#soooo many sockets

[tony-hawks-underground]

Augh tools are so expensive. And i need to get basically all of them. I already ordered 1/2 drive sockets fortunately i already have 3/8 drive sockets but basically everything else i need that i alread had has been stolen

[candyexorcism]

Hiii! I asked this question on the ‘Osana’ Reddit and you said you had more, SOOOO: What are all of your headcanons for the Male Rivals?? General Headcanons pretty pretty please :3

Haiii! Good to see you on here ^w^ & ofc!

(Also ignore the fact half of them don't get fun pictures or a gif I'm posting from the app lol xD)

General Male Rivals Head cannons!

Osano Najime

He is stupidly good at playground games (like rock paper scissors, go fish, etc) to the point where nobody wanted to play with him as a kid because they knew he'd win.

Favorite Pixar movie is inside out.

He actually is really good friends with Hanako. They both spend a ridiculous amount of money on blind bags together. And whenever Osano goes to the store he keeps an eye out for ones Hanako would like.

And Hanako has made him a friendship bracelet, which Osano being the tsundere he is, promptly pretended to hate it but still wears it as an anklet to this day.

Has helped organize fund raisers for local animal shelters and veterinary emergency rooms.

I feel like he has contact lenses and wore glasses in middle school. Whenever he's doing his judgemental stare his friends if he's put his contacts in that day.

He gets really into decorating and customizing his phone, like changes his whole layout, stick, phone charms, pop socket, app overlays, wallpaper, depending on what season it is.

Reads shojo manga but pretends to hate it.

^ his favorite is fruits basket

Amao Odayaka

One time he was at his great grandma's house making sourdough bread, and he accidentally slammed it on the old wooden counter so hard that he made a hole which the dough fell through to the cabinet shelf below. So not only did he break a counter he also had to scrap the whole batch. That memory haunts him and keeps him up at night.

Impulsively buys every apron he sees. He has a whole section of his closet purely dedicated to aprons.

Favorite movie is ratatouille, naturally.

He is uh, a little dense when it comes to social cues. He's nice don't get me wrong, just he isn't very good at getting sarcasm.

His favorite deserts to make are macarons and pound cake.

He has a love-hate relationship with the Gordon Ramsay show 'Hell's Kitchen' because he gets ridiculously mad at the condition the kitchens are always in. But he loves seeing the before and afters.

He runs the cooking club like a pirate ship tbh, he usually has to break up fights between the members. Except for Saki because she minds her own beeswax.

Kizano Sunobu

He has played many, many, roles in theater such as: The Wicked Stepmother From Cinderella, The Phantom of the opera, The Rat King, King George the third in Hamilton, and many more.

He can sing quite well, and took gymnastics lessons as a child so he could very much be considered a quadruple threat. (Singing, Acting, Dancing, and Acrobatics.)

Went to a preforming arts high school, but due to his family moving he had to transfer to Akademi.

His favorite animated movies are Leap! And Anastasia. Although he does have a love for old Disney aesthetics.

He has quite sensitive skin, being allergic to glycerin, so he has to be very particular about what products he buys.

Kizano plans on becoming a Broadway actor once he graduates, and because of that he is fluent in both Japanese and english, and is working on learning Spanish.

He really appreciates the club members who are stage hands, always making sure to thank them after every show.

While he is cocky, egotistical, and down right self centered at times, he does truly appreciate his club members.

He has some, interesting opinions on the other club leaders...

He likes and appreciates Amao, mainly because they both have an unyielding passion for their respective fields.

He hates and despises Asuo, because he finds him too relaxed and annoyingly positive.

He in fact does not know Oko exists.

Oko Ruto

Is very good at sewing due in part to the fact he likes to replace the button hole embroidery on his white shirts to a beige tone and the buttons to match his eyes, making it look like his buttons are eyeballs. Also because sewing comes in handy for occult/supernatural shenanigans.

Likes to visit graveyards to see if there's any intriguing tomb stones. Like funny last words, statues of the dead, intriguing ways a person died, ect.

^ he is very respectful though, only really approaching graves that are particularly old.

The occult club does more than just stalking students and summoning demons. they also practice ways to tell the future, speak to ghosts, birth chart and palm readings, and alien investigation night. (Held every other Tuesday.)

He watches BuzzFeed unsolved supernatural. Because weirdly enough true crime gives him the creeps but not ghosts and ghouls.

His favorite animated movies are, Spirited Away, Alice in wonderland, and Paranorman.

His father was a paranormal investigator, but has major Dale Gribble vibes so safe to say he runs an occult goods shop with tarot cards, oujia boards, future reading tea and eggs, and more now after being 'encouraged to retire'.

His mother is a practicing psychic who was actually brought in to help solve the murders at Akademi. She now runs an in store future reading service. Personality wise she's very much so like Jessica Rabbit, sweet charming, and a showman at heart.

Asuo Rito

This man seems like a golden retriever and he is, but sweet Lord does he not actually process his emotions. Everytime he gets upset over something he just throws himself further into training regiments.

Has like seven dogs currently and overall in his life he's had twenty.

Enjoys all sports but knows he should be focusing on just one, but he just can't pick. He enjoys track and field best, but that could just because that's what he wins the most medals for....

Took one martial arts lesson when he was ten and Budo accidentally broke his nose. Swore off martials arts ever since.

Speaking of which, childhood friends with Budo, although at first they didn't like each other because they were on opposing soccer teams.

He in fact does not know Kizano has one sided beef with him. He thinks of all the club leaders as his friends, except Kaga, he finds him creepy.

Favorite animated movie is the Incredibles.

Man is his and his teams own cheerleader, doing full on chants and cartwheels at swim meets.

^ has accidentally cartwheeled into the pool, DURING A RACE.

Mujo Kano

This man would make a better mortician than a nurse! He always gets hung up on fixing patients hair rather than filling out important paperwork.

Studying to be a pediatrician, specifically specializing in infants.

Has an unhealthy build a bear problem. He builds a bear every week and they have invaded his couch, bed, and shelves.

He is a walking disaster. Someone save him.

Osoro Shidesu

Chain smoker, no further elaboration.

He's weirdly stoic, like definitely not a party person, despite being a delinquent hooligan he reminds sorta like an old timey knight.

Rbf to the max, man came into this world with a scowl. There's not a single picture of him in his childhood where he doesn't look like a hell spawn.

Good at cooking in the same way a shady Denny's chef is good at cooking. Like cigarette in hand, cussing under his breath, while making the best funfeitti pancakes known to man.

It brings joy to his grinchy little soul to see a slug bug. Like in ironically giggles when he sees one.

Also thinks clowns are hilarious. In another life he'd be a shady circus owner.

He either has the cutest softest smile known to man, or the creepiest smirk ever.

Favorite animated movie, Up and lady and the tramp.

At his core he does believe in fairness. If a guy is harassing a waitress he won't hesitate to take him outside iykyk.

Hanako Yamada

Has gotten his arm stuck in an arcade machine after trying to just grab the plushie he wanted. The fire station was called and had to help get him out.

Wears keychains on his belt loops of his favorite characters like Keroppi, Hello Kitty and Mimi, and Happy from fairy tail.

Is actually not that social around those he doesn't know, personally I like to think he has some form of social anxiety which prevents from getting close to many people.

The reason why he dresses so cutely is that he figured that even if people stared at him, at least he'd know why rather than just being clueless.

Favorite animated movie is the toy story saga which he cries to every time he rewatches.

Really enjoys playing matchmaker with people he knows, for example in middle school he introduced his aunt to his homeroom teacher, leading for them to get married three years later.

Loves playing animal Crossing (and spending a ridiculous amount on leaf tickets in pocket camp)

Has an absurd amount of plushies, except he does know how to stack them properly to make it seem like he only has a few.

Is studying to be an architect or interior designer, he hasn't quite decided yet but he hopes to someday make homes that'll reflect his clients essence.

Has two pet hamsters, Hamtaro and Hamantha.

Megamo Saikou

Denser than cement when it comes to how much things cost. Not like business expenses because he's been trained for that, but he does think a loaf of bread costs twenty bucks.

Was a premature baby and had a heart problem causing him to be rushed into surgery nearly immediately after being born.

Would be studying to be a brain surgeon if he wasn't set in stone to inherit the company.

Actually rather appreciates the arts, such as art galleries and musical theater.

Favorite animated movie is sleeping beauty.

Likes to people watch, he finds it amusing to see how others live.

Is a horrible cook, like cannot make box Mac n cheese.

[rawmeknockout]

Give me more CILF (Creator I'd like to fuck) writing! Please, I beg of you!

an assortment!

Rodimus is the young, hot, eager- to-please Captain that wants to spark you up soooo bad. There's just something so hot about the way you care so fiercely for your sparkling, it really gets his engine revving. He knows he's younger than you, but that doesn't make him any less of a mech! In fact, he's got all the energy and stamina a sire could need to look after any (potential) future sparklings you might have together. He's always looking to impress you, almost tripping over himself to prove he's the mech for you. Drift has heard enough of his delulu daydreams about how much he'd like to give you another. He's always been attracted to older mechs (hard not to be when your entire population is as long-lived as Cybertronians. He may be your boss, a headstrong and over-confident sort of guy, but he could be gentle if you wanted him to be! Let him show you!

Megatron is much quieter in his appreciation of you. It's not that the thought hasn't crossed his mind that you would look SO good carrying his sparkling, it's just that he's well aware how awful a decision that would be. Doesn't stop him from cranking his shaft to the idea. He's perfectly happy to look after the sparkling you already have when you need a break. Some might say he's the very last mech that should be in charge of looking after a sparkling, but he believes that some Autobots are far too self-sacrificing. Sure, he's now committed to the Autobots, but he still holds his personal belief that Cybertronians have value far greater than any self-perceived benefit to others. He will teach your sparkling that they exist first for themselves and for no other to take advantage of: be it a system or an individual. It just sort of helps that looking after your sparkling and ingratiating himself to them also puts him in closer proximity to you.

Ratchet won't ever admit it but the prospect of having a sparkling has always been so tempting for him. Of course, he was never in any position to have a sparkling of his own, first with his practice in Dead End and then the war, and now that he's quite a bit older the chances of that have gone down tremendously. In fact, he sees it as almost bordering on negligent to conceive one. But when he sees you with your sparkling his fantasies and daydreams of a domestic life come surging to the forefront of his processor. It's hard not to feel envy towards you, even if you're forced to care for your sparkling alone, but he tries to stamp out those feelings. You're not deserving of his resentment because he chose not to have bitlets. When he gets to know you better he feels all the worse for having been envious of you, and incredibly grateful that you would let him look after your sparkling. Even if the bitlet isn't his, Ratchet is attached to your offspring like no other and is always fussing after their (and your) care. If Drift notices a difference in Ratchet's demeanor, a certain wistfulness about him, he doesn't bring it up. He knows Ratchet would simply be reluctant to give himself what he wants, although Ratchet carrying the sparkling isn't the only option...

Whirl thinks it's hot. Okay, sure he thinks a lot of things are sexy that aren't supposed to be (that one time Brainstorm's optic was hanging from the socket, for example) but this one of normal! He insists. It's not everyday you meet a Cybertronian who has carried their own offspring. It's sort of an uncommon practice and definitely the most dangerous given the alternatives, but that's part of what makes it so sexy. Rung has informed him that is, actually, a little fucked up (not his words). Whirl would like to know what you looked like carrying. Not every carrier's frame will change drastically, in fact many don't if their armor is bulky enough, but maybe yours did. The fact your frame is so... powerful in a sense, resilient, and durable is kind of a turn on for him. But then again, Whirl gets heated if there's a gun pointed at him, so maybe it is fucked up. Your frame went through all the taxing processes of creating another Cybertronian, and you didn't die! What he wouldn't give to put your frame through it's paces again... Ultra Magnus has gently tried to convince you to get a restraining order against Whirl.

[krispycreamcake]

i already adoooore your writing!!!

K, so a story where the reader is the youngest Sakamaki brother, and was also likely treated the worse?? Like Karlheinz broke some of his bones whenever he disobeyed, and replaced them with silver prosthesis. So, he's always in some pain as a result, and on top of that the rest of the Sakamakis (excluding Reiji who likes his father) don't treat him well since he bares the most resemblance to Karlheinz. But maybe they end up coming around at some point to the reader's annoyance.

From author: This is so nice omg, I appreciate this a lot! I literally love this idea soooo much, I honestly enjoyed writing this so I hope you like it!

Warning! Graphic depictions of violence, physical abuse and brief mentions of death/suicide

Of Torn bones and broken homes

A cold sweat ran down your spine, as your hands trembled in panic. Blood dribbled down your arm in a putrid concoction of dirt and muck. How you could've sworn you heard the angels weep their golden tears for you as another lash came, slicing through the cold, dense air. What was once hair that was coloured the same as the heavens, was now tainted a deep scarlet, dying it an unnaturally sickly colour. Your golden orbs twitched with each blow to your back as you clutched your arms, hugging yourself in a kneeling position. The whip cracked into your skin, digging through and slicing your flesh like a filleted piece of red meat. Your crimson life source pumped out of you with each hit, trailing its way through every nook and cranny of the indents in your skin. He'd purposely aim to deepen the wounds that were already fresh and raw, deepening the bloodied gashes.

"Stand." Demanded the demon. God you hated your father, hated the way you knew this was more than just 'discipline'. He relished in the torture he often supplied your knowing body with. The bruises that littered your skin told a story of more than just abuse, a story of each time you came close to surpassing your f- Karlheinz. Every scar, every mark, every broken bone, every artificial replacement, all were consequences of defiance and power. Despite being the youngest of the Sakamakis, you were the most like Karlheinz. From looks, to his vampiric abilities. Your mother was the royal escort, a demon of unknown origins, most likely bought from slavery. Your conception wasn't planned and was only discovered months after, forcing Karlheinz to marry your mother. It was safe to say she wasn't liked by his many wives and was murdered by a certain violet haired woman out of jealousy and spite before the two could bewed. An emergency c-section was ordered, leaving you to be the only bastard child of the Vampire King.

Your body writhed in discomfort as you dragged your twisted ankle to face this white haired Satan. You couldn't even hold your head upright to watch him, but you heard the sound of chains grating against the concrete floor. Its echo reminded you of a passing bell*, as its metallic snake-like body slithered closer towards you. If only you were more careful, more vigilant. If only you slit his throat when you had the time instead of hesitating. You'd managed to even creep up on him in his sleep, but your hands shook with something you couldn't understand and that alone was enough to wake the great serpent. Karlheinz wasn't one to dirty his own hands, but it seemed as if punishment only registered in your brain if it was done by him personally.

With a sharp swish of the air, he wrapped the chain around your wrist and yanked you forward, causing your arm to jolt out of its socket as your tendons tore in half. Your bones splintered as he continued to drag you around like nothing more than a ragdoll, tossing you about and shaking loose all the defiance you once held. Punishments like this weren't uncommon and eventually numbed you, not to say they didn't hurt every.single.time. You were just unphased by this brutality. What used to be flesh and bone, were now metal and iron. On a particularly gruesome night, you were left with only one eye, being forced to plug the open socket with a glass eye.

Even after moving in with your brothers into a mansion in the ancient woods of Japan, your pain persisted. How could it not? With damage as detrimental as that, simple prosthetic limbs couldn't replace the life you once held, the flesh you once cried into every night. But of course Karl seems to see things in a different, more rose coloured light. Not to mention those assholes you were forced to call your brothers, had a certain distaste for your existence. Like if you even asked to be born in the first place. They all hated the fact you resembled Karlheinz the most, even more so than Subaru. What a bunch of stuck up whiny brats. None of them had any right to judge you, they were all his stupid little specimens. If anything, YOU should be the one to scoff whenever they passed by. You had no choice but to ignore them as family, not like they treated you any differently, but God just for once you wished you all could just admit what a horrible life you all had instead of sweeping it under the rug with silent agreement.

It was an especially silent full moon that night. Not a creature to be heard, not even the triumphant sounds of wind banging against the window. The mansion reeked of tension as the stone walls only enclosed the negativity, entrapping those within. The celestial pearl in the starless sky glowed effortlessly beautiful, outshining any mere woman. She was as elegant and as poised as an emperor's most beloved swan. Her radiance often tempted those of the undead species to feed, even going as far as to grant them increased abilities. However, those without a chosen prey would often grow to be impatient and tense.

As you trotted down the staircase mindlessly, ignoring your surroundings, Ayato bumped into you, shoving you out his way. Usually you'd ignore him and mutter a couple curse words, but it'd been weeks since your last feed and your tolerance level for these ingrates erupted. Your eye flashed towards him and in a swift motion, you swung your arm out and shoved him back down the stairs.

"Cordelia forget to teach you some manners, or are you just that obtuse?" You spat at him. The red head watched in disbelief as anger veiled over his emerald orbs. "Don't fucking touch me freak before I rip off your other arm next." It was probably the moon, or perhaps because you hadn't fed for some time, or maybe it was the fact that you were just a fucked up kid who was tired of taking shit from everyone, but in that moment as you charged towards Ayato, you knew for certain, nothing mattered anymore. You ran towards him and grabbed the nape of his shirt and raised him off the floor as you clenched your teeth. "Say that again." Laito who'd been watching this whole thing go down, decided to step in and yank your pale, waist length hair, dragging you up the stairs. "Now now, that's not how you treat your big brothers, you know better than that, don't you otouto*?"

You immediately dropped Ayato to his knees and spun around to sucker punch that fedora wearing pervert, but unfortunately missed as he dodged the blow entirely, teleporting next to Ayato. Your body was now pumped with adrenaline and awaiting for someone to make the next move as you all stood face to face. "Fufu~ I almost forgot how strong you were y'know, if I was a second too late, I surely would've gotten my face restructured. What a cruel fate~" You listened to his stupid ramblings before deciding they just weren't worth it. They were always the most annoying of the group when paired together. You rolled your eyes and teleported to the roof without another word. At least here you had some peace..... Freak, he said. Freak? How were you the freak? You went through the worst of Karlheinz, literally crawling up from hell because he decided a fitting punishment would be to bury you alive in the seventh layer of the demon world. They just threw around insults like it meant nothing, making fun of you because you actually had the balls to stand up to that white haired bastard! You were the only Sakamaki that ever got that close to ending his pathetic reign of destruction.

"Ah, I thought I might find you up here." Damn, Reiji. Couldn't you get a minute of peace in this place? The wind blew your hair against your neck as he etched closer and closer. You really couldn't deal with another person telling you off, especially not Reiji. He most likely heard your outburst earlier, shit. "It's highly unbecoming to not answer someone when they're talking to you, especially if you're going to lecture others on their manners." That last part, you could practically hear the smirk in his voice. Was he actually amused? "Dinner is ready and I expect you to be there as this is a family event, do not keep us waiti-" You hastily stood up and looked him dead in the eye. "Does it look like I'm part of this family!? When have I EVER been apart of this household? Just because we share the same blood doesn't mean I'm one of you. Don't expect shit from me old man." Reiji was stunned, practically frozen in his place. This was the first time you'd ever talked to him like that, the very reason he came up here in the first place was to check up on you. He by far was the one that treated you most like a brother, making ointments and teas to help with your chronic pain.

"Reiji.... Look I'm just- I'm not okay right now and I need to be alone. I refuse to sit in a room with all 5 of those guys. Sorry." You realized the gravity of the situation too late as you watched how Reiji's expression blanked. Your metal arm brushed the hair out your face to better see his expression. Everything served as a reminder of how even before your birth, your life was ruined. "It's our father's orders, they enjoy this as much as you. This isn't me trying to antagonize you, I'm simply carrying out his wishes." You couldn't believe what you were hearing. Even after everything, everything that man put you all through, Reiji still obeyed him like a dog. That's right, that's all he was in the end, that's why you were always labeled as the dangerous one, because you refused to be a neglected mutt.

You ignored him and just teleported to your regular seat at the dinning table. Little did you know, that's where shit would get serious. You watched as the others filed in, one by one, getting into their usual seating positions. You picked up your fork and began to mindlessly twirl the spaghetti on it, unaware that Ayato and Laito were snickering about something. It wasn't until your third or fouth bite did you realize something was up. You watched closely to where their eyes trailed and noticed it was something about you that apparently seemed to bother them.

"Well? Just say it since it seems you have a problem with me." You spat before continuing to eat. "You look like that man when you're so serious. It's actually quite scary." Laito rebounded with. This was your last straw for the night as you felt every mental wall you had come crashing down in a matter of seconds.

"I know I'm scary, I know I scare you. That's why you always need to fight me as a team, because none of you can stand the thought of fighting Karlheinz's only capable son." You said standing up. You could've sworn you heard a chuckle from Subaru. He'd be the most empathetic to your situation seeing as how you two suffered from similarities of that man, but that doesn't mean he still wasn't wary. "Capable? Don't you think that's a stretch? I hate arrogant people like yourself." Kanato chimed in. What? So now the problem child has something to say?

"To hell with what you like or don't like, no one asked." Kanato grated his teeth as he got ready for another comeback. "You don't deserve to sit at this table! Teddy agrees with me, don't you Teddy?" The tension in the air became heightened, causing everyone to sit at the edge of their seats and see who would take the next blow. "That is enough! All of you need to cease this childish bickering at once, your manners are deplorable." It seems that at this point Reiji had enough and deep down, he knew he couldn't stop whatever this might escalate into. "I agree, Frankenstein needs to stay quiet." Kanato spoke up as he began to eat again. You felt the blood rush to your head as anger spiked through you like a drug, throwing your emotions off the chart and causing your words to finally be spoken from the heart.

"That's so fucking typical.... Every single time I have to deal with you spoilt snobs, I always end up being in the wrong somehow. For such pretentious assholes, you all seem to forget we have the same father, whether you like it or not! Everything that I've ever endured was because father saw potential in me, he knew that I'd be the true heir of the Sakamaki family and overthrow him. Compared to me you're all ants! You don't know me or my life or the shit I've been through! He tore off my fucking limbs and broke my bones while you all got to sit and what? Listen to stories at bedtime??" To further accentuate your point, you took your silver prosthetic arm and plucked out your glass eyeball, tossing it to Ayato who caught it out of reflex. At this point the table was silent, even Shu was taken aback. They all just stared at Ayato who held the artificial orb.

"To fear a man so much, you render him half blind and pull apart his limbs. That's the kind of coward that man is, the kind you all seem to be taking after." And with your final statement, you left. Not a word was muttered as you made your way up to your bedroom. It was the first time you'd ever spoken to them like that, to wash them over with the cold hard truth. Before it was usually witty comebacks, but this time, they knew not to push you further.

A couple days had gone by since the incident, no one dared to speak to you except for Reiji who reminded you to take a refill on your ointments. Even then, he didn't say anything outside of the reminders. Everyone seemed to avoid you, but this time there was no whispering and snickering, not even hurtful stares or judgemental glances. You'd be lying if you said you preferred things this way. While the peace and quiet was appreciated, you knew it was because they all had so much things going on in their minds, they couldn't seem to quite word it yet. At least before you knew they hated you, but now you had no way of knowing where you stood with them. It wasn't until a full week had passed, that Ayato knocked on your door. You knew it was him by the sound of his footsteps. Usually you'd ignore him and go back to whatever you were doing, but you felt like you needed to see his face, figure out what decision they all came to.

You creacked open the door and there stood Ayato, who didn't even seem comfortable standing so close to you. "Your.... Eye. Take it." Was all he said as he held out your eye in his hand. You watched the thing almost in disgust, Karlheinz was the one who originally gave you that. Your metallic fingers brushed past your eyepatch as you remembered the feeling of having that inside your socket. "Throw it away, I don't want it anymore." Ayato looked surprised at this and was about to say something more but decided not to push the topic. "You're.... Stronger than you look." You almost belted out in laughter. What was his deal? Stronger than you look? That should be obvious by now, or perhaps it was an attempt to compliment you? You just nodded your head and closed the door. That was certainly peculiar, to hear such a thing from Ayato. It was unfortunately for you, the first of many odd ongoings that were soon to occur.

Laito later on challenged you to a game of darts, but tried brushing it off by saying he was testing how well you could play with just one eye. Then after that, Subaru seemed to have left what appeared to be a silver knife on your bed. Whether it was to end yourself or end them, you weren't quite sure. Then Reiji invited you to try some of his new tea that came straight from England. Kanato allowed you to take some of his macaroons that were laying out in the open without berating you afterwards. And lastly, Shu coincidentally played your favourite classical pieces on his violin, making sure it was loud enough to echo throughout the manor.

As nice as the gestures were, none of them could simply erase the damage that had already been done. If anything, it just annoyed you that it took them this long to pull themselves together and actually treat you like a brother. It was exhausting having to put up with their antics, and it pained you to know that a part of these apology gifts, was pity in their cold, unbeating hearts. You'd certainly been through much worse than social isolation, but it ached deep down to know that your brothers saw you as weak. Their gifts of service became increasingly more annoying. And once again you were all sat together, but this time, in the living room. The only difference was that Reiji was reading out a letter that'd been delivered to the mansion.

"The Royal Ball will be held in the demon world and a representative of each family must be chosen to accompany the ruler of their prospective clan." Reiji tilted his glasses upwards as he finished reading the last of the letter. The obvious choice was to send Shu off, but it'd take more than the workings of God to get that man off his ass and spend an entire night socializing. Therefore, the runner up would simply be Reiji. You turned on your heel once you came to this realization and were about to leave until Subaru spoke up.

"Oi, the hell d'ya think you're going? We still haven't chosen a representative." You rolled your eyes at his lack of critical thinking. "Reiji will be the one to go if that wasn't already obvious." You said bluntly. "Actually, you might be the one to go. I have plans that night, besides, you'd fit right in." Okay, this was odd even for Reiji. God, he was doing that thing again. This sent you over the edge and you were so sick of it.

"Giving me this opportunity, it doesn't fix what happened to me. Nothing you all do can fix me, this is just who I am. These metal limbs, my missing eye, everything. They're all me and there's no cure for that. I understand what you guys are trying to do but it's not working, it just frustrates me to have to see you guys put on some kind of- kind of performance to please me! I'm a real person dammit! And it's time you started treating me like one!" You said storming off once more. And again, you were left to yourself as the others contemplated how to go about this, of if to even try.

Yes, it seemed they'd gone about things the wrong way this time. But when haven't they? You'll have to excuse your brothers, it's their first time being alive after hundreds of years.

Otouto- Japanese phrase for little brother.

Passing bell- A bell often used at funerals in Europe up until the 19th century.

[spotaus]

Do you have any more info on Haphazard ?

Looking at you with big eyes

Staring back at you with equally big eyes 🥺

I do! I do!! (I'm just gonna add a cut with like... a lore summary if that's okay? And if you want I can @ you on any previous posts I've made on the guy lol-)

Soooo Haphazard! He (and *technically* Lost) is like. Part of this bigger multivariate story I have going in my head called Eternal Ashes, which is only relevant because it's a Next Gen multiverse 😅. Having said that, if you're thinking of using Hap but his heritage that comes up in a sec is a roadblock, I give you full permission to completely ignore the fact that he's a ship kid haha! He's just Some Guy >:] (same applies if he's only there for like, a single second or appears in a thought bubble lmao-)

Oh and if you're just curious then this will be a fun opportunity to properly bring him up! I never talk about this loser (/aff)

Okay! Real answer though! Haphazard is the son of Error and Ink in my multiverse (and in his case, the eldest child, as Gradient/Paperjam/Many Many others don't exist here!) And thus his design is very based on their motifs lol!

(As you can see he's been around. Uh. A while. My style keeps changing and for some god-forsaken reason he's super skinny in the second picture here lmao-)

The first image is the design I've always kinda used for him, but I added the second because I'm thinking of adding the blue-screen of death affect in a few spots on his main design like around his socket- ANYWAYS NOT THE POINT

Haphazard wasn't exactly... *raised* in his childhood. He kinda popped into existence thanks to a glitch in the code of a universe that was influences by both Ink and Error's magical interference with it. Ink is the one who scooped him up, but it was Dream and Blue who largely kept an eye on him when he was just a baby bones. He was weirdly self-sufficient though, and so aside from some mild parenting from Dream he like. Kinda just started walking along Baby Animal style lmao.

A lot of his life has been spent trailing his parents. Because he's connected to the multiverse's code, he can feel when a rift opens and how badly it deteriorates the barriers between the universes. If one gets too bad, it can collapse and merge universes. His parents are the worst offenders for Not Closing Rifts after their fighting, so he rushes to patch things up afterwards, ensuring the universes can heal and close off again.

For this reason, his magic manifests as Tape Strands, and his weapon is based on the kind of pointy blade at the end of a tape dispenser lol. The tape is Purple and makes sure things stay where they're supposed to.

So, he's spent a LOT of times doing repairs.

Personality-wise he's a stricter for rules and regulations, and is kinda obsessed with being The Hero of sorts. He's the one who's always right, he knows the way things should go. (He isn't and doesn't, though.) He also has a uh. Complex. Because he isn't the *oldest* ship kid, but he's close. And like, 3 other kids before him were kinda designated (Asriel + Chara style) to be the ones who would usher in an Era of piece between the usual warring factions (Night vs. Dream) but one died, one is actively committing war crimes, and the third had a breakdown and ran off at some point. He thinks he can prove himself now, because he was skipped over for that title twice, when he's Right There lmao.

( This entire thing is why he's so mad at Lost when they first meet. Lost (unaware) has a REALLY corrosive magic that starts to eat away at the space between universes. (The short version of that explanation is. Void Shenanigans? Like how Gaster fell into the void and he was erased from everyone's memory, but Lost forgot like. Everything instead lol-) And when Lost traveled looking for 'home', Hap would pick up on the disturbance, find it was Lost, rush to scold him, and then Lost wouldn't remember him which drove him NUTS. But after literal years of these interactions (and once where Lost was used as a malicious distraction by the War Crime Committer because, y'know, susceptible to suggestion lol) he ends up realizing that he's the only one who's actually paying attention to Lost as he just like, stumbles around, and decides he's going to work to watch out for him 🙏)

And in general, Haphazard is *technically* responsible, but he definitely values his moral rules and written rules over emotional rulings lmao. (Honestly he probably has smth very similar to Ink with low-emotional processing on his own merit lol-)

This is a very chaotic summary of this goober so I hope it makes sense haha!

[danganronpa-headcanons-imagines]

Could you do the Danganronpa V3 Boys being a passenger Driver for the Girlfriend father who doing a driving test and this like this video

https://youtu.be/WWwiKjCli94

This is an interesting prompt, I've never written for something like this before.

I can do my best!

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V3 Boys as Passengers of S/O's Dad

Shuichi Saihara

When you first started dating, Shuichi was still really self-conscious about himself, and was worried about his impression on your Dad. So when he asked him to help with his driving test, Shuichi thought it would be a great way to bond. Thank god he wasn't wearing his hat this time, cause it would be gone by now. I'm talking it would have flow into the Atlantic ocean by now. Your Dad was absolutely insane behind the wheel, and Shuichi didn't need to be the Ultimate Detective to know that. He desperately grabbed onto the seat to stop himself from flying away. The majority of the time he was silent, but at the last hurdle a giant scream rung out Despite feeling like the world was spinning, Shuichi actually made a good impression on your Dad! He was super thankful and appreciated Shuichi's help. With a shakey hand, he gave a thumbs up, dreading having to do this ever again

Gonta Gokuhara

Car? What's a car? Gonta has never even been in a car his entire life, even when he went to school. He always just walked everywhere, that's what he was used to. So when your Dad asked him to join him on a driving test Gonta was happy to assist! He really wanted to make a good impression on your father, and wanted to prove he was worthy to be your boyfriend. Oh dear god get him off this thing- For a first experience in a car, this was NOT ideal. Your Dad was infamously known in your family to be an erratic driver, and Gonta had never even been on a roller coaster before. His heart nearly jumped out of his chest as he gripped on anything he could grab onto. So many screams almost escaped his throat but he was trying soooo hard to not be rude! Gonta is a gentleman, he can handle this! Yeah, at the end when your Dad thanked him, he gave a weak smile and nod, legs shaking. When he offered to drive Gonta home, he QUICKLY declined and said he'd walk! For the next few months just the sight of a vehicle made him break out into a cold sweat

K1-B0

Hm, riding in a car, huh? Kiibo never really had to ride any vehicle or public transporation before, so this was a new experience. He had a minor moral crisis (a robot in a non-conscious vehicle? Is that appropriate, does he need to ask it's permission?). With your Dad's reassurance, Kiibo was able to shake it off and join him! If he had a heart, it would have lept out of his mouth at this point. The constant road bumps and sharp turns threw his systems out of wack. It felt like his eyes were spinning in their sockets. He kept trying to give feedback and tips, but every movement quickly shut him up in fear. He managed to be quiet at the beginning, but near the end he couldn't hold in the screams anymore At the end of the drive, Kiibo managed to realign himself and give some good feedback. He made sure to make notes on the speeds your Dad was going and the angle of his steering. Your Dad nodded his head and took notes, grateful for the input. After he got home, Kiibo pretty much collapsed into your arms (thankfully you didn't fall over from the weight of his metal) and nearly cried. He was pretty sure it was retribution for entering the car without it's consent. Just hold him for a bit, he'll get better

Kaito Momota

Driving lessons? Hell yeah he'll join! Kaito was already good friends with your Dad, so helping him with a driving test was a no brainer. Not to mention he's gonna be an astronaut, he's gotta get used to G-Force. Let's go! Oh lord. Oh lord oh jesus. Kaito is a brave boy... BUT NOT A BRAVE ENOUGH BOY FOR THIS- Sure, he isn't great on roller coasters, but he never expected to experience anything like this in his life. For some reason it was even worse! Probably because one wrong wheel turn and they could be dead. Unlike a lot of the others, he did NOT hold in his screams. Kaito was screeching at the top of his lungs, mouth foaming The moment he stepped out of the car, Kaito collapsed onto the ground. Feeling the sweet sweet earth was comforting. After thanking him, your Dad tried to console him, but Kaito insisted he was fine. He just needed a few moments or else he'd probably throw up. Thank god rocket launches are this bad! ...right?

Kokichi Ouma

Kokichi doesn't really give too much a damn if your Dad likes him. It's a nice bonus and makes it easier during family events. But even if he didn't like him, Kokichi would date you anyways. When your Dad asked him to look over his driving test, Kokichi decided why not? He was bored anyways, might as well do something to pass the time Okay, so he was fine... at first. For the first half he was actually having fun! It was kind of like a roller coaster at an amusement park and it was super exciting. He had his hands up and everything, laughing like crazy. That all came to a sudden halt when they were 1 second away from crashing into a tree, only saved by a sharp turn. Now he was scared. Kokichi realized that this wasn't safe fun anymore, his life was in the hands of an inept man. For the rest of the test, he was crying and screaming in fear After the test his face was covered in tears, and was left sniffling like a child. Your Dad asked if he was okay, but Kokichi did what he does best: lie. Nah, he was totally fine! All that crying was just a joke. That answer satisfied your Dad, but inside Kokichi was still shaking and scared

Korekiyo Shinguji

The thought of a man his age not having a license intrigued him. Most adults earn their license early in their development, usually at age 16. When your Dad asked for Korekiyo's help, he happily agreed. It would be a great way to study and inspect your father, and get a good read on your family's history and behaviors Jesus christ. Korekiyo has never experienced anything like this before. Let's be real, he is a kinky bitch, he's used to getting thrown around. But whiplash is not sexy! His body was as stiff as a board the whole drive, in fear of losing a limb. He's never thrown up in his life, but this is definitely the closest he's gotten. At first it was mildly interesting, even humorous. But at this point Korekiyo's plan to study and inspect was thrown out the damn window. All he could think of was the inevitablity of meeting his dead sister in the afterlife After the drive ended, and his life was spared, he let out a sigh and loosened up again. Your Dad thanked him for the company, and Korekiyo humbly accepted. At the end of the day he realised he didn't learn a damn thing about your father or your family that whole ride. Maybe it should stay that way

Rantaro Amami

When your Dad asked him to help with his driving test, Rantaro happily agreed. He had a good relationship with your father, and felt this would be a great way to get to know eachother. Drive around, chat a bit, have a good time Rantaro is a chill man. Nothing really fazes him, and even if it does he's pretty good at hiding it. This was no different, but fuck it was the hardest situation he's ever encountered. His mouth was tightly shut and his eyes wide open. He tried his hardest to initate a conversation, but every bump made his mouth clamp shut. Even if he got the words out, there was no way your Dad would hear, he was too focused on aceing this test At the end Rantaro put on a good facade of calmness. Your Dad tried to apologize and see if he was okay, but Rantaro brushed it off and assured him he was fine. The day ended on a good note, but Rantaro was sure he'd never drive with your Dad again... at least until he got his license

Ryoma Hoshi

Ryoma was fine with being a passenger. Your Dad was trying to get his license at a higher age, that's admirable. He can't really reach the pedals on a normal car anyways, so Ryoma thought it couldn't hurt to try out a normal sized car for once. Can't be that bad right? This man already knew he was going to be dead soon, he now accepted this car would be his tomb. Death Row was a distant dream, his body will be found in a pile of scrap metal. With every bump they hit, his body would fly up off the seat, only saved by the seatbelt. Ryoma was completely silent the whole time. There was no point in screaming Even when the car stopped, it took a hot minute for Ryoma to even get out. It took your Dad calling his name to break him out of his trance. His voice was calm when accepting your father's appreciation, but inside Ryoma was still ready to shake hands with the devil. He loves you so much, but that day it was tested

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[narrators-journal]

Heyyy, soooo, I’ve been having a little earworm for like yandere Ryoji. BUTT…. I’d think it be fun if it was like Fem!Ryoji x Transfem!Kotone toxic yuri with Ryoji was some sort of cryptid which Kotone was researching that’s a little gothic horror related (though you can ignore this last part if that’s not your thing)

Maybbeee there could be some mutual obsession thrown in too lol

other than that, sky’s the limit and good luck.

MYSTERY #1

2009 was an eventful year for youtube, as it had reached a new high of users and made one of the many steps that would cement it into the beast it has become today. But amongst the new channels and Shane Dawson’s climb to popularity, there is a long forgotten mystery from this era.

Cutie Cryptid Hunting. AKA a ‘horror web series’ that has gone down in history right next to Marble Hornets and Salad Fingers as a wonderful example of horror and suspense on the rather young website, was a channel ran by a trans girl named Kotone Shiomi, who would document her days as she looked into rumors and mysteries that she heard about in her home of Tatsumi port island.

From the rumored ghosts that still haunted Kasugayama’s school grounds, or the ghosts in the seven sister’s clock tower to suspected yokai sightings, Kotone made sure to catalogue her deep dives and hunts for evidence for these phenomenon on her channel. Which, at the time, was seen as a simple recreation of something like ghost hunters. But, to Kotone, it seemed to be a very serious undertaking. She handled each of the rumors and expeditions with a palpable hope of them being true and a dark sense of flirtatious humor that garnered her a ton of fans in what felt like an instant. However, things began to maybe turn a bit too real when Cutie Cryptid Hunting turned its attention to an old horror story from the past.

You see, there is an old ghost story that haunts Tatsumi port. A tale so thoroughly believed by the residents, that the streets are empty and front doors are locked by sundown without fail to this day. That story being one of a dark, emaciated creature that is described to have the upper body of a human, but the lower half of some skeletal bird. She’s given no name by the people of Tatsumi port, as they fear the informality would anger her, but she is believed to have blueish black skin dotted with ink-dark feathers, four large wings like that of a crow or raven, and a bone-pale face with no eyes nor nose. Just empty sockets of black and a waning crescent smile with no teeth.

In the stories, it’s believed that this nameless creature roams the streets at night in search of any animals or people still out under the moonlight, and in the case that she doesn’t find someone or something to eat, she will knock on doors or the windows of homes who have young children and either use the voices of the parents, or the cries of the child to lure one of the inhabitants out.

This was the story that Kotone Shiomi began to document and dig into around April 10th 2009 with the help of her partner at the time, who stayed off camera and was simply called ‘honeybun’ in the videos. And it was around that time that the ‘web series’ was believed to start. Because once she began to look into the old story of this nameless creature, she seemed to grow more and more obsessed with it.

It started off small, with small jokes about how late she’d stay up to research the monster that she quickly dubbed ‘Ryoko’, or the odd joke about a creepy noise in her apartment being the creature come to get her. But as the videos continued, her viewers could see just how honest those statements of no sleep were as Kotone’s state grew further and further disshevelled. On top of that, she began to mention off-handedly how her partner was beginning to nag her for a break from the case and for her to take care of herself more. All of which was brushed off by Kotone as she continued to dig.

In the fourth update video, posted around July 2nd, Kotone filmed outside on the first night of a camping trip that her and her partner were taking. She explains in the video how there had been reports by teenagers in the past that if you waited in the most quiet part of the forest on a new moon night, you could glimpse ‘Ryoko’ in the shadows. And, as she does, she spins around to showcase the entire clearing to her viewers. And, some of the keenest ones were able to spot in that single sweep, a pale, thin-smiled face that peeked out of the foliage just behind Kotone’s tent.

In the following updates, Kotone would report how her fascination with ‘Ryoko’ had begun to scare away her friends and loved ones. She told her viewers in a light and jovial tone that some had reported hearing the voices of dead loved ones and children whisper to them outside their window, or that they had heard their front doors or windows be jostled as if someone or something had tried to get in. Yet, none of their testimonies of claw marks or voices detered her in her hunt.

Instead, Kotone would go on to camp in that same spot at least one night a week in the upcoming months, and in each of the videos she filmed there, viewers could always seem to find that same mask in the darkness. Something that Kotone never seemed to notice herself.

Eventually, other, more concerning things would begin to happen. Kotone would begin to find gifts laid out in front of her apartment door that would go on to be proven to be stolen from homes all around Tatsumi port. She would continue to humanize the creature she hunted, and she began to become more clearly obsessed with the story. Until, eventually, Kotone began to imply or ‘joke’ about how she’d break up with her partner to continue her hunt for ‘Ryoko’. By the sixth update on October 29th, Kotone seemed to have gone through with her claims and dumped her boyfriend, as she now more openly spoke about her desire for the creature she was after to visit her on Halloween.

Little did she know, that her wish may come true in a way.

Despite their break up, ‘honeybun’ would return to the series in the final update video that Kotone posted on January 31st. In the video, she would solemnly tell her viewers that her partner had been found horrifically murdered in their home, and that she felt utterly horrible for the way she’d neglected them at the end of their relationship. She’d then tell everybody watching that she would return to the forest where it had been rumored that you could see ‘Ryoko’ and let the monster have her.

And, despite the more serious tone, it would take until the bulletin went out for a new missing person’s case for people who’d been watching Cutie Cryptid Hunting to realize.

Kotone Shiomi had last been seen around midnight on the night of January 31st heading into the woods. Never to be seen again.

[missameliep]

Twenty Seconds or Twenty Years

Book: Wake the Dead Characters: Angel Savage; Eli Sipes; Malia Jones (MC) and Troy Hassan. Pairing: Malia Jones (MC) x Troy Hassan. Rating: M (see notes bellow) Word count: 6.300k Summary: After getting separated from her friends during a scouting mission in a new city, Malia got injured and will struggle to survive against all odds. Is she going to make it on her own?

Notes:

English is not my first language;

Characters belong to Pixelberry and I’m borrowing them;

Post-WTD events;

This fic is rated M because of triggering subjects: swearing; mentions of death and violence compliant to canon; mentions of injuries and blood; mention to suicide; readers discretion advised

This fic was inspired by a prompt sent by the lovely @jerzwriter - It kinda took an unexpected turn from where I thought this fic would go! Thanks for sending the prompt and I apologise it took soooo long.

Running through unknown terrain is usually a bad idea and Malia would strongly advice against it, considering how easily one could stumble directly into the arms of the undead. However, given the circumstances, the only other option left is certain death if she tries to hold her ground and fight the ‘zombiefest’ on her own with an injured arm.  

So, she runs.  

Being chased triggered Malia’s brain in survival mode.  

Adrenaline and pure will make her muscles climb another set of stairs and the next one. No amount of exercise at the colony could have prepared her for this. 

Breathe, she reminds herself, breathe. 

Dashing up, Malia reaches the next flight of stairs, barely catching her breath and a glimpse of the number six lying on the floor. 

Six.  

That’s the number of arrows shot and undead put to rest for good before a blur in her peripheral vision obfuscated everything.  

The impact knocked the air out of her lungs. Stumbling back, her body landed on a pile of debris. A sharp pain on her arm didn’t stop her from kicking back, making the decayed corpse reel back, allowing enough space for the metal tip of the arrow sunk deep into an eye socket and exit through the back of the drone’s head.  

Her brain didn’t register getting up or running. Next thing she remembers is the bang of the heavy metal door against the wall when she dashed, hisses and snarls following too close...    

Heart pounding in her ears, almost muffling the sound of her own steps and those of her chasers, she climbs another set of stairs.  

Going three steps at once is not something manageable for much longer; however, slowing down is not an option either until being certain of the distance put between her and the pursuers... 

I can do this. I can do this. I can do this. The voices in her mind alternating between her own and Troy’s, that one cheerful tone he used when she was sparring with anyone other than him. You can do this, Malia. You’ve got this!  

Reaching the next flight of stairs, she slows down, pacing her run, and her trained ears capture the faint growls and dragging of feet echoing bellow. There is no need to turn around to know she’s gained on them. At least for now.   

Tenth floor. 

Ten.  

That’s how many days passed since they barely survived the surge. But with all the work tending the injured, the extensive damages to the lodge and deciding on a new place to settle Olympus, one could think it happened months ago... 

Using her good arm, she forces the fire exit door’s handle and pulls with all her strength in vain. 

An inhuman screech echoes.  

A fucking Scout! Just my luck! Every hibernating zombie in a mile will come here... 

She darts upward, hoping the upper floors won’t be packed with drones. 

On the wall, the numbers indicating she reached the sixteenth-floor conserve a faint glow despite the dust and spiderwebs. The fire exit door is also stuck, probably blocked from the inside. With a groan, she pushes and pulls harder, but it doesn’t budge.  

“Better try my luck with the next one,” she murmurs, “Seventeen might be my lucky number.” 

It wasn’t.  

But it doesn’t matter. When your goal is not becoming drone’s snack, you’ll find the strength to keep going.  

This building has at least forty floors... I’ll try the next one and the next one until I find one door unlocked or no more doors to bang on... 

Hope fuels her entire body.  

Twenty-two was her lucky number. 

Pulling at the large bar, she easily props open the fire door. A long and dark hallway stretches before her, the faintest light filtering through the furthest door on the left. 

From the stairs, the hisses are getting louder.  

As quiet as possible, she closes the door and turns on the flashlight, searching for anything to barricade it. Drones shouldn’t be able to grasp on door handles, but they shouldn’t talk or have a conscience either, but Malia knows how untrue those statements can be... 

A fire hose on the wall fits the purpose. Forcing the metal door open, she reels it out as best as she can with one hand, then rolls it around the bar to keep the door shut.  

She barely finished securing the door closed when the horde tested its resistance. Scratches, bangs and ungodly hisses echo. Startled, she takes a step back and the gun out of the shoulder holster. In the darkness, her attention split between the door in front of her and the long corridor behind, from where a drone could be lurking. 

Not daring make a sound, she stands completely still and holds her breath until most of the horde seems to continue the chase up the stairs. Only a few growls persist, but no signs they would manage to break in. 

Letting out an exhausted breath, every muscle on her body seems to give up at once. Her lungs ache. Her vision blurs. She bends over with pain in her side and leans against the closest wall. Her palm is tainted crimson with the blood soaking the t-shirt. 

“Fuck” she hisses and her body slides down. The muscles of her legs melting underneath her weight like frost when the sun comes up. 

The silence that settles is a good sign. If the commotion didn’t attract any zombie, then it’s almost safe to say she’s entered a zombie-free floor. 

Putting her backpack down, Malia takes a sip at the water from the flask and inhales deeply. Another sip at the liquid is not enough to wash the lingering taste of dust in her mouth, but she must save for later. 

Later. 

Eli’s words on the back of her mind reminding now’s the time to prepare for later. “Keep walking. Let your body decelerate. Sitting down is bad. Life is motion.” 

The pain urges her to ignore all the advice.  

There’s no strength left. Blood is pouring from the wound, soaking her t-shirt that has been shredded on the side by the drone’s tallons. Her left arm refuses to be ignored any longer. An acute pain irradiates through the entire limb. Her hand run over the thick fabric of the jacket, touching the bump caused by the bone sticking out... A fracture. 

“Just my luck,” she mutters. 

It’s unsafe to risk making any noise without securing the perimeter first. The fact there’s not a drone in her face, is no excuse to sit back and relax. But on the other hand, she cannot go on without tending to her injuries. 

Rubbing her hand against her face, wiping the sweat, she needs to rest. One more minute. Two more deep breaths. Her back rests against the wall while she inhales and exhales, her breathing becomes steadier and her pulse less erratic.  

From previous experience, if all the noise and the scent of her blood didn’t bring any drone here, she must be safe. For now. 

Her training comes back to mind, and her brain lists everything she needs: a less exposed place; a first aid kit, since the one Shannon insisted on sending with the party remained in the van; and then she’ll find an alternative exit.  

“I can do this,” she mutters like a mantra. “It’ll be fine.” 

When she’s back on her feet the flashlight trembles on her left hand, her fingers barely bending to hold it. Ignoring the pain, Malia tucks it under her arm and holds the revolver with her right hand.  

While she walks, the faint glow fights the darkness, the beam lingering on every closed door while her hearing trained to listen any minor noise. The first door is locked, and she leaves it be. The next one is some kind of storage room, with brooms and several containers with colourful liquids. A quick skim to make sure there’s something useful on the cramped shelves. If Angel were here, she’d probably fabricate an explosive with two of those bottles and a rag. Just in case, she picks up a small one with a highly flammable warning before closing the door and moving on to the next one.  

Pushing it open, she finds herself standing in a bathroom with several urinals, broken mirrors and signs of death everywhere, if the maroon splotches on the white floor tiles and the impression of a hand on the door are not part of the decoration. 

Ignoring the eerie sight and the pain, she takes one careful step after the other. The gun and backpack are placed over the counter next to the sink. She lets the jacket slide off her shoulder and down her arm, exposing the injuries in the mirror. Right beneath the ribs, there’s a gash in the t-shirt and a long cut wider than her index finger. It definitely doesn't need stitches, something undoable by herself. Fortunately, it’s also superficial and no ribs were broken by the collision. Taking a spare t-shirt from the backpack, she tears a piece of the cloth and press it to the wound and keeps the pressure on to stop the bleeding, all the while her gaze doesn’t avert from the bump on her arm. 

She takes a deep breath, preparing to examine it.  

Assisting Shannon while treating the injured taught her a thing or two, and she’s grateful for that. The fracture was right above the elbow and the bone didn’t pierce through the skin, which is a good thing, considering the risk of infection. It’s not the first time she breaks a bone, nor the second. She’s broken fingers and toes and a rib during trainings. But at the Tower you never had to deal with it alone, and if you were lucky enough, you’d even get a pill to ease the pain or some ice... 

When she tries to push the bone back in place, an unbearable pain stops her from doing so. Gritting her teeth, she tries again. Her jaw tightened so much while she tried not to scream, she fears the teeth would just crumble to dust. Her eyes well with unshed tears when the bone seems to click in place. A string of curses is muttered under her breath while struggling to put the jacket back on. The rest of the spare t-shirt is converted into an improvised arm sling until she can treat it properly.  

Collecting her stuff, she returns to the corridor that remains completely silent. 

Ahead of her, the corridor takes a sharp turn to the left. Peeking from the corner, she observes how it widens near two elevators’ metallic doors, and she can almost picture it bustling with people in the old days.  

Two wide lift doors are sided by what once might have been ostentatious vases with palm trees like she’s seen in magazines. One is lying sideways, dark potting soil spread over the floor. Indications of a small fire and singed objects close to one of the many doors on the other side, painted the wall black all the way up to the ceiling.  

This corridor is also pitch black, except from a faint light emerging through one of the furthest doors.  

Her gaze fixes on that promising natural light.  

She crosses the remaining metres and walks into an ample and illuminated space. 

Judging by the disposition of the remnants of countless desks and what she assumes once were cubicles, she’s stepped into some kind of office. A much bigger version of the one at the Tower’s fourth floor. 

Walking carefully around piles of debris and tossed carcasses of metallic furniture, she finds no sign of drones. The floor is littered with paper and ragged pieces of what she can only assume once upon a time were someone’s clothes. One of the floor-to-ceiling windows is cracked in a spiderweb pattern and another was shattered, allowing the warm desert wind to blow inside. Next to them a chair lies tilted upside down. Tiny pieces of glass are scattered on the floor, glowing with the sunbeams. 

She cannot even imagine the chaos that might have followed an attack in such confined spaces. A shiver runs down her spine. Suddenly the rules imposed at the Tower to prevent infected to get in make too much sense. 

The flutter of wings startles her. She’s not expecting birds in a fucking building. Some of them fly across the room and out into the open space. She ducks in time to not get hit by one of them. There are feathers scattered on the ground and over the desks, droppings taint every surface and what she assumes are nests are hidden on the plaster above her head and into tubular lightings. She ignores them and moves forward.  

A crunching noise beneath her boots calls her attention.  

Lying at her feet, a frame with a broken glass. Despite the spiderweb-like shape of the crack, it was possible to see the picture. A smiling woman sitting on a porch’s stairs in the company of a child, a cat and a dog. A glimpse of what life used to be. Her jaw tightens at the sight of it.  

Life in this New World lacks pictures, pets and smiles like those.  

When the world spiralled into chaos, pictures were definitely the least of anyone’s concerns. Who would even stick some big-ass photo album on a backpack, considering you even had time to pack?  

However, if you survive the End of the World, it becomes one of those sentimentalities that nag at your mind. At days when it seems her fathers’ faces have fallen into an abyss in her mind, and Brynn’s face is dangerously starting to fade, she’d give anything to have at least one picture of them. Just one. It didn’t even have to be a flattering one, just good enough to keep some part of them alive... 

Pets were never allowed at the Tower. Too noisy, people said; and over the years she almost forgot about their existence entirely. Brynn, however, remembered the old retrievers from their home. Coco and Luna. According to her, they were soft, warm and loving, and you could bury your face in their caramel fur and forget bad days at school and boys who picked on you. Malia doesn’t remember them or the sound they made, but Brynn confirmed dogs were loud – even the old ones – and so were kids. That’s probably why so many disliked them at the Tower either and you won’t see a single kid with the Raiders...  

And for the smiles, it’s not exactly people don’t smile anymore...  

Malia certainly has smiled plenty of times and even laughed! And so have others... But it seems like everyone has worry lines, even the children. The constant looking over one’s shoulder might age people beyond their years, weighing down their expression, hardening it. The horror you cannot unsee becomes engraved in the skin, steals the brightness of the eyes little by little...  

Unlike those old pictures.  

At least not in the ones they’ve usually come across, hanging at houses and proudly displayed at stores. Only once she found something remarkably similar to the looks and smiles of people in the colonies. In a pile of detritus at one of Olympus’ rooms, she found this old magazine... The inner pages were filled with pictures of refugees of some war in a place she never heard of... Displaced, threatened, starving, separated from loved ones... Experiences most of the survivors know well by now.  

Could the woman and child have survived the first hordes? And the surges that followed every seven years? Were they separated from each other, never knowing what happened to the other or were they allowed the mercy to live and die together?  

The agony of not knowing is painfully familiar. 

Almost reverently, she places the frame over a desk and keeps moving, checking for zombies... It takes only a few minutes to cover the whole floor. Thankfully she’s alone. Unfortunately, there are no other exit or external fire escape for her to climb down from this side of the building.  

That’s a big complication, considering she cannot use the one she came from. With a broken arm, using the elevator’s shaft is too risky...

Standing by the floor to ceiling windows, she presses her forehead against the warm glass and gazes at the city bathed in the late afternoon sun. Long shadows stretch over the streets bellow. Maybe a hundred drones are hidden in those darkened alleys... Soon it will be completely dark. She takes a long deep breath and curses. 

She’s trapped – at least for the night – and alone. 

Getting separated from your companions on any mission can be bad.

Getting separated on a city you’re scouting for the first time is a nightmare.  

They haven’t mapped escape routes or ruled out hazards apart from drones. One never knows if you’ll meet other survivors and of which kind... 

Down below, one of the streets is partially blocked by abandoned vehicles. A small delivery truck hit a light pole that fell and smashed its hood and cabin. Other vehicles queued behind the truck, forming a long line with about twenty cars. Some of the doors were left wide open, reminders of the rush to escape and the chaos of those days. 

Two decades have gone by, and you can always feel it hanging in the air. The tragedy. The lives lost. The stories interrupted.  

Was there anybody left to tell their stories? Does anybody remember what happened here? All those people had names, lives, pets, jobs... All that’s left of their existence are abandoned cars and lost shoes...  

If one is gone and nobody remembers them, is it the same as never existing?  

When the last of her friends die, is it what will happen? Will they fade to nothingness? Should it even matter? 

Her mind drifts to them. Troy, Angel and Eli have no idea where she is. And she has no idea if she successfully drove the zombies away from the van... How are they faring? Did they get the supplies to the van? And more importantly: are they alive? 

Hopefully they are following the plan and will be leaving soon. 

Leaving her.  

That’s how it’s supposed to be, she reminds herself. If they’re safe, it was worth it. 

Her stomach growls. The last time she ate was this morning, before leaving Olympus. While rummaging through the content of the backpack to pick one of the apples, her fingers glide over the radio Angel put together. They tested it a few times back at the colony, and it only worked within a certain range. After 10 miles it was hard to capture the signal, and the communication was ineffective. She considers how much she ran through the park till the building.  

The object is heavy in her hands, like the decision she must make.  

If she contacts them, they could come after her, which is suicide, considering all the drones.  

If she doesn’t, they won’t know she’s fine and might be looking for her, wasting precious time and resources. Besides, the idea of them worrying unnecessarily is unpleasant. She’s been there and hated it. 

The radio cracks when she turns it on, and she calls her friends’ names in a low voice. One after the other. Like a mantra.   

“Hey? Can you hear me? Troy. Eli. Angel. If you guys can hear me, I’m fine. Don’t worry. Get back to the colony.” 

The radio crackled with the strangest of noises. Malia wanted to make something out of it, to believe there were voices, familiar voices, talking back to her. But there were none. Only static. 

The hopeful part of her brain assumes they are on their way back to Olympus, getting to safety and not staying outside after nightfall... That’s the logical thing to do – even if she’d never make that choice. 

Shoving the radio in the pocket of her cargo pants, she moves away from the window and keeps herself busy. The drones are not resting if the noises somewhere above this floor are any indication. 

If anything, life taught her the impermanence of things. There’s no safety.  

Life is motion.  

So, she moves. 

First, secure the perimeter.  

Pushing a heavy cabinet, she blocks the access to one smaller section of the office that has real walls and doors instead of the paper-like partitions that are everywhere else. A room with sturdier furniture and a two-seater sofa provides a good place to rest. Once inside, she shifts through the desks’ drawers and cabinets, finding a small hidden refrigerator.  

After the task is completed, she collected two scissors that might be useful, granola bars and chocolate fabricated in the year the world collapsed, three bottles of water and one half-full of decent whiskey, judging by the way it doesn’t burn her throat when she takes a swig at it. Troy will be thrilled about that discovery. Everything gets shoved inside her backpack. For her own enjoyment and the kids at the colony, she takes notepads and a handful of pens and pencils. 

Clearing a large wooden desk, she sits atop of it with her legs crossed. The hunting knife is placed beside her, ready to use. Looking outside, she munches on one of the apples picked at the orchard. 

Even in the distance, the lines of vehicles on the roads exiting the town are visible. Decades spent in the same position, frozen in time. Living in a zombie apocalypse has taught her to see the horror beneath the quiet.  

From time to time, there’s beauty too.  

She picks up one of the notepads and takes a pencil to sketch the skyscape and hills in the yellowed pages. This is the first time she's drawn since leaving the Tower. It doesn’t matter if it’s a rough sketch. Her pencil moves quick to capture all the lines. She can better it later.  

And she must believe there’ll be a later. 

Without the sun, the sky darkens fast, and the notepad and pencil are shoved inside the backpack. She lies on her back in the couch, and stares at the ceiling. 

Waiting and doing nothing are not amongst her skills.  

Boredom turns the radio into a temptation, and she fishes the device. 

Contacting them, she tells herself, is nothing but a selfless gesture. In doing so, she puts them at ease about her whereabouts, they can stop worrying and move on... She’s not thinking about the ache in her gut of not knowing if they’re alive. It’s not about the hope of being rescued either and going back to the home they’ve built.  

In a world like theirs, why should she be so determined to survive? When their lives are basically navigating from a life-threatening situation to the next one? Isn’t it the strangest thing? To feel such helplessness and dismay daily and yet dread the possibility of an end? it makes so little sense sometimes all this effort... wouldn’t it be easier to cease to exist?  

The answer to that question she knows too well. Hope moves her. It might sound silly if she ever says it out loud... but it’s hope. It’s hope that makes her wake up every morning, work hard and take care of herself and loved ones. They live and die for one another. They survive and they hope. They work and they hope. And she hopes and hopes. For a good day. For love. For respite. For a future. For the day her toes will touch warm sands at a beach. For the cool waves swaying around her body.

This day might’ve thrown a shitload of touble at her, but she can get over it. She always does. She’ll find a way, even if now she only wishes to break down and cry. Giving up is not an option. Brynn sacrificed herself for her, and she has followed the example more than a handful of times – including this afternoon. A month ago she promised Troy to live a good life, and she’ll do exactly that.  

The memory makes her throat tighten.   

Without thinking, her hand runs over the bump and the fractured bone... and the pain settles her. Nothing much she can do now, she must wait until morning, when there’s a better chance of leaving this building unscathed... Until then, she must act. Life is motion. 

Time moves so slowly when you’re not doing chores; she remembers the times they got lockdown at the Tower and all the idle hours to fill. She and Brynn drank whatever crap beer one could get, played charades and word games, trained, and stayed silent for hours. Disrespecting the rules, Malia and Troy would often sneak into each other’s rooms, and spend some time together. Those were the best moments... The memories and the things left unsaid almost choke her. She’s faced zombies and more danger than her mind could’ve anticipated before leaving the Tower, and yet... the idea of telling him how much she loves him, how much she’s loved him for years is terrifying. 

A bitter laugh gets trapped in her throat, and it’s hard to breath. Her hand presses against the back of her neck, it rubs the muscles, trying to alleviate the tension. 

With each passing minute, fighting the idea of using the radio becomes harder. She wants them to pick up, to listen to their voices, even if it’s the last time.  

If they do pick up, it means they are close, when they should’ve left. And she can’t bear the thought of being the reason of them dying. 

What’s left unsaid, does it even matter now? If either of them does not see another day, do words change what they feel? Is it more bearable to hold it in, to not name what it is? Would the loss feel less devastating without the words weighting on it? 

“What a fucked up world,” she mutters under her breath. 

She fidgets with the radio, letting the static fill the silence for a few minutes. Then she speaks again. This time, she’s just calling Troy over and over. The minutes elapse, and she’s just rambling to the hissing device. 

“Troy... if you’re listening... it’s me... I... I’m... fine... Don’t worry. I’ll make it back to the colony when I can,” she pauses, considering who is she lying to. Even if she makes all the way down, there’s no guarantee she’ll ever make to the colony by herself.  

Another family lost. 

She sighs, and the truth pours out of her mouth like a river, “Troy, I’m hurt and trapped... but I’m safe for now... there’s no drones here... but the lower floors are packed with... I don’t know... a hundred of them, maybe... I cannot go back... I’m at the twenty-second floor... it’s insanely high! You’d love the view! I need to thank Eli for bugging me to run every morning or I wouldn’t have made this far... I can see most of the city... I’m at Baker Street... and I’ve got water... and food... but I’m... but... I’m so fucking scared. You can’t die. I promised to take care of you... but... I hope you’re... okay... all of you... there’s so much I wanted to tell you... damn... This is stupid! There’s nobody out there!” She growled with frustration, and the radio hissed. 

“Malia! I hear you! Can – Can you hear me?” Troy’s voice echoed before she turned the radio off, and it washed the tension off her body instantly. 

“Yes!” she cries, “I can hear you!”  

“We were so worried...” There’s a clear sign of relief in his tone the radio statics couldn’t hide. “The radio was cutting off... and you didn’t hear us. Are you okay?” 

Before she could answer, Angel asked, “Where are you exactly on Baker St.?” 

Apparently, they have been listening to her, but she couldn’t hear them.  

“Tell us exactly where you are, Angel’s starting the van. Just keep talking to me, Maly!” 

They are coming for her. They are coming. They are family. They are her people. They are not lost. They are not leaving her... They are coming to a building infested with a hundred drones. They’ll die because of her. Her heart tightens. A rush of emotions blurs her vision. 

“No!” She won’t let anybody else risk their lives to save hers. “You can’t!” 

“What? Of course we can!” Troy shouts, probably fearing what she’ll say. “We’re getting you out of there now.” 

“There are too many drones! And at least one scout. There’s no way I can go back down... they fucked up my arm...” 

“You got bitten?” Eli’s voice echoes louder than Troy’s.  

“My arm is broken... I can’t use the crossbow.” 

“What about your gun? Just shoot those z-bag right between the eyes!” 

“I got five bullets left... it’s useless with that many... and the noise would just draw even more... I’m staying here tonight... And you guys must go home... Save fuel and go back. I’ll be alright. I’ve supplies. Have you seen how many abandoned cars? I got my eyes on a convertible,” she says lightly, even though her throat is tightening and her vision blurred. 

The radio cracked, and there was a long silence before Eli spoke again. “We won’t leave you.”  

“Sure, you will,” Malia tasted the salt of the tears on her lips. “Go.” 

“No.” 

Wiping the tears streaming down her cheeks, her voice started to crack, “You know the rules, Eli... Just... do what must be done... keep everyone safe. It’s up to you now.” 

“Malia,” Eli’s voice was laced with a kind of pleading Malia never heard. “What about keeping you safe?” 

“Have I thanked you for training with me? You’d be proud. Twenty-two floors, Eli. A gazillion steps. And no zombie got even close...” A low chuckle lace her words and there’s only statics on the radio. Maybe they lost the signal. 

“Hey! Why does only he get a thank you? What about all that cardio we do together?” Troy’s voice cannot hide the uneasiness.  

They are stalling, expecting her to change her mind...   

“And Troy? I found the roller rink... It’s beside a comic book store, you just go past –”  

“Don’t just ruin the surprise!” he cuts her off but his voice is higher and wavering with emotion. “You’ll take me there. We’ll come find you and then I’ll dazzle you with my incredible moves!” 

When her reply doesn’t come, Troy calls her name softly at first and then with desperation, and Eli and Angel’s voices are almost muffled by the rumble of the van’s engine. She ignores them and the pang in her stomach. 

“Angel, floor it,” Malia whispers, turning the radio off to not hear their protests.  

Willing herself to stop crying, the tears are wiped in a brusque way against the fabric of her jacket.  

They’re alive, so why’s she crying? 

Crying is not the answer. It never is. If she starts to cry alone for all the losses and pain within, the things that have never been and never will be, all that’s left unsaid, she’ll probably never stop. And those are dangerous thoughts. The kind of thought that makes her touch her pocket... 

Biting the inside of her cheek until she tastes blood, she forces herself to focus on anything else, like the fact she’s still alive and that no amount of zombie or disappointment can shut up the growl of her stomach. She’s alive. She’ll endure. She always does. Maybe this time around, she’ll have to do it alone. It’s good. She likes a challenge. 

Munching on one the rest of the apple, she contemplates the stars peppering the sky over the desert hills outside the city. That’s one of her favorite things about being outside the Tower: looking at the sky and the stars. If there’s a full moon tonight, she might just fucking cry with happiness then. 

Complete darkness has engulfed the world.  

Malia decided to keep the flashlight off to save the batteries and to not give away her location. The darkness and silence left her too long with her own thoughts. But there's nothing else to do... 

Besides the five bullets in the cylinder, there’s one inside her jacket pocket – the same one she’s keeping there since the night Brynn supposedly died at Eli’s cabin. 

If it comes to it, she’d rather die than let them have a piece of her... It’s not that she’s eager to die or anything. Especially not now when, despite the chaos  and losses, she is finally living. She’s got a taste of what life is supposed to be like beyond surviving: planning a future and basking in the sun and eating a piece of ripe fruit... and waking up and seeing Troy’s face first thing every morning...  

Her heart tightens. Troy helped her feel alive after Brynn died, he reignited her hope... and she hasn’t said she loves him... It’s a silly thought. Do words really matter? Would it make a difference if she said and died the next day, not keeping the promise to go back to him? 

The bullet is cold against her fingers.  

One for herself, if it comes to this. Dying is not the worst thing when turning into a zombie is a real threat.  

Somewhere in the building, a loud screech resounds, chilling the blood in her veins.  

She hugs herself, reminding herself if she keeps quiet, she'll be safe. Finally, she let sleep take over.  

Something heavy thumps outside.

Then a soft voice calls her name, the whisper breaks into her dreamless sleep. Her eyes flutter open. It’s still dark outside. She’s still all alone. The radio is silent. 

“Malia.” 

It's definitely her name and sounds like Troy. Maybe she’s hallucinating. 

There’s a flash of light underneath the door.  

She gets up and crosses the room to stand closer to the cabinet blocking the doors, and listens.  

“Malia. Where are you?” 

This time she hears it clearly. It’s Troy. She must be dreaming. 

“Troy?” she whispers, “Is that you?”  

The sound of footsteps halt. Her voice is enough to summon him straight to where she is standing.   

Pushing the cabinet aside, she cracks the door open, and the flashlight almost blinds her. The white light travels from her face to her feet. The flashlight hits the ground when his cold hands raise to cup her cheeks. 

“It’s you! It’s really you...” Troy’s voice is barely a whisper, and his gaze softens at the sight of her.  

“What are you doing here?” 

“Saving you, if my dramatic entrance didn’t make it abundantly clear...”  

With one arm around her waist, carefully avoiding her injured arm, he pulls her closer and buries his face in her neck, breathing out his relief. 

“Why would you risk coming for me?” she whispers against his ear. “I told you to go!” 

He raises his head to face her, a slow winning smile stretches his lips. “Baby, in case you haven’t noticed, that’s what I do! I always come back for you. I did at those zombie-infested woods, at the amusement park... I'll always come to you... You’re my best friend. My person. My family. I love you. I don’t think I ever loved anyone like I love you... How could I go on living knowing that – ” 

Once her brain processed the three words and what he’s saying, Malia doesn’t let him finish, kissing his lips with unusual gentleness. The kiss is unrushed, and the same words are whispered against his lips.  

“Say it again,” he pleads amongst soft kisses placed against the corner of her mouth. 

“I love you, Troy.”

Her hand caresses his cheek, and her thumb brushes against his lower lip, tracing his smile.

“It’s a shame now were both turning into zombie food...” 

“Where’s your optimism?” 

“I probably dropped it during my escape...” 

His mouth stretches with a grin, and he reluctantly steps away from her. 

“You certainly underestimate me. Do you think I’d come without a rescue plan?”

His eyebrows raised and even in the dim light she knows his eyes are sparkling with mischief. Kneeling, he grabbed the flashlight from the place it was lying next to their feet and went to the windows. His hands swirled, drawing the darkness with the light.  

As if on cue, the roar of an engine resounded somewhere below, followed by a honk she’d recognize even in her sleep. 

On the street, the van’s tyres screeched when swerved around the corner, allowing them a glimpse of Angel driving and screaming at the top of her lungs what she can only assume is a string of swearing at those fucking drones.  

“What’s she doing?” Malia mumbles.  

“You’ll see.” 

A swarm of zombies poured out of the building, shattering the remaining glasses of the lobby on their way out of the building to follow the noise. 

Swerving to the left, the van disappears.  

“What the hell! Have you guys lost –” 

“Wait. Almost there...” 

A few minutes pass, before loud music blasts in the distance.  

Troy points at an illuminated point in the far left. 

“The stadium.”  

Malia’s eyes identified the place right before the explosion. The glowing red lighted the darkness for an instant before being replaced by a column of thick smoke like tendrils on their way to reach the moon. 

“Fuck me!” 

“Oh! I will, but not here. We're on a tight schedule.” He chuckled, turning around to face her. “Impressed?” 

“Are you trying to impress me, Hassan?” 

Troy’s arm wrapped around her shoulders, pulling her to a sideways embrace. “We’re living on borrowed time, Maly... and it doesn’t matter if I have twenty seconds or twenty years... I want to spend them all with you... So, no, I’m not trying to impress you. I’m trying to take you home. It sounds nice, doesn’t it? Home.” 

“It sounds perfect.”

She kisses him one last time, and they move on with the plan.

[sleeping-diary-the-fic]

Sleeping diary (a pink aftermare story)

Chapter 9: What in carnation???

First Previous

Orchid stood there, a few feet away from the grass circle, staring, glaring in a seemingly random direction, full of nothing but darkness.

His candy floss colored kitten slippers thumped against the vaguely solid ground.

He swore he heard something that way.

He kept staring for a while, his stillness only broken by this incessant stumping.

One could never be too cautious around here. 

A noise in the save screen, that didn’t come from him or the faint but constant buzzing of the checkpoint, was very suspicious.

The monster wasn’t sure if he preferred it to be from Gaster deciding to visit the periphery or something else entirely.

His hands, tucked in his coat’s pockets, picked at the inner fabric in a nervous fidget.

Maybe he imagined that.

Maybe that sound solely came from his fragile mind, sleething its way out by a fissure that would never close fully.

Orchid took his hand out to readjust his scarf and sighed.

Getting poetic again, lonely guy?

Finally deeming an investigation was not worth trudging away from his only light, he simply sat and picked up his favorite activity.

That book.

Berlingot went to sleep already so he only read back old exchanges and counted the pages they completed so far.

A lot.

Between idle chit-chats and paper games, they had decorated many new pages of small moments of life.

Orchid smiled at that.

Berlingot had a lot of free time or was weirdly invested with talking with him.

He didn’t mind however and wouldn’t probe. It’d felt like breaching that invisible barrier they each put up tightly around some aspects of their identity.

It wasn’t like he wanted to talk about his life or situation, why would he demand that of Berlingot?

A flutter moved right in his mostly blind side. The right side of his face was damaged enough that he barely perceived the world from that eye.

He froze.

This time he was sure of it.

He did not imagine that sound.

Twirling around fast, two summoned blasters fired beams of raging fire towards the source of the noise.

“WH-”

Someone else was there. 

Someone who barely dodged his blasts and was now floating, eyes wide, not so far from him.

It was a skeleton, with a similar build, clothed in a slightly pinkish white robe thing tied by a thin cord. 

Its eye sockets were dark and empty, partly obscured by his hood. The dark pink inside of the fabric contrasted with the pearl white of his bones.

Maybe it was really a ghost this time, he couldn’t see any feet under those clothes.

The apparition whistled before addressing him.

“Well, that wasn’t far… You’re a bit twitchy there, buddy?”

They talked.

“Who and what are you?”

“Maybe we could,” slender fingers gently point to his still summoned blasters, “put away the big guns before we try the whole conversation thing, bucko?”

“Answer my question and I might bring the puppies home, stranger.”

“Ok, ok,” they put their hands open in from of them, “sorry for startling you, I’ll answer your questions, cowboy~”

The floating guy lied down up there and pointed finger guns at him. Confused by the unexpected endeavor, Orchid unsummoned his blasters.

He swore, now was not the time to seem vulnerable.

“Soooo, I’ll admit I’ve been called a fair share of names!”

Their hands fished out squared papers from two colorful bags, hanging from his belt.

“First,” the stranger started folding the paper with a surprising velocity, “my brother calls me Sans. I’m sure you know this name, other me.”

Winking, he put down the origami.

A candy-shaped one.

“How-”

“What, can’t believe there are other worlds than your small one, boo?” 

The doppelganger folded a few similar paper constructs and put them in neat lines.

“I would have thought that with your… history?”, he lowered his voice, “not that I know much about it beside you got a copy in there and you out annnd the fact the bloodiest resets finally stopped… So don’t worry about that, candy-cheek!”

Orchid startled and almost rubbed his cheek where he knew the candy-mark shape rested.

10 small paper boxes had been produced again.

“Can you stop with the weird nicknaming and just come down and explain what’s up besides you?”

The other did a small looping and skillfully hid away  in his sleeves his creations.

“No can do, pal. I’ll come down at the end of our conversation annnnd you didn’t give me a name for me to use? I wouldn’t assume you still go by “Sans”, do you? Oh and,” the floating guy produced a more complex paper construct made of all the origamis he folded earlier, “you can call me Kusudama! It’s better than my work name and I choose it myself!”

The chatterbox seemed like he could be going for hours but Orchid did not relax yet. There was something in those fast-paced words, in this wide smile and empty sockets that just enerved him. How did “Kusudama” enter the save screen and why?

“I do have another name but I ain't sure I trust you so what if you get down there and we discuss how you breached this place and what you are seeking exactly here?”

No use in beating around the bushes, he might as well get to the point.

“Well it all does have a thing to do with my job but frankly I feel like procrastinating some more and believe me Sans-”

“Orchid.”

The correction fuzed before he could stop it, he couldn’t bear this name in this foreign mouth anymore.

“-Orchid, be-leaf me when I say it is in your best interest, flower guy.”

He tssked at the joke, who was he to steal a pun he could have done.

“And what is your job, world’s worst spooky decoration?”

Kusudama giggled and twirled, putting his hands under his shin, the fabric spinning around him in an aquatic dance.

“I wish,” he sighed.

Something in the atmosphere soured. Something was wrong. Something was very wrong.

Kusudama lowered himself a bit, standing almost to reach now.

“I said I had many names and a few are directly tied to my job, whomst I do not enjoy that much on a good day. But I guess someone has to do it.”

Orchid took a step bad, a hand raising in case he needed to summon something fast.

The other raised a hand as well, holding the colorful origami amalgamation. He threw it high.

His bags shook and a myriad of papers flew out, obscuring his vision suddenly.

Orchid tensed but waited.

A chuckle resonated in the empty place.

A glint of a blade grazed his shoulder and tore through his vest before he could react.

“Uhuh, not that fast.”

The view cleared and Kusudama reappeared, a pair of mismatched paper wings decorated his back. A tall scythe rested in his hands, the misshapen wood let place to the deadly blade where the weird origami thing sat.

“Maybe I played long enough. Hello, I’m a reaper, some call me death and I’m here for you, bye!”

Before the words even registered, the attacker lunged in his direction and it was only by reflex Orchid managed to summon his weapons to fight back.

The other was fast and bones, papers and blasts flew everywhere in a chaotic ordeal.

The monster dodged, more and more in extremis, each attack thrown his way, the blade swiping at him every time the death-bringer managed to close the distance. 

A wave of bones made the aggressor tumble farther, tearing through the fragile wing. He didn’t have time to cheer as the hole closed itself using new furniture from the annoying bags and his enemy threw himself back into action.

This couldn’t continue for long.

He would tire.

He would give up.

Could he even die here, when he only had a half-life left, when this place kept him alive when he should have been dust for a long time already?

Another attack barreled down on him.

He side stepped it and grabbed hard on whatever he could touch.

His hand ensnared a wrist and the hardly thought maneuver sent them both flying in the same direction.

They stopped in an awkward heap of limbs.

Both fighters froze, unsure of what to do next. 

After a while, they entangled themselves and stood there observing the other.

Kusudama’s eye sockets were blown wide for some reason and the previously determined to harm stranger stood there, limbs limp, as papers retreated and scythe unsummoned, leaving only the colorful ball he built earlier.

“What?”

Orchid didn’t let go of his sharpened bone stick as he shook in an unstable stance despite the sudden change of endeavor. This could be a scheme.

The reaper inspected his hands before tilting his head to the right.

“...why are you still alive…?”

While he couldn’t figure out what action should have killed him so surely the fact it didn’t produce such a confused face on “death” itself, he might as well answer what he knew.

“Beat me if I know. That place helped I guess.”

“...I’ll… I’ll come back later.”

With that, Kusudama disappeared soundlessly.

“YOU BETTER NOT COME BACK,” yelled the monster to nobody in particular, the sound echoing in the now empty space.

What a weird day.

End of chapter 9! Go to chapter 10?

Aftertale belongs to @/loverofpiggies Reapertale belongs to @/renrink Berlingot, Orchid and Kusudama belong to me

@dragon-tamer-1 @shinechermont

[ashmp3]

my makeup today is SOOOO beautiful i feel so pretty (& i got so many compliments) i love it it’s very vs angel -> white shadow 2/3 of the lids, grey in the socket, very shimmery glittery inner corner, mascara, rosy cheeks + pink lipstick topped with lifter gloss in ice 🫶🏻💓

[thetwelfthcrow]

for the ask game 17 - 19? :)

Your favorite character to write this year?

as a side character definitely Franco. he's soooo. like !!!!!!!! u know??? he's just amazing i love him so much. i love weaving him in for silly scenes and get him to make an obsessed-with-lewis type comment. yeah fun !!! as a main guy, i think i enjoyed torturing lewis in kmutc a lot. just give him things to be anxious about, that is fun to do, ahahaha!

The character that gave you the most trouble writing this year?

nico mother fucking rosberg.

What’s one pairing you want to explore next year?

i am genuinely excited for so many pairings but the BRAINWORMS are strong so i fear that regardless of what i'd put here, all i'd write would be 4433. however! i am captured by liam/franco. and maybe vani's slagclaren essay and sewis essay will alter my brain chemistry and i'll be converted. who knows. don't have too much hope though. 4433 brainworms are like tentacles around my brain and through my eye sockets. oh. tentacles... that could---

[ao3 wrapped questions!]

[heathermason1983]

I'm having so many obsessive thoughts about developing dry socket and then i'll spend soooo long staring in my mouth with a flashlight and then i'll google different phrases in relation to it for like 45 minutes this sucks

[devilsskettle]

thee biggest thing i personally would like to see moving forward in the saw franchise would be Consequences because it feels like the biggest missing component of these movies and the next logical step for where to go with the franchise. ofc audiences want the gore and the kills when they watch a saw movie so there needs to be balance but to me, ideally, like 1/4 of jigsaw victims AT LEAST should be surviving the traps. first of all, we want to see some of the traps in action — like in saw x, for example, it was cool to see all of the traps actually play out how they were supposed to because the concepts for the traps were cool, but then it felt unfair and like there wasn’t payoff when most of those characters died despite successfully completing the trap. it cuts the tension also if everyone dies because then you just expect everyone to die, you’re not holding your breath waiting to see what happens. and arguably some of them would be way more fucked up actually to survive! we see a lot of characters survive losing limbs, but what about surviving Getting Your Eyeballs Sucked Out Of Their Sockets or Giving Yourself A Lobotomy??? that’s fucked up, i want to see that. what happens to characters who commit murder under duress like in saw 0.5? we see all kinds of investigations by police and criticism of The System wrt law enforcement but what are the next steps? what happens at trial? there are plenty of other parts of the legal system that are far from reproach. and part of what makes saw 0.5 such a good short film is the uncertainty of david’s fate hanging in the balance at the end of the film and the ambiguity of whether or not he should be held responsible for taking someone’s life and whether he should feel appreciation (as amanda does in the same situation in the first feature length film) for being shown the value of life etc. like it’s soooo good and there’s so much more there that the rest of the franchise just never picks up on. and….. what else. oh yeah i think saw 7 kind of fumbles the concept of seeing what happens to survivors with the jigsaw support group thing which is just like. cartoonishly funny but i do think there was Something There to explore about how people react differently to trauma and there was a decent instinct on the part of the writers throughout the series that there needed to be some recurring characters to ground the series and so that people would maybe care what happened to some of those characters lol (although i don’t particularly care for the procedural drama/cat and mouse game that they wrote to achieve that cohesion between movies, i get what they were going for i guess). where was i going with this….. well, all that is to say, i think a legal drama would be Such a perfect framework for so many of these ideas and it would be a fresh way to structure a saw movie while following what the franchise has already established to its logical conclusion and creating opportunities to question and subvert a lot of those themes as well as just on the level of pacing and Showcasing the traps and you could have multiple timelines like these movies LOVE to do and you’d have ample room to bring back characters and introduce new characters and bring in new social/systematic criticism to be interrogated by the classic jigsaw philosophy etc etc etc anyway….. idk. hire me to write saw xi it’ll be super good i promise

one thing that saw 0.5 did that didn’t really make it into any of the feature films is suggest the question of how morally and legally culpable a person is if they have to kill another person to survive a trap and i think that would’ve been an interesting direction to go in

[eldritch-spouse]

thinking about nebul catching his pet masturbating without permission and since theyre clearly soooo woefully understimulated he passes them around the clergy until they learn their lesson

[Amazing thought, I agree wholeheartedly. Fem reader. Pov is all over the place. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯]

TW: Verbal degradation; Exhibitionism.

" M-Master Nebul- I- I'm s-sorry-! "

It must be hard to speak. You've already come a couple of times. Three. You're not keeping count, but he is. Nonetheless, you're overstimulated by the number of tentacles everywhere on your body. A pair looping over your tits, flicking your nipples, looped over your neck, others keeping your legs spread and your arms firmly held behind your back as two tendrils ram into your used hole, one entering when the other pulls out and vice-versa. Last but not least, another one taps your poor clit at random intervals.

You've been displayed like this, over the bartender's counter, for what must amount to an hour now, he reckons. Gallon is more than thrilled by the possibility to ravage a new human. He's relentless, blazing red eye seeming to swallow your precious form alive while he plays you like a perverse instrument for the viewing pleasure of your master, who stands in front of you.

" Your words are void of meaning, pet. " Nebul tuts. " Why should I believe you, when you promised you wouldn't touch yourself, yet I find you mewling on my bed like a slut not even a week later? "

He says it loud and clear for the whole floor to hear. It's very easy for a wraith like him to project his voice. There are so many eyes on you, it's humiliating. It's exhilarating. Even so, he can tell you've never been so aroused in your life and it shows, as you arch and strain against the slime's hold, howling in pleasure for the fourth time when another orgasm is plucked out of you. Gallon chuckles, clearly very pleased with himself.

" Would you like me to shut her up? " The barkeep offers, pulling your arms down so that you now lie across the counter, legs up and spread, face level with his dick. This prehensile, orange growth with a couple of odd bumps near the root and a smaller appendage squirming beneath. It must look strange to you, he muses. The wet and slimy thing pokes at your cheeks and chin as the yellow monster rocks his hips teasingly.

" Yes, nothing of value will be lost. " Nebul waves a hand dismissively, inwardly beaming when Gallon pries your lips apart, letting the tip of his member flirt with your tongue before he makes himself comfortable, sliding into your throat. The bump is noticeable even to the wraith, you gag almost viscerally.

" Thought you would have trained that out of her by now. " The bartender jabs.

" She's not as fluid of a learner as you, Gallon. " The wraith stabs in return, veering towards someone else before the slime can get a rebuttal in. Ah, the dullahan.

He's been sitting a couple of stools back, hat pulled down to obscure his face as he watches the show like the lurid little voyeur Nebul's always known him to be. An unsubtle hand reaches beneath his garbs, no doubt coiled over his cock. Putting aside the spark of longing in those carved sockets, it doesn't seem like he's about to make a move any time soon.

" You. " Patches startles, face taken by an emerald flush. " Always such a spineless loser. Get up, she's free to use for now. "

It takes the dullahan a couple of seconds to process the offering, but he's not stupid enough to let it go to waste, almost darting to stand in front of your slick pussy, watching the bob of Gallon's length on your throat. He's pushing his pants down in frustrated shoves, fingers hovering anxiously at your thighs, feeling your legs and tummy up while his now freed hardness twitches with interest. Nebul could almost roll his eyes, if he had any.

" I don't have all day, Patches. Either you fuck her or you make way for someone else. "

" M3! 0H 0HH! M3! 1 W4NN4! " The robot, who has been hovering from side to side, no doubt taking pictures and filming the encounter through several angles, pipes up. Predictably.

" Well? " Nebul's fingers drum on the counter, letting the other undead choose.

Patches shakes his head at the robot, using his thumbs to spread your labia and batting Gallon's hovering tendrils away. He takes one shuddering breath before slipping inside of you, thighs immediately tensing and face twisting in a myriad of sensation while you reflexively tighten and cry out senselessly around Gallon's girth. Nebul wants to congratulate the green monster for not coming immediately upon entering a woman, but he's beaten to the punch by his coworker.

" Hah, what's that face? Gonna cum already? " The bartender laughs, a little out of breath as his pace quickens. You must be clenching around the dullahan, because he lets out a most pathetic keen, like it's taking him every ounce of strength he has not to immediately flood you. Gallon only laughs harder.

" N- Not helping! " The other growls, taking a couple more moments to get used to the sensation before starting to rock experimentally. The first drag of your cuntlips on his dick has the male gasping, twitching and grabbing handfuls of your plump ass. He won't last a fucking minute, Nebul would bet his entire stock of pearls on it. Still, it'll be an entertaining sight.

While Gallon has no trouble using your warm hole the way it's meant to be enjoyed, panting and moaning quietly at every hum of your half-panicked self- Patches hardly moves, sweating bullets yet lacking half the physical effort of his coworker. Deplorable. Really, Nebul has always known that the dullahan is also meant for the role of pet. Trusting this cur to be dominant while in his default state is about the same as expecting a mute to sing...

Nonetheless, this isn't about the other undead, it's about his misbehaving pearl. And surely, letting an equally submissive, sad excuse of a monster shove his cock in you, must be adding to that sweet, delicious degradation. Curbing the need to bully Patches is hard however.

" Come now, pet- " Nebul begins, leaning close enough to make sure his every word seeps into your skin. That you have no choice but to pay attention even through the onslaught of sensation wrecking your body. " Make yourself useful. Your new friend wants a fucktoy that's worth his time. And we wouldn't want anyone here to leave unsatisfied, would we? "

The wraith is very pleased to see you squirm to action within mere seconds. Sure, there was the threat of punishment subtly hidden in his tone, but you did well to react so quickly. Bound as you are, he observes you shift inviting hips forward, essentially bucking into the dullahan, swaying them from side to side lightly as if to invite him to fuck you already. Good... Very good. You learn fast. Very adaptable. He loves that about you, it's a joy to work with humans such as yourself.

Whatever thread of self-control held Patches back from making an even more pathetic scene appears to snap, and the green monster whimpers, finally slapping his balls onto your ass and looping his arms under your back. Instead of putting on a show with deliberately deep and purposeful thrusts like the slime claiming your mouth, Patches just hunches like an animal and makes desperate, brief pistons into your heat, the sounds accompanying this near scandalous. He's more so grinding himself than actually thrusting, but it seems to do the job, apparently hitting some sort of spot that has your toes curling and abdomen flexing in zings of pleasure.

Gallon's fast yet visibly merciful pace becomes sporadic, eye narrowing in his chase for the peak. A reflexive gulp from your part appears to do the trick, throwing him into a deforming mess as his thick cock morphs to fit entirely in your throat, no doubt feathering around your esophagus by now. The yellow monster drips and melts like a wax candle, throbbing load after load directly into your guts while you choke and sputter, fluids cascading to coat your nose, eyes and cheeks. You make an odd sound, as if seconds away from hurling, and Gallon has the common sense to pull out, dragging globs of cum and drool with him, to once more ruin your poor, flushed face. Your coughing fit, although adorable to all of them, is cut off by frantic gasps and sharp cries while Patches unknowingly fucks you through your next orgasm.

The way your eyes roll back so hard has Nebul's cock throbbing painfully, but he's determined to be the last. To make you beg for him after you've been passed through the entire staff team like cheap party confectionery. Yes, that'll be beautiful.

Minute man that he is, Nebul can't even pretend to be surprised when the mock-scientist rattles out a whore moan and empties his balls into you, what must be months of frustration leaving his slumped over body. Your legs dangle off the counter, limp like noodles, the only sounds heard being panting, hushed murmuring from the distant crowd, and the pitter patter of cum hitting the floor.

" Bravo! Bravo! I want an encore! " A new, deep voice calls out.

All of you tense, Nebul doesn't need to turn to know the demon is right behind him. Clawed hands settle on his shoulders as Santi leans in to survey the scene, eyes bright and mouth parted as if to taste the very air around him. Of course, like moths to a flame, the motions of lust summoned him here.

" I'm wounded I wasn't invited, I've already missed half the fun! " The incubus laments.

Gallon helps you sit up, a single tendril rubbing your bare back as Patches mutters a quiet apology for making a mess of you and rights his clothes.

" The night is young, there's a lot more to come, demon. " The wraith all but invites, curious to see how his pet would react to a hypersexual monster. And a seasoned one at that.

Santi lets his hands move around the older monster, stroking at his shoulders and occasionally groping. Nebul can sense his pheromones and the radiating warmth of the other's closeness, but he's always been good at hiding his reactions, always had a lot more self-control than the incubus gives him credit for. Yet still, the lack of visible reaction never appears to deter him.

" That's what I like to hear... " With a purr, Santi moves in like a hawk, sending Patches away with a heavy palm to that relatively flat ass. Naturally, the twink yips like a dog and scurries to the safety of the stools nearby. " Good boy. " Gallon takes a step away, cleaning himself up but keeping a sharp eye on the show around him.

The demon. You've seen him before, in passing.

Never too close, but his eyes are unmistakable. In fact, the longer he looks at your ruined body, the hotter you feel, some part of you wanting to lunge for the male and ride him like a bull. He's certainly got the horns to be called that.

" Oh, sweetie- " He starts, looming over you with a look exuding false concern. The very sound of his voice is driving you crazy, empty cunt fluttering against nothing. You know there's some weird magic shit involved here. A skeptical glance towards Nebul reveals nothing, he just watches, ever stoic.

" What a mess, just look at you! " The incubus coos, grabbing your stained chin with a thumb and index, a sort of mania in his face, like deep glee at the sight of you covered in his coworkers' cum. " Let Santi help. " And with that, those yellowed teeth part, a roving muscle trailing from neck to chin and cheek.

You're not sure if it's the tingling sensation of the monster's saliva, or maybe just the buzzing warmth of those dark lips on your skin, but you grow restless, squirming against the hulking figure and grabbing onto him like he's an anchor. Like you must, lest the world around you fall apart. It's a dizzying sensation, making the other chuckle at your dazed state even as he shamelessly licks the fluids off your face.

The gesture is topped off with a sticky kiss, he's not sharing it with you, but still allows you to taste more of Gallon. It feels as if you have no choice but to pull him closer, hands clawing at his neck, in a trance of sensation you've never felt before while Santi chuckles with approval at your attitude. By the time you're given a break, his face now nestled in the crook of your neck, the distinct feeling of being watched pricks at your back. Your eyes dart to Nebul, who appeasingly palms at himself through those long robes, but he only shakes his head- As if he knew you were looking for someone.

A couple more glances and you find him. Another monster. This one a pallid white figure with two, no- Three, massive lavender eyes fixed intensely on you. This is... The angel. The one Nebul says works as security around here. You don't know too much about him, save for the fact that he often gets in everyone's nerves with his stickler tendencies. The monster, taking a stance by the side of the bar, appears to be deeply focused on your figure.

However, as soon as your eyes meet, those pupils shrink and his head zips to the crowd, he seems to fluff up with tension. Odd.

The demon still peppering kisses everywhere on your chest gets annoyed with the lack of response from his meal, drawing back to ask what's wrong when he follows your gaze to the angel. Oh. The most wicked of smiles settles on those handsome lips and you know trouble is coming.

" Belo! " Santi starts, tone very chipper. Said monster doesn't even look his way, wings folded but raised on his shoulders in a sort of aggressive dismissal. " Come, join us, you look like you need to unwind. "

Belo makes an inaudible reply. You can only hear murmurs of "gross" and "irredeemable" as well as a couple of ushered expletives. The incubus only laughs, urging you to lean back while he parts your thighs, eyeing the mess between them with the same hunger of a starved beast. A sweet kiss trail starts from the inside of your thighs to your flushed pussy, still a tad oversensitive, enough to make you jump in place. It does nothing to halt him, and soon, you're getting cleaned from the inside out, an absolutely merciless pace.

Those great horns of his won't let you close your legs even as Santi sucks your clit and groans against you. Instead of letting you cum, he pulls back whenever your walls start spasming, turning you into a flustered, frustrated mess. You open your mouth in an attempt to make words, then immediately shut it upon Nebul's icy glare.

You are not to beg or make requests, you recall him saying at the very start of this, you will take only what you're given and I will have you whipped for every greedy complaint.

Tears pricking your eyes, you can only spare the demon a desperate look. There's no room for mercy in the green blaze of his hues, he just winks at you and shoves his tongue as far into your sloppy cunt as he can. It rips a full-body shudder out of you, an embarrassing moan spilling out. Gallon can be heard whistling quietly, some others snickering and giggling at the lurid sound while you blush harder in shame. It takes you a moment to realize why the demon's drawing this out. You're able to sense his gaze again, the angel.

His head wings spread in rapt attention and he's caught ogling your indecent state again. You note the rising and falling of his chest and the way he looks almost pained. What a weird dude. It's more than clear he wants in, and it's goofy to think the fear of being "indecent" could be what's stopping him. This whole place is the furthest thing from decent! This time, instead of meeting his eyes fully and probably scaring him off, you only offer Belo a lidded side-glance. Enough for him to be aware that you know he's staring. That you enjoy it.

Santi, on the other hand, has no qualms eye-fucking the angel even as he keeps torturing your sex. It's an almost smarmy, victorious look. Nebul turns towards him wordlessly and Gallon offers a curious glance as well. Even Patches deadpans at him. Under so much scrutiny, Belo's eyes flicker in all sorts of directions and he tenses further like a coiled spring. You have to muffle a laugh.

" Should I start charging the peepers? " Nebul begins, flicking his claws nonchalantly. " Really Belo, either make yourself useful or make yourself scarce. "

The angel bristles, walking up to his coworker. " You have some nerve for an undead blight- "

" And you have a lot of repressed sexual energy. I don't need to be a demon to spot that. " Santi actually cackles at that one. " Is it judgement you're afraid of? "

" From the likes of you?! Hah! "

" Then I'm not sure what you're waiting for. "

Silence reigns.

Apparently peer pressure gets under Belo's skin very easily, because he growls quietly and takes a couple of tentative steps towards you and Santi. The demon all but preens with glee, offering an excited, heated kiss where you can taste your own arousal painting his chin. You're lifted without hesitation while the incubus gets on his knees, placing you on his lap. It doesn't take long before you sense the length poking your back. That... Lord, that's a lot. Nebul is already hard to take without a work out, you gulp just thinking about the stretch. But you're a good girl, always will be, you can handle this. It'll make your master very proud.

Your self-appeasing monologue is interrupted by Santi's tsk, while he rolls his eyes at the other's impractical outfit. Now that you think about it, that skin-tight suit does make it hard to work with. He'll have to strip fully for this, which you're not really complaining about to be honest.

" You should really get a zipper on this. " The incubus mutters, quickly sliding a claw through the fabric in front of his pelvis. It peels open in a matter of seconds, a good bit of snow white fluff already poking out. It's hard to see beyond the fur, but you're sure there's a cute pink slit in there.

" How dare you?! This suit was made by the most- " Said grievances are replaced by an unflattering yelp as soon as Santi grasps the angel's ass and drives him forward, a hair's width from your face. You get the memo.

Not quite sure how to handle a furred monster like him, you settle for nuzzling against the tuft of fluff there until your nose brushes something wet. You waste no time, warm tongue lapping at it insistently, feeling the powerful monster's legs quake by your side. By the time you think to slide the very tip of the muscle into his slit, your eyes widen as his cock is already pushing against it. Leaning back slightly is all it takes for the angel's cock to slip out surprisingly fast, making the demon behind you coo. He was trying not to get exposed all this time, the poor guy.

Greedy as ever, the first taste is stolen by Santi. Belo whines, it's a needlessly erotic sound, but something tells you he's not exaggerating. Little does it matter, as more get all but ripped out of the angel the moment you're encouraged to share him with his shameless coworker. For someone who was making such a fit about getting down and dirty, he's way too eager to buck against both your mouths, not quite sure what to do with his hands beyond nearly crushing the counter with his iron grip. The way Belo tears up and nearly begs for more is undeniably hot. Ever since getting taken by Nebul, situations where you get to dominate are near non-existent, so you savor every single one of them like snowflakes.

With one last, decidedly gross kiss, the demon bites your lower lip and leaves you to take care of Belo's needy length by yourself, more focused on spreading your legs and lining himself up. Your little whimper is shushed when a clawed palm settles on your mons, this sudden wave of heat encompassing you. Sucking around Belo, you hardly realize what's happening until Santi's hilted inside you. Just like that. No pain, no struggle, but oh so very filling.

Everything seems to fall into place, with one monster lusciously rolling his hips into you, and the other holding your head so he can slide down your throat. Something about it all feels right, and you smile- Well, as much as you can, knowing that Nebul will be very proud of you, even in this fucked-out state. It's unclear how much time you knelt there, used by the two, until the pleasant, filthy trance was broken by dark digits flicking at your button.

It happened embarrassingly fast, though in retrospect, dealing with a lust demon excuses it- Your next peak hits like a train and you reflexively bounce onto Santi, wanting to prolong it for as long as you can. He was apparently waiting for this, because having you clench around his cock so suddenly sends the incubus over the edge not long after. He grinds up into you, moaning like a whore in heat and forcing your face flush against Belo's fur.

The angel isn't holding up too well himself, wings fluttering and member throbbing at the sight of you coming undone. Getting forcibly gagged onto his pink cock elicits full-body shivers out of the male, who breathlessly keens and promptly comes down your abused throat, groaning as he pulls out to fuck his own fist heatedly. Something tells you he doesn't get blown often. In fact, the way Belo all but flops onto a stool makes you almost snort in amusement.

Nebul walks up to you, curling his fingers in a "rise" motion. You spot the outline of his hardness beneath those grayish-purple robes and lick your lips.

The demon, previously fondling and nuzzling into you surprisingly sweetly, pouts at the wraith. " Aw, leaving so soon? Can't your pretty pearl stay for just a minute more? " He has the gall to playfully rut into you, a sharp gasp making you rattle in overstimulation.

The undead shakes his head. " You've had your turn, do not push it. "

A snort. " Fine fine, killjoy. " You're lifted off his member, lewd pearly white ropes dripping down your shaky legs. Santi bids you farewell with a harsh slap to your ass. He enjoys doing that, it seems. " Visit us again, will you? "

Nebul's grip of your naked waist, although quite cold, still manages to be comforting. You just want to slump onto him and call it a day, but the sharp ding of the elevator doors opening jolts you back into attention.

" Now's not the time for sleep, pet. We have barely even started. " He tuts.

" Y-Yes, master. " Alert eyes observe as he pushes a button on the wall.

" We're now heading to one of the underground floors. " He starts, answering your unspoken question. " There, you will get to eat. And choose between who you'll entertain first. The waiter, or the chef? "

You tense.

The chef... Isn't that the huge blue guy? The one that butchers people? You don't remember that much about the waiter, except he's short. Short and bubbly. Your lack of answer makes Nebul tap his claws on the handrail next to him, a sign of clear disapproval.

" Hm, if you're not enthused, then we could always just head over to Vinnel's- "

" The waiter! " You instantly squeak, horrified at the mere mention of that cursed jester.

His ensuing chuckle, albeit ever monotone, speaks volumes of his amusement.

" Very well then, get ready. "

[minnimayhem]

My Personal Team Natsu Headcanons Because its My Hyperfixation and I Get to Choose How to Cling to Them:

Lucy is the shortest adult and has a more curvy body type that starts as cute chub and over the course of the first season turns into muscle. Lucy's hair is wavier and she's always wearing several pieces of jewelry. Freckles dust most of her body in a color that matches her eyes.

Natsu is the second shortest adult. He has more reptilian features due to the dragon slayer magic (all dragon slayers have sharper reptilian features). He has abs at first but as he learns to control his magic output it becomes a healthier bulk, though he stays slimmer than the other slayers. Also freckles. Soooo many freckles from all that light exposure with the fire.

Gray is the second tallest adult, he has a paler appearance like Lucy does though he still has a naturally light tan skintone. More scars than just the forehead one and he has piercings on his ears and eyebrows. His build is relatively similar to the Canon one this man does not take care of himself

Erza is the tallest and most muscular member of the team, her nose has the distinct bump of an improperly healed break and she has Light Dustings of freckles though they aren't as strong as Lucy and natsus. She also has a distinct scar across the socket with a glass eye.

Every team member has scars. It doesn't make sense that they don't have more and also they're sexy.

Wendy has to heal natsu the most as his style tends to be more reckless and wild.

Lucy, Gray, and Erza are all bi and in a poly relationship. Wendy is a newly out lesbian in the final season, and Natsu is AroAce but initiates group cuddle sessions more than anybody else.

Lucy and Erza regularly spar per Lucy's request after the one year disbandment

Gray and Natsu had crushes on eachother when they were younger but never acted on it and then natsu realized he was aromantic

Happy is a fluffier exceed while Charles is a short haird one

Lucy and Gray got together first and both admitted to having crushes on erza before approaching her with an idea she couldn't refuse

Lucy still had a crush on natsu for a long time but once natsu told her about his identity as an aroace man she backed off and just got closer to him as besties

Natsu and Lucy gossip together constantly

[violetnotez]

I just read your headcanons about treating Mirio,shouto and bakugou's hounds and it was soooo cuuuute kafkksfbksgkbs I wonder if you can do the same headcanons for Izuko, Hitoshi and maybe Tokoyami? OwO ♡♡♡♡♡

Hey bb! So unfortunately I don’t write for Tokoyami 👉🏼👈🏼 but I totally got ya on Izuku and Shinso! ❤️

Original post

Music Collection | Tip Jar | Requests!

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧ ✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ:

Izuku

Please be aware you will have to be this dude’s nurse 24/7

He is just always getting hurt

No matter what, he can promise you as much as he wants that he won’t get hurt or he’ll try his best to be safe...

Lmao that doesn’t happen

You don’t know how many times you’ll be hanging out with him, and you’ll notice he has a limp he won’t tell you about

Or he’ll be at your door, covered in scraps and trying to convince you “it’s nothing, really!”

You and Recovery Girl are like besties at this point

Worst part is unless he’s like at deaths door he REFUSES to act like it’s a big thing

Like “oh my fingers are purple and look like burnt chicken-it’s chill”

NO SIR IT IS NOT FUCKING CHILL

He takes pain like a champ tho, like he will grimace here and there but he’ll never do anything but that

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧

“Izuku-for the love of-“ you huffed our with exasperation as you struggled with the hem of his shirt. “-just take off your shirt!”

Poor Midoriya’s cheeks were on fire, his face very much resembling a red strawberry as his bruised digits wrapped around yours, trying desperately to keep his shirt down over his chest.

It wasn’t as if you’d ever seen him shirtless, you had seen him like that countless of times....he just didn’t want to worry you. Yeah his last patrol was a little-rougher-than the rest...but it wasn’t anything he couldn’t handle!

But deep down he knew it looked pretty bad, the bruises blossoming under his skin, deepening with each hour as they were still pretty fresh. And even though they stung, and made it hard to move in certain positions, and-yeah it was kinda hard to breathe in certain ways....he was fine, he swears!

You stopped your tug of war against Izuku, hands falling limp against his thighs, your body hovering over his legs.

“Izuku please,” you pleaded, eyebrows furrowing in sympathy, “I know there’s something wrong...I just want to make sure your okay!”

“I know, I-I just-“ he stuttered our, green orbs full of guilt, “I don’t want to worry you!”

You huffed, feeling defeat flood your body, as you softly caressed the hem of Izuku’s shirt, his favorite one....

His favorite shirt.

It was cruel to do this to him, and you knew it was wrong, but of course you wouldnt actually do it...but that overwhelmingly cruel light bulb idea was now stuck in your brain and wasn’t letting go.

You sighed yet again, this time with an over exaggeration and devilish grin on your face.

“Oh, that’s okay then...” you stated, your words sickly sweet and understanding.

Izuku perked up, unaware by your drastic change in demeanor.

“R-really?!? It is?”

You looked at his slightly relieved face, smile still on your lips. “Yeah of course! If you don’t want to take off your shirt, I can always just cut it off of you-“

Izuku audibly gulped, wise eyes growing even larger.

You-you wouldn’t right? You knew well that this was one of his favorite tshirts, as it had his favorite hero on it plus it was the comfiest one he owned...he wouldn’t ever find a tshirt he loved as much as this one.

Izuku stared at your face, trying to see pass a bluff...but you were good at hiding your true emotions, eyes glinting mischievously in the hazy warm lights.

“So whats it gonna be ‘Zuku?” you asked softly, slowly trailing under the cloth of his shirt, leaving a lowing hum of electricity on his skin. “The scissors are right there after all-“

“I-I’ll take off the shirt,” he said sheepishly, cheeks glowing a shade of red.

You giggled at his expression, thankful he took the bait as you took his face in your hands, your thumbs trailing his infinite freckles.

He could be stubborn, but he always gave in...eventually.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧ ✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ:

Shinso

Really doesn’t like being “taken care of”

Like don’t get me wrong, you dotting over him makes him all warm and fuzzy inside,,,

But, idk, he just doesn’t like the feeling of being weak

Kind of like Izuku, tried to deny the fact he’s hurting

But he is much easier to persuade

Usually just takes a kiss or two and he gives in to your efforts

If you have to bandage him up, he likes to be a big flirt to cover up his grimaces

Gives you a bunch of blush worthy compliments,,,,,

Calls you his “Nurse Babe”

Whatever the hell that means

Honestly, after an hour of having your whole attention on him he is hooked

He will never be the same again...he is a hoe for that attention for eternity now 💀

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧

Your finger were feeling as if they were being tugged out their sockets, the huge bucket of soft soppy warm water sloshing dangerously in its container.

You stepped into the room where a bruised up Shinso lay on the floor, hand lazily scrolling on his phone.

Hearing you enter the room, his head tilted towards you, his once bored expression peeking up into curiousty. His violet eyes watched you intently as you set down the bucket with a huff, kneeling next to his body as you submerged some towels in the luke warm water.

“Whatcha doin’ doll?” He asked, voice still gruff from a nap he had taken a few minutes prior.

You simply continued your work, small smile on your lips as you placed a few towels in the floor.

“Well, since the doctors said you weren’t clear for a shower or bath for the night,” you stated softly, “I thought I’d give one myself.”

“So a sponge bath?” Shinso said plainly. “I’m not some old man, kitten, I’m perfectly fine to take a bath-hell, I can take a shower just fine.”

You clicked your tongue against the roof of your mouth, shaking your head at him.

“When your bruises aren’t the color of your hair, maybe I’ll believe you-“ you gave him a small grin, swallowing down a ball of saliva. “-now take off your shirt.”

Shinso simply chuckled, an exasperate sigh leaving his lips. He knew too well that you were determined to nursing him back to health (even though he felt he was perfectly fine)....so really, there was no point in trying to believe him. And at this point...he wasn’t to sure he even wanted you to.

Having all your undivided attention on him was...nice-even if he hated admitting it.

“Doll, if you just wanted me to strip down...” he said cheekily, that shit eating grin plastered on his pale skin. “All you had to was ask.”

You rolled your eyes playfully, helping hin slowly peel his shirt off his skin-thank god it was a button down, or this would have been a hell of a lot harder.

But sitting in his lap, hands trailing gently against the soft skin of his abdomen and those piercing eyes watching your every move...it wa snaking your body feel particularly too hot for an otherwise cool room.

“Aw, you poor thing,” Shinso cooed with an air of arrogance, “are you flustered?”

“N-no,” you stuttered, kicking yourself internally for your obvious slip up, “I’m just wondering how the hell you lost so hard to get so many bruises.”

Shinso chuckled at your feeble attempt at a comeback, loving how you were so affected by this change in the atmosphere.

He deifnitely wnated to capitalize on this moment, his digits cradling your face as he forced you to look at him.

He grinned yet again, teeth biting his bottom lips as he gazed at you with a hungry look.

“Aw, but you are-” he murmured, his voice dropping an octave.

“-It’s okay doll, you don’t have to hide it from me...I like seeing you like this,”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧ ✧･ﾟ: *✧