, like a leech, an undetectable parasite , and a silent threat to his perfectly adequate sense of normalcy. 

 It didn’t matter that had complimented him and humbled himself before him, a sinner, and sought him out to apologize even when Alastor was too stubborn to do so himself. That he always somehow found his way back to Alastor’s rooms like a dog from the streets, loyal to a fault to the very man who kicked him senseless. He didn’t care that Lucifer infuriated him more than anyone ever had, while somehow simultaneously thrilling him with his sharp tongue and quick wit, took every blow aimed his way and retaliated with even strikes of his own. 

It didn't matter that he had held his hands with a delicacy and reverence that was all but foreign to Alastor, healed his wounds and set him on fire in the process. And of course, he didn’t care at all that Lucifer Morningstar had gripped him tight in his arms and kissed him senseless only to disappear and leave Alastor staggering under the new and unexpected weight of all this inadequacy and loss.

Not with you . 

As if Lucifer hadn’t been the one to broach his personal space. As if Alastor was nothing, worth less than the scum that lined the streets of Pentagram City. As if the prospect of having anything to do with Alastor was unbecoming of him, beneath him, unworthy of him. At least Alastor never pretended to be anything other than what he was. He never went to such great lengths to convince someone else that he was trustworthy, kind, and worthy of bestowing upon strange, new feelings that Alastor had previously never thought of, never considered, and never wanted. He had to hand it to him, for Lucifer was truly a liar of excellent caliber. All those stolen looks, starry-eyed and wanting, his touch capable of starting a fire in the coldest and wettest of winter storms, the comments and soft smiles that could turn even the most resolute of nonbelievers into the devout disciples. 

Poor Alastor, the pitiful fool who bought it all, ate it right off of the king’s silver spoon like some sort of starved cretin, desperate and deprived. 

Poorer Alastor still, for desiring him regardless.

Because that’s precisely why he had allowed all of this to go on, wasn’t it? Before the kiss and the long hours spent bathing in the glow of the firelight. Before dances and shy touches, tiptoeing around boundaries and hiding behind insulting remarks. Before the fights and the makeups, the gifts, and the drawings. Before Alastor had unknowingly and unwillingly crossed that line into uncharted territory with the only being in all of Hell who could destroy him with mere words.

Perhaps he should have walked away when he had the chance. Had he not goaded the angel on their first meeting, he would’ve had no reason to come back and taunt him, mock him, and set the entire powder keg ablaze. If he had tried harder, listened to the dormant instincts that had served to keep him alive his entire childhood, he could have survived this encounter with the devil who wielded power effortlessly, like he was made of and for it. Had he listened to the laws of self-preservation, maybe he wouldn’t have batted an eye at the adoration and endless devotion in Lucifer’s gaze as he mended long-suffering relationships, a kind of caring so achingly familiar to him that he could never look away. 

Shouldn’t he feel proud? One of the few capable enough of bringing Pride incarnate to his knees? To have had him all to himself, even if just momentarily? Even if he had cast him outside the second rationality returned to him?

This was a torment most suited for a sinner in Hell, and Alastor was in complete agony.

But he hungered for it all the more. It gnawed at him, devouring him from the inside out and threatening implosion and doom if he failed to act quickly. This fueled him, enraged him even as his carnal need to feed his appetite had him dissolving into shadows as he traveled the long route to the very top of the hotel, an incorporeal mass of red-hot feelings and inky, drowning darkness. 

He materialized only when he had slid under the door at the very end of the left hallway. The room was empty at first glance, and Alastor faltered slightly, cooling his resolve at the thought that perhaps Lucifer had foregone the hotel entirely and retreated to the isolated sanctuary of his manor. His disappointment was dashed by the fluttering of the curtains, which had been drawn across the door to the king’s balcony.

Alastor tilted his head, trying to calm the racing in his chest as he stepped forward slowly, footfalls nearly indiscernible in the quiet of the room. He passed by the bed, left unmade and unkempt from its latest occupant, but paused when his eyes landed on the bedside table. There was a photo of Charlie, no older than a toddler, small hands reaching out to whomever was behind the camera all wide, puzzle-piece smile and eyes as red, bright, and shining as her father’s. In front of the frame was a small, intricately folded rendition of a duck. Alastor’s ears flicked in embarrassment which he hoped wouldn’t trickle down onto his face. The sight of his gift sitting so plainly amidst the king’s other treasures warmed some of the ice that had formed around his heart.

A loud groan coming from outside caught his attention, ears flitting towards the noise as he craned his neck to catch a glimpse of the source between the parting of the curtains. Lucifer was, indeed, at the hotel. His back was to Alastor, apparently unaware that there was an intruder. Why, anyone could come in and shove him right over the railing if they really wanted to. Not that it would do him much damage, but it would certainly be inconvenient.

Alastor swallowed thickly, studying the smaller figure in front of him. He didn’t dare anything louder than a breath. The angel leaned down, resting his elbows on the balcony railing and had his head in his hands, clearly in distress. Alastor was overcome with a wave of unease that threatened to send him retreating the longer he stood there staring at him.

Emboldening himself, he parted the curtains and placed a single hand on one of the balcony doors, giving it a push. He stood in the threshold as it creaked slightly in protest and he could see the tension build in the angel’s shoulders, yet he didn’t turn around. The demon was at a loss for words, clearly reckless in his plan to come up here and confront the King of Hell without so much as an idea of what he would say.

“What do you want, Alastor?” The voice that spoke was tired, weary even, and it pulled something tight and uncomfortable in Alastor’s chest. He took another step forward, out into the red glow of Hell’s dawn.

“ You ,” he repeated, and perhaps that was the only word he was capable of saying from now on. There was no sting in his delivery now, no intent to maim or belittle. 

Running a hand through his hair, Lucifer sighed again. He slumped, shrinking as though he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders. “I already said I was sorry, Alastor. Please, I don’t want to fight with you right now. It was a mistake.”

“Well I want to fight with you ,” Alastor hissed, his radio filter thick as static popped around them. “Or are you the only one in this party of two who gets to decide what happens and when it happens?”

Lucifer turned his head sideways, giving the demon his attention, but not completely. He scowled, masking his hurt. 

“What is there to talk about? I kissed you and I’m sorry that I did so without your permission. It was cruel and uncalled for and a mistake . I’m sorry, it won't happen again.”

“Save your apologies for someone who cares enough to hear them,” Alastor spat. Scowling himself as he approached the king with renewed aggravation. “What I want is to give you a piece of my mind. How dare you manhandle me, how dare you kiss me and leave without any sort of explanation. Fleeing from the scene and coming up here to sulk like a dog with his tail tucked between his legs. It’s pathetic. And rude,” he added, taking a deep breath before continuing to dig into the king.

“I don’t care for your mistreatment of me. Insults and accusations are not something I haven’t dealt with before, but to do that and then toss me aside like a—like a common whore is something that I will not stand for, Lucifer. I would sooner see myself vanish from this afterlife before I allow someone like you to ruin the image I’ve cultivated over the last century. I refuse to let someone like you take what’s rightfully mine to give.”

His chest was heaving and he could feel his eyes flickering from their normal state. He clenched his fists, his smile tight and aching. Lucifer was facing him now, arms crossed over his chest as his own eyes narrowed, surprise and confusion, but mostly anger swimming in his gaze.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Alastor scoffed, unfazed by Lucifer’s tactic to play the victim card. “You know exactly what it means. Untouchable people like you live to string the rest of us along. I will not allow myself to follow down such deceptive paths, regardless of how honeyed your words may be. You’re good at this game, although I would credit that to the fact that you’ve had ten thousand years of practice, isn’t that right, Father of Lies?”

“And what about you, Alastor?” Lucifer was just as heated now, tendrils of smoke curling around his lips. “The drawing, the gifts? What about the conversations? The looks? Hell, even what fucking Rosie was saying. Tell me it didn’t mean anything to you.” He was an arm’s length away now and even from that distance Alastor could feel the heat radiating off of him. 

“Would any answer I give you make any difference? ‘Not you. Not with you.’ That’s what you said. I believe His Majesty made it quite clear that there was nothing left to discuss in that regard.” Despite himself, his ears pulled back, dropping low over the back of his head.

Lucifer’s face dropped, draining of his anger like someone had pulled the plug in a bathtub.

“That’s not–I didn’t mean it like that. That’s not what I meant, Alastor, I–I–” he sighed, frustrated at his inability to form coherent sentences. He ran another hand through his messy hair, tugging harshly at the ends as he paced.

“By all accounts then, Your Majesty, do enlighten me as to what it was that you did mean by that.” Alastor responded with all the venom of a scorpion stalking in the hot sun, but his arms were wrapped around himself and Lucifer couldn’t help but feel something pitiful well up inside of him at the sight.

He looked away again, pacing back to his original position against the railing. Alastor was upset, felt he had been used, and honestly Lucifer couldn’t blame him. He had gone against his better judgment and acted rashly on his desires. He had left him all alone in the darkness of the parlor without so much as a clue to why he’d done it. Father, he was a fucking asshole, wasn’t he? 

But wait, Alastor hadn’t said anything about being upset about the kiss. He was upset about being left stranded, but mentioned nothing about his aversion to being kissed by him. Immediately his mind was racing alongside his heart, but he pushed all of that down, taking the time to carefully think about what he was to say next. This could potentially be one of the stupidest things he’d ever done, but if he could salvage this disaster, if he could make amends, then he would deal with the consequences later. He just really hoped he had picked up on the right clues that Alastor was giving him.

“It’s dangerous,” he said, slowly. “The King of Hell and an Overlord, I mean. There may not be much order in Hell, but the governing structures we have now are what keep it working. That balance is precarious at best, that’s why I don’t get involved unless I absolutely have to. Too much involvement can damage the ecosystem,” he explained, taking a hesitant step back towards Alastor. He didn’t move, which Lucifer took as an indication to keep talking. 

“You’re powerful, Alastor. Whether you know it or not, you’re one of the pillars upholding the system and I can’t risk that, can’t risk you. If anyone even found out that we kissed , if they believed that I was involved with you, supporting you in any way, it would cause complete chaos and I don’t know that even I could protect you from all of it.” He didn’t know why it sounded like a plea, nor did he understand who he’d even be pleading to. Who was he trying to convince? “This is a bad idea,” he trailed, even so while dropping his stare to the demon’s lips, the taste of him still ripe on his tongue.

“You have a terrible habit of thinking the rest of us can read your mind,” Alastor huffed, uncrossing his arms. He walked over to Lucifer, taking hold of his collar as he forced him to look up and meet his eyes. “I do not require your apologies, but if you ever leave me like that again without so much as a second thought or explanation, you will never see me again. Are we in agreement?” 

Lucifer nodded mutely, his head swimming as he forced his eyesight to remain trained on the intoxicating crimson of Alastor’s gaze.

“I can handle myself against the other Overlords, Your Majesty. I may not be an angel, but neither am I a weak creature that requires around-the-clock protection. I don’t need you and I don’t want you to protect me.” Lucifer nodded again, face flushing a delicious shade of gold as Alastor’s eyes darted downwards. “Good,” he concluded. “Now, ask me,” he demanded. 

Lucifer blinked, confused. “Ask you?” he repeated “Ask you what?”

“Heavens, you truly are an imbecile, aren’t you?”

With that, Alastor surged forward, pulling the angel up to meet him halfway. Lucifer squeaked as Alastor kissed him, eyes wide, unmoving for the first few seconds until he finally reacted, sliding them shut and pressing his mouth against the demon’s. 

It was hot and entirely composed of the clashing of teeth and the bumping of noses and they moved, familiarizing one another with the shape and sway of the other. Strange and new, but exciting and intoxicating.

Alastor didn’t loosen his grip from the king’s collar and Lucifer could only cling to his shoulders at first before tentatively moving them in other directions, first down the sinner’s neck to his shoulder while the other wound its way up into the soft tresses of his hair. 

He couldn’t keep still, moaning as he opened his mouth to Alastor’s tongue, relishing in finally being able to taste the real thing again. He gasped as sharp teeth caught the swell of his lip while clawed fingertips simultaneously reached up to drag down the freshly exposed sides of his neck. Had it not been for Alastor’s firm grip, Lucifer was sure his head would have rolled right off of his shoulders. 

“We don’t tell anyone,” Alastor said, pulling away as he breathed hotly against his lips, brushing them across the angel’s cheek and down his jaw in a blazing trail.

“No,” Lucifer agreed, tilting his neck instinctually as the demon went to mouth at the delicate skin of his neck, dragging the points of his teeth with a sort of depravity that would make even Asmodeus blush.

“Is my wellbeing the only true objection you have,” Alastor panted.

“Yes,” Lucifer breathed out, too blissed out to formulate sentences greater than a single syllable. 

“Splendid,” Alastor beamed, pulling away abruptly to smile down at him while a round of applause rang around them, like he hadn’t been seconds away from mauling his throat. “Now, kiss me you fool.”

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[unifi3dtheory]

More Zalgo HCs, this time his appearance

I will make another post taking about his interactions with other Creepypastas, specifically Slenderman.

Zalgo does not have a “true form” He can look like anything he wishes

If he says “this is what I really look like” he is lying.

Because Zalgo does not look like anything.

If it is too difficult for him to claim a presence in a realm or if it is too difficult for him to manifest himself, he can always highjack the nearest person’s body

It doesn’t matter if they’re a monster, human, undead, or something else, he can always mutilate and forcefully change the appearance of his host to his liking

Plus he is not picky. A body is a body.

Zalgo rarely stays in one host. Not only does he not take very good care of the bodies he possesses, causing them to wear and sustain injuries that eventually pile up and make moving and functioning very inconvenient and borderline impossible, but also because he is too restless. My man has things to do, places to be.

He fucks around in one person’s body, has a great time, and as soon as he is done or he gets bored, he leaves

What happens to the person who gets possessed by Zalgo? They die.

After Zalgo leaves a body, that body will suddenly collapse into a mutilated mess.

The extent of how mutilated the body is depends on how much Zalgo has used it and how long he has been in it.

EXAMPLE: If Zalgo chose to change the appearance of someone’s face, after he leaves that body, the face of that person tries to revert back to normal, but because it was changed in a way it was never supposed to be and probably moved and shifted in ways that should be impossible, it just ends up as a mess

On the brighter side, the person Zalgo possesses is dead as soon as the process begins. It is an agonizing but very swift death. Unless they are an exception which I will go over now.

Zalgo can make it so his hosts don’t die. But why would he? Unless they are a servant to him and this is their sole purpose and use to him, he really doesn’t care if they live or die.

Zalgo is a damned good actor. Unless it is in a moment of urgency, he actually carefully picks out who to possess.

If he’s looking to cause trouble, he might pick someone outgoing and social, so he can ruin as many lives as possible all at once.

Or he might pick someone isolated, so it is truly something out of the blue that no one could’ve suspected.

He usually watches his potential hosts for a bit, just so he can get a grasp on what is going on in their lives and so he knows how to act and what to replicate.

Even if his acting is not on point, as mentioned in my previous post, Zalgo is very charming, he emits this natural aura that makes people very easy to manipulate in whatever way he deems fit.

So if his stellar acting doesn’t cut it, his charm and charisma might make them just brush it off.

All of this combined, it is pretty impossible to determine if and when someone is possessed or not, but Zalgo does have some very few subtle key features that are consistent with his hosts

However you cannot rely on these to identify Zalgo, because he is very good at hiding and suppressing them.

If you do spot them, it is probably because he wants you to know, or he wants you to be suspicious, or he is planning on revealing himself very soon.

Number one being his shit eating smile. Zalgo has a very iconic smile, one that just radiates a level of ego and smugness that is hard to miss.

Number two is just personality, performance, and presentation. Zalgo is very good at acting, but he can’t put his ego down for one second. He is a very eager, very interactive, and very prideful. This is actually why he avoids finding hosts in insecure and timid people, he knows that he can’t replicate that.

If he were to possess someone who is of the quiet type, he would choose someone who barely talks or interacts, that way he can just not do anything and get away with it.

Number 3 is the eyes. They just have a certain gleam to them.

All of what I have just said so far is Zalgo when he needs a host. But what about when he doesn’t need a host?

If Zalgo is strong enough to not need a host to manifest himself, he will still be hard to identify, but not impossible.

Why would Zalgo want to manifest as himself if taking a host means it would be harder for people to identify him? Because he is stronger without a host.

If he has the opportunity, he would rather not possess people (unless it is for a plan or for entertainment), because he is slightly weaker.

And because he feels trapped.

And also because even the slightest step back from his usual power makes his ego hurt

Zalgo is evil, destruction, and chaos incarnate. When you have that much going on, it’s hard to maintain a stable form.

Which is why, for example, if Zalgo wanted to disguise himself as a human, he wouldn’t be able to fully look like a human.

Because it is hard for Zalgo to contain his power and corruption in a measly human body, or in any body for that matter.

Zalgo can manipulate which traits show and where they do show up, but he can never perfectly disguise as someone.

Some traits that might expose him:

Extra mouths/teeth on the body. These can be easily placed in areas people might not look (back of neck, back of head, inside mouth, etc.) or concealed under clothes.

Blackened skin, which can be concealed under clothes or can just blend in with his appearance.

Slits for pupils, which can also just blend into his appearance. However if he were to disguise as someone who did not have this trait, it would be an instant give away. Can also be hidden by bandages, glasses, hoods, etc.

And of course, more stuff, use your imagination for that. These are just some examples I have come up with.

Oh, and Zalgo’s ribs poke out from his skin because yes.

[deathblossomed]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐎𝐎𝐊 𝐎𝐅 𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐄 & 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐒 ( @thuganomxcs. )

❝ turn around. you don’t need to see this part. ❞

( Protective Violence. )

𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐌𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐏𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐑, shinigami aren't worth much. They're powers don't draw from combat, nor can they rend the earth in two with sheer will. They grow stronger with age, some more than others but Botan is still young in the grand scheme of things, still blossoming and learning to forge her powers. She slips between realms so easily because she known to them and because a shinigami flying overhead is hardly interesting.

Unless of course, you're looking for a key.

Reikei is protected by the Sanzu, which drowns trespassers and floods to protect it's own. Only those born of it may cross, escorts for the dead and the living alike. But there are some who seek a way across, who think that if only they could get through the waters, they could seize Reikai as their own. They just need a key, a shinigami broken to their will to ferry them across. And what an easy catch she was, Koenma's envoy to the other realms, someone who lets down her guard as soon as she's crossed into Ningenkai. Her disappearance noticed only when she failed to report to work the next day, her oar laying abandoned a few blocks from Yusuke's house, a crumb she'd left in hopes it would lead them to her.

And it had, eventually. She put up a good fight, kicking and biting until they bound and caged her, a beating not strong enough to kill her but enough to keep her reiki low, to keep her from escaping or signaling for help. She's been slowly draining it just to keep herself conscious and stable, not enough to heal completely, not anymore. If she runs out, she knows her core will take over, siphoning life energy from her captors. But that's a last resort. She won't risk hurting Yusuke when he comes for her.

And when he does arrive, he's angry like she's rarely seen. He looses his temper, sure, but not like this with his teeth bared. Her vision's blurry and she feels cold, but there's heat radiating off him, yoki spilling out like a solar flare, a warmth she'd recognize anywhere. She hates pushing him to this point, doesn't want to keep dragging him into these messes. But she'll always trust that he'll come for her.

When he tells her to turn around, she complies, tucking her head to her chest and closing her eyes. She knows he'll kill them, imagines it will be brutal. But for now, she feels safe enough to turn her attention away. She'll make it up to him later.

[reclusiverisottonero]

𝐇𝐨𝐥𝐲 𝐖𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐂𝐚𝐧'𝐭 𝐇𝐞𝐥𝐩 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐍𝐨𝐰

Current Place ➸ Prologue ✫ Ao3 Link ⤷ To Next Chapter (coming soon!)

✦ Demon!Risotto Nero/afab!Reader

✦ 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐲𝐩𝐞: GN pronouns; afab body type, but no body parts described in this chapter ✦ 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐬/𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫: None unless my limited knowledge of witchcraft counts as something you need to be mentally prepared to put up with. Though there will eventually be smut, and it will be top reader. ✦ 𝐀𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: Thank you to @phvntom-limbs for beta on this chapter! Your input is greatly appreciated. ♥ ✦ 𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Trying to summon a demon as a get-rich-quick scheme is not the brightest idea you’ve ever had. An error in the ritual causes you to summon the wrong demon, with no way for them to return to hell unless certain criteria are met. Too bad the ambiguity of the pact you've messed up leaves you both stumbling to figure out what they are.

It’s taken months of deep diving into the shady, esoteric, and downright weird parts of the internet to figure out what is legitimate information about witchcraft and summoning demons; and what’s hippie crystal healing self-improvement bullshit. You don’t need guided meditation and inner peace, what you need is to pay your fucking bills and put food in your fridge. Deep breathing exercises to align your chakras while balancing rose quartz on your palms isn’t what’s going to keep a roof over your head.

All of your research led you to the location of a historical auction soon to take place at a privately owned, small scale museum that’s dedicated to the history of the occult. They were desperate for funding, and a book that dozens of witches on the forum you’d lurked were swearing was the real deal, was one of the many items up for grabs. The news of its auction spread like wildfire in the niche community, and the scathing posts between members already fighting to out bid each other and get their hands on something so rare had been a good night of entertainment. 

Too bad for them, that auction is never going to happen. 

Hidden away in such a small, antiquated museum, stealing it had been laughably easy. Your knowledge about the book and feigned determination not to see the establishment shut down had the curator jump at your offer to selflessly volunteer without question. Afterwards, all it took was a few innocent questions about your well-being in a crime ridden area to learn the security cameras were just for show, then a bit of kissing up here and there to the right people, and the next thing you knew a copy of keys to the building were yours. The safe deposit box containing the book was out of the door in your bag a few days later. 

Looking at it now, what’s supposed to be a centuries old tome doesn’t exactly feel or look like it. Online images had shown the cover as an ancient, withered old thing, the pages tinged a sickly yellow with muddy brown splotches across the pages. This grimoire made to summon creatures from the other side of this realm of existence to fulfill whatever your heart’s desire; looks more like something from Barnes & Noble’s New Age section. So pristine that you can practically smell the classic new book scent as it wafts up from every flip of the page. 

No way the museum would have the foresight to switch the original book out with whatever this was. How could they begin to anticipate someone would want this old thing bad enough to go through as much trouble as you have in getting it? Though as untouched by time as it looks, from what you can tell the materials used and technique of its construction are clearly of the time period of its supposed origin. Had they hired a professional to restore it, like you’ve seen people do with paintings in viral videos? That has to be it and you refuse to believe otherwise, not after all the time you’ve invested into this. 

The meager space of your living room is cleared out in record time to work on setting up what you need to do this ritual. It has to be followed to the letter, the consequences of fucking any part of this up is something you don’t want to even begin to dwell on. 

With summoning glyph painted into the wooden laminate floor and all the herbs, crystals, and animal bones needed in their proper positions on it, you hold the grimoire in one hand with a knife in the other and begin to read the incantation aloud. You’re undeterred as the bergamot leaves start to singe around their edges, voice unwavering and confident when the bones splinter and crack. The small pieces of garnet rattle against the veneer as you continue, the noise becoming harsher when you bring the knife to the meat of your palm for the finale of all of this fanfare.  

It takes but a single drop of your blood hitting the edge of the glyph for a multitude of things to happen all at once: a large surge in electricity makes the lights go on the fritz, the delicate bulbs shatter from above and smoke pouring from the wiring as the room’s temperature sharply rises. Your furniture rattles and creaks before a pulsing wave of energy spreads out from the center of the room to knock you off your feet. Crashing to the floor, a sharp, tinny sound hits your eardrums as pieces of metal break away from the everyday items in your flat to slowly rise up in the air. 

Scissors whirl past from behind and graze your arm. Its stinging pain threatens to make the rising panic burst your heart, and you watch as they fly into the smoky abyss forming over the summoning circle. Some screws shoot past your head, a cluster of loose change hits your back before you’re able to roll yourself out of its path. More metal bits and chunks from things you’ve not given a second thought about are pulled in by whatever magnetic force is making itself known right now, disappearing into the thick smoke swirling around faster and faster. It takes the knives in your kitchen coming from around the corner to finally have you consider that maybe demon summoning as a get-rich-quick scheme was not the brightest idea you’ve ever had.

Through the smoke you see the silhouette of a body taking shape. Metal grinds against metal, your temples pounding from the sound as the amalgamation writhes and twists and groans into something massive. When the swirling veil of smoke evaporates it leaves behind a horned man, with hair as white as moonlight and eyes burning bright like red hot coals that lock directly on you. Each silent step he makes forwards pushes the fear in your chest higher into your throat until he’s towering from above your spot on the floor, tall and thick and broad and very, very naked. 

Realistically you know it was likely the demon you hoped to conjure would look nothing like the sketches you’ve seen, but this is far from what you’ve envisioned the appearance of a demon to be like. It’s hard to focus on his looks any further when the way he stares through you with a tilt of his head leaves you wanting to sink through the floor. Between the shock of this actually working, the fact that he’s nothing like you thought he would be, and wondering how you’re going to excuse the multiple noise complaints your neighbors have surely given the landlord by now; a pathetic, shaky little exhale is all you can find the energy to greet him with. 

Of all the things he could do in response, this demonic mass of raw power slowly gets on one knee before you and says, “Master.” 

His word triggers another round of metallic ringing in your ears as light bursts from his neck and wrists, forming into a thick set of cuffs and a collar. Shielding yourself from the intense burst you have to do a double take as your own wrist glows just as strongly, a much thinner chain wrapping around it to lay lightweight across your skin. Signs of the pact that’s now in play. The demon stays in his place throughout the light show, his eyes following your rise onto wobbly legs when you’re no longer blinded from it.

All of your hard work has led up to this point. Too late to back out now even if you wanted to, but you’re fully prepared to exchange anything the demon wants for your own gain. You square your shoulders and straighten out your posture to do your best to compensate for how huge the demon is compared to you even while on his knees, channel the emotions roiling in your gut to force yourself to sound as authoritative as you can.

“What is your name, demon?” The question is part of the ritual, exchanging formalities is crucial to setting up a good rapport so it can lead to a negotiation that doesn’t involve your soul being what’s exchanged or getting killed on the spot. 

Said demon’s full lips curl up in a hint of a smirk, red eyes looking you over for a moment before he deigns to answer, “I’ve gone by many names, but the one that has always been easiest for humans to pronounce is Risotto Nero.” 

Your moment of bravado is short lived, as when he shares his name, cold dread shoots through your veins at the realization this is not the demon you had originally intended to summon. 

➸ Next. (coming soon!)

[thatgirl4815]

I agree with you that Sand would not put up with Ray keeping him on the side if he's dating Mew, but I don't think Ray's going to give him a choice. I think that's part of why he and Sand are nowhere around anyone else while this is happening. Ray gets him somewhere he can't figure out he's setting him up to be the second guy. He's always tried to keep Sand away from Mew because for Ray they aren't anywhere near the same realm, and at this point I can't see it changing. It feels way too late in the show for that kind of shift.

I just can't see it going any other way. Khaotung has said Ray is horribly selfish and will stop at nothing to get what he wants. We've seen him trying to have both already, and there's no way the guy who's still looking at Mew like he's the best thing that ever happened to him is going to stop dating him unless Mew breaks it off. And I don't think Mew is there yet.

Besides, narratively I think it would make sense, considering Mew is so stuck on being with Ray right now because he thinks that he would never do what Top did, but then Ray goes and does something worse.

I think it's possible they'll have Mew do something with Top while being with Ray too, but that wouldn't make what Ray's doing to Sand better.

But I still think that Sand needs to confess for himself. It'll hurt more when it falls apart but he can at least move on without any what ifs.

I think Sand would also be skeptical that maybe Ray is only setting him up to be the second choice and that their isolation is the perfect way for Ray to convince him that he cares. So I don’t think that point would be lost on Sand. He can see that Ray wants to keep him separate from Mew. But this whole situation assumes that Ray is consciously thinking through his approach to both Mew and Sand, and I don’t necessarily think that’s the case. I think Ray might want to keep them separate, but I think he cares more about enjoying time alone with Sand than purely using this trip as a way of tricking him into believing he’s his first choice. All in all, I think Ray is a lot more confused about all of this than he’d like to appear. He cares deeply about Sand, and I think he wants Sand to be his first choice, but those lingering feelings over Mew are getting in his way.

Maybe I’m just optimistic. But while I think Ray still loves Mew deeply, last episode seemed to indicate that Ray is not enjoying their romantic relationship. Most of this is likely due to Mew just being a chaotic mess after things blew up with Top. But even if that wasn’t the case, I think Ray realizes that his interactions with Mew are far less enjoyable for either of them when they’re paired up romantically. That could be a catalyst for showing Ray that it’s enough for Mew to love him as a friend, but it doesn’t necessarily need to be something more to still matter. And maybe the best way for Ray to show how much he loves Mew is to let go of his hopes for a romantic relationship when it’s clearly something Mew does not want, tried and true.

[platinumrosetail]

So, moon cakiie decided to request for a almost different request as I wasn’t able to do their first request so I hope I do a good job on this one 😁

Warning: noob author, gn!reader, yandere characters, and others.

Characters: nezha, redson.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Nezha:

You were a half god You met Nezha when you decided to go to a noodle shop you been planing on going for a while, he apparently was visiting one of the workers there from what he said when you accidentally bumped into him not paying attention to your surroundings.

In reality he was actually following you and wanted to met you after stal- observing you when he heard about you from your parent.

You two got to know each other as you ate at pigsy’s and soon became friends. When you two became a couple it was a few months; about four, after you broke up with your now ex as you noticed the red flags that they showed now with the help of nezha.

(I wanted to reference your original request since I wasn’t able to do that and cause I thought it would be interesting if I did 😁)

What you didn’t know was that nezha had made you think they had many red flags by any means he could get his hands on so you could finally be with him and he doesn’t have to kill anyone……yet.

You sometime go into the heaven realm to visit him and your parent to spend time with them, nezha hopes that you would choose to become a god so you can stay with him and not die like you would as a mortal.

Nezha and you usually stay in your apartment seeing as he doesn’t know how to act with any other being besides gods as it’s been a long time since he approached a full human in so long with how is godly duties been put up front until your parent had him take some duties off to spend time with you.

You mostly either cook or head to pigsy’s when you decide to eat something, though one time you and Nezha wanted to spend a date cooking for each other and both of you accidentally messed up and distracting each other too much and destroyed the food and ordered pigsy’s while you two clean the mess and have some laughs about it.

Redson:

You two met with your friends mk and mei, though it was later as you had been visiting your relatives and family so you could only meet him until after all the chaos that happened while you were gone.

You had bumped into him when you were going to pigsy’s to surprise the two ands went together to there and surprised them you did, especially because you arrived to there with Redson and he wasn’t insulting you like he usually do.

He was confused on how he doesn’t feel like insulting you and when he tries it always turns into a compliment than the insult he had planned to say in his head.

You spent four years being friends until you found out your spouse was cheating on you, which was actually do to redson secretly doing something to mind control your spouse into cheating on you even though it hurts him to see you in any kind negative emotions.

Though the relationship didn’t stop until a year later after you recovered the best you could.

The activities you two do afterwards are mostly done in the work shop of his, he makes arts and crafts with you with him doing the same but the ones he makes actual protect you from any unfortunate incidents that might occur or it knock you if see something you shouldn’t, which also erases you mind of that specific thing.

He makes sure to either have a bull clone guarding you when you go out and he couldn’t go with you but if you insist that you don’t need one he still makes sure to have one sneak around to protect you unless it can’t then he’ll come to save the day for you and make the that someone or something whichever it is suffer afterwards after getting you distracted so he can do just that without you knowing about his behavior.

(A/n: I hope you like it! Sorry it took me a little while longer to post this, I’ve been distracted a little bit I’m glad I can finally post it for you! I hope I did a good job on it, hope you don’t mind me making backstory’s for the reader it was the only way for me to make it have 7 paragraphs like I usually do, anyway, hope y’all have a wonderful day/evening/night!!!)