#(there are a lot of situations people demonize him for that I don’t really blame him for tho tbh lmao. not all though)

[fuckyeahisawthat]

I think Crowley falls into two of the classic pitfalls of people who see that the problems are systemic long before anyone else around them does: impatience and despair.

(Yes yes I know, “Crowley was an optimist.” Book Crowley is an optimist. I don’t think that line is particularly useful for analyzing TV Crowley. Stay with me here.)

Let it be said that 95% of the time, Crowley has the patience of a fucking saint (ssh don’t tell him) around Aziraphale. He knows that Aziraphale needs to build his little plausible deniability rationales in order to do something that they both know he wants to do (because it’s right or simply because he would enjoy it) but Heaven wouldn’t approve of. And most of the time, Crowley is happy to help Aziraphale get there, asking the questions Aziraphale is afraid to ask, offering excuses and justifications until Aziraphale finds one he can accept. He does a lot of work of parsing out when “no” means “you haven’t convinced me yet, keep trying” and pushing through all the “I’m an angel, you’re a demon, we’re on opposite sides and mine is the good one” talk that Aziraphale gets up to all the way through s1. Because he knows that Aziraphale doesn’t really believe that stuff, right? He just needs some time to talk himself around his own cognitive dissonance, and most of the time Crowley is not only happy to facilitate that but sees it as part of his role in their relationship.

But then when the chips are down and Aziraphale is still dithering, that’s when he gets frustrated, because HOW CAN YOU NOT SEE what’s been blindingly obvious to Crowley for millennia, that Heaven is just as cruel as Hell and no one is going to step in and fix it because the system is working as intended. And that’s when he says things like “how can someone as clever as you be so stupid?” Which is a surefire way not to convince the person you’re arguing with of anything.

And then there’s the despair. I really think the running away thing is not about cowardice or selfishness or some kind of unhealthy level of avoidance of hard or scary things, but about hopelessness. They’ve spent their lives avoiding very very real danger, and of the two of them Crowley is much more constantly aware of the danger that they are in from both sides. Yes he’s hypervigilant but he is also almost always right about the amount of danger they are in. Trying to get as far away from danger as possible is not an irrational response, even if it’s not always the correct one for a given situation.

When you feel like you’re the only person who sees how rotten the system is, how it needs to be dismantled entirely, but you are also VERY aware of how strong the people in power are and how ruthless they are about crushing dissent because you experienced it personally…well that gets fucking depressing after a while. Because even if you think the whole system needs to go, that feels like a completely unattainable goal when it seems like no one else even sees the problem, or if they see it, they are too afraid to do anything about it. And can you blame them? You know exactly what happens to people who speak up.

So it’s very easy for your goals to shrink from systemic change to just taking yourself and the people you love and finding somewhere for them to be as safe as possible, for as long as the system will let you exist. Because reforming the system is a fool’s errand, and dismantling it entirely seems impossible. I think this is where Crowley is at. Even if on some level he knows it’s an imperfect solution, because both of them have enough compassion that they would feel guilty abandoning Earth and humans to save themselves, and because Heaven and Hell really can find them anywhere in the universe. He just doesn’t see another option.

And look, I think Aziraphale is 100% wrong that Heaven can be reformed. But he is not wrong to want to stay and fight to make things better, even if it means sacrificing the Earthly comforts he loves so much, and even if it means doing it without Crowley by his side.

Ultimately they both need each other. Aziraphale needs Crowley for his willingness to ask questions and to see the scale of the problem, even if it’s terrifying. But Crowley needs Aziraphale for his hope, his stubborn determination to believe things can and should be better, and to fight for that. In the right hands, hope is an enormously powerful weapon.

[osarina]

ᡣ𐭩 YOU AND ME (ALWAYS FOREVER)!

FEATURING: dark era!dazai osamu

SUMMARY: more than friends, not quite lovers. that's been your relationship with dazai osamu for as long as you can remember. you didn't want to push him, and you gave him plenty of chances, but there's only so long you can wait for someone. you thought you would be better off moving on—you were wrong, of course. (wordcount: 4.8k; sfw; angst (???) but with a happy ending)

AUTHOR'S NOTES: dark era dazai </3 my heart, i got a sudden urge to write for him and i wanted it to be fluff but then i got this idea and just had to go with it (warnings: fem!reader, smoking & drinking, suicide attempt mentions)

In your defense, you were never dating Dazai Osamu.

Not for a lack of trying on your part, of course. You’ve made your interest in him clear since you met him at sixteen during the Dragon’s Head Conflict, when Mori Ougai pulled you back from where you were stationed in Kyoto dealing with his associates to help with the declining situation in Yokohama. And you’d thought he felt similarly to you. You really did. The two of you had become inseparable within weeks of knowing each other, such a swift and strong connection that it almost felt unreal. You’d heard rumors of him, of course, before coming back to Yokohama—the infamous Demon Prodigy that Mori had brought in and groomed into becoming his heir, ruthless and cold and so terrifyingly intelligent that he had the entire upper echelon of the Port Mafia on edge. 

By the time you got back to Yokohama, he’d already had a heavy reputation following him, dark shadows clinging to him like a second skin. Demon Prodigy. Black Wraith. So many monikers attached to him, but he never really felt like the monster that everyone claimed him to be.

He and Nakahara Chuuya had been the one sent to retrieve you from Yokohama Station, an area very close to the heart of the gang conflict, and even from the first meeting, he’d always been… well, you’re not going to say normal because he’s not normal. He’s always had an unnerving air about him, eyes a bit too cold and dark, smile a bit too teethy, but he’s always come across as just another kid your age. Maybe a bit lonelier than most, which could be off-putting to other people, but it never bothered you. And yes, you’ve seen the way other members of the Mafia treat him—they’re scared of him, go to extreme lengths so as to not cross paths with him, but you’ve never seen him in the same light they do.

Well, not until recently, at least. 

Again. In your defense, you were never dating him. 

But you’d known he cared about you as more than a friend. And you’d cared about him as more than a friend too. And you waited. You waited almost two years for him to say something. You didn’t want to do it yourself, you know Dazai is flighty and he’s not used to emotions, and you didn’t want to make him uncomfortable, but god, there’s only so much waiting you can take before you start to give up.

When the two year mark hit, you’d become convinced that Dazai was never going to act on his feelings for you; instead, he’d prefer to wait it out until they passed, and if they never did, he’d just pretend they didn’t exist at all. You can’t really blame him, the Mafia is not a place conducive for relationships, it’s only a matter of time before your luck runs out and one of you end up dead by a bullet through the head or captured by the enemy, and the thought of getting attached to someone only to lose them is enough to scare anyone away. 

But you don’t want to live your life in fear, no matter how short it may be, and you also don’t want to live it alone. So when an opportunity arose at a cafe near the main headquarters, where you met a civilian around your age who showed immediate interest in you, you jumped on it. And it’d caught a lot of people off guard—Kouyou was surprised, Chuuya was baffled and questioning what a civilian could possibly have that interested you, even Mori gave you a double take and an odd look the first time he overheard Elise interrogating you about your new boyfriend.

But no one took it as poorly as Dazai.

Your throat feels tight as you remember the hurt expression that crossed over his face when you told him. It was so brief and so foreign of an expression to see on his face that you’d thought you’d imagined it, he was quick to school his expression back into a cold and closed-off one (one that he’d never directed toward you before that moment), but there was no mistaking the way the corner of his lip twitched and the way he suddenly couldn’t meet your eyes. 

How nice, he’d told you, voice frighteningly icy, acidic, even, before he made a half-assed excuse about a mission that you knew he wasn’t assigned to. And it was so unlike him to offer himself up to handle missions, usually Mori has to force him with threats of giving Chuuya his executive position for him to do anything that makes him extend the barest amount of effort . But he did, and he handled it, very bloodily and uncharacteristically inefficient, as if he was releasing all of his pent up rage onto the unfortunate souls who happened to stumble into Port Mafia territory.

You were never, at any point, dating Dazai Osamu. 

You think you’ve told yourself it hundreds of times over the past three months, throwing yourself into your work and enjoying a relationship with a boy who clearly was invested in you and cares about you in a way that Dazai Osamu would never allow himself to admit. You also think that Dazai Osamu has no right being as bitter and angry as he is—you gave him two years to come to terms with his feelings and make a move, you’ve made your own subtle hints that he promptly ignored. If he wanted to be with you, he blew his chance a hundredfold, and he can go screw off if he thinks he can be upset about it only after you’d found someone else. 

Which is what he did, pretty much, and it was a lot harder than you expected—going from talking to him every waking second of every day, seeking him out whenever you have free time and vice versa, to only seeing him during the joint meetings between the executives and sub executives, where even then, he wouldn’t even spare you a glance. It was hard, and deep down, you don’t think being able to experience an actual relationship was worth losing your best friend, but the damage had already been done by that point, so you could only lie in the bed you made. 

And you did enjoy the relationship. The boy you’d met was sweet. He was good. He was impressively smart—a government and law major at one of the most prestigious universities in this part of the country—and humble to a fault. 

But he wasn’t Dazai. 

You knew in your heart that you didn’t want sweet or good, no matter how much you tried to convince yourself otherwise. You didn’t want the type of smart that he was, top of his class and on track for law school, seeking out a job as a public defender in Tokyo. You wanted the type of smart Dazai was, wicked and devious, putting together vicious and efficient strategies to take down enemies of the Mafia, on track for taking over the position as boss in the future. You wanted him for all of his twisted moralities and questionable thoughts.

And it was unfair to you, and it was unfair to Dazai, and most importantly it was unfair to the boy you kept leading on, that you’ve refused to acknowledge this for as long as you have just for the chance of experiencing a real relationship. 

Which is why you stand here now, outside the infamous Bar Lupin that you know Dazai has been drinking himself into oblivion at everyday for the past three months, notably single and possibly about to meet your end at the hands of a drunken and scorned Mafia executive. 

You think you must look like a fool right now. You’ve been standing right outside the door in the rain for fifteen minutes debating on whether or not you should actually go in. You’re nervous, and that makes you sad because you’ve never been nervous to talk to Dazai before, and you’re not nervous because you’re scared of him, you’re nervous because you don’t think you have the balls to actually confront him, knowing that you’d genuinely hurt the boy that everyone claimed didn’t have the emotions to be hurt. He let you in when he doesn’t let anyone in, and you chose to be careless and you chose to give up, and you hurt him. 

And you remind yourself again: you were not dating Dazai Osamu. You remind yourself that you gave him chances, he had opportunities, and he chose not to take them. You remind yourself that he’s just as at fault as you are for the falling out, but you can’t help but also remind yourself that he was the one that came out the most hurt by the situation. Yes, him cutting himself off from you was upsetting, but you didn’t have to watch him go around happy in a relationship with someone else. He did. 

With that thought in mind, you push the door open to the bar. A soft bell rings above you and instantly, three heads swivel in your direction: the bartender, and two men that you recognize as Sakaguchi Ango, one of the Port Mafia’s special intelligence agents, and Oda Sakunosuke, who you only know through Dazai’s high praise of the man from when the two of you were still on speaking terms. The only person in the room who matters to you doesn’t even bother to look to see who entered the bar, one hand circling the glass of whiskey in front of him while a cigarette dangles from the other. You watch as he lifts it to his lips to take a long drag, head falling tilting back to look up at the ceiling as he exhales a cloud of smoke, seemingly unbothered by your presence.

Already, you feel as if you’ve made a mistake, but you force yourself to continue.

The bartender nods his head in respect to you, although you can’t help but notice he flashes a wary look to Dazai. You wonder, pitifully, how much he’s said about you in this place. Sakaguchi and Oda share a look with one another. Both of them speak a low murmur of your name, inclining their head dutifully—you’re not quite an executive yet, but with the Piano Man of the Flags dead, you and Chuuya are fighting for the next spot to open up. Chuuya will likely be the one to get it, which you think he deserves from all of the heavy lifting he’s done on operations the past two years, but you feel a bit awkward when they give you your due respect when you're here with your tail between your legs trying to talk to Dazai.

Sakaguchi and Oda take their leave when you arrive, giving short goodbyes to Dazai, telling them that they’ll see him another day, and the bartender makes a fumbled excuse about going to the back to restock, leaving you alone with Dazai. Internally, you wither just a bit because you think if they’d stayed, Dazai might keep a handle on himself because you know he views Oda highly; instead, they left you in the lion’s den alone. Which you might deserve, but you digress.

You let out a quiet puff of air as you make your way over to the bar stool next to Dazai, taking a seat in it carefully. Still, he doesn’t look at you, but you look at him and the aching in your chest returns tenfold as your gaze sweeps over him fully for the first time in months. During the joint meetings between the executives and sub-executives, you were always sure to keep your glances short and sweet, not wanting to risk any lingering looks, but now, you can look at him in his entirety for the first time since that fateful discussion three months ago. 

He hasn’t changed much. Or, well, that’s a lie. He’s definitely changed. The circles beneath his eye are darker, his expression a carefully constructed blank mask. You think he might’ve lost some weight, his coat has always been big on him but the way it hangs over his shoulders now is looser than it was before. If it weren’t for the way his fingers were tense around his glass of whiskey, you’d have thought he was entirely unperturbed by your arrival.

You don’t know what to say, and you know you need to be the first to speak because you’re the one that showed up here to talk to him, but now that you’re sitting in front of him you’re floundering for words. You could just come out and say that you broke up with your boyfriend, but you feel like that would be a bit weird, and he’d probably laugh in your face and make a comment about how he doesn’t care. You could ask him how he’s been, but you think he might genuinely put a bullet in you for trying to make small talk with him like that right now. 

The longer you stay silent, the more awkward it becomes, and you want to cry because you’ve never been awkward with Dazai before, and for a brief second, you wonder if things really have changed too much to go back to how they were. 

Finally, you decide to just come out and say, bracing yourself for the inevitable derisive words that are going to leave his lips. “I broke up with him.”

Dazai’s scoff is loud and instantaneous, you bite your tongue, eyes sliding shut as you turn to face ahead instead of looking at him. Cowardly, you know, but you don’t want to see the sneer on his face when he asks you why he should care. 

But he doesn’t say that. He doesn’t say anything at first. If you were looking at him, you’d see the way his cold expression shifted into a more conflicted one, still staring ahead because he can’t bring himself to look at you. You count each passing second, and it’s agonizing waiting for him to speak, a part of you thinks that maybe he won’t, and you’ll just have to leave the bar with your tail between your legs, humiliated. 

But then he does. 

“Why?” he finally asks coolly, and your eyes snap open and your gaze slides over to him when you realize he did not, in fact, hit you with the derogation you expected.

He still isn’t looking at you, and you watch as he lifts his free hand back to his lips, taking another long drag of his cigarette as he waits for your response. You swallow thickly when you try to figure out what to say next. 

What you want to say is ‘because he wasn’t you,’ but you’re not ready to bare yourself vulnerable in front of him like that when he’s still so unpredictable. Just because he didn’t immediately hit you with the harsh words you expected, doesn’t mean he isn’t going to lure you in just to slap you in the face with it, which is how you’re sure he perceived what you did three months ago. 

Rather, you say quietly: “He was boring, I guess.”

It’s a lie. Well, a partial lie, at least. He was a good guy, he was just boring compared to what you wanted, and what you wanted was Dazai Osamu, who no one in the world could hope to compare to. 

“He was boring,” Dazai echoes your words, a cruel and mocking lilt to his voice, and you brace yourself now, taking the sudden switch in tone as the flicking off of the safety. But he shakes his head as he lets out a puff of air, you can’t tell if it’s another scoff or a laugh. “How cold-hearted of you. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised, given your track record.”

Two paths lay before you: you can take the words as well-deserved, trying to avoid the inevitable fight, or you can spit back equally venomous words, dive in headfirst so the two of you can get everything off of your chest. Both choices are double-edged. If you avoid the fight, it means avoiding the topic altogether, and even if the two of you choose to speak again, the resentment of what had happened will only poison and fester. If you dive into the fight, there’s a chance of saying words you can’t take back, and everything might fall apart anyway.

What do you want? You want to ask him, because you aren’t sure what the right decision is. Three months ago, if you and Dazai got into a disagreement about something, you would know in an instant whether or not he wanted to fight it out to let off steam or just pretend it didn’t happen. Now, you aren’t so sure. He’s still not looking at you, so you can’t use the look in his eye as a hint, but his shoulders are tense beneath his jacket, and his knuckles are white around his glass of whiskey. Your gaze drags up to his face, catching the way his jaw is tight, teeth probably grinding together, and you know. 

You look ahead again, leveling your vision on a particularly nice bottle of wine on the third shelf of the wine rack as you say: “I’d rather be cold-hearted than a coward.”

For the first time since you’ve arrived, Dazai’s gaze cuts in your direction, head snapping to the side. You turn your head toward him just enough for you to eye him from the corner of your eye, catching glimpse of the way his lip curled up into a snarl and the way flames now rage in the browns of his eye—a far cry from the bottomless void, but you prefer the anger to the emptiness. 

“A coward?” His voice is low, cold, dangerous. 

You’re treading on thin ice, but you choose to stoke the flame more, gaze sliding back to the wine racks ahead.

“A coward.”

The silence that hangs between the two of you is tense and damning, you have to force yourself not to react to it, keeping your expression as stony as his as you wait for his response. He’ll either hit you back with more venom or he’ll settle down, one will lead to a blow out fight and the other will lead to a very tense conversation. 

You don’t want to fight him, but if that’s what he wants, you’ll give it to him. 

After what feels like an eternity, Dazai makes another scornful noise but he doesn’t say anything, gaze snapping back ahead as he takes a drag of his cigarette, this one clearly fueled by anger, far more aggressive than the last one. As if to piss him off even more, he hardly gets half of a smoke, down to the nub already. Frustrated, he puts the lingering cinders out on the bartop before reaching for the pack in his pocket, pulling out a new cigarette and his lighter.

You watch as he tries to flick the lighter on, cigarette dangling between his lips, but the old thing refuses to cooperate. Distantly, you wonder why Dazai is so damn stubborn: working with an old lighter, living in a shitty shipping container, wearing the same few pairs of clothes every day when he probably has more money than god hoarded from his executive paycheck. But you only force yourself to not roll your eyes as you pull out your own lighter, flicking it on and holding it out to him without looking at him. 

You watch from the corner of your eye as he stares at your hand suspiciously before he exhales from the side of his mouth, dipping his head down to light the cigarette before he faces ahead again. He doesn’t say anything. Instead, he reaches out for his glass of whiskey, still mostly full, and then he slides it over to you.

An offering. A white flag. 

You barely withhold the breath of relief that nearly escapes you, accepting the drink and taking a long sip of it. It’s his favorite brand, smooth and familiar on the tongue; you haven’t been able to bring yourself to drink it since your falling out with him. 

“Was it really because he was boring?” Dazai finally asks. He’s not looking at you again, but you can see from the way his fingers are tense against the bartop that he’s probably waiting for a certain response from you.

You let your eyes slide shut. “No,” you admit.

“Then why?” he presses, as if he doesn’t already know. 

“You know why,” you say tightly, shaking your head and looking down.

“Tell me anyway,” Dazai responds quietly, you can feel his gaze on you but you can’t bring yourself to look at him. Irrationally, even though the atmosphere between the two of you has shifted, you wonder if this is it: he’s going to get you to admit it and then laugh in your face, cruel but probably deserved. 

“Because he wasn’t you,” you finally force out.

He doesn’t respond. Your heart sinks to your stomach, a sick feeling churning. You brace yourself again—you don’t know what for, maybe a laugh or a derisive comment, but he does nothing of the sort. 

A long exhale, smoke billowing around his face, a heavy look in his eyes. He doesn’t look at you as he says: “You’re right.”

You don’t respond because you’re not sure what he’s referring to. Finally, he tilts his head to look at you, a wry smile on his lips—your chest feels warm at the sight, you can’t remember the last time you’ve seen him smile. Probably not since the falling out. 

“I was a coward.”

Oh.

The frustration you felt all of those months ago returns with a vengeance. You had danced with possibilities back then: that you were reading too much into things, that he didn’t actually care for you the way you did for him, that he simply did not want to be with you even if he did care about you that way. Now, faced with confirmation that he had felt the same but was just too pussy to act on it, your chest swells with that familiar anger. You force it away. 

“Why?” you ask after a few moments of silence, nails digging into the palm of your hands as you rest them on your lap. “I… I waited for two years, Dazai. I gave you so many openings. You knew how I felt.”

“I know.” His voice is quiet, barely audible. 

“Then why?” you repeat his words back to him, pressing hard just like he did. His throat bobs beneath his bandages as he swallows, averting his gaze, or trying to, at least, because you don’t let him. You reach out to grab his chin tightly, forcing him to look at you, and the pads of your fingers burn against his skin, hyper aware of the fact that this is the first time you’ve touched him in three months. “Why?”

His hand comes up to grab your wrist as if to pull your hand off of him, but he doesn’t, grip firm around your wrist, fingers pressing against your pulse point, and you’re acutely conscious of the fact that your pulse is probably racing but you can’t bring yourself to care. 

“I told you why,” he says, voice uncharacteristically soft. Vulnerable in a way that you’ve never seen him before. “I was a coward. I… didn’t want to risk ruining our friendship... I don't have many friends. You know that. I would’ve rather just ignored how I felt and kept you as a friend, because I didn’t think there’d be a chance of losing you that way. I thought if I acted on how I felt, one day you’d eventually see me for what I am and I’d lose you altogether.”

“Some good that did you.” You can’t help the resentful words that spill from your lips, but you feel guilty when he winces, hand dropping back to your lap, his grip slipping from your wrist. “You think I don’t already see you for who you are? We’ve known each other since we were sixteen, Dazai. I know all of the sick and twisted thoughts that run through your head, I knew exactly what I was getting into.”

Dazai shakes his head, as if to deny your words. You get frustrated.

“I spend hours at your recovery bed after your attempts, I’ve caught you in the middle of them myself, do you know what the first thing I did was after I told you I had a boyfriend?” you demand, and he stares at you, unsure. “I put a protection detail on him because I thought you’d try to have him killed, or try to kill him yourself.”

Dazai winces. You shake your head and look away, settling down again. 

“For someone so smart, you really are so goddamn stupid sometimes,” you sigh, taking a long swig of his drink before placing the glass back down on the table. “I saw you for who you are, and I wanted you anyway.”

“Wanted?” Dazai asks, an uncertain expression on his face as he zeroes in on the past tense.

“Want,” you correct, voice little over a breath, and something akin to relief sweeps across his face as his gaze drops down to the bartop.

The silence that hangs between the two of you is more comfortable this time. Reassuring, even, because maybe things might still be awkward between the two of you for a while, but there’s a light at the end of the tunnel, one much brighter than the one the two of you lived in three months ago. 

“I can’t believe you went for a civilian,” Dazai suddenly says, almost sounding indignant. “A civilian. You!”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” you snap when you hear the incredulous tone he takes when he says ‘you’.

“You’re a stone cold bitch,” Dazai accuses and you gape, but you can’t find it in yourself to be offended because his eyes are lit up for the first time in months, a lopsided smile painted on his face. “And you’ve got as much blood on your hands as I do. You. A civilian. I think I would’ve been less offended if you went for Chuuya.”

“We both know that’s a lie,” you snort, and then you add, a bit amused, “you know what he wants a job as?” 

“Tell me,” Dazai drawls, resting his chin on his hand as he leans on the bar, watching you with such a fond expression that it makes you feel warm all over. 

God, you missed him the past three months. 

“He wanted to go to law school. Become a public defender.”

Dazai chokes over the smoke he inhales, and you press your hand to your lips to smother your giggles as he desperately wheezes between laughs. You’re not sure if he’s actually choking, you think he might actually be dying from how red his face is getting.

“Maybe you should keep in contact with him then,” he gasps between laughs, “we might need one of those one day.”

“As if you’re sloppy enough to ever get caught,” you say dryly.

He winks at you, his grin sharpening, and you know you’re not going to like what he’s about to say. “Oh, I’m not. By ‘we’, I meant you.”

“Douchebag.” You roll your eyes, letting another silence settle over the two of you, a smile on your lips now as you take another sip of your drink. He’s the one to break it again.

“... Odasaku convinced me not to, by the way.”

“What?” 

“To kill him. I was going to. Odasaku convinced me not to.”

You let out a sigh of utter suffering, giving Dazai a pointed look—see, you say silently, I know you. He has the decency to look a bit sheepish as lifts his cigarette back to his mouth in lieu of responding to your unspoken words. 

“Stop with the self sabotage, Dazai,” you finally say, tired. “For both of our sakes’.”

He doesn’t respond, and you know him well enough to know that he’ll probably never stop with the self sabotage, but he does reach out to lace your fingers with his, and the warm feeling that spreads through your chest is enough to satiate you. 

Little steps, because no, the Mafia is not a conducive place for relationships and yes, it’s only a matter of time before luck runs out for one of you, but if your life is destined to be short, there’s only one person you want to spend it with.

[sukifoof]

hii i was talking about this on twitter so i think i will just copy paste it here cuz i’ll probably delete it there at some point <3 twitter frightens me but i love my mutuals here we are all insane about flowey in the same way

 i think saying “you’re the type of friend i wish i always had” is a really important thing for asriel to admit... this whole time asriel has dealt with so much grief and guilt about chara that it separated the actual person chara from the idealized version of them in his head who he has never stopped grieving. its a huge part of his character that hes unable to view them as they were because that’s just how his ptsd and guilt affects him. as someone who went through a similar thing that kind of grief can mess with your head and how you view yourself and the person who’s gone really badly. the pacifist route, for flowey’s character specifically, is a really good example of how grief and ptsd can make you feel disconnected from yourself, everyone around you, and like if only the person you lost was back everything would be perfectly fine again. the fact that he can admit they weren’t perfect and that he made the right decision is a huge character development that we don’t get to see in the no mercy route because he’s still convinced that this idealized version of them birthed from bereavement will make everything okay. similarly to how he believed toriel might have been able to fix him, he wants to believe there’s someone out there that could somehow return him to who he was before being traumatized, but the reality of it is this is just who he is.

his grief and trauma is a huge part of who he is like it is with real people, but it doesn’t have to be all of him. i think the emphasis the fandom puts on whether chara was Good Or Bad completely misses the point that it doesn’t really. matter i guess?? they were a kid people loved and now they’re gone. we're seeing people deal with the grief this brought and we know so little of who they are because there’s also a degree of separation about who they are to the people they loved as well. idk i hope this makes sense i think a lot about how chara is a kid who hated humanity and calls themself a demon. to me that just shows an EXTREMELY traumatized child with self hatred. i don’t know why there was ever this huge moral argument about chara when they’re literally just a kid with issues. they weren’t taught how to deal with how they felt and likely held themself in lower regard compared to the dreemurrs. its the same thing with asriel, he feels responsible for them being gone and his own trauma. he just wants a friend who can teach him to understand his grief or someone who can at least let him view the situation for how it really is

i just think. flowey is so well written but not understood very well by the fandom because the type of thing he’s gone through is kind of hard to grasp. it’s a weird situation that doesn’t have a completely black or white Is He Or Chara At Fault kind of answer. they were children. people are complicated and want someone to blame when something goes wrong and flowey directed that at himself. hes such a fascinating and well written character i love him dearly i hope u guys understand how insane he makes me <3

[honey-milk-depresso]

okey so it my first time writing a request T^T but i absolutely love your batboys fics so i wanted to ask about batboy x scarlet witch reader ｡ﾟ(ﾟ´ω`ﾟ)ﾟ｡

Scarlet Witch = Baddiest of the Baddies ❤️ I love her

Main 3 Batboys with a Scarlet Witch s/o (GN)

Dick Grayson

Talk about being such a total hottie! That’s what he said out loud when he saw you for the first time. But who can blame him when you’re so cool using your insane witchcraft powers? Absolutely no one.

Dick finds you so cool: when you conjure up spells and hover about in the air like a ethereal being from above (and you are to him), he can’t help but be absolutely in awe of you. In other words, he’s your biggest simp, he’s absolutely smitten for you.

You know how cartoon witches have their own evil minion beside them? Dick’s acting like that with you whenever you two are on a mission or on a patrol.

“Nightwing, hand me my spell book so I can put this demon in place.”

“ANYTHING FOR YOU, S/O—”

But… he also feels sorry for you. There were times you just couldn’t take the stress of things and when he came into your room to talk, he found himself in a completely different world you created out of your power as a form of escapism and engulf yourself in your own imaginary world to shield yourself away from the harsh realities of your life. While impressive… he sympathises.

He doesn’t have powers like you, but when he was younger he used to dream in his sleep he was still with his parents at the circus, living the life. But he’s grown from that to know when to move on. If something unfortunate or even small has happened to you, he’ll always be there in your little sphere of your imaginary world, whispering sweet things about how things will be okay to hopefully get you to open up to him and that you don’t have to always rely on your powers to feel better.

He’ll always be here for you…

…and he’s completely downbad for you. But he loves you is all that matters- <3

Jason Todd

And he probably liked you immediately because you wear red and you have a shade of red in your name. Jason won’t be a simp immediately, but as time goes on I bet you the sum of Bruce Wayne’s net worth that he’ll be on his knees for you everyday.

Your witch powers are just so cool? Hello??? He loves going on patrols or missions with you just to see you in action. I’m also very convinced that Jason has thought of asking you to join the Outlaws (either version). You’d make a perfect addition.

Like Dick, he probably sympathises on your escapism habits through using your powers to create an illusion of an imaginary world suited just only for you, and probably a lot more. He didn’t have a very good upbringing, and a lot of time while his parents were arguing and the environment of his home got too scary, he’ll shut himself out and dream of himself in his own little world to escape the situation around him. It’s just that for you, you take that to a whole new level.

Jason, while he understands your reasons for this, he knows by experience it’s not healthy. You’ve got people around you who you can confide and if you feel insecure to share your feelings, he’s there for you. You shouldn’t feel ashamed to tell him.

He’s not so good with words, but he’ll sit there and listen if you want him to. He’ll hold your hand in his and hopefully get you to open yourself up more to him and confide in him instead of relying solely on your powers.

Overall, he’s in love with you. <3

Tim Drake

Tim finds your powers really interesting (and cool). He’s always asking questions about them: “How does it feel when you use astral projection?” “Have you ever travelled across multiworlds?” “Probability manipulation? How does that work? Mathematically or…”

Yeah, he’ll be yapping a lot when he’s around you. But he does find you quite dangerous if you’re not on his side, luckily you are though so he thinks your powers are super cool but also super life threatening if you aren’t careful but he trusts that you can handle your own powers.

Tim also likes to ask about your witchcraft and magic (and maybe his D&D brain is sparking when he asks about it), he always wants to be beside you to see the kind of spell books you’re reading. You’d also be surprise of how many languages he knows if the book is in Latin or some otherworldly language, like how does he knows?? Let’s be real, he knows just to impress you-

Oof… escapism? When has he not ever try to escape reality in his life? Out of the three, this habit of yours hits him too hard to home. When he was a child and up until now, him sleeping for the very little moments he has before he needs to get to work is his own form of escapism and imagining things are okay.

He feels a bit hypocritical for saying this to you, but he knows it’s not always healthy doing that. Tim, like the rest, will sit beside you in your little bubble of illusion, hugging you close and kissing you softly, asking whether or not you want him to share your feelings to him and that you can confide in him.

He just wants you to know you’re not alone, and that he’ll always be there for you if you need him. <3

Reblogs help! ^^

[lavernius]

Locus as a metaphor for colorism/racism

Some people were interested in this take so I'm going to go over it really quick. I am brown, a lot of the experiences I talk about here are lived (and a lot of them I experienced from this fandom, ironically enough). Warnings for discussion of racism and colorism + abuse.

Don't be weird, keep it civil! I'm not telling you what to think I'm just giving my two cents as a person who has experienced all of this.

Note: I don't think RT intentionally did any of this because they couldn't even treat their real life employees of color well so I don’t trust them with a character of color LMAO. “Colorism” is specified here because being brown affects every part of life in a way that's difficult to explain if you haven't experienced it firsthand.

Locus experiences very true aspects of real-world racial profiling: he's a big, dark-skinned, reserved brown man who is heavily demonized—both by the narrative/show AND in-universe. The fact that the “scary” merc of the duo is the one who was confirmed brown in 14 is likely colorism on RT's part, yes, but it doesn't change that Locus is painted as an aggressive monster canonically (a common stereotype of brown men, and a cause for code-switching in many POC). He's a monster, a dog, a weapon, a machine—all words that are used to describe him in the show, some he even uses on himself. Obviously not words you should be applying to a brown person good lord!

Locus’s apathy isn't inherently part of him. Maybe he wasn't always kind or gentle, but he was forced into a violent situation and TRIED to stay empathetic, wanting to spare his enemies at times, before he was forced out of the mindset—something that still bothers him to this day, even if he's repressed it! Brown people commonly have mental health issues and trauma that doesn't get addressed because of cultural expectations and medical racism, to the point where a lot of our cultures normalize very unhealthy behaviors. More of a stretch, maybe, but it reads like racial trauma if I ever saw it (and I have). Specifically because:

Felix sees him starting to lose his empathy, which is VERY BAD for Locus’s mental health, and takes advantage of it to use Locus as something of a “guard dog”. Erm, white people benefiting from racism and colorism? White people forcing stigma on brown people to gain power over them? What a surprise!

On the note of Felix: while Santa’s reveal that Felix is afraid of Locus can have several meanings, a lot of them can still lead down a road of (abusive) racism. He's scared of Locus because he's a “merciless killer”, isn't the same person he used to be? Who caused that, I wonder? Scared because if Locus found out he was being manipulated he’d immediately abandon Felix? Yeah, because he's being manipulated and abused, of course he’d leave… if I found out I was being manipulated by a white man I'd be uncomfortable too! Victim blaming is EXTREMELY common with racist white people because there is POWER in being white and blaming the brown man.

I like to see Locus’s divorce from his given name and visage as a symbol of cultural isolation. POC are so frequently made victims of identity crises because we’re expected to conform to a white world, whether we try to be white people or try to be what white people expect us to be. The latter in Locus’s case—they want a violent brown man, they have one. It keeps him alive at the cost of taking his sense of self away. He's safer as Locus, the armor, than he is as Ortez, the person.

There's not like, canonical evidence I can point to, but Locus feels like a catch-22 of “I want to be angry that people see me as a monster for being brown, but if I’m angry they’ll see me as a monster because I am brown”. It's a cycle that's hard to escape because when you ARE a righteous brown person who wants to be angry because the world has hurt you, it's so easy to paint you as an animal.

Um the fandom is extremely racist to him in ways I don't think they're even aware of. He's got it all! Fandom whitewashing and stereotyping and sexualizing and demonizing, people shipping him with a white person who hurt him (because a brown person cannot be hurt by a white person without SOMEONE wanting to forgive the white perpetrator for it LMFAO, many such cases where it’s done for the sake of shipping too), performative diversity and a lack of actual depth in his culture bar the fact that he speaks Spanish and has a Hispanic name…I don’t even think the guy who MADE him gives a shit that he’s brown (past it giving him brownie points) and how it affects him. Yeah who’s surprised. (EDIT: did not know Miles was mixed, but POC are still capable of colorism, etc. I still think Miles, as a lighter skinned person, doesn't fully comprehend how Locus being dark plays into the dynamic/Locus's character as a whole. Still, entirely my mistake.)

So basically: brown guy gets dehumanized, white guy takes advantage of it, systemic colorism and stigma helps white guy get away with it, brown guy is alienated from himself as a result and thinks he genuinely is a monster because everyone treats him like one. I see myself in him as a brown person who has experienced colorism for having low empathy and not connecting with society. It's awesome.

He is a textbook traumatized brown guy. He's got internalized racism/colorism. He's going to meet other brown people and unlearn it. He’s going to connect with his culture again. He’s going to realize he never owed the white man power over him just because he was convenient to control. He's going to be okay!

No thanks to RT because they couldn’t write a good brown guy if they tried + it falls on us brown people to give coincidences this kind of personal meaning. LOL

Next week (not really) I get into how Lopez is an incredible accidental portrayal of alienated brown people who have pride in themselves and want justice for being mistreated all the time.

[howlsofbloodhounds]

omg thank you for the compliments howl 😭🙏 your rants are also amazing and really helpful for my brainstorming ❤️

killer conflating nightmare with chara is such a wonderful idea (not for killer though, poor him). nightmare is symbolically killer's literal nightmare. imagine working to finally defeat the demon controlling your life, only to have it happen again. it confirms his worldview learned from chara that his life can be nothing but cruel, and maybe he has to be cruel to other people too. kill or be killed.

i wonder how nightmare feels about being compared to chara. maybe he secretly feels a sick satisfaction from it, like isn't being killer's literal nightmare a compliment? killer mistakenly calls nightmare 'chara' one time, and nightmare takes full advantage of it. he belittles killer for the mistake of course, but whenever killer is at the brink of sleep or unconsciousness or delirium, nightmare appears to killer as chara, as 'his best friend'. maybe nightmare uses these moments to weasel information out of killer, about his past with chara, about what chara did to him, so nightmare can re-enact those acts and subsume the role of killer's owner.

~ crowshipping anon

snaps nightmares neck snaps his stupid little neck and tears him to shreds I hate him so much

but thats a perfect idea. nightmare taking advantage of this situation and prying information out of killer that he wouldve never told anyone willingly or knowingly in his entire life and renacting his most painful, humiliating, horrifying moments either done to him by others or that he did to others to both constantly remind him of what hes done and what others would “happily” do to him if he allows himself to be “weak” or “trust anyone” (but nightmare of course) and killer thinks he has no one to blame for this but himself because he told nightmare everything

imagine how much harder itd be for color to save and help him. because then killer definitely doesnt want to be known or understood at any costs and colors ability to do that registers as a life threatening threat to him. can see a lot of “you don’t know me, get out of my head” sentiments and color has to painstakingly explain that hes not in killers head, no one’s in killers head, and explain every conclusion he comes to about killer with a lot of details and logical reasoning and evidence (and probably also prove that he didn’t do or say anything to make killer tell him this information)

but nightmare learning more about how killer’s conditioning works from killer himself will definitely help him both take advantage of it for himself and make some alterations here and there as he sees fit

[bozawarriorsposting]

The Damned Four Warriors AU

You know all those cats that everyone in the fandom always asks how they got into Starclan, what if Starclan themselves started asking that same question?

This AU follows four cat's that were let into Starclan originally now being put into 'probation' after they don't improve as people in the slightest. Four spirits get sent back to the mortal realm and do Starclan's (Clear Sky's) will or get booted to the Dark Forest. I am not entirely sure what that 'Will' is mind you, but things from fighting back Dark Forest spirits (which are a bit more "dark nightmare creatures" in this AU) and orchestrating some of Starclan's less ethical mortal meddling. Essentially, every time Starclan begins to screw cats over and random events happen that allow for prophecies to succeed, these four are the ones sent to do it. Suicide Squad but with Ghost Cats if you will.

Now, you might say that throwing a bunch of already angered and restless spirits who all died violently into situations which will only further anger and hurt them isn’t a good way to make them better, and you would be right.

The line up:

Mudclaw: His coup attempt enraged Starclan and there was a lot of debate, but his life of being basically a model Warrior: traditionalist, brave, ready to fight, and reverence for Starclan got him enough good boy points for them to let him in. Also his 'lawyers' (spirits on his side) basically just blamed Hawkfrost for everything. However, he was not content with this, and as Mudclaw increasingly began to stew in rage and bitterness over his smiting and Starclan's intervention in Windclan, they started getting nervous. Starclan spirit's do have some power over the real world, not a lot, but enough to where one rogue Starclan spirit could cause a lot of problems. So they kicked Mudclaw into this group to keep him under control and generally just give him something to do.

Ashfur: Was let in for generally the same reasons as Mudclaw, but slightly less so. He wasn't that exceptional of a warrior, but Starclan was currently still panicking over the existence of The Three. Ashfur was convincing enough and the Higher spirits didn’t really want to deal with anything regarding any of the three for now (also they don’t particularly like Squirrelflight) so they generally just gave him the benefit of the doubt. As his obsession continued in Starclan however, the powers that be basically saw the plot of TBC coming. Ashfur is here so they can keep an eye on him and keep him away from anything important.

Needletail: Out of the four, she is the one that Starclan came closest to just chucking into the dark forest. The whole “Kin” incident angered them greatly, as Clancats betrayed their own at the whims of rogues. Her heroic sacrifice won them over enough to let her in, but Needletails general aversion to authority and caustic side remained. Basically, when they got this idea, she was already on the short list of cats they wanted gone.

Appledusk: After Mapleshade went on a rampage (which was partially their fault) they wanted someone to blame alongside Mapleshade, so they settled on Frecklewish. However, as Maple then became a major river demon that drowned apprentices and inflicted generational curses, fingers started pointing again. With everyone else involved being either a leader or a medicine cat (both of which would implicitly lay blame on Starclan) Appledusk was the next one up to get thrown under a bus.

The four are thus no longer Starclan cats, they have been cut off from the stars and their connections to the ancestral plain (I will go more into that later). They can freely roam the earth and each have certain powers that let them influence the mortal world. Also, due to them not being associated with Starclan, at least officially, they can be made easy scapegoats if things go wrong and either the mortals or other Starclan cats start having questions.

This is all overseen by Clear Sky, (if this is a suicide squad anaology, he is the “Amanda Waller”) who was ‘chosen’ (decided) to guide them and punish them if necessary. He is essentially a lesser god and the one that gives them their orders. The question of what is Starclan’s will and what is HIS will is one that tends to pop up.

Overview of all the characters, subject to change based on how I think they would act and also on any new ideas

Feel free to ask questions and also suggestions, this is very barebones so I would be happy to develop it. The cast is not set in stone, or the lore, or the story, or much of anything.

[mar64ds]

OKAY let me talk about Lancer for one second

Lancer is a character that means a lot to me, he’s a sweet and hilarious kid but he’s a lot more than that, and even if he’s a young kid there is a lot to talk about him. Lancer is a kid that has barely ever had any sort of support, sure he’s the prince and his dad orders his army to take care of him, but it’s very clear to Lancer that nobody actually really likes him, this is not something he’s not aware of, he knows. When Susie is nice to him he’s surprised and confused because he’s not used to anyone genuinely enjoying his company

Even though King Spade’s army is ordered to look after him it doesn’t mean Lancer is being properly taken care of. He didn’t eat anything for breakfast, nobody is really checking on him to make sure he’s okay and overall he was ordered by his father to get rid of the lightners, him, a little kid. I do believe Rouxls Kaard is the closest thing Lancer had to someone that genuinely cared for him before Susie and the others showed up but he didn’t fully filled the role of a parent yet, but he did more than everyone else and that i appreciate, still Lancer still seems like a kid that needs more support and he shows a lot of signs of being neglected or mistreated by others

But let’s talk about King Spade now and... god it’s a lot. Lancer knows Susie could hurt his dad and instead of talking about it he immediately orders his dad’s army to imprison her and Kris and Ralsei to ‘protect them’. Lancer gets really really quiet and nervous when they talk about his dad, Lancer’s impulse reaction is to not talk things out and protect his friends in a very drastic way. Lancer knows Susie could hurt his dad and his dad could hurt Susie and the others, he’s left in the middle of it all and he feels like it’s ALL his responsibility. Susie keeps attacking and he doesn’t move, he STILL tries to prevent her from going near his dad and for the both of them to get hurt, and he doesn’t try to explain things anymore, Susie keeps attacking and he keeps getting more and more hurt and he doesn’t say anything. Eventually Susie stops and they talk things out, and Lancer makes it so obvious that he walks on eggshells with his dad, he knows what can make him mad, if he knew he could talk things out with his dad he would have tried already, instead he got really scared and took a very drastic choice in order to protect his friends, even if that meant he would get hurt in the process, even if that meant he could never see his friends again, even if it meant he could never talk to the one person that has brought him more happiness than anyone else. I don’t think I need to explain this, but  all of this, this is a huge sign of abuse, this is a huge sign of someone living in a toxic family environment. The kid should not walk on eggshells, the kid should not hide secrets from his parents because they know ‘they would get mad if they found out’, the kid should not be scared to talk things out with a parent, the kid should not be more mature than the parent. Susie promising him that she would not hurt his dad and that together they can do anything are the only reason why Lancer tried to talk to his father, not because he trusts him, but because he trust Susie and their friendship

The way that King Spade talks to Lancer is very clear emotional manipulation. Trying to frame the people that actually like you for who you are and make you feel happy and good about yourself as something bad, demonize them and tell you whatever good emotion you’re feeling is wrong and they have ‘poisoned you’ and you should listen to your parent, they know better. The second Lancer confronts him he immediately loses his composure, yells and threatens him. I really really don’t think the fountain is the only thing to blame here, Lancer seems really aware of this behavior, this doesn’t seem like an unique situation that only happened once

We see in chapter 2 that King Spade is not COMPLETELY evil and he does care about Lancer but this does not excuse anything, if anything it just makes it more realistic, abusers are not completely evil, you do have good moments with them and in many occasions they can love you and care about you but all of this doesn’t make all the times they have hurt you go away. I think the fact that Lancer doesn’t miss his dad and is happy to not spend time with him anymore and instead sees Queen, Rouxls and Susie and the rest as his family is good enough proof that he doesn’t need his dad to be happy

Susie and Lancer both seem like kids that live in toxic households, their friendship makes a lot of sense for many reasons but it’s very clear to me that a big reason why they can relate so much to one another is because of this. They mean a lot to me

Anyway that’s all, I care about Lancer a lot we have to talk more about him

[fablesrose]

Ch 8 - The Three Days of the Hunter Job

Series Rewrite Masterlist 

Pairing: Eliot Spencer x Ford!Reader

Description: The team is vying to steal a man's reputation back after a so called reporter ruins it. Plus you and Eliot team up a bit this time around ;)

Words: 4132

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

“Now we’ve stolen a lot of odd things before, but how do we steal back a man’s reputation?” Hardison asked after the situation was explained to us. A man in a tragic school bus crash that killed two children had a slanderous story written about him and showed on air. It ruined this man’s reputation unfairly, and the news anchor is to blame for making it all up.

“We get the network to issue a complete apology and utterly disavow Monica Hunter’s story,” Sophie answered. 

We all glanced at Nate to see if he was going to add anything, to direct us in some way, but he didn’t. He just said, “Uh, Sophie’s gonna be doing this one.”

“What?” Eliot asked.

“Yeah.”

“Yeah,” Sophie echoed, “I’m gonna be Nate on this one, only, you know, nicer.” 

“But, if you’re gonna be Nate, then who’s gonna be you?” Parker asked.

“You.”

“Me?”

“I don’t mean to obsess about the last time Sophie ran a con, but…” Eliot cut in, “I’m sorry, where we had to blow up the offices.”

“I don’t think you guys told me about that one…” I commented.

“Really? Because I don’t remember that,” Sophie defended.

“I do,” Hardison replied before turning to me, “It’s a sore spot… for all of us.”

I nodded, raising my hands with understanding.

“Um, Hardison, just run it,” Sophie tried to move on.

“Look, if you don’t mind,” Nate leaned over and whispered to Sophie, “I thought I would still do the ‘Hardison, run it’ thing so… Hardison, run it.”

We all looked at each other and at Nate with a look that said, ‘seriously?’ It took a moment before Hardison started the slides. He started explaining Monica Hunter’s show Hunt for the Truth and her little formula behind it, turning innocent people into the boogeyman. Any attempts at suing get buried in lawyers. I added in a few details from my own research on her as well. 

“Yeah, she demonizes perfectly innocent people for ratings, and then stands behind the network thinking they’re gonna protect her,” Sophie summarizes, “We’re gonna sever that relationship.”

“How?” I asked.

“We’re gonna get her to go on air with a fake story that just destroys her reputation,” Sophie explained. 

“Like when you find a crooked cop,” Eliot adds, “you know, all his cases go right out the window.”

“Exactly,” Sophie stands at the front of the room, “And then to protect themselves, they issue an apology to Mr. Pennington, and then they throw Monica Hunter into the jaws of the very media machine that she bent to her own malicious will.”

“Wow,” Parker comments, “I gotta say, Sophie’s briefings are much more dramatic.”

“And poetic,” Eliot adds.

“You see, what we need to do though,” Nate said, finding it hard to leave things alone, “what we need is, we gotta sell her a fake news story that she can’t refuse.” He walked to the front of the room, overtaking Sophie, “That’s what we gotta do, because what does she have? She has fame, she has money, what does she need?”

Sophie cleared her throat, setting him back on track to apologize and sit on the couch.

Sophie continued, “what does she have? She has fame, she has money, what does she need?”

I rolled my eyes with a huff before actually contemplating the question. Once I did, I quickly came to a conclusion, “Respect. Anyone with two eyes and a working brain thinks she’s a joke, an absolute dumpster fire. Let alone serious journalists.”

Hardison pointed at me in agreement, “Right. Look, these are emails from her agent and internal memos from the network.” He pulled them up on the screen, “See, everytime her contract’s up, she tries to go and get a job on a serious news show, but she gets laughed out of the room every time.”

“We can’t sell her respect,” Nate said.

“But we can sell her a story that commands respect,” Sophie remedied. “A story that she’s gonna chase to get the respect she craves. Pack your bags everyone. We’re going to D.C. to make news.”

We all watched her, inspired, but not sure what to do next.

“That’s when you wanna…” Nate gestured to walk away dramatically like he always does. 

“Let me do that bit again,” Sophie said, “Pack your bags everyone. We’re going to D.C. to make news.” She then walked out of the living room.

“She’s walking into the closet,” Nate pointed out.

We shrugged, but figured that was our cue to get a move on. 

After we arrived in D.C. Parker was sent in to make the first contact with the mark.

“I got the pass. Easy.”

“Parker, we went over this,” Sophie told her over comms, “You’re not supposed to take it. You’re supposed to get caught with it.”

“I don’t know how to get caught.”

“Yeah, I know it’s difficult to steal badly, just… just try.”

“Why isn’t y/n doing this part?”

“Because,” I answered, “I have about the same amount of confidence in acting and conning as you do Parker, if not less, and I don’t know how to steal at all. It’s easier to teach one skill at a time.”

“Fine.”

After some rustling and loud noises, Parker was finally ‘caught.’ After being confronted by Monica, Parker fled out of the building, of which she followed. Parker strung her along for a minute before disclosing what story she had, and why she needed Monica’s press credentials. 

“I have a story that will bring down… the president of the United States.”

I was waiting with Eliot for our cue to intimidate Monica and lead her to believe that something serious was going on. We stood in suits around the corner from our apartment that Hardison was waiting in with his conspiracy theory. I kept fidgeting with my suit as we waited for Parker to arrive with Monica. 

“Quit messing with it,” Eliot told me after I pulled at my sleeve again.

I looked over at him to see him messing with his tie, “Hypocrite.” I swatted his hands away and straightened it myself, avoiding his eyes that I could feel on me. 

“Are you nervous? We have a five second part, you don’t even have to say anything,” He said after I pulled away.

“Well the goal is to be intimidating, and I don’t think I am very intimidating,” I paused and deliberately straightened my coat, “and I’ve never been much of a blazer person.”

He chuckled, “okay, give me your intimidating look, let me judge it.”

I groaned, “It’s gonna be so bad, especially compared to yours.”

He nodded, urging me to do it.

“Fine,” I gave him my best glare, trying to be intimidating.

“That’s good,” he said, “but looks very intentional and almost forced, you want it to look effortless.”

I sighed, “how do I do that?”

“Give me a deadpan, annoyed look.”

My face relaxed as I obeyed him. 

He gently straightened my head as it had tilted to the side and directed my sight directly at him and his eyes. “Okay, now clench your jaw a bit and give me a tiny squint,” he looked at me for a moment while I adjusted my expression, “well, you look pretty intimidating right now, but I don’t know if it’d work on anyone with taste…”

I furrowed my brow at him before he finished.

“I think you look too good.”

That left me speechless and blushing. 

He smirked at me a bit before we heard Nate through the comms, “Eliot are you-”

“I have to warn you about my source,” Parker cut in, talking to Monica, “He doesn’t like strangers.”

That cued us to get closer so we could reveal ourselves when Monica was about to leave. We heard her dismiss Hardison and Parker, so we started our walk down the hallway. I positioned myself on the corner facing Monica directly when she opened the door leaving Eliot to walk past me, make eye contact with her and slowly turn around. She looked between the both of us before all three of us retreated to where we came from. 

We listened as Hardison and Parker sold Monica the story and then she left, talking to her coworker about stealing the story right from under Parker’s nose. Eliot and I smiled at each other as we walked into the apartment.

“Hunter’s hooked,” Eliot said as we walked in, joining the others.

“Our mark has a story and a source. We halfway home,” Hardison said. 

“Now for the hard part,” Sophie said, “We need to steal a general.”

“No,” Nate corrected, “it's ‘let’s go steal a general.’ You know, it's a rallying cry.”

“Yeah,” I agreed.

“‘We need to steal a general,’ it’s a little naggy. It’s kinda like ‘we need eggs,’ you know? ‘We need eggs.’” He repeated, emphasizing how low energy it was, “‘We need eggs!’ You know?”

Sophie just rolled her eyes and walked away.

“No, I’m just trying to give you a little…”

“You see what you did,” Hardison told Nate, following Sophie. 

“Eliot, these conspiracies aren’t real right?” Parker asked. 

“What do you mean?” He asked back. 

“Like the one over there that says all the major wars of the past fifty years were ordered by members of The Council.”

I looked over at the wall and back at them, suddenly intrigued by his answer.

“Parker, I’m not at liberty to discuss that with you,” he answered before walking away and following the other two.

“You’re not a member of The Council are you?” Parker asked humorously before becoming more serious, “Eliot?” She turned towards me and Nate, “Is he?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” he answered, following the others. 

I quickly followed, before Parker could pry even more.  

Nate quickly turned towards me when I caught up, “By the way, was Eliot flirting with you before?” He didn’t let me answer before walking after him, “Eliot!”

Parker was still chasing after us, “Wait, is he?”

Later, I watched from a distance as Eliot distracted a general and lifted his badge, allowing Nate to take his place for a little while. 

“Alright, you guys have got to teach me some of this thievery thing,” I whined quietly, “How’d you lift that so smoothly Eliot?”

I could hear the smirk in his voice, “It’s all about practice sweetheart.”

“Eliot, don’t call my niece that,” Nate remarked through the comms. 

“He can call me what he likes, Nate. We’re all friendly here,” I replied, sending a playful eye roll at Eliot as he approached me.

“I don’t care, get ready for the walk by you two. Parker, what’s your 20?”

“Seconds away.”

Parker was asking Monica questions as they walked up the steps towards Nate’s newly acquired office. As they reached the top, Eliot and I walked somewhat near them, deliberately making eye contact with Monica. We walked a little ways apart and at a slightly different trajectory to suggest we weren’t there together, but close enough for Monica to get the picture that we were both there for her. I walked almost directly towards her and gently bumped her shoulder as I walked by, to send a bit of a message. 

“I knew it,” Monica said to Parker once I had passed out of earshot, “We’ve got a shadow.”

I smiled as the pass was successful, then left to prepare for the next phase, listening as Monica half interviewed Nate as a general and found incriminating evidence in his office. 

What we didn’t expect was Monica blowing off the story due to her ratings. She said that she sold fear to her viewers, to give them “a reason to lock their doors.” And this story didn’t do that. 

This prompted Sophie to up her game, “Alright, she wants fear…” Sophie concludes, “that’s what we’ll give her.”

This made me nervously look at Nate and Eliot who sat in the apartment with us. 

“This is how it starts,” Nate commented, which didn’t make me feel better. 

The next ploy was to hit Parker with a car. This task was given to me.

“Is there any trick to this where I don’t actually kill Parker?” I asked Eliot who was in the passenger seat.

“Just drive straight at her, she’ll do the rest,” he answered simply.

“Alright, if you say so,” I proceeded to drive at her and cringed as she jumped and rolled over the hood to make it look like I hit her. I threw the car in park and stepped out of the car, watching our surroundings, making sure my expression was stoic. 

Eliot got out and checked Parker making it look like he was looking for something. He eventually found a red folder, grabbed it, and returned to the car. We both got back in and I drove off quickly.

“Was she okay?” I asked him.

He nodded, “Yeah, she seemed fine. Parker, check in once you’re clear.”

I listened as Hardison spoke to Monica, and led her away from Parker’s “dead” body. He hooked her on this even bigger development, and led her to meet with Nate. 

After that she responded, “I’m good, let’s go.” 

I drove around the block and picked her up on a corner away from the crowd, Hardison, and Monica. 

She got in the back seat and grabbed Eliot and I’s shoulders, “that was great! We should do that more often.”

Eliot looked over at me as I smiled a bit in relief, “See? Told ya, she’s fine.”

We rendezvoused at the apartment and listened as Nate spun Monica a story about nerve agents in the water, and how what used to be secret prisons, were actually safehouses for the rich and powerful. Nate gave her a call to action and let her loose. 

We observed as she tried to contact her sources, all of which Hardison artfully manipulated technologically to seem like they confirmed Monica’s fears about the story, even if not directly. It got to the point that we were watching her on the station’s security cameras and she was running around, clearly paranoid out of her mind. 

“Now that’s what I call control,” Sophie said.

“Yeah, we might’ve, uh, pushed too hard,” Nate commented. 

Sophie scoffed, “please.”

Then there was a knock at the door. And that knock belonged to Monica Hunter. We all dashed into the other room before Hardison answered the door. We listened as Monica insisted on getting video footage of the bunkers and took Hardison with her to help get it.

Once they were gone we exited the side room.

“Too much,” Parker commented.

“A little bit,” Eliot added sarcastically, taking a large swig of his beer. 

Nate raced after them to meet them at something that could look like a bunker at the army reserve base. The rest of us monitored from the apartment. Where things took a turn for the worst was when Monica went as far as climbing over the fence into a restricted area and Hardison followed her. This led to both of them being captured.

“Glass half full,” Sophie said once we looked at her, “she really buys the bunker story…”

We listened as Monica and Hardison were separated into interrogation rooms. Hardison tried to talk himself out of it by saying that Monica was taking him back to her place and he was just along for the ride. We heard the officer say hold on before Hardison started speaking to us. 

“Get me out of here,” Hardison demanded.

“Yeah, I’m working on it,” Sophie replied.

“I’m on it,” Parker said, walking out of the side room.

Sophie jumped up to stop her, “No, no, no, you cannot go. You’re dead,” she reminded, “Monica Hunter sees you and the whole con is blown.”

“Right,” she conceded. 

“Damn the con,” Hardison said, “I am a black man caught on an army base with a video camera. I am going to jail forever,” he finished with a squeak. 

“Yeah, look, Nate’s the only one close enough to get you,” Sophie explained. 

“But Nate’s five minutes away and still trying to figure out how he’s gonna walk two prisoners off an army base using an ID that’s already been reported stolen. No, you guys, we’re gonna have to stall,” Nate added. 

“Stall?” Hardison asks in disbelief, before asking, “Y/n, Eliot, get me everything you can on a Lieutenant Abbot. Just do what I taught you.”

I pulled the computer close to me to start typing while Eliot reminded me what to do. Eliot also started to aggravate Hardison in the process.

“Now the http thing comes before the w-w-w dot, right?”

“Eliot!” Hardison whisper-yelled.

“And which one’s the forward slash?” I asked helpfully, typing away easily. 

“It ain’t the time, you two, it ain’t the time.”

“See?” Eliot replied, “It’s not fun when you’re hanging out there in the wind and there’s a dude behind a laptop cracking jokes, is there?”

“I like it when we switch jobs,” Parker comments, happily playing with a gas mask, “It’s exciting.”

We all looked over at her skeptically before I turned back to the laptop to continue my research, with the help of some of Hardison’s software. Eliot and I relayed what we found to Hardison and let him loose to do what he saw fit with the info.

“Sir, I need to know why you’re on this base,” we heard the officer say. 

“Yes.” Hardison replied, “Why am I on this base?”

“I’m asking you.”

“No, I’m asking you,” Hardison insisted, “Why am I on this base? Why am I in this room?”

“So I can ask you questions.”

“Or maybe, it's so I can ask you questions, Lieutenant Kyle Abbot, Social Security 823-24-6270?”

“I don’t know what you’re up to.”

“Maybe you’re not cleared to know. Two disciplinary actions? That one in Germany?” Hardison tsked, “Maybe you’re just too much of a security risk.” There was a moment before Hardison slammed the table, making me jump in my seat, “Did I say you could leave?”

It seemed he had it under some control. Now onto getting Nate in there. 

“Not gonna work,” Nate said. 

“It’s all in the salute, man,” Eliot replied. 

“Just work the stars and bars,” Sophie added, “Nobody wants to look a general in the eye.”

Nate must have come to the checkpoint as he said in his gruff general voice, “Uh, good form soldier, as you were.”

We heard a distant, “clear,” which had me sigh in relief. He was in. There was a minute or two of silence as he made his way to the base before we heard someone speak. 

“Mine appears to be insane.”

“No, not insane,” Nate cut in, “just a reporter. Well congratulations, gentlemen. This base has passed with, uh, flying colors. Well done.”

“Uh, passed what, sir?”

“Have you not been briefed? You were supposed to be briefed. The Department of Defense has decided to, uh, reassure the American people about, uh, the safety of their military bases. So we’ve agreed to cooperate with the network and make a television special, you know, to show off just how effective our security is.”

“They were pretty easy to catch, sir.”

“Well, for you. But in Camp Monroe in Idaho, those two were signing their names on nukes with shiny silver pens.” He chuckled, “turn ‘em loose now and I’ll get ‘em out of your hair.”

“Of course, sir.”

“Alright, let’s go. Sorry to waste your time gentlemen. Very well done there.”

I held my breath, they were so close to getting out. I heard a shake of a pill bottle. 

“Oh, trimethylxanthine, thank you,” we heard Monica say.

“That just slows down the effect of the toxin. Hopefully long enough for you to get the truth out.”

“How did you find us?”

“Are you kidding me? Famous reporter shows up at one of the bunkers, sets off alarms all over the city. We’re gonna be lucky if we get out in one piece, I’ll tell you that.”

“We’ll split up,” Hardison suggests. 

“No,” Monica insisted, but Nate overruled her.

“Yes, your car’s still parked over by the fence. You pick it up and we’ll meet back at the apartment.”

“We’ll gather the evidence and we’ll meet at the studio,” Monica added. 

We listened as they sped off, but it sounded like they got free. 

“Whoo!” I cheered, slapping Eliot’s shoulder who still sat next to me in front of the computer. “Nate I know you can’t talk right now with her there, but I don’t know how you just lied out of your ass so well. In an Army base no less!”

“Ah, he was fine,” Eliot said.

“Well, if it’s a family trait, I don’t think I inherited it.”

“Like I said, it’s just practice.”

“You’ll learn y/n,” Sophie told me, “We’ll teach you.”

“I’ll hold you to that.”

“Don’t have to, you’ve already improved over the last few jobs we’ve done. You’ll be out there grifting in no time,” she insisted. 

I smiled at her thankfully. There wasn’t much time to celebrate though as they were making their way back to the apartment. We packed up everything, our supplies, the photo wall, everything. It left an astonishingly bare apartment, just in time for Monica’s arrival.

“Where did it go? The photos. The maps,” we heard Monica say through Nate’s comm, “Where’s Wade Perkins?” She asked, referring to Hardison. “Thank God, the red file,” she found the only thing left in the room.

That was Eliot and I’s cue to walk in from the side room, dressed in heavy aprons and heavy duty gloves.

“Pardon me,” Eliot said to Monica softly, but it had an edge to it. 

“We were just cleaning up,” I explained, trying to match his tone. 

“We hunt for the truth,” Nate said, bringing the attention to him, “through many dark places. I am a patriot, Ms. Hunter. I’m sorry.” He turned to Eliot, “Earl.”

Monica then sprayed Nate with pepper spray and ran off. I followed her for a few steps before turning back to Nate as he yelled in pain. 

Eliot laughed a bit as he patted his back, “good thing Parker switched that with water.”

“Didn’t. Didn’t switch,” Nate choked out.

“Oh, oh no,” I cringed, starting to smell the spray. “Let’s get that washed out, it's gonna hurt for a bit…”

Once we got Nate as cleaned up as possible, we turned on the TV to watch as Monica humiliated herself on live television. Hardison was there at the station making sure it all went through. She looked psychotic as she told her story and it was a welcome surprise when the police arrived and arrested her. The anchor immediately broke the story of Monica Hunter’s psychotic break as she was being dragged off the set behind her. 

It wasn’t too long after the story aired that we were back in my apartment. We had a laptop propped on the counter showing an interview of our client, happy to have his good name back after Monica Hunter’s fall from grace. I was helping Eliot prep dinner, the whole team there to celebrate. 

“See, Ray was the beginning,” Nate said after the interview ended, “I’m telling you, every person that Hunter slandered is going to get a second chance.”

“Loch Ness Monster,” Parker held up the infamous photo, grilling Eliot on other conspiracy theories. 

“Loch Ness submarine,” Hardison replied.

“No!”

“Scottish waters are cold and deep. It’s the perfect place to test,” Eliot replied, barely looking up from his cutting board. 

“Area 51.”

Hardison and Eliot contradicted each other on that one with Hardison saying no and Eliot, yes. 

“She said Area 51, 51,” Hardison insisted.

“I’m sorry,” Eliot corrected, “False. Area 52.”

“Been there,” Hardison commented. 

“Yup.”

I laughed softly to myself from my own cutting board. 

Eliot heard me, “What, you got an opinion over there, sweetheart?”

“Don’t call her that,” Nate said before sitting next to Sophie. 

I ignored him, replying to Eliot, “No, you would know better than me. Now tell me if these veggies are okay.”

He turned from his cutting board to peer over my shoulder, “cut them just a little bit smaller, then they’ll be perfect.” 

And just like that he was gone, but I could still feel his breath brush my cheek. I blushed and my mind went blank, trying to decipher what he said for a moment before it caught up to the instructions. I shook my head, trying not to think about how it would feel to have him closer. 

I took a deep breath before doing as he asked, because that was something I could do, something I could focus on. 

A/n: Reblogs and comments are welcome and encouraged! Thank you for reading!

Tags: @isoldeahlstrom @kniselle @technikerin23

[peachycrime]

Neytiri and Spider

let’s talk about it, ik y’all gon eat this up @be-the-glenn-to-my-maggie @spicymiilk

To start, Neytiri has lost so so much, her home, her father, Tsu'tey, Seze and now her eldest son. The child that made her a mother. With all of these losses all sense of safety and trust has disappeared from in her short life. It's unreasonable to expect her to ever get one these things, she has grief that no one could ever understand. Except Moat. I don't think it's realistic for her to just love him despite everything, I don’t think she doesn't have enough room left in her heart and that's okay. She’s lost so much, and was undeniably betrayed by Jake, her mate for life. She really doesn't owe anyone anything. She does however owe respect to an innocent teenager, who's also given up a lot for her and her family.

Her being wary and scared of him isn’t the odd part. The odd part is that even after years of having known this kid, watching him grow into the kind, funny, sarcastic and empathetic young man he is, she still never saw past day one. From day ones he’s been the ‘demons spawn’ nothing more and nothing less, even with the best intentions in heart, she only ever saw a ticking time bomb wrapped in a pretty package that everyone seemed to love.

You’d think that after 16 years she’s maybe start to free herself from all the hate, at least stop targeting it at him but she doesn’t. You can’t blame her for not letting her guard down, but you can’t deny that’s it cruel to hold a child to such standards. I personally find it very conflicting😭

Now Spider, a kid who's been handed the worst hand in the world. The only human child within light years of Pandora, even if some scientist had kids after a while he was still the first and grew up mostly alone. No mother to sing him to sleep and read him stories about earth. No father to comfort him and tease him about small things. On top of that his actual parents were shitty people anyways, Quaritch is Quaritch and Paz was insane enough to sleep with that demented marine. So not only is he an orphan but his parents are people that any person in their right mind would hate. But a child is not just a reflection of its’ parents.

A child also reflects the environment they brought up in as well as the people who raised him aka the lab guys/McCoskers and Na'vi.

The only thing I really resent Neytiri for is for never giving him a chance, she never saw past his parentage which is so unfair I can't even begin. But for her the whole situation is unfair too, someone can only open their heart so much after it being broken so many times.

Jake disappoints me the most tbh. As a former human, how can he not see the utter hypocrisy of the whole situation? I don’t care that Neytiri would’ve been mad, after killing the kids dad you’d think he’d take more accountability? Not only that but leaving him in the hands of the RDA, didn’t even try to shoot the t’exilas down as they watched him get taken. The kids were the ones to actually bring him up after they kidnapped him right under their freaking nose.

Bro went through torture and never gave any information up. The only reason they ever found the Sully's is because Max & Norm used that stupid helicopter. The fact that Quaritch was literally the only adult who had the sense to help him is insane.

Then Neytiri has her son for a son moment.

I don't blame her for that. She did what she had to do to save her daughter as a mother should and it worked. It's just sad that all he amounted to was a bargaining chip. The reason he got caught in the first place was because he was constantly keeping Kiri in check and making sure she was in his line of sight and and to make sure she was keeping up. That backfired ofc because when they dropped the bomb(thing) he was too close to the blow and fell.

So for me I just hope that she can come to accept him as an individual. Not as a son cuz that's way too drastic but as someone worthy of her family, loyalty and maybe- her affection. That'll take a lot of self work but I'm sure one of these days she'll find it in her to do so because at heart, she’s a shy, stubborn, but also very kind person and even if she doesn’t naturally feel empathy for humans, U don’t think it’s impossible.

I love Neytiri and I hope she gets all the happiness she deserves after everything she's been through.

Put some respect on my girls name bro. She’s fought for her, her family and her people time and time again and never gave up. She’s also just genuinely a good mother and I love the woman she grown into, I just wish she was happier. I also love Spider and I just hope he gets accepted for who is, a kind, empathetic snarky and sarcastic little tree climber who just does his best.

This is my personal opinion so don't be rude please.

[anystalker707]

15 minutes until the night mass

Pairing: Gerard x [Gender neutral] Reader Word count: ~ 2 000 Genre: Smut Summary: Just a small treat to yourself before the last mass of Sunday. Kind of content: Dom-Sub dinamics / Vampire! Reader / Priest! Gerard / Blood play / Sado-Masochism undertones

MASTERLIST

          Temptation is one thing clerical people should be used to the most since they have to give up on so much of their life so they can dedicate themselves to God, solely. Deciding to be part of the Church doesn’t come without a warning, no. Everyone is very well aware of everything it means given their years of preparation to get in charge of such an important role of saving souls and spreading God’s words daily and freeing their consciences of sins weekly.

The church is as empty as it can be on a Sunday afternoon, hours after the afternoon mass and at the ending of the confession sessions. My footsteps echo down the empty, wide halls of the church uncomfortably loudly each time the sole of my foot meets the marble floor, but it thankfully soon comes to an end when I take a seat on the small bench at the end of the hall, on the confessionary.

“Bless me father, for I have sinned. My last confession was one day ago.” My voice doesn’t echo. “I have committed murder, blackmailing, manslaughter, kidnapping, premarital s—”

“I know.”

I chuckle, peeking at Gerard through the confessionary’s grids. “No need to be so rude.”

Gerard hums softly in response, a poor attempt of being serious.

“You know what I’m here for,” I add.

His breath hitches. Gerard is one of the people that, clearly, hasn't ever done a good job as a person of the church. I would even blame myself and take full responsibility for corrupting him if he already wasn’t like that before. Dyed hair and tight jeans. Cigarettes in hands and late night in bars. It was bound to happen.

“I told you not to come here.”

“You know better than thinking I’d listen to that, father.” I roll my eyes, shaking my head. Thinking he can control me certainly makes Gerard believe he is in control of the situation—the situation not being just me, but also his life as a whole. Maybe it gives him the same impression of when he says “I can just stop smoking if I decide to. It’s not that hard, really, believe me. I can stop whenever I want.” Believing you’re in control of what harms you makes you feel better, it seems.

Silence hovers in the cold church halls before the door clicks and opens to reveal Gerard not in the best of his moods. As if he has any kind of authority here with that fake cold glare; it makes me laugh as I stand up and wrap an arm around his waist. “Come on.”

“What are you doing?” He tries to pry my arm off him with hushed whispers, looking down the halls even if we are the only ones to crowd the area.

“Don’t be boring.” I chuckle as I walk with him until finding the door that leads to the small chapel from inside the church, pulling him inside with me. It is empty, of course, because everyone is taking care of organizing everything for the night mass that will start soon.

Gerard’s eyes avert away from mine the moment I face him again. “You’re a menace.”

“Calling me that makes me sound boring.” I sigh as I lock the door. “I’m not just some street criminal. I’m a demon.” I grin as I take a step closer to him, but he just steps back until the back of his thighs hit the last pew, where he holds onto automatically.

“Demon...” Gerard furrows his eyebrows. “You wouldn’t be able to get in here.”

“You don’t know a lot about vampires, do you?” I mirror his expression with pity, shaking my head slowly. I tug Gerard by his collar. “I can’t blame you. It’s not like you do a good job as a priest either, so I can’t expect you to know.” Even if I don’t mean everything I say—at least not completely—I can’t resist the way Gerard looks at me in frustration and almost shame.

“It’s not true!” He looks away with a sigh, but I just roll my eyes.

“How many sins do you commit just by looking at me?” I raise my eyebrows, taking Gerard’s jaw between my fingers so I can make him look at me; he has a small pout, hazel eyes meeting mine form under long lashes. “That’s already something, isn’t it? Come on.” My thumb grazes his bottom lip, tracing it gently. “But I don’t think it’s a problem now. We’re driving away from the point and you have a mass to celebrate in a few, right?”

Gerard opens his mouth to say something, but whatever it is, I shut him up with a kiss, lowering my hand to cup the side of his neck. His lips are soft and warm, pleasingly warm, and he kisses back hesitantly until finally giving in to it. His hands reach my torso to pull me closer by tugging onto my shirt, so I deepen the kiss.

The steps to the altar are messy, with us almost stumbling until Gerard’s lower back hits the table and I finally allow him to take a break to breathe. He already looks at me a little disoriented, but he twists his mouth like he always does when I start to undo the buttons of his shirt.

“We can’t have such a nice shirt stained, right?” I glance at him before I help him take his shirt and the collar off, setting them aside on the table. He is shy because of it, the blush going all the way from his cheeks to his chest as he grips a little too tightly onto the edges of the table behind him. “You look pretty today, father.”

“Shut up.” Gerard furrows his eyebrows in a scowl that’s nothing but adorable. His skin rises with shivers when I finally touch him, my cold palms wrapped around his waist.

“Your mouth tells me a thing,” I whisper, “but your body tells me another.” My hand cups the bulge in his pants to give it a little squeeze that’s enough for him to push his hips forward into it. How needy and touch starved can he be? I know it’s not often that I am around to be with him like this, but he still overreacts even to the smaller touches. It is quite curious.

His hair is a little greasy when I push it back to expose his neck, and Gerard automatically tilts his head to the side. My nose runs along the side of his neck and I press my lips to the skin for a moment until I find his pulse. It’s fast; his heart beats faster with the whole situation, which means a faster flow.

Gerard tenses up just by how I open my mouth, my fangs grazing against the skin until I find the right spot to sink them; it makes Gerard hiss and tense up, which he’s aware to only worsen the pain, despite the warnings. The blood starts flowing at the same moment once I pull my fangs away and latch my lips around the punctures instead, sucking onto the liquid gently until Gerard relaxes in my arms, his hips messily rolling into my hand. Horny bastard.

I drink a couple mouthfuls of the blood, shivering at the sublime taste, and just accumulate a third one in my mouth so I can push it all into his once we kiss. Gerard gasps surprised, almost choking on the blood, but he knows better than to stop it; he messily swallows the blood despite the amount that runs down his chin and gets lost while we kiss, falling on his chest and trailing down his torso along with the blood that still flows from his neck. The kiss is messy, with tongue and nibbles here and there, but still not bad. It sets the want rushing in our veins, giving urgency to the kiss that only gets some kind of harmony when I bite his lip enough for him to pause and let me guide it.

The blood starts to dry and turn into something sticky, but I don’t mind it, nibbling the wound on his neck until it starts flowing a decent amount again so I can suck more of the blood away to drink. Gerard lets out what sounds like a soft moan this time.

“(Y/–(Y/n),” he gasps as he holds onto my shoulder.

Nibbles and bruises are left behind as I kiss down to his collarbones, my hand going from his crotch to swiftly unbuttoning his pants so I can pull them down along with his boxers, just enough so his cock is free and I hold it with a firm grip. He’s already hard, twitching in my hand when I give him a few pumps. I look down, observing the bright pink tip in my hold as I try to spit right on it, letting the mix of thick saliva and blood work as makeshift lube to masturbate him while I go back to kissing his neck.

Even if I don’t care whether the bruises I suck onto his skin are visible or not, I still prefer to leave them lower, where there’s more to bite into. His chest seems like the perfect place, not to mention how sensitive he is, moaning and quivering whenever I bite or suck onto his pecs, which intensifies according to how close to his nipple it is. It’s a soft spot I decide not to tease now given how he already starts leaking in my hand; his hips buck forward when I tighten my hand around him and run my thumb across his tip to collect the precum and add it up to more spit in an attempt of making the movements smoother. This time, there’s more blood in my spit, making it seem redder.

The sharpness of my teeth is something I can’t really avoid, so Gerard’s chest easily gets a new set of cuts that easily bleed down his torso. My fangs end up getting in the way and also tugging on the skin along with the incisors whenever I nibble on it, then create cuts when the skin slides free. It’s hot, to be honest.

My hand stills around Gerard’s cock, just holding onto it tightly as I use my free hand to trace one of the cuts on his chest. It’s all fine until I push my finger into it lightly and he gasps, flinching away from the touch—or at least trying to. More blood flows, so I lick it away from the small wound, but can’t resist but push my tongue into the wound this time. Gerard moans at it, quite loudly this time, with a higher pitch, so I make sure to keep doing it while starting to move my hand around him again, tightly and slowly.

“F—Fuck,” Gerard gasps, both hands squeezing my shoulders, fingers sinking into my skin, as his legs quiver.

I drag my fang across Gerard’s pec to leave behind a cut on purpose, this time, making it a longer and deeper one that makes Gerard gasp and push his hips into my hand immediately when my tongue runs across it. His cock twitches in my hand as he pulls me closer and I almost judge it impossible to happen before he fucking comes all over my hand and, inevitably, due to the proximity, over part of my clothes as well.

Gerard’s ridden down his orgasm when I finally pull away, clicking my tongue as I look at the stains on my clothes. “Damn it...” I sigh.

“You’re worried over a few stains?” Gerard scoffs. “Look at what I am looking like!” He motions to his bloodied torso.

I shrug. “And what?”

He narrows his eyes, pursing his lips. “I have a mass in fifteen minutes.”

“And I still haven’t pleased myself, so?”

 ‿̩͙‿ ༺ ♰ ༻ ‿̩͙‿

[blueskittlesart]

There’s been a lot of TotK discourse lately that’s framing Rauru and by extension Hyrule as imperialistic, and Ganondorf as a misunderstood hero, and I just don’t get it. Both Rauru and Ganondorf were monarchs of their respective peoples, but their actions and methods of using the secret stones were vastly different (we only see Rauru using his stone as a tool of destruction for defending his people (such as in the Molduga attack)).

One could easily turn the same arguments that people are using to call Rauru imperialistic around on Ganondorf, as Ganon was: born into the position of King, used deception and force to kill Rauru’s wife and steal her secret stone, and turned the demon horde on his own people. If anything one could write an essay on Ganondorf on why it is a bad practice to give one person complete authority and power over their nation due to the circumstances of their birth.

I really think that this kind of discourse fundamentally stems from people's refusal to analyze media independent from the framing of the media itself, and it's really frustrating to me because it's like... they're so close. they've almost gotten there. but for some reason the conclusion they come to after witnessing a story which openly glorifies a white-coded heaven-ordained monarchy and vilifies an african-coded desert faction is NOT "hey maybe the people writing this game had some biases" and is instead "this character, within the context of this game, is a bad person and we don't like him anymore." and it pisses me off because not only does framing rauru as a villain fall apart the second you actually look closely at the story, as you just explained above, but it also almost gives the writers too much credit in this situation. suggesting that rauru can be viewed as a villain due to the imperialistic framing circumstances of this game suggests that the writers may have been self-aware in their portrayal of this situation. suggesting that ganondorf can be viewed as anything but an irredeemable villain within the context of the narrative suggests that the writers may have INTENTIONALLY made him sympathetic, which is blatantly untrue. the game is the way it is because the writers believe that in a conflict between a heaven-ordained monarchy populated by blonde green-eyed people and a desert faction populated by dark-skinned warrior women, one of those sides is inherently good and the other is inherently evil. THAT is the critique we need to be making of totk. shifting the blame from the writers to the characters is unhelpful at best and deliberately obtuse at worst. hold the writers accountable for the narrative they chose to push.

[tennisarchives]

warning for a clearly anxiety-ridden oversharing freakout below the cut. sorry. i’m too sensitive and i’m unfortunately acutely aware of it.

tldr; im being a drama queen. gonna take a tumblr break for a week or two. to my mutuals, feel free to dm for my insta. i’ll be active until i wake up tomorrow morning and then i’m gonna zip

gonna preface this by saying this is in no way directed to the people whom i actually talk to constantly on here like you lot were lovely and im just dealing with a lot of demons in my head :(

anyway. sometimes i feel more like a product manufacturer than a person on here. and idk. i know most of you guys are really just following me for gifs and content and whatever but. yeah. idk. i guess the things i say don’t matter to anyone unless it’s funny. or if people want to call me out. not that im mad abt that exactly btw i do appreciate when people respectfully call me out for my own mistakes but. sometimes. i feel like im in a fishbowl and you’re all just waiting for me to say something wrong and cancel me. or then again, maybe most of you already think im a shit person and you just stay for the gifs. or maybe you guys think i’m a loser who has nothing to do but spend all day on this goddamn website.

and i know, somewhere inside me, that that’s not true and that it’s clearly the anxiety talking. maybe it’s just me maybe i’m making this up in my head i dunno. but i’m just kinda tired right now. too tired to battle the anxiety like usual at least. and i don’t really feel wanted outside of the content i produce, beyond the notes of my gifs or my fun posts. which ik shouldn’t matter but. i’m a pathological people pleaser etc etc.

(god, seeing this all typed out, i can’t even fucking blame you guys if you actly don’t like me cause. i kinda wanna shake myself by the shoulders and tell myself get a grip girl the world doesn’t revolve around you shut up shut up shut your damn mouth—)

i’ve been trying to manage by unfollowing and blocking a few people (which btw, if i did that to you and we used to be mutuals, it’s probably nothing personal i mostly just kept people i’m a bit closer to). but i’m still not really settled. and considering how i’m posting like every other day about feeling like shit, you guys probably figured that out lmao.

and well. on a separate note. seeing that rat’s name alone is too much for me sometimes. i couldn’t watch his game with carlos. i spent hours in his match with daniil turned away from the television, wearing noise canceling headphones while trying (and failing) to talk myself down from a full blown anxiety attack. i’ve said this before but the way people talk about him, both the fucked up silence and the justified outrage, it reminds me way too much about a family problem i have right now. hits uncomfortably close to home. prior to this i kinda thought i’d made my peace with the whole family situation but no apparently not. had he won the semis, i wasn’t even sure if i would be able to stomach cheering for jannik if it meant having to watch that man play.

so. idk. between the way actual tennis has been making me feel and the way tennisblr in general has seemed for me lately, i figure i need some space.

long story short ive been spending way too much time on tumblr this ao. and its gotten really bad for my mental health i guess. so i think i need to take maybe a week or two, to clear my head. watch tennis without opening this app every other point. spend time with people i love. get back to therapy. try to be a functioning adult.

(this is so fucking dramatic for a goddamn week of no tumblr i know that and i want to smack myself upside the head because why am i like this why do i make things snowball why why why—)

anyway. yeah. that’s it. if you actually read through all of that then. thanks. if not it’s okay too.

to my mutuals, the ones whom i’ve had at least some form of friendly interaction with in replies or dms, you can ask for my insta account btw. not that i’m crazy active on there but like. if you guys wanna be friends beyond the anonymity of this yknow. no pressure though.

[buffysummers]

The whole Angel turn into Angelus seems like a coming of age metaphor. Buffy gets intimate with her boyfriend Angel and he turns into an asshole, demonic creature.

Do you think this was intentional in the show’s part where a lot of their storylines is rooted in metaphor? How do you think the whole Angelus situation reflects onto Buffy and Angel’s relationship?

I always felt like Angelus still loved Buffy or at least the closest thing Angelus could approach to ever loving someone, being obsessed with them.

Even Willow commented commented about it, about how Angelus shares a thing with angel, how Buffy was all he ever though about.

The Angelus situation adds a very interesting dynamic and a new perspective to the Angel/Buffy dynamic and I wish people talked more about it.

It seems like many Bangel fans separate Angelus from Angel and Buffy relationship, and they are right to a degree Angel isn’t Angelus but it adds a incredible complex and interesting element to their relationship. I wish people talked more about it.

With Bangel it was so obvious how much Buffy and Angel loved each other, you can feel the pain and vulnerabilities of Buffy through the whole situation, you can see and feel how much Buffy cared and loved Angel and vice-Verza.

Buffy was in pain, but it was because of how much he loved Angel.

Maybe this is just me but I never felt the same wirh Spuffy, I always preferred them as belligerent friends than as a couple.

When they got to they whet Buffy was also in pain, but everything happened because she had no one to turn to, because of desperation and you can see how one-sided Spike and Buffy relationship truly was. Buffy looks disgusted and desolated every time she is with Spike. Is so incredible one-sided even the last “I love you” was out of pity.

I’ve seen how many fans tend to justify Spike’s actions and lay the blame in Buffy.

With Bangel I don’t see that happening too often even though it could be extremely easy to do so (Angel lost his soul after experiencing a true moment of happiness) but I wish people didn’t leave out Angelus out of the equation, because is part of the Angel and Buffy lobe story.

What do you think of it? What do you think Angel turning into Angelus represents as a metaphor? Do you think that when people talk about Bangel they should consider Angelus as part of the dynamic? Why or why not?

Hi! It was definitely intentional. Joss Whedon, the show creator, has spoken about this many times over the years. The first three seasons is "high school is hell" but literally. The Angelus storyline is the best representation of that, while also being the peak of the entire show, in my opinion.

Buffy having sex with her boyfriend and him losing his soul is meant to represent girls sleeping with their boyfriends or "finally giving it up" and then the guy just ghosts them or starts treating them like shit. Like, oh, they finally got what they wanted from them so now they can say and do as they please.

Joyce even says to Buffy in 2.17, "Don't tell me. He's changed. He's not the same guy you fell for." And she responds, "In a nutshell." Not that it needed to be spelled out because the metaphor is very obvious, but that's them spelling it out to the audience.

I think the Angelus storyline is incredibly powerful. It's a reflection of the depth of Angel's feelings for Buffy, and it adds so much to their love story. I think Angelus did love Buffy in his own sick, twisted way. Him being soulless just transformed the purity of Angel's love for Buffy into an obsession. Angelus hates the human parts of himself, and Buffy represents Angel's humanity, so him trying to destroy Buffy was also, like, self-flagellation in some ways? Which is just extremely tragic and heartbreaking but endlessly fascinating. Angelus literally wants to destroy the world to escape his feelings for Buffy. Even without his soul, he feels the depth and power of his love for her, and you really see this in 2.19, which is a sorely underrated episode.

I do understand why Bangel shippers separate Angelus from the Bangel relationship, because they weren't together at that time and obviously we shouldn't be romanticizing stalking, obsession, murder and psychological torment. It's a bit more nuanced than that, though. The storyline reveals so much about Angel and his love for Buffy while also putting a pause on their romance because he is changed. It's masterfully done, the way the story continues to develop the tragedy and profundity of their love while simultaneously mourning the loss of it.

The Spuffy dynamic is completely different, I don't really see the comparisons. The writing is thin, less compelling, and kind of makes me miserable? But not in a good way? Like, there's good television that breaks your heart but it's just so good that you love to hurt. With Spuffy, I just felt depressed and uncomfortable. Anyone who victimizes Spike and vilifies Buffy doesn't really seem to understand what the storyline is trying to tell us. So, it's honestly not worth having a discussion with them about it.

But to answer your final question, Angelus should always be involved in any discussion concerning Angel as a character as well as his relationship with Buffy.

You sent this ask like three months ago, I'm sorry it took me so long to answer. It's just very long and I agree with a lot of what you already said.

[dialovers-translations]

Diabolik Lovers LOST EDEN ー Azusa Maniac [05]

ー The scene starts in the living room of Kino’s manor

Kino: ーー Yeah, yeah. I understand. I’ll send them your way. 

...I know. I’ll do well. Talk to you later.

*Tap* 

Kino: ...

Yuuri: Kino. That call just now...

Kino: Hmー For some reason the Church is asking for half-dead Demons again.

You heard me, Yuuri. 

Go and tell the Ghouls to go find some random Demons which are on the verge of death and hand them over to the Church.

Yuuri: ...I wonder what they are trying to accomplish.

Kino: I’m not sure but I guess they’re doing human experiments? That or they’re trying their luck at cloning.

Well, either way, from the looks of it, things aren’t going all too smooth on their end. 

Anyway, I’m counting on you. I’m gonna head out for a bit.

Yuuri: Roger.

ー Kino leaves the house

Kino: ...Huh? Azusa? What are you doing out here?

Azusa: ...

Kino: You know you can’t be wandering around unsupervised. 

I hope you realize that I showed my good heart by letting you leave your cell? 

Azusa: I know...But I wanted to talk to you no matter what.

Kino-san...Why did you do such a thing?

Kino: ...Such a thing? Did I do anything?

Azusa: I’m asking why you burnt the Vibora Clan to death...!

Kino: ...Because you guys were at the Castle, obviously?

I thought you went to snitch to them.

That’s why I figured that now that the whole Vibora Clan had gathered in one place, I could use the opportunity to get rid of all of them.

I got rid of them before they get rid of me, that’s all. We don’t take any blame. 

Azusa: ...

But, I...I didn’t mention you to Zweig-sama...! So why...!?

Kino: I didn’t know that. I mean, that kind of unexpected. 

You were being falsely accused of a crime, so it just didn’t make sense to me that you’d try 

ー Azusa grabs hold of his collar

Azusa: ーー I’ve never looked at it like that!

Kino: Che...Buzz off!

*Thud*

Azusa: ーー Uu...

Kino: I only did what I had to do.

I’m sure you’re well aware what kind of situation we’re experiencing right now...The Demon World is basically at war.

If you want to put the blame on me that badly, then why didn’t you try and fix the whole mess yourself!,

ーー With that arm of yours!

*Thud*

Azusa: ...Ugh...!

ー The scene shifts to the guest room

Yui: ...I wonder where Azusa-kun could have gone?

( Quite some time has passed, but he still hasn’t come back... )

Selection

→ Go look for him

Yui: ( I can’t help but be worried about Azusa-kun. I’ll go look for him right away. )

( His wounds may be almost fully healed, I just can’t leave him alone. )

→ Wait here (❦)

Yui: ( I’m worried, but I’ll wait. )

( I’m pretty sure my past self would have gotten too protective over him...But I want to believe that he’ll be fine. )

ー She can hear a commotion outside

Yui: Hm...?

( It’s awfully noisy outside...? People are aruging? )

ー She walks towards the window

Yui: !? Azusa-kun and Kino-kun...!?

( Also...Azusa-kun is laying on the ground!? )

ー She rushes outside

Yui: ーー Kino-kun, stop!

Kino: Ahーah. What a shame. Ms. Nuisance has showed up. 

Azusa: Eve...

Yui: Kino-kun, what did you do to Azusa-kun...!?

Kino: Nothing, really? We were just having a little chat. A fun one, at that.

Yui: ( Fun...? It looks far from fun to me though. )

Kino: ...Why are you looking at me like that? What a pain.

Or rather, I think it’s about time Azusa returns to his cell. Seems like he’s feeling a lot better already.

Yui: Ugh...

If you’re going to lock him up, then I’m going with him.

Kino: Is that so? Be my guest.

Monologue

Once again, we entered the prison cell,

where Ruki-kun and the others had been kept captive.

They all seemed very surprised,

but I believe what caught their attention the most,

was Azusa-kun. 

I do not know what exactly he talked about with Kino-kun. 

But ever since their argument, he’s been seemingl brooding (思いつめた) over something,

constantly sporting a gloomy expression on his face.

I wonder if perhaps,

Kino-kun said something inconsiderate (余計なこと) towards him?

I honestly had no clue what to say to him,

as he sat there in the corner of his cell,

not speaking a single word.

ーー TO BE CONTINUED ーー

[imagineanime2022]

Incubus/Succubus S/O

Leviathan X Reader, Asmodeus X Reader, Beelzebub X Reader, Diavolo X Reader

Requested by: Anon

Summary: Your ashamed about half of your demon heritage and it causes some weird behaviour and the boys notice.

Note: I tried to keep this a gender neutral as possible and used both Incubus (male) and Succubus (female) where necessary so that people can choose while reading.

Warning: Bullying, body hate, self doubt.

Leviathan

🎮 Levi knew a lot about self loathing and while you hid it very well, he could still tell when there was a problem, he didn’t know what to do about it but he could tell that it was there.

🎮 The problem stemmed from your heritage, you were part of the Incubus and while it was only part of who you were it was the part that everyone seemed to focus on, even in a school surrounded by demons there is still a class system.

🎮 You hated how you lived, you didn’t need to consume dreams to live and you honestly hated the idea of it.

🎮 You hated how sexual everything was whenever someone approached you and then when you told them that you weren’t interested or had a boyfriend things became a little more hostile and you can’t help but blame the reputation that follows an incubus/succubus.

🎮 You found yourself spending more time alone, the brothers were the ones that informed Levi that there might be something wrong but he really started to worry when you stopped answering his text messages, he decided that it was time to go see you.

Levi did knock on your door first but when you didn’t answer, he decided that he’d just open the door, what he was faced with worried him more than anything. You were sitting on your bed hand pressed against your chest as you cried. Levi had never seen anything other than a smile on your face and he honestly never thought that he’d see you cry. He snapped out of his surprised stupor and moved towards you, he gently reached out to you, when you didn't flinch back he gently maneuvered you until you curled between his legs, he wanted to ask you want had happened but he knew that calming you down was the only way that he was going to get any answers. 

Levi could hear your phone vibrating as notifications popped up on your phone. At first he ignored them until he realized that you flinched every time that it did, he leaned over and grabbed the phone, opening it and scrolling through the comments under a post that you had been tagged in. The incubus/succubus community was very tight knit and once they chose their victim they were relentless and they had chosen you, it looked like they were making comments about you being a half breed and assuming that was the reason that you didn’t use you power to manipulate dreams very often, saying that you weren’t as naturally beautiful as the purebreds of your kind. Some even went as far as saying that you were lying about your boyfriend. He turned off your phone and put it on your bedside table.

By now your crying had died down and while he didn’t want it to start all over again, he needed to address this situation before you started to feel any worse “how long has this been happening?” He asked.

“A couple of weeks.” You answered.

“Why?” He asked.

“The guy who posted it wanted me to go on a date with him.” You answered “I said no because I’m dating you, he didn’t like that, he thought that because I was a halfbred that I’d be more desperate.” 

“Don’t call yourself that.” You had never heard Levi’s voice so stern but you were a little too far gone to realize.

“That’s what I am and I hate it.” You answered “the part of me that walks through dreams and lies to get what it wants, that’s the part of me that everyone wants me to love and embrace but I want nothing more than to forget that it’s even there, all it’s done is cause me problems.” You complained.

“What about when you stay with me?” He asked.

“What are you talking about?” You asked.

“When you stay with me, sometimes I have nightmares, I remember them, you always change them, you make sure that I have a good night's sleep but if you didn’t have these powers you wouldn’t be able to help me.” Levi said as he turned you so that you were looking at him and took your hands in his. “I don’t know why those people keep saying all these horrible things to you but none of them are true.” 

“How do you know that?” You asked.

“You’ve not given me any reason to believe that.” He said softly “and I’ll prove it to you everyday if I have to.” 

Asmodeus 

Glamour - Type of magic used to hide certain aspects of or change your appearance

💅 Asmo loved your demon form more than anything in the world but he very rarely got to see it, most of the time it’s be when you were asleep next to him that the glamour would drop and he could really appreciate you.

💅 He’d know that you had a bad day when you showed up and your tail was swaying from side to side or your horns were peaking out of your hair.

💅 He realized your reason for hiding it when he was in classes with you and caught you watching some of the demons across the room, he frowned as he looked at them all talking about their demon forms and showing them off.

💅 He never understood what the problem was and he wouldn’t until he asked you.

💅 You on the other hand were hiding behind a human glamor because your horns and tail were what you hated the most. You watched as the demons across the room showed off their demon forms and they looked amazing but then again they weren’t incubus/succubus.

You sighed as you wrapped your tail tighter around your waist and grabbed all of your stuff before heading to your next class.

Asmo wrapped an arm around you as you left RAD guiding you towards The House of Lamentation, you looked at him and frowned “where are we going?” You asked, a small smile on your face as he linked hands with you.

“I want to show you something.” He answered as he started swinging your linked hands.

“What do you want to show me?” You asked.

“You’ll see when we get back to my room…” He teased and you looked at him and raised an eyebrow.

“Have you been shopping again?” You asked.

“Always but that’s not it.” He smiled as he pulled you through the gates and towards the front door, he’d led you to his bedroom and closed the door, you put your bag on a chair out of the way and by the time you turned around Asmo was there ready to give you a kiss.

He turned you towards the mirror and smiled “will you drop the glamour?” He asked.

“Why?” You asked, looking down at your feet.

“I love those little horns and your expressive tail and I’d love to be able to appreciate them while you're awake.” He answered, wrapping an arm around your waist.

“What do you mean?” You asked.

“When you're asleep the glamour drops sometimes and I get to see the real you, I love it.” He answered.

“They aren’t very attractive.” You mumbled.

“Mm? What do you think of my demon form?” He asked and when you looked back up you were speechless, the same way you were every time that you looked at his demon form.

“Yours? I love it.” You answered as he rested his chin against your shoulder lifting your hand to touch his horns.

“You like the way they feel?” He asked.

“Mm.” You hummed, closing your eyes and relaxing into him as he spoke.

“Do they look good?” He asked.

“Everything looks good on you.” You answered and he nodded.

“Should I hide any of it?” He asked.

“Never.” You answered.

“Then why would it be different for you?” He asked, you knew that he was right but knowing and accepting were very different. “You know there’s one thing that I’m super jealous of.” He said softly as he pressed a kiss to your shoulder, “I wish I had a tail so that I could wrap it around you every time you got too far away from me, so that I could hold you when your hands are full.”

“You want a tail?” You asked as your eyes moved down to where your tail would be when you dropped the glamour.

“I do.” He answered moving to press his face into your shoulder until he felt your tail wrap around his waist, he froze.

“Is that okay? I can move-” 

“Don’t you dare.” He muttered as he pulled you closer looking at you in the mirror again. “Let’s relax for a little while before I show you all the outfits I bought that you’ll wear one day.” 

Beelzebub

🍔 Beel for sure knows that something is wrong but he’s unlikely to put together that it has anything to do with you being an incubus/succubus.

🍔 He asks you if you're okay if you're okay everyday and he knows that you aren’t telling him the entire truth when you nod and smile at him.

🍔 Beel did notice that the physical affection you showed him had decreased significantly and he had no idea why, he didn’t think that he had done something wrong but he must have.

🍔 You on the other hand had come to the conclusion that you were annoying and clingy and it was driven by your incubus/succubus side and your need for affection.

You were aware of how undesirable that was and the fact that he had 6 brothers that he might want to spend time with so you stopped seeking affection and waited for him to ask you for it.

Beel hadn’t seen you all day and he had been looking for you when he finally found a friend of yours who said that you weren’t feeling too well so you stayed home. Beel lost interest in the rest of his lesson and went to make sure that you were okay. He knocked on the door and you opened it a few seconds later, he could see that you weren’t well and he reached out for you gently taking your face in his hands, he saw you lean into him and took that as a sign to pull you closer. “How are you feeling?” He asked.

“Better now that you are here.” You answered.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were sick?” He asked as he lifted you, guiding your legs to wrap around his waist as he carried you back to your bed, where he sat with you on his lap.

“I’m not sick.” You mumbled.

“Really? Then what’s going on?” He asked.

“Bodies getting used to something.” You answered, drawing patterns into the shirt that covered his chest and he raised an eyebrow.

“What?” He asked.

“Okay so… I realized that I was being really clingy.” You mumbled “I know that’s annoying and you have brothers and other friends so I just decided to step away for a little while and wait for you to ask for affection.” You explained.

“What? Why? I love that you're clingy, I look forward to when you’d jump on my back and wrap your arms and legs around me or when I’d get to carry you around and show you off.” He frowned. 

“I… Just because I’m an incubus/succubus doesn’t mean that I have to make it your problem.” You mumbled, Beel directed your chin so that you were looking at him and pressed his lips to yours, you could feel the energy flow back into you.

“Don’t ever do that again!” He ordered “if you're hungry then take what you want, I don’t care how you take it, I won’t care just please take care of yourself.”

“Can you stay for a little while then?” You asked.

“I’m staying the whole night, Lucifer is going to be mad that I missed all my classes.” He answered pulling you closer “but I’m not leaving you until you're back to normal.”

Diavolo

👑 Diavolo was out with Barbatos when he caught a glimpse of you for the first time, he asked the demon butler who you were and he was able to provide him with your name and the knowledge that you attended RAD.

👑 He thought you were beautiful so he approached you and he loved the conversation that you had even more, you didn’t treat him like the prince of Devildom you treated him like a normal person, you told him what you actually thought not what you thought he wanted to hear, your laugh was genuine and you compliments even more so.

👑 However for you it was confusing, you had no idea why he was paying so much attention to you but you knew that he wasn’t playing with you, he was far too genuine for that.

👑 You came to the conclusion that he’d soon figure out that he could do better, especially when he found out that you were half incubus/succubus.

👑 You decided it was better for you to pull away, he is surrounded by so many people, he probably wouldn’t even notice if you disappeared, there will be someone to take you place, he won’t be alone for long if at all.

“So what happened with you and the demon prince?” Your friend asked leaning over the table to look you in the eye.

“Oh nothing.” You waved her off.

“He seemed pretty interested.” She raised an eyebrow as she looked at you.

“He could do better.” You shrugged.

“He dropped you, if he dropped you I’ll march right into that throne room and make a scene.” She warned and your eyes widened.

“No he didn’t drop me, I pulled away because he can do better than a half breed that thrives on lies and lust to live.” You answered, continuing to pick at your food.

“You think you should decide that for him?” She asked “maybe he thought that you could do better.” 

“Than a prince?” You asked.

“See you think that’s impossible, maybe that’s what he thinks about you.” She shrugged.

“That’s impossible.” You pointed your fork at her.

“But she’s right.” You jumped at the sound of his voice behind you and you looked back at him.

“I’ll let you guys talk.” Your friend stood up leaving you both alone.

“I wondered why you disappeared, I thought that first date went very well.” He smiled as he sat next to you.

“I did.” You nodded.

“But you think that you aren’t good enough for me?” He asked. “Why is that?” 

“I’m just some lowly incubus/succubus, I fit to be no one's girlfriend, we aren’t built for relationships, I don’t want to hurt you, you're too good for that.” You answered.

“Last I checked you were only half incubus/succubus, there’s every chance that this could work but how would we know unless we try?” He asked.

“You really want to try?” You asked fiddling with your hands, he gently took your hands in his and pulled your attention back to him.

“I will not fault you for something you had no choice in, we were both born with a reputation we didn’t choose, so how about we choose this?” He asked.

“Alright.” You nodded.

*Part 2*

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