#bc i cannot get that image out of head

[motherismotheringggg]

please darlin’

summary: reader is walking home from the jukebox joint when a mysterious man lurking from the shadows offers to walk her home, what they both learn in due time is that the unlock something in other person that they didn’t know was even there

type: black southern fem! reader x remmick

warnings/tags: well he’s a vampire so there’s blood play but i don’t think it’s particularly graphic, biting, dry humping, p in v

author’s note: i used the gif in the images but this post is based on this gif set here and a tiktok i saw that pointed out how HUNGRY this man was during the movie 😭😭 i also asked this question separately and didn’t get a ton of pushback just to reiterate — being attracted to the “antagonist” of the film does not negate my understanding of the film or its cultural and historical importance — im just a criminally horny individual 😛

The juke joint was still humming behind you—low and rowdy, with bass rattling the floorboards and laughter spilling out the crooked windows like steam. You stepped into the thick Mississippi night, dress clinging to the sweat on your back, the heat pressing on your skin like it had weight. The cicadas sang in the trees, and somewhere far off, someone was still blowing blues on a trumpet like their life depended on it.

You didn’t notice the man at first.

He stood in the shadows just past the tree line, his form half-hidden under the crooked lean of a willow tree. A white man, alone, arms crossed over a chest that looked carved out of something strong and stubborn. Brown hair curling in thick tufts, jaw dusted with stubble, and a guitar case slung across his back like a weapon.

Every instinct in you went sharp.

A white man in the Delta after midnight didn’t mean anything good—not for a Black woman walking alone with liquor on her breath and music in her bones. You held your chin high, eyes fixed forward, feet steady on the gravel.

He didn’t speak until you passed him.

“Evenin’, darlin’,” he said, slow and honeyed.

That voice stopped you.

Thick with Southern drawl, like warm molasses. He didn’t quite sound like danger. He sounded like moonlight through lace curtains. Like the kind of man you know who’d smile sweet, touch gentle, and still be the end of you.

“I ain’t lookin’ for company,” you said over your shoulder, not stopping.

“I ain’t company,” he replied, stepping out into the moonlight with his palms up. “Just a fella walkin’. Thought maybe I’d keep you safe.”

You turned, slowly.

“From what?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

He smiled. Slow. Crooked. Full of something too soft to be harmless. “World’s full of bad men, miss. Ain’t no tellin’ who might be out this time of night.”

You looked him up and down. Tall, broad-shouldered, tan from sun exposure, and dressed in linen. That guitar case over his shoulder looked worn, edges frayed like it’d seen more of the South than you ever had.

“And you?” you asked, tone sharp as a razor. “What kinda man are you?”

He didn’t flinch. Just tilted his head with a confident smirk and said, “The kind who calls a woman ‘darlin’ ‘cause she walks like she got secrets I’m dying to know.” His hands clasped in a praying motion, you snuck a quick glance at the veins in them.

“The kind who knows better than to let beauty like yours walk home alone.”

You should’ve walked away.

But instead, you let him follow you. Not close, not touching—but his presence, his footsteps in time with yours, felt… right. Familiar. Like a song you’d heard before but couldn’t name.

When you got to your door, your hand hovered over the knob.

“Well, you best get on home now,” you said.

He nodded.

“Or,” he said, voice softer as he pressed judy up against your back. Not enough for there to be contact but very little room for anything else, “you could let me come in. Just to talk.”

You could feel his eyes scanning your body, though his gaze stayed respectful—it burned. He wasn’t begging. He was waiting.

You opened the door.

The next memory was heat.

Your dress hiked up, his hands on your waist as you crashed on to the bed, his lips slanting over yours with an urgency that stole the breath from your lungs. His body was hard and hot above yours, the curve of his hip pressed into your inner thigh, his belt buckle cold against your stomach. His fingers dug into your hips like he was afraid you’d float away.

He pressed his weight onto you as he came down into your neck , both of you slick with sweat, tangled in cotton sheets and heavy breathing. His tongue worked over a sensitive part of your neck that made you melt to his touch

Then—

Blackness.

The kind of still, shuddering dark that comes after a storm you weathered.

You woke up soaked in your own blood.

Sticky, metallic, warm and wet along your clavicle and down your chest. The bedsheets were ruined. You blinked up at the ceiling, then turned your head.

Remmick was kneeling over you. Mouth stained red. Eyes wide, almost glowing.

His lips, slick with your blood, parted slowly as he looked down at you in wonder. His voice was low, reverent, almost tender.

“This is what you needed,” he said. “Don’t you feel it?”

You blinked up at him, still dazed, your breath shallow. Slight traces of fear in your eyes.

“No more pain, darlin’. No more aging, no more fear. Just you and me, able to roam this earth and the next as we please .”

He brought his palm to your sternum, pressing over your heart like he could feel it trying to outrun your ribs. “I gave you what the world never would,” he proclaimed, brandishing his fangs in his smile. “Freedom.”

Remmick reached for your hand and pressed it to his chest. His heart beat steady beneath your palm—slow, deliberate, like thunder rolling through deep earth.

Your body tensed and then something inside you snapped.

But It wasn’t panic.

And It wasn’t fear.

It was a deep animalistic and hungry need.

Your vision sharpened at the edges. The room around you dulled into haze. All you could focus on was him—his smell, all smoke and sweat and salt, the heat radiating from his skin, the way his breath hitched when your fingers traced down the length of his chest.

You rose—slow, deliberate—until you were on your knees as well. You could feel the new strength coiling in your limbs, the animal instinct buzzing like a fever beneath your skin. He talked on and on about the promises this new life would bring. You flashed him eyes that communicated a nondescript but intense hunger and you swore you could feel his pulse in your mouth.

You trailed your fingers along the line of his collarbone, across the swell of his shoulder, then up—sliding into the soft curls at the base of his neck. He stopped talking altogether, just quiet in anticipation.

You gripped.

His breath caught.

Your lips brushed the shell of his ear as your voice dropped to a dark, sultry whisper:

“Bite me again, baby… and make it hurt good.”

He shuddered.

And obeyed.

His mouth descended like a storm, lips finding your neck, tongue lapping once over the curve of your shoulder before his fangs sank in deep. The pain was immediate, but it rolled over into heat so sharp and consuming you arched your back pushing you further into him with a gasp.

Your thighs twitched, your fingers clenched in his hair, and a moan clawed its way up your throat—raw and low. You throbbed everywhere, each nerve ending lit up, humming like your body had been set on fire from the inside out.

He fed, and you held him there, needing every drop, every ripple of pleasure knotted up in that pain. You rocked against him, your core tightening, heartbeat pounding in your ears like a war drum.

When he finally pulled back, his lips were red and his eyes glassy.

Your voice was hoarse and full of smoke when you whispered, “Again.”

—————

Daylight became a stranger to you—an old, forgotten friend you’d grown to miss some days more than others. Some days you wished you could unboard your windows and sit on your porch. But your life was now lived on by moonlight and instinct.

It was the way of things now. You didn’t question it. You just waited.

Every evening brought the same rhythm. The soft knock—three gentle taps at the front door, just after dusk. Sometimes you’d feel it before you even heard it. Something in your chest would tighten, like the pull of tide on sand. And then you’d go, barefoot and breathless, to let him in.

Remmick always stood there like a complete gentleman. Leaning in the doorway with that easy grin, hair tousled from the flight over, chest rising and falling like he’d just run to get to you. Sometimes his guitar was slung over his back, sometimes he’d bring flowers, he carried nothing at all. But he always brought that voice.

“Evenin’, darlin’,” he’d say, like it was the first time you ever met him.

Then he’d kiss you. Or he’d bite. Or both.

He’d close the door behind him and walk you backward until the wall caught your spine. His hands would be warm, calloused, possessive in that way that made you weak in the knees. And his mouth — he used it like it was exactly what you needed. Suckling at the place behind your ear, then down the slope of your neck. Drawing blood like honey, always lapping it up before it hit your collarbone.

Sometimes, he got playful. Sometimes reverent. Sometimes both in the same night.

There were evenings he laid you out like a meal, biting slow circles behind your knees or dragging his fangs just barely over the soft of your belly. He’d hum songs from his time while he worked, deep and low, the sound buzzing in your skin.

And you’d laugh. You’d moan. You’d shake.

It didn’t take long before the pain didn’t even register anymore. Only the pleasure.

Each bite felt like being struck by lightning, and each mark bloomed like a secret flower on your skin.

But while you were losing yourself, you started seeing something else. Something new in Remmick

At first, it was just the look in his eye when you pressed your mouth to his neck. The way his lashes fluttered, like he was about to cry. Then there was another time when you opened the door before he knocked, pulled him inside by the collar of his shirt, and kissed him deep. He didn’t push back, didn’t even make a move. Just let you take it.

You shoved him against the wall, your palm flat against his chest, and stared up at him with hunger.

Then, with one hand, you undid his belt. Slipped inside. Wrapped your fingers around him like you owned him.

Remmick’s knees buckled.

He let out the softest whimper—high, shaky, damn near reverent.

You blinked at him. “Tell me you like it.”

His eyes were wide, glassy, mouth parted. “Y-yeah… I do…” he whispered.

The tremble in his voice lit a fire in your belly. It left you soaked and smug and stunned all at once.

A few nights later, you were straddling him on the couch, skirt pushed high, your hips working a slow, torturous grind against the bulge in his slacks. He was breathless beneath you, hands barely touchin’, like he didn’t know where to put them.

So you took his wrist and placed it on your waist.

Then you gripped the length of his neck, thumb draggin’ under his jaw, and squeezed just a little.

His head tipped back. His mouth opened in a gasp. And all he could say was your name—like he wanted to worship and repent in the same breath.

But the moment that settled it deep in your bones came just three nights ago.

Remmick had you laid back on the bed, his shirt open, your bodies tangled in heat. He hovered above you, ready to push inside, eyes locked on yours like he was asking permission.

And then he dropped his forehead to your neck, his voice gone raw and low.

“Please,” he said, and the word shook straight through you. “Please let me make you feel good. Lemme do it right, darlin’. I—I wanna be good for you.”

He didn’t want to dominate. He wanted direction. He wanted to be given, not to take. Wanted to be praised. Ruled. Owned.

And you?

You could do that.

You were already doin’ it.

You leaned in that night and whispered, “Show me how bad you want it.”

He did.

And now, every time you touched him—every time you claimed him—he’d melt into you like sugar on your tongue.

—————

Remmick was doing what he did best—buried between your thighs like a man starvin’ for grace, kissing and sucking like you were made of syrup and moonlight. The room smelled of sex and sweat and something wilder, something old. Your thighs trembled around his shoulders, damp with sheen, while his hands gripped your hips tight—thumbs digging into the softness like he was trying to carve himself a home inside you.

His tongue moved slowly and soulfully. You could feel him moaning against your clit, the vibrations rolled through you like thunder through tall grass.

Your breath hitched. Your back arched clean off the mattress, a cry ripped free of your throat as his mouth sealed tighter, tongue flattening and working you in slow, tight circles.

“Remmick…” you gasped, voice crackling like a lit match. “Shit—baby…”

But just as your body built to that fever pitch, that hot, dizzy place where the edge was near—

It hit you.

Not just the pleasure—but power.

That molten core deep in your belly didn’t just burn for release. It burned to command. You weren’t just his feast.

You reached down and tangled your fingers into that thick mess of brown curls. Then you yanked hard.

Remmick let out a strangled grunt, his mouth fallin’ open as you pulled him off your cunt with a wet, obscene sound. His face was slick with your shine, lips raw and glistening, jaw working like he didn’t know whether to cry or thank you.

He blinked up at you, dazed. Wrecked.

“Darlin’, please,” he rasped, voice sandpaper rough. He tried to lean forward again, his nose just barely brushin’ your thigh like he couldn’t stand the distance. “Let me back. I need—I need to finish you. Please, lemme taste all of you…”

“Ah ah,” you crooned, your grip tightening in his hair until he hissed, until his jaw clenched and his body tensed under your hands. You tilted his head back, just to watch his throat bob with the swallow. “Slow down, baby… we got all night.”

He looked like he was fighting for breath. His chest rose and fell fast, his thighs flexing where they knelt on the bed—like it was taking everything he had not to fall apart.

“I can’t let you do that just yet,” you whispered, leaning down close, your lips just grazing his as your voice curled like smoke around the words. “Not ‘til I get a good look at you like this.”

You dragged your eyes over him—his blown pupils, the tremble in his jaw, the shine on his cheeks. His mouth was still parted, flushed and wet, and you felt the weight of his arousal pressing up against your thigh, stiff and aching beneath his pants.

You kissed him slow—deep and indulgent—relishing in the taste of yourself on his tongue, moaning low in your throat as his hands twitched at his sides, still clutchin’ the sheets like a man on the edge of salvation.

You shifted and now he was under you.

Remmick went willingly. His breath caught in his throat, body folding back onto the mattress like he’d been waiting all his life to be handled just like this. You climbed on top, slid your bare thighs around his hips, your slick heat grindin’ down against the thick ridge strainin’ under his waistband.

He shuddered.

Hands still not touching, he wanted to wait for instruction. They just flexed at his sides like he was praying for permission to reach.

“Look at you,” you murmured, your thumb ghostin’ along his bottom lip, feelin’ the soft tremble there. “You’re being so good for me, aren’t you?”

He moaned—real and helpless—his head fallin’ back against the pillow. “I am,” he panted, chest heaving. “I am, I swear it—all yours, darlin’. I’ll do anything you ask—just tell me what you need…”

What a whiny mess.

Your lips curled.

You leaned down and dragged your tongue slow up the column of his throat, feelin’ him pulse under your mouth. Then you bit—just enough to make him twitch. Just enough to make him need.

“I need you desperate,” you breathed against his skin. “Need you beggin’ for it.”

Remmick let out the softest, filthiest sound—a desperate mix of want and surrender—and your hips ground down harder as he whimpered beneath you.

And baby… he did.

Your lips hovered just above his throat, breath fanning warm over his skin as your hips rolled again—slow and molten, drawing out a ragged moan from deep in Remmick’s chest. The friction was maddening—slick and aching and just shy of too much. You felt his cock twitch under you, felt his whole body tense like a man about to break.

He arched beneath you, head thrown back, jaw slack and trembling. His hands hovered in the air—uncertain, unmoored—like he didn’t know whether to grab your hips or clutch at salvation.

“Please,” he rasped, voice hoarse, lips parted. “I—I c-can’t—”

You smiled, mouth grazing the stubble along his jaw, your voice like silk soaked in wine. “You can.”

You kissed your way down the side of his throat, slow and deliberate, until you felt his pulse jump under your mouth.

Then you moved—reached between you both and undid his belt with one fluid motion, your fingers deft, steady. The leather snapped open. The zipper whispered down. You dragged his pants low enough to free him, and he gasped as his cock sprang out—thick, flushed red, the head already slick and weeping.

His hips jerked into the air, but still—still—his hands fisted in the sheets like he’d been trained to wait for your word.

You licked your palm and then wrapped your hand around him, slow and sure, and gave him a few long, lazy strokes from root to tip.

Remmick’s whole body shuddered. His eyes fluttered. His voice cracked.

“God—”

You rose just enough to align him, his cock sliding through your folds, catching sweetly at your entrance. The head slipped in, and you sank down slow—inch by aching inch—until he was seated deep, your walls fluttering around him as your body adjusted.

And Remmick lost his damn mind.

His back bowed off the bed, a cry tearing from his throat, one hand finally snapping up to your waist like he was drowning and you were the only thing keeping him above water.

“F-fuck—darlin—please—”

You rolled your hips, slow and deep, your thighs clenched tight around him. You watched his face twist in pleasure, that strong jaw slackening, brows drawn like it hurt to feel this good.

He was trying to hold back—trying to let you lead—but his hands betrayed him. They clawed at your hips, gripped tighter, pulled you down harder, like his body had a will of its own and all it knew was need.

“You strugglin’?” you teased, raising your brows, breathless but smug.

He was unraveling. Stammerin’. Shakin’. That smooth southern charm dissolved into raw need. But he tried to mask with a smile the feigned even a shred of dignity.

You leaned forward, lips ghosting over the pulse point in his neck, tongue dragging slow up the sweat-damp skin.

You could feel his chest collapse under you the closer you got to his ear.

“I wanna taste flesh” you whispered against him, voice honey-slick and dangerous.

And then you did.

Your fangs sank in hard, right at the juncture where neck met shoulder, and he screamed—a sound torn from deep in his chest, feral and desperate. His cock jerked inside you, his whole body arching into your bite like he wanted to crawl into it, like the pain was just another kind of prayer.

His blood was hot and copper-sweet, rushing over your tongue in waves. It lit your nerves on fire—made you throb around him, made your hips snap harder, faster, riding him like you’d waited a lifetime to take this.

Remmick was gone.

A mess of sounds—moans and gasps and high, breathless cries—his body thrashing under yours as he gripped your ass like a man possessed. His voice was all broken pleas, all need and surrender.

“Please, darlin’, don’t stop—don’t stop, don’t stop—”

You pulled back from his throat, lips slick with red, grinning down at him with a mouth full of sin.

Your nails dragged slow down his chest, raising goosebumps in their wake.

You rode him hard and deep, taking what you wanted, making him feel it—all of it. His cries got louder. His body shook beneath you. You could feel him throbbing inside you, could tell how close he was from the way he gripped you like he’d fall apart without your body wrapped tight around him.

You bit again—softer this time—just above your first mark, and that was it.

He came undone.

Crying out your name—just your name—like it was the only word left in the world. His release hit in waves, hips bucking helplessly beneath you, cock pulsing deep inside as you fucked him through every twitch, every tremor.

And when it was over—when he was boneless and breathless and soaked in sweat—you kissed his jaw, slid off of him slow, and disappeared into the other room.

You came back with a damp towel, soft as cotton and still warm from the basin. Wiped the blood from his throat, the mess from his stomach, and then let him curl into your lap like a man reborn.

You lit a cigarette and played with his hair, slow strokes at the nape of his neck, offering him a drag every few times.

[starry-bi-sky]

i have been unmedicated for the entirety of spring break and thus have had little interest in writing this down, but i have been thinking about this for the entire week (as well as a dpdc clone danny au that resulted in it becoming its entirely separate batman au that includes a teenage vigilante bruce wayne, an ocarina, and me entirely incapable of making a batman au without making bruce dirt poor but we're not talking about that) and so i've finally went 'fuck it' and forcibly grabbed my laptop. I will get this done in one sitting even if it kills me.

BUT. This is about neither clone^2 danny nor about who i am calling Ocarina Batman. This is about my Danyal Al Ghul Au and more SPECIFICALLY it's me thinking about his relationship with Sam and Tucker specifically.

Tucker and Sam? Adore this asshole (affectionate) with every fiber of their being. And it is very much a reciprocated feeling, but Danny's thoughts will not be delved into much other than he would kill for them.

Tucker? The only person currently capable of getting a deep, loud, belly laugh out of Danny. Sam can get him to smile and to laugh, but it's the kind that's a chuckle-under-the-breath. The quiet, looks-down-while-huffing laughter. Snorts once with laughter and then grins stupidly.

But Tucker? Tucker can crack a slew of stupid jokes and Danny will be incapacitated for the next five minutes because he's laughing so hard that he can't breath. He lands one well-timed pun or quip and Danny will be close to tears. His laughter is their favorite sound in the whole world.

Sam is lowkey jealous of this ability, and she's gotten a belly laugh out of Danny a few times. But alas, it is Tucker who wields this power and has gotten it the most times out of the two of them.

-

They're also both physically affectionate with Danny as much as possible. It started roughly around when they were 12-ish, a year since they befriended Danny, and they noticed that he sought after touch but never seemed to initiate (and was in some ways repulsed by it). They started slowly being more touchy with him. Hooking a finger around his to lead him somewhere, tapping his wrist, looping arms. Little touches, grabs, etc, to get him used to it, and once he started doing it back they started increasing it.

It's gotten to a point where he will now just. Lay on them. Like a lizard sunbathing on a rock. Leaning on their backs when they're sitting in class before the bell rings, his chin on their heads. He'll talk about anything with his arms looped around their shoulders.

If they're sitting on a couch at either of their houses, he'll lay his legs on theirs. Him and Tucker will press their feet against the other's and try and push against them (newsflash: Danny always wins, Tucker claims its the ghost strength but Danny's been winning since before his accident)

-

Naturally, both Sam and Tucker know where Danny keeps his weapons on his person, and are allowed to grab them off of him if they need it. His only requirement is that they don't lose his weapons if they take it and forget to return it immediately.

They both understand how big of a thing this is from Danny, and so they do their best to treat his weapons with a lot of respect and care because they know its his way of saying he trusts them.

-

Sam and Tucker are so fond of Danny it's insane. Like fr. That's their goddamn best friend, and they are so protective of him. Emotionally, physically, you name it. They will tear the head off a grown man if they need to, Danny's had scars since he arrived in Amity Park and Sam and Tucker both are going to find the person who put them there and make them pay for it.

One time, Tucker overheard a bunch of upperclass girls speaking nastily about Danny and about the rumors surrounding him, calling him names like 'freak', 'monster', etc. Danny was with him and heard it, and seemingly appeared unbothered by it, even telling Tucker that he was used to such rumors.

Tucker was so furious that hacked into the school system later that night and tanked those girls grades. They were kicked out of their clubs and had to go to mandatory tutoring for the rest of the year. He made sure to leave some way of letting them know it was him who did it.

And Sam doesn't like using her money for things, doesn't like abusing that wealth. So instead, whenever her parents talk bad about Danny, she causes a media incident that has her parents scrambling to deal with. She does something wild, outrageous by her parents' standards.

She heard some boys on the basketball team making fun of Danny once, similar to those girls had. She kicks up a fuss about something eco-unfriendly at school and forcibly holds a protest on the same day of the big home basketball game, forcing them to cancel the event and reschedule to a visiting school.

She anonymously donates money so that there's new uniforms for the team but oops! Looks like she "forgot" to donate enough money for them to get uniforms for all the team members, and strangely enough those boys in particular didn't get them! Looks like they'll have to wait until more money gets donated for the basketball team to get their new, nice uniforms. The old ones look so ratty in comparison, right?

And since the football team gets most of the sport money, that might just take awhile. And if (and when) they kick up a fuss? oops! Off the basketball team you go, :) such unsportsman-like behavior is unfit for the team.

(The only good thing about how corrupt the school system is is that she can use it to her advantage too.)

The both of them know that Danny suspects them for the sudden misfortune falling on these people, but he doesn't call them out on it. He's kinder than he used to be, but not kind enough to vouch for people who speak badly of him. Sometimes, he might just congratulate them on not getting caught.

Because Danny is their wonderful, hurt friend with a "slightly" Blue and Orange Moral code, and enough scars that people have been calling him a criminal (and worse) since he arrived in Amity Park when he was ten. And they'll be damned if he gets hurt anymore.

[horsegirlcahir]

tamino amir please be in one (1) fantasy project so i can achieve my dreams. do it for me. as a treat. as it stands cahir has an earring now.

[krsc2]

the ficlet by @st-danger about aeon in lingerie made me insane and i had to draw it, i hope that's okay!

[get-back-homeward]

Davidwache Police Station | Painting by Klaus Voormann Prior to being deported, Paul McCartney spends a night in the Davidwache police station.

In the meantime, the final four could start playing [at the Top Ten club] now, and move themselves into the bunk-bed accommodation at the top of the building.c Tony Sheridan was already here, possibly others too, and the Beatles were welcome to shoehorn themselves in. It was neither the Ritz nor the pits. John was the first to move. Then Paul and Pete went back to the Bambi to grab their gear.

The place was in near darkness, as usual. They had to strike a match to see their way about … and then they decided to leave Koschmider a little gift. Pete had a few “spunk bags,” and he and Paul had the idea to hang them on nails in the wall in the long concrete passageway and set light to them. “The place was dank and dark,” says Pete. “They spluttered, they stank, and OK, maybe they singed a tiny bit of tapestry on the wall. It caused nothing but a little smoke and a few scorch marks and then they went out.”41 It was the ultimate fuck you, Bruno, or so they thought.

They got to play one night in the Top Ten, and it seems to have been a good one, pulling business away from the Kaiserkeller, but it was just this one night. Having been shafted once by Eckhorn, when he’d prized away the Jets and Tony Sheridan from the Kaiserkeller, Koschmider wasn’t going to sit back and let it happen again. He might also have guessed the Beatles would make some grand gesture for his “benefit”—they could even have hinted of it—because an inspection was made of the Bambi’s rooms very quickly. When the stinkende qualmende Piedeltüten were found, he decided to form the view it was an attempt to burn down his cinema, and informed the police.

The chronology of events over the next twenty-four hours is rife with confusion and contradiction, but may have gone something like this. Paul was picked up by the police while walking along the Reeperbahn, taken by car to the Davidwache police station (two hundred meters from the Top Ten) and locked in a cell. Pete and John were also arrested. Koschmider didn’t know which of them was responsible for the “attempted arson,” so the Polizei rounded them all up. As Stuart wrote in a letter back to Liverpool a few days later:

I am living in the lap of luxury and contentment. Better than the cell I spent a night in last week. I was innocent this time though accused of arson—that is, setting fire to the Kino (cinema) where we sleep. I arrive at the club and am informed that the whole of Hamburg Police are looking for me. The rest of the band are already locked up, so smiling and very brave on the arm of Astrid, I proceed to give myself up. At this time I’m not aware of the charge. All my belongings, including spectacles, are taken away and I’m led to a cell where without food or drink I sat for six hours on a very wooden bench, the door shut very tight. I fall asleep at two in the morning. I signed a confession written in Deutsch that I knew nothing about a fire, and they let me go.42

John was also allowed to go. It was now clear who’d done the dirty deed, and for them the ordeal continued; Paul would always remember the little one-way peephole in the door of their detention room, through which he sensed they were watched. It seems he and Pete were then allowed to leave, but a few hours later—early the following morning—they were dragged out of their Top Ten bunk beds and interviewed a second time. Pete suggests they were taken to Hamburg’s main prison at Fühlsbuttel, Paul remembers it being “the Rathaus … it doesn’t mean rat house, it just felt like one.” They were interviewed by an official of the Bundeskriminalamt (Federal CID), one Herr Gerkins, and it was definitely inadvisable to snigger. Instead, they requested permission to contact the British Embassy, like people did in the films, and were refused; then they were taken for a car ride. “We tried our best to persuade him it was nothing,” Paul says, “and he said, ‘OK fine, well you go with these men.’ And that was the last we knew of it. We just headed out with these couple of coppers. And we were getting a bit ‘Oh dear, this could be the concentration camps’—you never know. It hadn’t been that long [since the war].”43

Criminal charges were not pressed, but Koschmider, inevitably, had the last laugh. It wasn’t a camp to which Paul and Pete were being taken, but the airport—and in handcuffs, according to Stuart. They were being deported, and banned from reentering Germany unless they lodged an appeal within a month. Auf Wiedersehen, Piedels! Handed their passports at the gate, they were put on the London plane, set to fly for the first time in their lives. It then got even tastier for Koschmider because Eckhorn was billed for at least part of the cost of the plane tickets. Bruno must have been rubbing his hands with joy.

—Tune In, Ch. 17 (Oct 1–Dec 31, 1960)

Sources: 41 Author interview, March 7, 1985. Pete says (Beatle!, p72) there were four rubbers and always speaks of them in plural, Paul speaks of one. 42 December 12, 1960, sent to Ken Horton. This letter provides the only suggestion that John was arrested in the roundup; he’s not mentioned in other accounts. 43 Interview by Paul Gambaccini, Rolling Stone, June 12, 1979. Rathaus means “city hall.” Instead of the main prison at Fühlsbuttel, it’s more likely Paul and Pete were taken to the remand prison near St. Pauli called Untersuchungsgefängnis (easier done than said).

[mementoasts]

jonathan sims head archivist of the magnus institute london

[viaviavie]

OPERATION CINDERELLA-SABOTAGE [SAVANACLAW]

in which he rescues you from your very short-lived wedding.

SUMMARY: due to a massive misunderstanding, a prince from royal sword academy is set to wed you at sunset. thankfully, your un-princely crush is here to save the day and crash this lovely wedding.

PAIRINGS: everyone x fem reader (separately)

WARNINGS: they're being a bit dramatic, characters are 18+, slightly suggestive (leona and ruggie), leona lifts you up bc he's a big man like that,

NOTES: this is echoes the ghost bride event, but listening to this prompted me to write out this scenario instead. i made this for shits and giggles, so have fun with this self-indulgent fic ofmine writing for savanaclaw was pretty funny tho

HEARTSLABYUL | SAVANACLAW | OCTANIVELLE | SCARABIA | POMEFIORE | IGNIHYDE | DIASOMNIA

There was no way you would be able to say 'no' now, not when there were hundreds of Royal Sword Academy students and even more members of a random royal family whose last names you cannot recall waiting outside that door. Aside from a completely oblivious Neige and Che'nya who was nowhere to be found, there was no one you could really ask for help to get you out of this mess.

You turn to your supposed betrothed with frantic eyes, shaking your head wildly. "I already told you, I'm not the one you danced with at the ball!" Your hisses fell on deaf ears. That damned prince from Royal Sword Academy was too busy making the 'goo-goo' eyes at you to even register what you were saying.

"I just happened to have the same shoe-size!"

Damn it, why did you have to agree to fitting some missing girl's shoe?!

Pierce Charmant, possibly the most delusional guy you have ever met in Twisted Wonderland, clung onto your calf with a stubborn expression. He had no intentions of letting you go, and neither did his five other guards that had blocked your way.

"You have to be her!"

"You don't even know my name!"

You were really counting on Grim to get someone, anyone, to stop this wedding. Yet, as you are walked down the aisle by the fair Neige, you are already planning out a divorce settlement plan. Based on the number of guests here, who had filled this entire venue from top to bottom, you would have guessed that this prince was rather rich. If it was to be an unhappy marriage, at least your wallet would be more than compensated.

You managed to convince this prince to send invitations to Night Raven College, but that didn't matter. He was so excited and in a hurry to marry, that your friends barely had any time to rescue you! There must have been so much traffic with the mirrors that they couldn't even use them! There was just no way that they'd make it in time now.

And so you consign yourself to readying some divorce papers within the next few weeks, and planning out how to avoid any more interactions with this guy while you were married.

You stood at the chapel's base, your expression exasperated than ever as you kept darting your gaze to the door. You've already tripped over the aisle a few times, fumbled the scripted vows, and even called for a bathroom break or two to stall.

And now comes the big moment that you were so desperately trying to avoid.

"Would you, Pierce Charmant, take the Ramshackle Dorm Prefect, as your lawfully wedded wife?"

The prince smiles so sickly sweet, and its the look of a man who won't change his mind.

"I do."

You grimace as the officiant faces you, just as blind to your annoyed expression.

"Would you, the Ramshackle Dorm Prefect, take Pierce Charmant as you lawfully wedded husband?" They didn't even use your name!

You pause, the image of your crush flashing before your eyes.

You would never see him again if you let yourself get married. Defiance returns to your face as you suck in a deep breath, ready to deal with the consequences of rejecting this delusional prince in front of hundreds of people.

"I—"

"I object!"

LEONA KINGSCHOLAR

"What have you gotten yourself into this time, herbivore? How bothersome. You had better be prepared to kiss the ground I walk on as soon as I grab you from the altar. You owe me for this, big time. Don't even think about lumping me in with the same lot as Ashengrotto. I suppose I'll have to retell you this as soon as I get you out of there... Damn it, the prefect couldn't pick up the goddamn phone for the fifteenth time. Park the car, Ruggie. I'm going in."

Imagine Leona's irritation when he has Grim tugging at his tail blubbering nonsense about you and a wedding. He really thought it was some stupid ploy to have him attend class or some arrangement until he heard Malleus expressing his concerns a couple rooms away.

Because what do you mean the herbivore is getting hitched into a royal family?! You sure that we are talking about the same magicless prefect with literally no credentials or documentation?

It's enough to have the beastman get up and deal with the issue himself. Consider yourself a lucky prefect since he is personally driving his way to the venue to pluck you from Prince Whatever's clutches.

Did he think the plan through? Not really. Leona is a prince himself from the Sunset Savannah, and he can easily abuse that status for issues like these. It should be easy. All he had to do was go in, and get you out, right? Right?

That being said, was it really necessary to dress for the occasion? He would have happily went in with his uniform, but Ruggie seemed to have insisted because no one would take him seriously if he came in looking like a bum! Hair tied back and donning a suit, he can easily pass as a prince charming if he tried. Still, he knows that you wouldn't expect him to be a white knight. You knew him too well to think him to be one.

Kicking down the doors of the chapel, everyone's eyes flew to Leona with mild shock and surprise. The second prince from the Sunset Savannah? What business could he possibly have here? Of course, that business would be no other than you who had gasped at the sight of the beastman, dressed to the nines as if he were the groom himself.

It takes everything in Leona's power to hold back his exasperated sigh when his eyes land on you. No wonder Pierce Charmant fell in love at first sight, you looked like an absolute dream. The longer he stared at you, the easier it was to forget that he had something to take care of here. As beautiful as you looked in that dress and veil, you would sooner suit the colors of the Sunset Savannah better than whatever this man's designers gave you.

Pierce lets out an uncomfortable cough, straightening his back as his eyes narrowed onto the beastman. "Prince Leona Kingscholar, I do recall sending an invitation. Unfortunately, you are quite late to the occasion." His hand extends towards the pews, a tight lipped smile surfacing his expression.

"Still, please have a seat. We can pardon the intrusion."

Leona flashes a haughty smile, his stance exuding pride and confidence. "You don't have to. I'm here to crash your wedding, Charmant." He takes long strides down to the altar, eyes fixated on your own. The beastman ignores the scandalized gasps, the 'oohs' and 'ahhs' as he makes his way to you, as if he was eager to retrieve a possession of his.

It's the way your lower lip quivers, how your hands wring against one another and the slight bead of sweat forming on your temples. It was difficult to tell if you were nervous yourself, or if you were just taken aback by how handsome the beastman was in his get-up.

"Herbivore," It snaps you out of your daze, reminding you to blink when your eyes land onto his narrowed green eyes. His voice is as commanding as ever, like the call of a lion to his pride.

Rather than addressing you from the high tops, he stands at the bottom of the alter with a raised brow, looking up to you. Then his lips curl upwards into a sly grin, mocking Pierce whose jaw was clenched.

"Herbivore, you really wanna marry that guy?" Leona asks in that low coaxing tone, very well knowing the answer before you shook your head wildly.

"No!"

Leona shrugs to himself with an exasperated sigh.

"Good enough for me."

Feeling a pair of strong arm wrap around your thighs, you couldn't help but let out a slight yelp when you felt your feet leave the ground. Instinctively clawing at Leona's back, you find yourself hoisted onto his shoulder like a sack of rice. The crowd gasps audibly, and you cannot help but hide your face in your hands as the beastman shamelessly began to walk towards the exit point without another word.

"Where do you think you're going?!" Pierce yells out from the altar, his hand falling to the blade hanging on his hip. You hear Leona snort, pausing for a moment to look back at the man. He rolls his eyes, almost annoyed by the other prince's theatrics.

"I'm bringing the Prefect back to where she belongs. I didn't think you weren't above spiriting strangers away over shoe sizes."

Gritting his teeth, Pierce shook his head and grinded onto his teeth. "You are not her guardian, nor her lover. You have no authority, Kingscholar!"

You can feel Leona exhale from the way his shoulders fall slightly, followed by how his grip on your middle tightens. "Then I stake my claim on her today," His tone is much more darker now, more dominating than the arrogant tone he had been using since he stepped through those doors.

Truly befitting of a lion demanding the submission of lower prey. "Do you really want to cross paths with my family, Charmant? I am sure my family is willing to negotiate at the next possible date." You know that Leona is smirking now, based on how irritation flashes across your supposed groom's face.

"Well, if you decide to try, my family will write you back in three days time. Until then, Charmant."

Noises erupt from the crowd as they watched Leona carry you down to the exit. Hanging against his back, you poke at his shoulder slightly. "Really? You have the authority to do that?" Leona clicks his tongue in his response, almost attempting to shush you down.

"Of course not, but Charmant doesn't have to know. Let Crowley take care of it. I am only the delivery boy."

Sure, it was a massive bluff on his end, but does it really matter? Leona got you out of that situation safe and sound! Even if it ended with you being hoisted over his shoulder and carried out of the cathedral, there was not a single scratch on you! That being said, Charmant was not exactly happy to know that Leona scammed him into letting you go, but you were long gone when he came to that conclusion.

Did we get Leona to drive you back to Night Raven College? Nope. Ruggie's getting a good bonus from being the getaway driver, not to mention the fact he drove you all through a fast-food drive-thru on Leona's wallet. He doesn't have to know either, not when he is fast asleep on your shoulder in the backseat.

Oddly enough, Leona wouldn't be leaving your side anytime soon. Even after Ruggie's dropped you off at Ramshackle, the lion beastman trails after you like a shadow into the manor, up until he's invaded your room.

"Leona, don't you have to go back to your dorm?" Raising a brow at your questioning tone, Leona crossed his arms and stared at you through the mirror's reflection.

The sun had already set long ago, leaving the moon filtering in through the windows. It was the only source of light, considering you haven't even though to flip the lights on. You can see Leona behind you, his eyes following the train of your dress and how it sweeps against the creaky floorboards.

"Ha? I haven't even started asking for compensation yet." He rumbles, finding his hand playing with the lace of your supposed wedding dress. The thought of it makes his stomach churn, followed by that prince's scent invading his nostrils.

Green eyes flicker back to you, something dark reflecting in them to the point where your breath is hitched.

"You ever thought of marriage before, herbivore?" Your eyes widened with surprise at his question. You could only let out a nervous chuckle, avoiding his gaze as you shift your gaze onto your wedding dress. "This entire experience has made me terrified of getting married for a while, Leona." You hear his humming from behind, eyes returning to the mirror to find his hand ghosting above the veil fixed onto the crown of your head. He doesn't let himself touch, only hovering slightly above the fabric. He seems almost lost in thought when he shoots the next question. "What kind of man are you looking for?" You stay silent, almost tempted to attack him for how seductive his voice seemed to sound in that moment. He must've been doing it on purpose. Then he chuckles slightly, teasing. "Don't tell me you're after the princely type like Charmant Ultra-Soft there." He easily catches your wrist when you whipped around to face him, smirking slightly at your somewhat flustered expression. "Of course not! He's... he's not my type anyways!" "Then what's your type then?" Gulping to yourself, you take a step back. He takes one forward. Another step back, another of his comes forward, all until your back is pressed against the fixed mirror. With a quiet purr from his throat, he hunches forward to hover above the crook of your neck.

You are already so certain that he sees through you, through the way your heart pounds in your ears or to the way you let him invade your personal space like he belonged there. Leona's lips quirk up into a smirk, followed by a knowing hum. "You never know, Prefect. Maybe Charmant will come knocking down your door claiming my stake on you is fake." His large hand presses itself against your hip in an almost possessive manner, but you can easily sense his hesitance, waiting for your approval.

"Or maybe, you'll wake up to everyone crowning you as a princess from the Sunset Savannah. Would it be so bad, herbivore?"

Pulling himself away, Leona rests an arm above your head and towers over you. You cannot avoid his gaze now, nor can you avoid that smug look of his against the glow of moonlight.

"Would it be so bad being yours?"

RUGGIE BUCCHI

"Nah, I can't use the Kingscholar name. Leona's gonna have my neck if I used his identity... Ali Baba? Does it look like I own thousands of camels and elephants? Come on, Jack. You're a smart cookie, you can think of some fancy-schmancy princey name for me! Can't exactly start a dispute with a royal family that doesn't exist... Pssh, you think Crowley's gonna help out in time? Prefect's gonna end up paying alimony if we let him take care of it! Come on, you got it Jack! Think faster!"

For all the trouble that Ruggie had caused you during and after Leona's overblot, he had to hand it over to you— you were probably one of the most well-resourced individuals in the campus. Sure, you had no magic but you had a good head above your shoulders and you seemed to have a knack for getting yourself out of tricky situations. It was admirable, really. He really respects you, and would often trust that you can take care of yourself!

Alas, you couldn't get yourself out of this situation. Ruggie had to do the biggest double-take when he looked over to see a wedding being broadcasted on Jack's phone, only to see you being dragged against your will for a gown fitting at a boutique.

Judging by that freaked out look on your face, you're going to need some help and Ruggie is ready to help you escape! Sure, he isn't as powerful as Leona or influential as Malleus... Now that he thought of it, how was he going to take you back safely without causing a ruckus? Crowley obviously is out of the question, and you might as well be married at sunset if he doesn't do anything now.

He's gonna have to pull out the big S.

S, as in, scammer.

"Darling, I'm here!"

You cannot keep your jaw from falling from its hinges as you watch Ruggie walk into the cathedral with a certain stride that was so unlike him. He wears a suit that is too expensive for his tastes, posture straight and refined to the point you were almost fooled into thinking it was a rich twin brother separated from birth.

In that moment, he seemed more like Azul than he did the hyena beastman you knew. It was only for a brief moment before you saw Ruggie, with his little crooked smile and the way he rubs the back of his neck with a hint of shyness.

"... Darling?" You croak in confusion. Ruggie laughs, easing your nervous heart. "Shishishi, it's me! Sorry, where you waiting for me that long?" Without a care in a world, the hyena beastman is making quick steps down the aisle towards you. You can tell that he is nervous though, based on the way his tail twitches slightly as eyes follow him down.

"And who are you?" Pierce demands. Ruggie gasps, feigning offense as he glances to the crowd, looking for some sort of support. "Me? You don't recognize me?" Sighing dramatically, the beastman shook his head in disappointment.

"Sheesh, didn't think that royalty these days haven't kept up with the times. Let me introduce myself," He grins, bowing to disguise the fact that he is playing a crook.

"Prince Varve Cu, a pleasure to make your acquaintance."

Barbecue?! Is that what you're craving, Ruggie?!

You want to choke on the air you just sharply inhaled. You've always known that Ruggie was clever and that he was not above dirty tricks, but you never did expect him to try and scam royalty into thinking he's someone else!

But Pierce hums to himself, attempting to recall the unfamiliar name in the recesses of his memory. "Cu? I have never heard of that name before." It almost baffles you that the prince was actually questioning his own memory, over a family name that never existed.

Always the opportunist, Ruggie scoffs in a spoiled manner, turning his nose up childishly. You would have been fooled by his act if you never really knew his true nature.

"How rude! We are quite the affluent family, you know? Luckily for you, I'm in a very good mood." Ruggie clears his throat, running a hand through his hair as he reaches his hand out towards you.

"I'm here to take back the Ramshackle Prefect. I am afraid she's already spoken for."

You may never get a chance to escape again, so you quickly flee Pierce's side to take Ruggie's hand. Easily, his hand wraps itself around your waist as he steps in front of you.

Pierce raises a brow, almost alarmed by how swiftly you had retreated to this mystery man. "You had no ring when we met. You never mentioned being betrothed to another prince, Prefect."

Thankfully, Ruggie is quick to answer for you with all the flowery vocabulary he can muster. "Clearly, if you were better well-informed, the Cu family does not require the use of rings. We firmly believe our love is enough proof to the world that we are one!" He turns to you and winks, hiding away his nervous grip on your waist.

"And we are in love, aren't we?"

There's that look in his eyes that is begging for you to play along with the lie, before everything would fall apart. Ruggie knew he fell for the right girl when you cozied up to his side, playing up a few tears and whimpers.

"I was so scared! How can I possibly tell this man that I already belonged to someone else? He wouldn't let me go!" You exclaimed, earning shocked reactions from the crowd.

Pierce gulps to himself, hands raised in defense. "Well, I—!"

Ruggie clutches your hands, playing the part of a charismatic prince that he would only be for a few more minutes. "Say no more, Prefect. I understand. Rest assured, you will never leave my side ever again." He drawls dramatically before he straightens his posture, glaring with the energy of a spoiled brat as he could muster.

"I will be certain to spare you of my family's wrath! They do not take very lightly to incidents like these, but for the sake of my lovely girl here, I shall be lenient."

Pierce finds himself nodding nervously, wanting to hide from the scrutiny of the crowd that seemed to be shocked that he would try to marry an unwilling bride, much to your annoyance. Only now, they decide to question this wedding?!

The hyena beastman begins to lead you by the waist, ushering you through the carpets in a hurried manner. "Let us be on our way, Prefect." He murmurs into your ear, but it is not the exit he takes you to.

Rather, it's the buffet table set to the side.

"Ruggie, what are you doing?" You whisper as he pauses at the edge, grabbing two paper plates and shoving one into your hands. He grins at you, hiding a laugh behind a free palm.

"Shishishi— I ain't planning on leaving emptyhanded, Prefect. Help me out here, will you? Let's take as much as we can before this idiot catches on. Come on, let's stack up a plate for the ride back!"

Luckily for you and Ruggie, you both manage to sneak away before anyone started realizing that the hyena beastman had fooled everyone in that cathedral. It's a subtle reminder for him to lay low for the next few weeks and deny any relation to being a prince. Does a guy like him look like a prince? Sure, he's the prince of empty pockets!

Munching on the wedding treats with a hand on the wheel, Ruggie has already prepared himself for the long drive back to Night Raven College. He's already begun negotiating some sort of compensation for getting you out of that wedding. A handful of favors here and there, mostly packed lunches from you to keep him fueled for a couple of days.

He expects you to be in more comfortable clothing by the time he's finished returning Leona's car and clothes. Much to his surprise, you're still in that poofy wedding dress, holding onto your own cup of instant noodles while Ruggie's was on the little coffee table in your living room. You do not miss the way his tail wags at the sight or how he averts his gaze, shuffling to the space beside you.

"You couldn't take it off on your own?" He questions, only to be replied with a casual shrug from you.

"Couldn't reach the zipper. I gave up."

Ah.

Consigning himself to the awkward silence, he takes his own cup and starts to munch down on the supposed 'wedding' dinner. Both you and him watch the flickers of the old television, watching some news as white noise. It's only coverage on the wedding, the runaway bride and the mysterious prince that seems to not exist.

Ruggie knows better than to let intrusive thoughts leave his lips, but he cannot help it as Pierce Charmant appears on the screen. "You think you ever gonna marry rich? Charmant was ready to give you an easy ticket to luxury, you know?" He doesn't meet your eyes, but you feel his tail brush against your arm, badgering for an answer.

Following a slurp, you shake your head. "I mean, if I was able to get a divorce with good settlement money? I would've." You tell him with a short shrug, so casually as if it were a lighthearted topic.

A bitter laugh leaves Ruggie's lips, ears deflated slightly at the thought. "Yeah? He can give you a pretty easy life, but he'd be real lucky to have you. Seven-time overblot champion? He's won jackpot." Not really. It was never about your achievements anyways. Pierce would've been the luckiest man in Twisted Wonderland to win you over, for all your sweetness and edges.

Ruggie's sulky behavior does not go missed by you, and you could only nudge his elbow. "I would've taken the settlement money and asked you on a date. My treat," It's the way his ears perk up, his head whipped towards you hastily with that surprised expression. He doesn't even realize his tail is brushing against the couch wildly, or that his cheeks are getting warm as he takes in your shy smile.

"It'd be funny if we ended up going on more dates and I ended up using that settlement money for a wedding. It saves a lot of money, don't you think so?"

Laughter bubbles from Ruggie's chest, and in that moment, he finds himself falling in love all over again. "Shishishi, you're a genius! That's what I like about you!"

Shifting closer to your side, Ruggie presses his cheek against your shoulder. The dress takes up so much space that it nearly swallows him too, hiding your hands from sight as he laces his fingers with yours in a silent confession.

You squeeze in conformation, relaxing into his warmth as he eyes the skirt with interest.

"Think we can sell it? Might catch a big buck for a royal wedding dress." You mutter with a gleam of amusement in your eyes. Ruggie chuckled to himself in agreement. "Yeah? I'd be happy to sell it for you as long as I get a cut of profits as the selling agent."

"Do you take payments in kisses?"

Instant noodles set aside, Ruggie licks his lips as he leans in towards you. For a prey-like subspecies, he looks very much like a predator looking down on his meal when he stares at you this way. Eyes fixated on your plush lips, he hummed in contemplation.

"Wanna give me one now for all the hard work I did getting you out of that wedding?"

JACK HOWL

"I'm sure that it's just a misunderstanding. If Prince Charmant is everything he says he is, then surely, he will let her go. I will be sure of it that she returns to Ramshackle tonight. The Prefect... I would rather not see her look so distressed like that. I just hope she isn't harmed in any way. Ace, if everything goes south... have Lilia on speed dial. If I cannot save the Prefect, Malleus would be our last resort. Agreed? Agreed."

Possibly the least unhinged one on this list. Not gonna lie, out of everyone in this school, definitely the least dramatic and most pragmatic ones out there. He insisted on dragging Crowley to the altar, but the Headmaster was nowhere to be found.

Sure, Jack has his own feelings for you. Of course, he doesn't want to see you get married to someone else. However, it is your choice and he will always support that.

That being said, he knows you don't want to get married based on your pale expression and strained grins. Clearly, you aren't very enthusiastic about his wedding and if Jack had confidence in himself, he already knew that this prince was certainly not your type.

Jack is smart enough to enlist the help of your closest friends. The first years are definitely helping, from transportation to the last line of defenses if things got awry in that cathedral. Sebek is ready outside to contact Lilia and Malleus should it be necessary, but Jack hopes it won't have to come down to that.

He is probably the only one who has faith that Pierce Charmant can see reason, even when he was the same one who got deluded into thinking you were his one true love because of your shoe size.

Jack doesn't actually dress himself up! He comes in without any fancy preparation really. He's just that much of an authentic guy, and he cares too much about you to keep up appearances.

Jack comes in panting and drenched in sweat, driven by a sense of urgency and alarm. He truly thought he was too late, but it seems that he came at the right time.

"Prefect!" He yells out, eyes zoning onto you as you dropped the bouquet in your hands. The sight of him urges you to move, a mixture of worry and relief swirling in your core.

"Jack!" Your voice rings out in return, echoing of the walls.

Abandoning Pierce, you ignore the prince's calls to you as you race down to the wolf beastman. You ignore the gasps and the stares, immediately pressing your hands against Jack's toned bicep.

"Jack, are you okay?!" You cry out, feeling his chest heave in and out for air. He winces, looking up at you and it only makes his chest constrict even tighter. Jack never meant to worry you like this, but that concern of yours makes his heart skip too many beats.

"Prefect," He doesn't answer your initial question as he attempts to stand up straight amidst pants. Large calloused hands tremble as they take yours, as if keeping them safe in his gentle grip.

"Please don't marry him. Don't marry him if you don't wish to."

He cares not for the prince, the crowd, not even his own feelings as he contemplates the thought of you giving your heart away to someone else. Sucking sharply through his teeth, Jack looks up to a scandalized Pierce who stares from afar. "I am not the one to dictate you what to do, who you choose to give your heart to." He returns his gaze to you, a look so gentle in spite of his sharp features. Jack makes an effort to be soft with you, so quiet in the moment in spite of the spectators watching you both. He wouldn't be this way in public, you knew this.

But if this was the last time he may ever see you as the Prefect, and not some prince's wife, then he wouldn't lose that chance.

Jack lets go of your hands, allowing his trembling fingers to grasp your shoulders lightly. Swallowing to himself, he asks with such uncertainty that it's almost unlike him to doubt what he knew of you. "Prefect, do you wish to marry that man?" He murmurs, eyeing Pierce once more.

He had to be sure. Jack never wanted to take away your choice and perhaps, he was the one with the misunderstanding. Perhaps, you did want to marry this prince from the bottom of your heart.

It was relief that flooded his chest and sparked life back into his tail when you shake your head, beaming at him as if he were a silly boy.

"I don't want to marry him, Jack."

Your words are enough to give him resolve to look at Pierce clearly now. Firm and stubborn, Jack glares at the prince as he positions himself in front of you like a guard. Defensive, but not complacent.

"You heard the Prefect. She doesn't want to marry you." Before Pierce could retort, Jack cleared his throat once more with a sense of authority. He may be a random student from Night Raven College, but that was not going to stop him from defending your wishes against someone who could abuse his power.

"If you have a problem with that, talk it up with Headmaster Crowley. Otherwise, you cannot force her into wedding you. Can you sincerely call yourself a proud student of Royal Sword Academy if you go against the very conducts your school preaches?"

Honestly, Ace and Deuce had to interfere before Jack began to scold the rest of the guests for letting you get married against your will. Admittedly, no one really wanted to interfere now because of how much shame they felt after Jack's lecturing.

Jack was mindful to bring in an extra pair of clothes for you! He would have been happy to rummage through your closet for you, but he is a certified gentleman. He wouldn't go through your stuff without asking, so you would have to settle for wearing some of his clothes. They are likely to be a bit bigger on you, but it sends his tail wagging on overdrive to see you draped in his clothes, his scent.

Quite sweet of the first years to help take you back to Ramshackle. Both you and Jack seemed to have forgotten that you had borrowed his clothes though. The least you could do is wash them for him before you've returned them.

"You didn't have to do that, you know?" Jack grumbled, arms crossed across his pectorals with that disgruntled expression. You knew better than to buy his nonchalant act when his tail seems to undo his efforts to seem unbothered.

You raised a brow at him, holding out his folded laundry in your arms. "What's wrong with it? They're pretty much ready for you to wear."

The wolf beastman sighs to himself, glancing away to avoid your gaze. His cheeks are starting to burn red, but he won't ever acknowledge them. "You don't get it, Prefect. Just drop the subject and leave the clothes on the bench."

It was cruel of you to even think of teasing Jack, but it isn't so often you get to opportunity. You pout at him, clutching the clothes close to your chest.

"... does my detergent stink that bad?"

Your words take him aback, almost like a heinous offense. Before you realized it, Jack had wrung the laundry from your hands and held the fabric closely to his chest. "I never said that! Don't misunderstand!" He stammers, subconsciously wringing a shirt up his neck.

Jack immediately realizes he's fallen in your trap when you smile at him knowingly. Sighing in defeat, he submits to your whims. "You... I like your scent. It gets hard to concentrate when you're..." He mumbles shyly, ears flattened as he fights the urge to bury his nose into his clothes that are now laced with your scent.

"Was this how you won that prince over? I wouldn't be surprised." He mumbles to himself in exasperation. You could only laugh softly as you approach him, rubbing small circles on his back comfortingly. "Are you implying that I won you over too?" He says nothing, silently brooding to the side in a futile attempt to keep his tail still.

You don't exactly help his case when you place a kiss on his cheek either.

[yintous]

party 4 u

❪ masterlist ❫ · out of character (or not) things the batboys did while being head over heels for you ⸝⸝⸝ crackfic ノ situationship hcs

🗒️ not proofread, more content under the cut ; VERY SATIRE. inspired by my sweeter than honey work and stupid things i did for my ex-situationship

DICK GRAYSON

wholeheartedly cussed out a barista inside his head when he saw them subtly flirting with you at the cashier

when his jealousy is mild he’s like “oh my god. i hope they slip on a drink and ruin that stupidly clean apron.” or “i can make a better latte! (name) just hasn’t seen it yet 🙄”

and he actually did learn how to make a better latte—that resulted in you visiting his apartment for morning coffee (when you went home he turned to the sky and absorbed the sunlight. eyes closed and everything out of pure gratitude)

started journaling whenever he got impulsively jealous and frustrated over the unlabeled relationship and somehow it always ends up being a love letter to you???

when he senses your presence, he gives himself five seconds to fix his hair and practice a charming smile before facing you 😭😭😭 atp it’s a habit he can never get rid of

you once saw him smiling weirdly at a mirror when he thought you weren’t looking (he was trying to see what the best smile was…..literally scrolled abt the types of smiles people have before it all) and you had to resist the urge to outright giggle

JASON TODD

listened to radiohead’s whole discography when he first got jealous while glaring at his ceiling, arms crossed and everything

his brooding got ruined when his earphones started glitching and he had to hold one of them at a specific angle so both of them would have audio

brushes his bangs back whenever he sighs at the thought of you (you literally cannot leave his brain). he brushed his hair back so often you thought he suddenly started liking slickbacks

scrolled through a comment section full of people that were ranting abt the annoying stuff their partners do and made a vow to himself to never do the things mentioned to you

goons CANNOT get away from him when he’s having a day wherein he got jealous over someone else flirting with you 😭 and after allat beating up and shooting the said goons, he acts like nothing happened

as in he literally texts you a “good evening” text and asked if you were free for dinner (it was two am)

TIM DRAKE

he felt like he was in a bad romcom. desperate times call for desperate measures i fear 💔 tried to analyze your body language to somehow read your mind/feelings toward him (he got 0 sleep that day)

wasn’t a believer in astrology but proceeded to analyze his and your birth chart to see if you guys would fit (he somehow found your documents)

tried the “triangle method” on you where he looks to your left eye, then your right, then to your lips—and was genuinely confused when YOU looked confused

you overheard him ranting to himself about your situationship. he was putting a lot of emotion into it

(sometimes he literally mumbles in ANGER abt it when he sleeps)

tried to deepen his voice around you (esp during the times where you two banter) but it did nothing but make the mood awkward (grew the habit of sending vms instead of text messages while deepening his voice bc he thought it’ll make you like him more)

DUKE THOMAS

bit a little too hard on your bottom lip while kissing you

he could’ve sworn he saw the grim reaper because of how embarrassed he was when he heard your noise of pain LIKE 💔💔 every time he closes his eyes, he sees it happening again

like jason, his charger instead of his earphones broke while texting you so he had to angle his phone a certain way while trying to keep up a convo with you

to make it even worse, it was overheating and all too 🥀🥀🥀 in the back of his mind he could already see the image of his phone exploding right in front of him but he still didn’t gaf and continued texting you

was lowkey obsessed with your perfume and hated the push-and-pull situationship thing so when you were away from him, he went on a whole perfume hunt

and the salespeople who assisted him were so?? confused?? because of how specific his description was??? and the description felt targeted to a certain someone instead of it being about an actual perfume??

DAMIAN WAYNE

dedicates every art he’s consumed to you OR gets inspired by said art to create something similar to the media that was presented to him

once wrote a romeo and juliet piece but it was yours and his version of it with no death or wtv (he made one of the lines from the story his wallpaper)

made a 100 excuses about needing to learn body anatomy so you’d get the hint and FINALLY let him use your appearance to study anatomy (he needed an excuse to look at you more without getting teased)

overheard that you liked ear piercings on guys so he pierced himself while half asleep in his bathroom

he would’ve regretted it if he didn’t catch your eyes wandering to the new piercing the morning after

impulsively carved your name on his sword and he is NOT hearing the end of it from his family at all

© yintous do not copy, repost, plagiarize, or feed any of my work into ai.

[rawme-price]

Erm....and what if I said gaz and puppy!reader??

Not to be insane on my thirst sideblog but I cannot get the image of gaz with his beloved little pup reader out of my head😔🙏

He's got the best cage set up for you, blankets, stuffed animals, fairy lights, knotted toys, everything. You also get one of those expensive leather collars bc he doesn't half-ass anything, one of those with the strap on the back so he can scruff u easily😫

Also uh- hes totally got a doggy bowl for u that he cums in and makes u lick clean before ur allowed to cum- OMG WHO SAID THAT??

[aimfor-theheart]

thinking about mafia!reader going lingerie shopping and vi having to be there; reader obviously is gonna be an insufferable tease, parading around in one of those massive private changing rooms (she's getting free champagne too, bc ofc she is) posing in front of the full length mirrors like "what do you think, vi? do you like this color on me?"

i’m grabbing you by the shoulders. you can’t just put this in my head. i'm so cooked.

brush the sky no. 3: fantasy

minors and ageless blogs dni, 18+

vi x reader || part two || masterlist

tags: mafia au, bodyguard!vi, femme!reader, longing, a little angst.

wc: 2.7k what the hell

cw: alcohol mention/very suggestive. nsfw-ish. not beta read or edited at all lol.

Vi is not known for her patience.

In a spacious, private changing room of a boutique lingerie shop, she scrubs a hand over her face and tries to prepare herself for the next time you come out from behind the plush, velvet curtains.

Her glass of champagne sits untouched besides yours, which is nearly halfway empty.

This is only the second set you’re trying on but—to Vi, it might as well be the twentieth. The first set had already sent her spiraling, when you had come out in dainty lilac, some little baby-doll dress that you flounced around in. It had inspired images and fantasies of you the morning after, hair tousled and still sleep warm, the sun streaming in through your bedroom window. Some picture of domesticity that Vi cannot be thinking of you in.

The curtain swings back.

You’re in crushed blue, dark and rich and silky. A slinky little slip dress which allows for a peak of the lace blue panties underneath. Vi's eyes go towards the ceiling and she swears she's gonna keep 'em glued there as you come out to strut around and look at yourself in the large, three panel mirror.

And you do that for a moment, Vi can see it in the blurry peripheral of her vision. You twist and turn, examining yourself, and the lingerie and how it moves.

Then, "Vi?"

Your voice is so sweet and inquiring that she grinds her teeth together so hard she fears she'll chip one.

"Yeah, princess?" She doesn't take her eyes off the ceiling.

"How do you like this one?" You press innocently, like the absolute demon you are.

"Not about how I like it," Vi tries to say evenly, "more about how you like it."

"But I want a second opinion." And she can almost hear the pout in your voice and she really can't look or she'll—

"Are you tryin' to kill me, sweetheart?" Vi finally asks.

And she jolts a little when she suddenly feels the careful press of your fingertips to her chin, her jaw. She hadn't even heard you move and—suddenly you're there—in front of her, gently guiding her face down to your gaze.

She swallows hard as she takes you in, the silk fabric shimmering like a night sky, like the ripple of dark waters. Some siren song, the way it dips to reveal the swell of your—

"Can't you help a girl out?" You ask sweetly, mischief dancing in your eyes, her chin still delicately trapped between your fingers. "I'm having a hard time deciding."

Vi has to drag her eyes back up to your face. And then she tips back, slouching into the plush couch, releasing herself from the hold you have on her. She groans, head tipping back as she desperately searches for some other excuse but—

At the end of the day, she can't deny you.

"Alright," she says and feels like she's signing her soul away, "let's see."

And then she picks herself back up, sits up, and takes a full look at you.

She inhales sharp and small.

You're a vision in midnight blue.

Of course it looks good on you, and she's already thinking about how those little straps look mighty thin and weak—

"What do you think?" You ask, smoothing out the fabric with a quick pass over your torso and hips that Vi watches carefully.

"I mean, you'd look good in a paper bag, princess—"

"But what's it saying, you know? Pretend you're my partner." You say and Vi feels her heart kick up into some unsteady, miserable rhythm. The tips of her ears burn, too. "And you come home from a long day—" Your voice drifts softer and Vi, without thinking, leans towards you like she's hypnotized, caught under your spell, "and walk into the bedroom, looking for me, and I'm in this."

You take a step back and showoff the set.

And Vi, heaven help her, pictures it all. Pictures you on the bed in this little number, waiting for her. Pictures the cat's curl of your lips, the mischief that she'll taste when she kisses you. Mostly, she pictures you as her girlfriend, pictures you waiting for her, singing her name when she comes home to your arms and—

"I mean, if I'm your partner, no lingerie is staying on you for long." She says before she can stop herself.

You laugh, and scold, "Vi!"

And she's smiling because she made you laugh, but she knows what you mean—she knows what you're asking for.

"But—it's classy. You know? It's definitely the lingerie of a mobster's wife. Powerful. A little cold, maybe."

You hum in thought, turning towards the mirror again to examine yourself. You announce, "I agree." And in a flurry of silk, you're back behind the curtain, and you're stripping into the next set.

Vi lets out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding.

But when you emerge again, she sucks it right back in—sharp, quick.

Damn.

You're in lacy black. Far less fabric this time around. Swirling pattern, dark panties, and a lacy bralette that clings to you in all the right ways. You look—

Vi whistles.

Dangerous. Sinful. You look—

"Oh, you like this one?" You ask over your shoulder as you turn towards the mirrors to examine yourself.

"This one's—" Vi searches for the right words and simply comes up empty handed, "yeah, I like this one."

You laugh, posing and primping in the mirror, straightening out the fabric resting along your breasts or seeing how it looks to jut your hip out. Vi watches your body, the way it moves beneath the lace, and has to keep her thoughts from spinning away from her.

You turn to face her, to show the set off a bit more. "So this one is better than the previous. What's this one saying?"

Vi gathers her patience. Swallows around it.

"That you want your makeup ruined." Vi says and she's not just trying to be funny, but you laugh anyways. And it's scandalized, a little surprised, but bursts from you in a sweet sound. Vi glows in it, leans into it. "Like you're looking for trouble."

You bite your lip, smile tucked beneath teeth, "I guess I am." You agree, but then you press, "does it look—?"

Vi waits for you to find the word.

"Too slutty?" You ask. "Is that a bad thing?" You then follow up with. And you're seeking, earnest, as you look at her. Something about this flicker of insecurity—or, genuinely seeking her advice, sets Vi off in a new way. God, you're cute.

Vi's fingers curl into a fist.

"I mean, not when it's a surprise for your partner. Nothing's too slutty for that." Vi drawls, "I wouldn't want you wearing this around anyone else—" Her eyes, burning blue like the too-hot part of a flame, sweep up your body to find your eyes, "if I was your partner."

And for once, she sees you audibly fluster. She watches as your lashes flutter a little, at the way you blink at her. Your mouth pops open a little. You clear your throat.

"Right—" You get out, "who else would I wear it in front of?"

"Your bodygaurd, apparently."

You laugh, recovering again.

"Ah—" You wave her off, "that's just because it's you. If I had a different one, they'd be waiting outside."

"You like tormenting me." Vi finally complains, "who knew you were such a little sadist?"

Your smile turns wicked, a little sharp, "Oh yeah, poor you, getting to oggle me in lingerie."

"You know what you're doing, princess." Vi retorts, "Letting me look but not touch."

You linger nearer to her, stepping carefully to stand between her spread legs. Vi holds perfectly still, feels her traitorous heart ratchet up inside her chest.

"You could touch if you wanted, you know?" You say softly, looking down at her. You even reach out, let your fingers skim along her jaw. "You're the only one imposing this rule—who knew you were such a masochist?"

Vi looks up at you, leans into the touch at her jaw, "Yeah, I'm a real glutton for pain, huh?"

Your knee comes up on the outside of her thigh, almost straddling her waist. "It could be you that I'm waiting for—in bed, in this."

Vi curses.

Your lips lift into a smile.

Vi sounds genuinely mournful, "You know I can't be, sweetheart."

You sigh, fingers skimming around the slope of her neck, "It could be our secret."

Vi considers it for a moment; sneaking around with you, slipping into your bed in the middle of the night. She thinks about what it might be like to be yours, even in secret. But she knows—she knows it's too good to be true. In this line of work, secrets are dangerous. Secrets put those you love in danger.

Vi reaches up, hand coming up to your waist for a moment. She let's her thumb trace the lace at your hip, even slips beneath for a moment to feel your skin, unobstructed. She hears your inhale of breath, feels the way your eyes burn through her.

"You got more to show me?" Vi asks.

"Yeah," You breathe, "One more."

She taps your thigh a little, urging you up, urging you away, "Go on then," She says gently, "Show me, sweetheart."

You look at her a moment, fully, with all of your desire and your—feelings for her. It's more than lust, she realizes with a start, the look in your eyes. It's sincere—it's something tender and desperate and—

Reluctantly, you part from her, returning behind the curtain and Vi wonders if you can see the same feeling mirrored back in her own eyes. She wonders if she looks at you that way, too.

When you step out again, Vi doesn't have anything smart to say.

This set is burgundy. It's sheer, with these beautiful, flower details. And the straps are all silk ribbon. Two small bows at your hips, one over the nape of your neck. It's dainty but it's—blush dark and sultry. It's classy, but warm. It's the perfect amount of risque. Vi can only think about how delicately she'd unlace those bows, unwrap you slowly—

(She wants to ruin your makeup in it, yeah, but she also wants to make love to you in this set—wants it slow and dirty and passionate—)

You fix the ribbons in the mirror, you adjust your hair and you turn to her. Stand there, in all your beauty.

"How's this one?" You ask.

"Perfect." Vi says, a little more hushed than she intends. "I mean they all are but—" She let's out a breath, shaking her head, "This one's a knockout, princess."

"Yeah?" You ask, lighting up, and Vi wants to kiss you so bad she almost aches. She wants to take you home.

"Yeah." She agrees, knowing she's not the one who'll be seeing you in this.

(And you're smiling, but thinking, you'll buy it—and no one'll see you in it. Who else are you going to wear it for, except her? Who else, except Vi?

After this, it'll sit in your closet, untouched, until she wants you.)

"Now go change, before I do something I shouldn't." Vi says, dragging a hand through her hair, scrubbing it down her face. "You've tormented me enough for one day, sweetheart."

"Maybe I should tempt you a little further, then." You say, "kept hoping you would suddenly join me behind the curtain, step into there while I was changing and—"

Vi says your name, short and sharp and desperate to get you to stop because she can't take the thought of it. Her face flushes with warmth.

"Go put your clothes back on." Vi commands, trying to scrub the thought from her head desperately.

"Sure you don't wanna join me?"

"No—!" Vi says, rubbing at her eyes, "I mean—fuck. Of course I want to. I can't. Go change!"

Your laugh retreats, back behind the curtain, and Vi blows out a breath of air. A huff of a laugh. When you emerge, you're dressed again, back in your blouse and your skirt and your little heels and frilly socks. You head to the front of the store to check out. The price is too high and at least, that might stop Vi from ripping them, if she knew—

While you're walking home, you tuck into her side. Vi can't deny you, so she let's herself have this; her arm falls around your shoulders. It feels natural, easy, to have you like this.

"You know, I got both sets." You say, impish smile tugging at your lips, "the black and the burgundy one."

Vi's brows raise.

"So, if you ever wanna see them again..." You trail off, "You can pick."

"God, you're such a brat."

You laugh, bright and wonderful and filling the air—Vi aches, happy and longing and so full of you she could burst.

You duck out from her arm, wander further ahead. The city gleams from fresh rain, and you seem to as well. The sun has just returned and fuck, it must favor you—with the way you look, golden and lovely.

You turn over your shoulder to look at her, smile sharp and brilliant, "I'll get you yet, Vi."

"Gotta work a little harder, sweetheart. I'm stubborn." Vi says, but even then, she doesn't mean it.

Even when she says it, she's thinking;

Oh, don't I know it, princess.

(And—you already have me.

I'm already yours.)

[corneredcopia]

Little ramble analysis of the haircut scene for funsies

Starting off strong with stone putting the rose in Rob’s mouth….i don’t think I’ll ever recover from this image it carries so much tension you can feel it through the screen. What else would I have to say here? That they have their own telenovela roleplay going on? Yes. Yes I think so. And the way Rob’s gaze shifts to stone 🧍

HELLO THAT INSANE GRIP? Forearms out and everything woaw. Callback to my last post like chill stone. I love how you can also tell while watching these scenes that Ivo barely puts up a fight so stone is just being freaky for no real reason other than the intimacy of it all. (Esp when later is seems stone is exerting too much pressure on Ivo and he yelps—Rob trusts him that much to allow stone to be rough with him…they really are freak 4 freak ❤️) Then Stone just ripping off the goggles so fast in this image like this guy is WAY too excited 🌝

I think if you showed these next two images to a stob shipper back in 2022 they’d go into cardiac arrest. Seriously. The way Stone just launches him back and climbs over him 🤒 Robottomnik is real ig. (Can’t wait to get this shot in HD)

So Stone is fully looking at Rob’s lips in this one…like bffr his gaze is so obvious, it’s not on Ivo’s scalp :) He finally has the chance to unabashedly stare at the other man’s lips bc Rob isn’t paying attention after having to avoid his gaze for years….ijbol I guess Rob DID want him on his lap. God and the way he CRADLES HIS HEAD? Like at what point does this not get out of hand bc that angle cannot be efficient for shaving his hair.

And lastly the gentler moments, where at least Stone’s freak is toned down. I imagine after having to maintain that unruly mane for Ivo for so long he’s reveling in the feeling of the clean scalp. In a sense he was able to shed the weight off of Rob and bring him back to his former glorious self. Notice how he was rough with the hair, but without it he was gentler? But Ivo….oh Ivo looks absolutely blissed out 😭 also the sneaky side glance to the camera from Jim in the second pic…we get it—it was ur idea to have specifically Lee, as Stone, cut Rob’s hair in such an intense way…thank you Jim🙏 And again…cradling his head akbdjdifkrnd

Final thoughts: ❤️😍😍🫶🫶🫶🫣🫣🫣😊😊😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵👀👀🫂🫂🫂🫂🥚🪨🥺🔞🔞🔞

[halfway-house-in-hell]

angel dust redesign🕷️

2025 redesign here

(click for better quality)

and since theyre the first sinner ive posted, they get a human design!

rambling under the cut

(if my handwriting in the second image is unreadable you can check the id)

-angel dust was a sinner that died in 1948. they were a member of a large mafia family and led a secret life as a drag queen

-they were born into the family, and were unable to leave bc. you know. life of crime

-much of their family looked down on them and mocked them bc of their feminine mannerisms

-they had a particularly bad relationship with their father, who saw them as a failure of a son

-so they turned to drag and underground queer clubs instead (angel dust was their drag name that they adopted full time after dying, anthony was their "real" name)

-they also turned to cocaine, often stealing from their family's stash

-their death happened because they were lousy hiding the tracks of their theft- the family got a tip off that angel had been stealing and that they were currently in an aforementioned queer club

-mafia family storms the queer club, angel comes out off their head on cocaine, their father finds then and shoots them in the chest before slamming their head against the wall repeatedly, killing them

-their and all of their family's (except their sister) demon forms are spiders, symbolising the web of lies they spun😎 because angel died in drag they also have a much more feminine demon form

-they enjoyed life in hell for a while, but soon enough other members of their family started dying and began looking for them. this caused them to flee to the nearest hiding space they had, a place called Valentino's that promised a safe haven against any threats

-as we know this promise is absolute bullshit

-angel signed the contract that allowed them entry to valentino's. they were panicked and signed it hastily, not looking at the fine print.

-they become trapped at valentino's, forced to be a prostitute

-until valentino himself visits and likes the look of angel, deciding that he wants angel for himself

-he takes on angel as a prostitute/porn star/stripper/whatever valentino wants them to be today, with valentino abusing them behind the scenes

-valentino lovebombs them often, buying them expensive gifts they are required to wear and feeding their drug habit

-despite being famous, most of the money angel makes goes straight into valentinos pocket. this is what leads them to finding charlie's hotel, as they do not have enough money to pay rent and the happy hotel offers free accommodation.

-angel's best friend is cherry bomb, an anarchist who wants nothing more than to free them- but she has no money, no connections and is banned from most places on sight due to her habit of blowing stuff up. when angel dust gets sad and mopey, she gets angry for them

-angel uses they/them, but hell isnt the most progressive place, so few demons use it for them. they dont really care though, they have bigger things to worry about

-they actually physically cannot harm valentino, as part of their contract states that any harm valentino goes through also happens to them

-they like to keep up with the latest trends, and have a decent sinstagram following

-they are hypersexual due to trauma

-i think thats it. if i forgot smth im gonna be so mad

oki thanks for reading :33

[jeun-bug]

Had a hilarious idea so here’s brainrotting anon back again:

Tweet: “Overheard a student go up to MC and say ‘I need you to be a girl for a second’. MC looked down, grabbed her own tits, and said ‘do these not count for that? Does this mean I can go topless when I’m sweating my ass off in Jabberwock?!’ And *insert ghoul here* just slaps them upside the head”

(I personally think it’d be funny if it was Jin, who in one of the rare times he leaves his room overheard the honor student say that and is just like “wtf why do I want this dumbass again??”. Though Tohma, Sho, Ren, or Jiro are good candidates too. I just think a lot of the others who try to lecture them out of it, would try to egg it on as teasing flirting, would try to genuinely-ish encourage it for the chaos, or just wouldn’t care.)

HAHAHAH you’re totally right. I think alan would put his hand on top of the inspector’s head and just like…. roughly ruffle their hair, yk?

my MC is gender neutral, but i can absolutely see this going down with a female-bodied MC

this got surprisingly long lolol more hc’s under the cut <3

kaito would flip out 😭😭 he’s rapidly moving between “HOW DARE YOU IMPLY THAT THE HONOR STUDENT ISNT A GIRL ALL THE TIME” and “INSPECTOR YOU CANT JUST SHOW THOSE OFF TO ANYONE IM THE KNLY ONE ALLOWED TI SEE THEM ITS NAUGHTY TO SHOW THEM OFF IN PUBLIC”

romeo would also backhand them, sho would scoff and shove them away. leo would encourage it until he realizes it’s probably Not Great if his fake partner gets caught topless in public.

jiro wouldn’t care, he’s like “i see them topless all the time? it’s just boobs?”. yuri would blush so hard thinking about seeing the inspector’s chest in a non-medical scenario that he nearly passes out.

i feel like rui and haku would get lowkey defensive but try to play it off as flirting like “um hey hello??? you can’t just show those off those are my eyes only???” LMAO

ren and zenji would shout at them for considering it 😭 imagine zenji “MY DEAR!!! YOUR BODY IS A TEMPLE, YOU CANNOT ALLOW THOSE WHO ARE UNWORTHY (everyone besides me) TO LAY THEIR EYES UPON YOUR BEAUTIFUL FORM!!!!!”

lyca and ed wouldn’t care i think. ed would get flirty about it lolol

poor subaru would be bright red and desperately trying to navigate discouraging it AND being polite and not overstepping lmao “well…. um, i mean- i don’t mean to overstep or anything…. it’s just…. that sort of thing is…. of course, it’s ultimately your choice…. but….” 😭😭

taiga would lose it and actively encourage them to take their top off NOW like “ cmon inspector you said it. it would be so funny cmon “

haru gasps, affronted, and covers peekaboo’s ears, “inSPECtor!!! if it’s that hot, i’ll buy you a portable fan!!!! there is no need for that!!!!!!!”

ritsu would lecture the GA student about harassment laws and then turn around and lecture the inspector about public nudity laws.

if it’s said around towa, jabberwock park doesn’t know a single day of peaceful weather for a week, after which the GA student mysteriously goes missing lolol

you’re totally right about jin 😭 he’s like “if this is what you’re getting up to when i leave you alone, i’ll just have to start following you around everywhere to keep you out of trouble.” and everyone besides the MC immediately realizes he’s just trying to find excuses to spend time with them.

tohma and luca would both lecture the inspector about it, but tohma would be lowkey laughing to whole time LMAO he’s like “that’s incredibly improper, inspector. if you’re going to work so closely with frostheim, i must ask that you do your best to maintain a respectable image” but he’s just a shit eating grin on his face bc he’s truly a vagastrom boy at heart LMAOO

[saltywatercrocodile]

Quick (Informal) PSA For Therian Minors

I see a lot of minors in the community who seem very...comfortable, I guess, with sharing personal information and photos on here and other sites, and I just wanted to speak my piece about it.

Something I remembered from another post that I wanna steal because I love the wording: before you share something on the internet, think what could someone who wanted to hurt me do with this information? Not trying to be condescending, I'm an adult and I think that exact sentence in my head before I post/comment/DM anything related to myself.

Just saw a post where a well-meaning therian minor linked their Youtube channel, which has videos of them irl (wearing a mask, but still) doing quads outside and at an indoor non-chain business with the name/logo of the building clearly visible.

I cannot emphasize how much I was taught to be extremely careful about posting any irl images as a kid/teen, as people can infer your location from very minor details, MUCH LESS VIDEOS OF MY WHOLE BODY IN AN EASILY GOOGLE-ABLE LOCATION. What happens if someone with malicious intent sees that video, which is public on youtube? What will you do when someone attempts to blackmail or doxx you? Not only would this would-be criminal know where you are, they can also see how old you are and exactly what you look like. Terrifying.

(I understand we're in a culture of many people posting videos of themselves online, but (in my opinion) it's just not safe to be uploading public content that's advertising "Hi I'm bodily a child/teenager and this is what I look like and this is close to where I live and I'm also a therian who's probably hiding this account from my parents")

This individual is essentially just trusting that no one on the entirety of Youtube will just google the name of the indoor facility (along with any other location-identifying posts they may make) and either threaten them via doxxing or just straight up threaten their life/safety.

I knew someone in school who got too comfortable in an in-game chat, and was lulled into a false friendship and tricked into mentioning his address. Then he was threatened and told to send them money or they would physically find him. Thankfully he felt safe enough to tell his parents, who knew how to stop the situation. I know a lot of us aren't out to our family, and I dread to think what would have happened if the boy I knew hadn't felt safe enough to explain the situation to his parents.

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TLDR; before you post personal info/photos, think of the absolute worst evil that someone could do to you with that information. I know it's a bummer, but doxxing/blackmail happens more than you think, and even if your posts only seem to get low notes/likes/whatever, they can theoretically be seen by ANYONE, including people who want to hurt you.

(also I don't mean to call out or harass anyone, I'm not trying to be mean, I just wanted to use an example bc it's what inspired me to make this post and also I wanted to outline why real behaviours I'm seeing can be dangerous, rather than just making up hypotheticals)

[cashmoneyyysstuff]

𓏲 ࣪₊♡ what i think katsuki n’ shouto would listen to !♡𓏲 ࣪₊

a/n : so I had this ready..but Tumblr fuckin ate the og ask..so anon if ur still sticking around (this was sent to me before I want on my break :(() ily !! and I hope you enjoy ! and all of y'all too off ! 3K WE UP !!

katsuki ♡

for some reason, i cannot get the image of katsuki listening to nobody by skindred out of my head LMFAOOO

(maybe bc ive been listening to it non stop)

so anyways i think you can tell that i'm feeling very metal for him,, nu metal, heavy metal, groove metal he's all for it ! i don't see him being particularly picky about it.

i think he'd listen to deftones, slipknot, skindred and korn ! i think he also has other similar bands in his playlist but i see these as most of his mains !

katsuki's a renowned little shit, so he'll share his earbuds with you, have you thinking he's on some cute shit only for him to hide his phone screen from you to jumpscare with a hyper loud song so he can snicker about it like a mountain troll💀

so yeah he's extremely irritating. of course if ur into it yall jam out together !!

buuuut on the other hand he definitely is a rap/hip hop and r&b typa guy !

i can definitely see him listening to some mf doom, tupac and DEFINITELY kendrick lamar oh em gee

pls don't get me started on r&b,,,i know he'd love him some brent faiyaz..teehehehe <3

i feel like he'd really like frank ocean and tyler the creator ! i feel like he wouldn't be a hyper fan, but he has a lot of songs in his playlist !

don't ask me why yall,,,but tell me why i see him listening to fugees and erykah badu...dreamy sigh

so yeah he'll jumpscare the shit outta you with his loud music, but most of the time when he's not being a nuisance he'll happily share his earbud with you and put on some sappy soul song to subtly tell you he love you cus hes shy lolol

a lot of the songs he listens to he relates to so,, if he plays the intro of all mine by brent faiyaz.. KNOW ITS ABOUT YOUUU!!!

shouto♡

now shouto's a lil trickier for me..i feel like he likes to experiment w new music genres sometimes, but he has his lil favourites yaknow??

i like thinking he'd listen to steve lacy and frank ocean ! he has a few select songs that he likes the most ! he gives me infrunami n' mercury typa vibes

it feels the best for me to say he'd listen to indie rock/pop (sorry if these aren't the right terms yall it's googles fault if they aint😭)

i feel like he fucks w the smiths HEAVY. i also see him listening to the cure ! he also gives me smells like teen spirit by nirvana !

like i said i feel like he likes to experiment cus lemme be honest i feel he's messy😭 like his playlist is a clusterfuck

there is no sad playlist or casual playlist like everything is in one playlist LMFAOOO

but no yeah he doesn't care much, which is why i think if you put him on the good shit you might see some pink pantheress n some laufey in there LMFAOO

if you recommend a song to him it's probably in there before you can blink lololol

shouto also starts copying your playlist after a while lolol soon you'll start thinking you have your phone when you scroll thru his playlist but nah💀

i also see him listening to mitski..need i say more ?

this was such a cute ask and it was rlly fun to do !! if you guys have any questions like these PLEAASSEEE feel free to ask me !!! tysm for the ask anon n' m'sorry it took me so long to respond ! i'm gettin' to all your asks one at a time, so please be patient with me <3 !!!