#Just wanted to draw some characters I don't usually draw; I seem to draw the Scrybes a lot and... not much of everyone else

[sapphic-agent]

Is Mitsuki Bakugou Abusive?

I mean, you all already know my answer. I've spoken about this before. But some Bakugou stans feel the need to turn everyone who doesn't worship the ground Bakugou walks on into the devil, so let's talk about it.

(Yes, I just got into an argument with one of said stans. Yes, I'm salty about it)

The conclusions people draw from this scene are so interesting. Bakugou stans are of course always up in arms about it. But as we know, they have zero media literacy. So let's examine the facts:

1. Mitsuki is smiling the first time she "hits" Bakugou. Her demeanor is playful if anything, and it's clear her intention is not to hurt him. She isn't even angry at or scolding him.

2. Bakugou's immediate response is anger. He isn't afraid or in pain. He's not afraid to stand up to her. Now, I don't mean to generalize abuse victims, but I'm assuming a child who's "beaten regularly" (this particular stan's exact words, despite there being zero evidence for it) usually wouldn't boldly threaten to kill their abusive parent. In his mind, she isn't a legitimate threat to his safety, or else he wouldn't feel so comfortable speaking to her like that.

3. It's only when Bakugou literally threatens her with violence that Mitsuki gets harsh with him. And understandably so. My mother has never hurt me in my life and I wouldn't dare speak to her that way no matter how angry I was. There is a little more force put into this snack, but even then it's not meant to actually hurt him. It's also interesting that none of his stans feel it necessary to criticize Bakugou's threat and immediately harp on her response to it.

4. He continues arguing with her after the hit. So the smack didn't seem to deter him at all. Almost like he's completely unfazed by the thought of her hitting him again.

5. Aizawa and All Might don't speak up about it at all. If Aizawa is really such a protective teacher, you think he'd let so-called abuse go on in front of his face?

6. Masaru isn't afraid to speak up against her. People assume that he rolls over and lets Mitsuki abuse Bakugou, but clearly he doesn't if he's fine intervening when he feels either one of them is out of line. He's calm, but he clearly isn't as passive as the fandom makes him out to be.

7. Mitsuki actually shows concern for him and wants him to improve. She's actively supporting him and believing in him. It's so funny how this part of this scene is completely overlooked. Almost like Bakugou stans cherry pick whichever aspects of her fit their narrative.

Now, am I saying that there's zero chance a parent like Mitsuki is abusive? No, of course not. But Bakugou is fictional. What we're being shown is meant to be the entire picture. Anything past what we've been given is purely fanon. Mitsuki "regularly abusing and beating" Bakugou isn't canon and cannot be used to defend his character

[hrokkall]

Fishermen

[master-k0hga]

| K A D A N |

[ Category: Misc OCs ]

| So this is Kadan, he's like a young (like 17, turning 18 if I remember?? Idk..) lil lad who has a major crush on the neighbour's son who's like... Just turned 20 or something Idk I don't exactly remember, the kid's only young so he'll grow out of that weird phase... Unless it's actually full on obsession then no he might end up worse than that, he gets rather jealous easily and loves hanging out with the son (who I shall name another day when I make his ref cuz he actually used to be a sona of mine) so the possibility of him gettin' real obsessed and creepy seems very HIIiiigh...?

But oh well we'll see!! Other than that he's sweet, adorable and very active just in general! Loves playing and also being a menace to his own parents and street he lives at.... All the adults think it's adorable though so we'll see about that..

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

INFO

Name: Kadan Species: Human General Personality: Jealous, caring, upbeat, silly, is a cry baby, creative, energetic Height: 4ft "3" Relationship Status: Single

Extra Info:

He's on very close terms with a lot of people in the neighbourhood, has loads of friends and overall; NOT popular, but just very tolerable and nice to call a friend

His obsession with the neighbour's kid was very unknown and very sudden, so even though his parents see it as just like innocent and adorable little fascination/idolization at the moment; It might start seeming weird if he were to still act like this in his adult years

Goes to a local cooking club with his friends and other locals where they would bake all kinds of sweet treats, pastries and so on; He tends to go for an hour or two after school unless he were to be sick; It's something he enjoys and thinks about opening up a bakery one day

He's very sensitive, so he will cry if someone raises their voice at him, it was only once in school but he got yelled at by a teacher for yelling too loud because of asshole older kids influencing him; Not to worry though, the kids got their fill after the teacher hears him out

Arts and crafts are his favourite, and the guy he likes also loves music; So he would enjoy working on covers and such to advertise one day. He only dreams in the meantime as the neighbour's son doesn't seem to wanna take it up as a profession yet

His nickname is literally "Kid", and that's what the son usually refers to him as when they hang out together; The relationship is like "super awesome babysitter" and "super clingy but adorable" kid. On the outer perspective anyways, not sure about what Kadan sees it as of course

Very much an attention seeker and loves getting all the attention from others, especially when it's from what he's made or baked by the other adults, even better when they either hang up the things he's crafted or tried AND enjoyed the baked goods he makes; Which is to be expected because A) His baking experience is not to be underestimated, and B) He takes massive pride in the things he does and manages to accomplish

Has quite the sweet tooth, so of course him enjoy baking will be something he does quite a lot

Doodles from time to time, mostly loves doodling and inking tattoo designs of what he would want to get one day. That is if his parents would allow him to of course is another question

+ + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + +

And that's it for this little bundle of sunshine and madness, there'll obviously be plenty more to post and hopefully I'll actually either finish or get on with... So if you are not of that (to which no shit sherlock) then unfollow me, I would like to post more fan art at some point but ngl I don't have much for that sort of art right now... Or maybe never tbh, all my FCs will be put into their own thing once I get to them, the fan art or AUs and ideas and stuff I had are being scrapped from now on... And overall I have no reason to be a fandom artist when that doesn't get anything along with my personal and OC works..

So I don't know, nor do I really care anymore.. This will all probably be like a month or so since I've posted anything.. Not like I have a schedule or a "need" to keep posting all the time anyways...

..

Whatever!

. Kadan, Art © Me . DON’T RE-POST .

[mechanisedbrainrot]

MECHANISMS REF IMAGE MASTERPOST

Okay, so I put together refs for each of the mechs as best I can. I tried to avoid anything in a show lighting, but sometimes it can't be helped. Notes will be underneath each section

Whole cast

Ivy is the only character leaning on the wall in the second image, but is roughly as tall as Ashes

Jonny D'Ville

Jonny in earlier shows like TTBT wears a black shirt underneath instead of the white. He occasionally has red or black painted nails and his goggles are either black or bronze. He has a black 7 of diamonds. He often holds a mic - which is a Shure Super 55

Drumbot Brian

He usually has just the flower in his hat, but sometimes it's replaced with RAM or his drumsticks. His goggle has a very small crack at the base. The rings seem to be a bit of a motherboard and screws? The visible heart is something I can only find in one picture, but it's cool

Gunpowder Tim

Sometimes wears jeans instead of dark brown trousers. His eye scars are more geometric than Jonny's, and he has dark eye shadow around the eyes where Jonny uses just eyeliner

Raphaella la Cognizi

The top is three layers: a white/cream shirt, a brown puffy shirt and a a top layer which has a halter neck. Occasionally one or both of the undershirts won't be worn (see HNOC liveshow). Tights can be blue or black. Light up wings from DTTM

The leggings/tights are sometimes black and sometimes deep blue

Ivy Alexandria

A few different outfits, in liveshows they're also wearing some outfits not shown here - but always black and red with a waistcoat of some kind.

Nastya Rasputina

The necklace is a little cat :3

Marius von Raum

Kneepads in DTTM. The cards are a jack and ace of hearts. Necktie either has a white or gold pattern on it, but they don't always wear it. The green jacket has a tailcoat

The Toy Soldier

Hair varies a lot. Sometimes it's worn down, in a ponytail or hidden under the hat. Sometimes nails are painted red or black

Ashes O'Reilly

In live shows they often wear this eyeliner which has thick bars that go behind the ears - but I couldn't find any clear pictures of this. Though their outfits changes, always mostly black with some red in the hair

Dr Carmilla post can be found here

I hope this was in some way helpful to anyone who wants to draw the mechanisms. If you have questions feel free to ask me in the ask box and I will do my best to answer them and provide some photos <3 have a great day

[wolfiesmoon]

Genshin guys as dads 🤭

in honour of finally getting off my ass and finishing mondstat, i bring you genshin men as dads <3 i decided to challenge myself and write for characters i haven't written for at all yet

the reader is gender neutral (u can interpret that the kid was adopted or u can interpret that the kid is biologically yours)

Yk the more i read these guys' lines to get a better idea of their characters the more i think they need a therapy session stat

Characters featured: Diluc, Alhaitham, Childe, Ayato

౨ৎ‧₊˚ ⋅ Diluc Ragnvindr

"Diluc! Diluc, are you in here?" you knocked before opening the door to his office, assuming he's probably there. You were finally returning to the winery late in the evening and wanted to see how your daughter and husband were doing.

Tonight, they should both be at the winery.

But to your surprise, the office was completely empty. You haven't heard a single peep from your daughter yet, either. Usually she'd be running around and yelling, even if she wasn't with Diluc.

You went upstairs to check your bedroom and were met with a most adorable sight when you opened the door. Your daughter was very peacefully asleep, drool and all, on Diluc's chest. Diluc did not seem very pleased with this arrangement, however.

"Welcome home." he sighed upon seeing you walk to the side of the bed.

"Looks like someone's on pillow duty." you teased him, petting your daughter's head.

"Don't make fun of me. She's been running around all day with seemingly no end to it. Sometimes I'm surprised at what her tiny legs are capable of." he leaned his head back, looking up at the ceiling.

"She said she's not tired at all. But she fell asleep almost instantly when she sat on top of me to, umm... bother me." to anyone else, Diluc would seem like he hates this kid with how much he says she bothers or annoys him, but you know that isn't the case.

Whenever she runs up to him to show him something she did, he pats her little head lovingly. He keeps the drawing she made of him in his office, even if he is a bit concerned at how grumpy he looks in her artistic interpretation.

"I wasn't making fun of you... Okay, maybe a little bit." you leaned down, cupping Diluc's face and kissing his cheek. He hummed in dissaproval, but his cheeks turned pink anyways.

"Would you mind joining me? If I can't... I want to know that you're safe, atleast." his eyebrows were creased in worry. You don't know what for, exactly, but you gladly joined him on the bed, hugging him too.

"Is your aim to suffocate me further?" the combined weight of about a quarter of your body and his daughter was not the most freeing in the world.

"No, I just happen to understand the appeal of sleeping on top of you." and you really do. It's always so warm and homey.

"You've worked hard today, dad." you moved some stray hairs out of his face. His tired eyes met yours for a moment before they slipped shut. Hehehe, you need to take a photo of this.

౨ৎ‧₊˚ ⋅ Alhaitham

(let's pretend you live together with him now instead of kaveh haha)

"Dad doesn't love me!" the sudden accusation had you turning your head fast, wanting to know what was going on. "What did he do, sweetie?" the little pout on her pudgy face was adorable.

She ran up to you and hugged your leg. "You still love me, right?" she seemed very worried about your reply. It seems like she isn't in the mood to give a proper answer to your question, though.

"Of course I do. You're very very very special to me." You pat her head gently. She seemed satisfied with your reply, giggling happily at you before running off to play.

.

When Alhaitham returned home that day, he attempted to interact with his daughter, as he tries to every day, but he was utterly ignored.

He looked to you, hoping you'd know the reason, but you just shrugged. "She says you don't love her anymore."

"Hm..." was his only reply.

"That's because he doesn't! I told him 'I love you' yesterday but he didn't say it back!" Your daughter crossed her little arms, scowling at her dad before turning around so she didn't have to look at him.

"So it was that." Alhaitham seemed like he understood the situation properly now. And you realised what happened too, because it happens to you occasionally.

"Sweetie, listen. Your dad likes to wear these thingies in his ears. And when he wears them, he can't hear a thing." You explained in the most child friendly way you could.

"Not even an explosion?" Your daughter finally turned back to look at you and Alhaitham, though her eyes were fixated firmly on you.

"Nope. Nothing at all. When he didn't say 'I love you too' yesterday, it was because he was wearing them and couldn't hear." Your daughter turned her head back with an annoyed 'hmph', but you knew she was listening to you.

"So I propose a hug attack. Whenever you see him wearing them." You smiled evilly, glancing at Alhaitham who shot you a dissaproving glare in return.

"Leave me alone." Your daughter huffed, stomping off down the hallway. Oh well, kids don't always think critically, do they? You have a feeling she's already forgiven him a little, though.

"Children make no sense to me." He admits, and you finally greet him properly with a little welcome home peck.

"That's the fun in it, though." You smiled at him and to your surprise, he smiled right back. As awkward as he can get with the kid, he loves her a whole lot.

౨ৎ‧₊˚ ⋅ Childe

"Mhhhh... what is it?" he mumbled in annoyance when he felt his hand getting shook. His voice sounded quite raspy now.

"Dad... Dad..." turns out it was your son who was pulling on Childe's arm. He looked like he was about to burst into tears any second, now.

As soon as he saw the distress on his son's dimly lit face, his attitude changed and he was overcome with the sudden urge to take revenge on something or someone. Maybe it's the dad instinct.

"I had a nightmare.... I'm scared..." your son sobbed.

By this point, even you woke up, but your body was still mostly asleep, so you were just listening in.

"Come up here." Childe tapped the bed and your son awkwardly climbed up into his arms.

"Was it a scary monster?" Childe asked in an exaggerated scary voice. Your son nodded, gripping onto the front of Childe's shirt.

"In that case... you don't have to worry at all. I always love a challenge." you could practically see the smile on Childe's face. You turn over, opening your eyes slightly. You have to admit, the sight in front of you is adorable.

"What do you mean, dad?" your son sniffled, rubbing the snot away with his tiny hand.

"I'll fight the monster, of course. Oh, how wonderful it would be to see the b-" he winced a little bit when he felt the light slap on his face.

"Ajax, you'll scare him even more." you warned, your own voice raspy. You moved your other hand to ruffle your son's hair to comfort him.

"Ow, clearly, someone doesn't appreciate me enough." Childe rolled his eyes playfully.

Without warning, you lean forward and peck him on the lips. "There. Now I've evened out the slap."

"Just one peck? Well, I suppose we can't do much more right now... Hehe." Childe turned his attention back on your son, stroking his back gently to calm him down.

"Why do you have that look on your face?" you noticed he was smiling strangely.

"What look?" your accusations have been denied. But he sure does have a plan for you later.

౨ৎ‧₊˚ ⋅ Kamisato Ayato

"DAD! Look at where I am!" Your son shouted from somewhere in the tree that was stood in the beautifully maintained garden.

Being the little rebel he is, he climbed the tree despite you telling him multiple times not to.

"Please get down from there. It's unsafe." Ayato tried to reason with him calmly upon noticing him in the treetops.

"Nah, it's so cool up here! I can see the whole estate!" Sometimes, your son's stubborn nature made it hard for him to get along with Ayato. This is one of those cases.

"This is not a joking matter. You could get seriously hurt." Ayato doesn't think he could properly live with himself for a bit if his kid got hurt when he could have prevented it.

"What's going on here?" You joined in, happening to pass by the garden.

"He won't come down. I'm... worried about him." He admits, crossing his arms. Though you do sense a bit of annoyance behind his voice, too.

"Come down. I told you not to climb that tree so many times." You crossed your arms firmly. Your son looked at Ayato's face, then yours and sighed, beginning to descend from the tree. He'd rather avoid a scolding. But his little foot slipped and he suddenly tumbled to the ground.

"Son!" Both of you immediately ran to his side as he started wailing. "Call for healers. Immediately." He seemed fine, looking at him initially, but he might have a broken leg or something.

Both of you stayed by his side the whole time, offering him words of comfort (and a bit of a scolding). It seems like something like this happens almost every week, now. The Kamisato household has certainly gotten livelier ever since getting blessed with your son.

.

"Well, that was certainly an afternoon." You huffed, sitting down behind the table across Ayato.

"I wish he wasn't so reckless and disobedient, sometimes." Ayato held his cheek in worry. He let his son get hurt, again.

"He got that mischief from you." You smiled innocently, sipping your tea.

"Whatever do you mean, dear?" He smiled innocently back.

"I miss days of solitude. We only have moments now. I suppose my life hasn't been a calm one for a long while now, though." He sips his own tea, looking outside at the sunset. Working as hard as he does every day is taxing on the soul.

"Guess we gotta make the most of it." You stood up, sitting back down next to him and playfully pecking his cheek.

"Oh, I see what you mean." He returned the mischevious smile you know and love. Just as he grabbed your waist, though...

"LOOK WHAT I HAVE!" Your son burst into the room, holding a sword. His sword.

"Aren't you supposed to be resting?!"

[imaginesmai]

Breeding tonic gone wrong - Azriel

This got out of hand, don't want to label it as Dark!Azriel since it's a breeding drug but it's darkish. Wonderful @daycourtofficial wrote this fic and I thought I could try the breeding potion since I've read fics about it before. But I wanted it to be a little dark, not just smut. Here is the result!

Plot: during a trip to the Illyrian mountains, Azriel and you discover a cabin with all types of monstrosities. One of them ends up in Azriel's blood system, a breeding tonic, which no male nor female has survived before.

Warnings: it is consensual but the consent is given in a life-death situation for both characters. Rough, unhinged Azriel smut. Sex pollen fic.

Illyrians were the worst males alive, and if it was up to you, you would blow those mountains down until none of them breathed. Proof of their cruelty was the lab you were investigating right then, that had installed a permanent frown on your face.

The silence of the room was only broken by the occasional scoffs from your partner, who seemed to have the same feelings about the work done in there. With a half-limp from the previous fight against the guards, you let your eyes travel between the different labeled bottles and horror at their uses.

Pain extension for wing clipping – prevents the muscles from reattaching

Numbing lotion – apply in small quantities before perpetration, makes the female stop squirming

Pleasure beverages – draws the pleasure out of fae 1 and inducts it into fae 2. Still testing

All of them were horrific and terrible, and all of them had been tested. You had heard rumors about hat place before, but Azriel and you didn’t have a real location until now. The twenty males that had died protecting that secret were proof of how sicked that twisted that place was.

“It feels wrong to be here” Azriel muttered from the other side of the room, holding up a bunch of vials in his scarred hands. “How long have it taken them to fill all this up?”

“They are all against… females. Years of researching into their pain, uses and worth” you commented too, your voice only a whisper. “And they have been tested. Approved”

“Let’s finish this and get out of here”

You could feel Azriel’s shadows too exploring the room, and for a moment, you gave yourself a minute to think about possibilities. You had also been raised by Illyrians, in the mountains, yet had been lucky enough to be born in Windhaven. To live next to Rhys’ mother’s cabin and become friends with Cassian, Azriel and Rhysand.

To have one of them as your kind-of-lover, at least more than friends. Everyone knew that you and the shadowsinger were something, and few males approached you when you visited the camps.

You had been lucky, because you could have ended just like those girls that had been used like guinea pigs. The hairs on your arms rose up just at the idea, and you promised yourself you would find each and every participant and tear them into pieces.

“Y/N” Azriel called out of you, and you turned around. “Watch this”

The tremble in his voice, the break from his usual stoic voice, was enough to tear you away from your own worries and thoughts. You replaced his place in front of a worn-down table, full to the brim. Azriel stepped back until he was behind you, until he was between you and the open space.

It didn’t go unnoticed.

You looked over to the notebook he was holding open, old and used. There were different handwritings, names of women crossed out and names of males half-erased. On top, a blank space for the name they would come up with.

In the desk, you spotted several vials with a blueish, bright liquid, some of them empty. The handwritten was tough to read, but before you could squint your eyes, Azriel summed it up for you.

“They were testing breeding accelerations” he explained, the edge of his wing curling around your smaller form. “So far, they hadn’t had results. All the participants died, both males and females”

You held your breath as you read some of the details. Fucked to death seemed to be repeated a lot. Was it a game, to them, the lives of so many women that were dragged into their sick experiments? The miracle of life that they perverted so often?

Azriel shifted closer to you on instinct, probably thinking about the same options you were pondering about. His warm chest against your back made you close the notebook with little care. You couldn’t, wouldn’t, feel pity for those males who had died raping innocent females, probably sold by their own father.

The best thing you could do now was try and find their corpses, give them a proper burial and incinerate the whole place down.

Scarred fingers brushed yours softly, like a gosht touch. Azriel wasn’t a verbal lover, not a public one. He preferred to stay quiet and hidden, and you liked him just like that. Only with your fingers tangling, you expressed the horrors in that poisoned cabin.

You turned around, intending to give him a small smile and maybe make it seem real, but you caught movement from the corner of your eyes. The troubled look on Azriel eyes had him too far away to notice the threat, and you only had time to squeeze your joined hands before he was pushed into you.

With a considerate force, you both collided against the work desk and tumbled into the ground with its content.

“Bitches” the incomer groaned, the edge of his knife breaking the skin of Azriel’s forearm. “You’re all bitches, bastards”

“Motherfucker”

You cursed when your hands touched something sticky. The attacker’s knife scurried down Azriel’s arm when your knife drove through his head. A sickening crunch of blood, bone and brain echoed through the cabin. Azriel had kept his body as an iron shield around you, but you had managed to drag one of your curved weapons and kill the male.

He hissed when the body fell against his back, elbows crumbling under the unexpected weight. You fell back against the sticky substance with a grimace, and helped Azriel push the dead body off.

“That was unfortunate” he complained, rolling off you. “I liked my new jacket”

“And I liked my knife clean, I had just wiped off the blood” you rolled your eyes, getting up and offering him a hand. “Even in death, they cause problems”

Azriel smiled at you when you helped him up, and while he readjusted his weapons, you looked down to the ground.

Papers and empty vials were scattered around. Most of the blood was from the corpse of the ground, which you realized, was one of the males you had thought you killed. One of his wings was missing, courtesy of Azriel, and he was covered in wounds. The biggest of them, the missing part of his head thanks to your knife.

You were about to comment about Azriel getting sloppy when you heard him suck a breath. His body tensed like an arch bow, one of his hands quickly peeling the leather off his arm.

“What?” you were instantly on him, helping him get a better look at the bleeding cut.

“There’s something here” he answered, and you didn’t miss the edge of panic in his usual calm voice. “Something is stuck. In the back”

“Must be a splinter” you walked to his side and peeled the rest of the hard training leathers. “Overgrown baby bat”

He didn’t laugh with you, and your smile died down when you saw the empty vial sticking out of his muscled biceps. It still held the remains of the blue liquid, mixing with his own blood. Azriel couldn’t see it, since it was small enough to hide from his sight. Objectively, it had broken from the fall and emptied on the ground. Objectively, it could be any vial and Azriel would be just fine and perfect.

You felt as if someone had submerged your head underwater as he asked you what was it. As you watched yet another drop run down from the bottom of the vial into his body. No matter how quickly you pulled it off, the harm was done.

For good measure, you took a step back and stared all your intrusive thoughts into the palm of your hand, where the remains of the vial stood. It was covered in his blood, your Azriel’s blood. Your friend, your lover, your Azriel. Your mouth went dry when you looked up and watched his eyes widen in panic.

“Is that…” he didn’t finish the question, nor he needed to.

“Think so. It’s small”

“Was it in? Has it touched my body?” Azriel reached a hand behind his back, searching for a non-existing reassurance in your eyes. “Y/N”

“Maybe it doesn’t work like this. It – it broke, the contents spilled before. We have no way of – “

“Was it in?”

You nodded softly, watching him find the exact point of puncture. You could try and fool yourself, fool him, but you noticed the change in his scent in just a few seconds. Under his spiced, fresh smell, there was something else. His throat bobbed down and his eyes darked, just an inch.

Both of you kept quiet for a second. It had never gone so wrong, so fast, in your missions together. You worked well, you were efficient. At worst cases, any of you got injured and the other would cause a carnage well deserved. At better, you spent time with the person you loved the most but didn’t dare to confess to.

Your ears picked up the increase of his heartrate, and your mind replayed the words in the notebook. The effects of the drug were clear – and the consequences too. That sprung you into action, rounding his rigid body and picking up the fallen notebook.

You flipped through the pages, trying to come up with something else. Something that wasn’t death and a breeding tonic that was just flooding through Azriel’s veins.

“I can’t winnow. I can’t… my shadows. They’re gone” you heard Azriel from behind you, but all you could see were words and crossed out names blurring together.

1st trial: Jolene and Atrox. Healthy subjects. No previous incidents to report.

The male ingested the vial. The effect was instant. Killed the female before undressing her, in his haste of getting closer. Snapped her neck. Died after two minutes, heart gave out.

“Rhysand doesn’t expect us until tomorrow. They won’t be coming. Damn it. Damn it!”

9nd trial: Marvel and Broncor. Stronger, healthier. She has already given birth. Fertile and flexible.

The male ingested the vial. The effect was instant. They copulated for five hours. Female died upon multiple traumas taken to the head. Male kept going for two more hours. Heart gave out.

“Isn’t it too hot? Y/N, listen – what are you doing? Y/N?”

20th trial: Evene and Cyrian. Mated couple. Together for fifteen years. Unconsented teaser.

It was injected into the male arm. The effect was instant. Lasted almost a day. Destroyed previous test cabin, in need for a new one. Female died from multiple lacerations. Male died. Heart gave out.

Weirdly, it wasn’t Azriel’s voice trying to call for you what broke you free from the notebook, but the faint sound of his heart. As you had read through the pages, it had increased dangerously. You had never heard it so loud and fast. The spymaster always controlled his heartrate – through exercises, through missions, through sex.

But you could hear it over your own, loud and demanding. You turned around and found Azriel covered in sweat. His pupils were expanded until you couldn’t see the sweet hazel behind them. And his hand, the one that wasn’t tugging at the edge of his shirt, was holding his crotch with a trembling grip.

The jacket was already on the ground, and above all of that, you vision became blurry at the notice of his arousal. The evident, primal arousal that filled the cabin, that was radiating off him in steady waves.

His eyes bored into yours with an intensity you had never seen, but he didn’t move. It must have taken you a while to read all those tests. Failed test where they all died, the males’ heart giving out in each one. And the heart you greeded the most was threatening to give out in front of you.

“You need to leave” Azriel managed to say, his hand squeezing his cock painfully.

“Az”

Part of you seemed to be horrified at the situation. It was aware of the danger Azriel had just turned into, the order to your legs to run fast and steady ready. It was the part of you Azriel had liked, that had made him train you to be a spy.

The other part, he had created. Between soft touches and kisses. You didn’t need a name to know that you loved him, that he had given you everything when he had nothing. That part was terrified, too, yet seemed to scream in the opposite direction.

Neither of those parts seemed to come up with a solution.

“Don’t say my name. Leave” he couldn’t help the moan at your voice, his fingers quickly getting rid of the confines of his trousers. “Y/N, leave”

His cock spang free with little effort, and he jacked off with an impressive speed. Yet you had read also test 14th, where the male had tried to masturbate and hadn’t even lasted five minutes. Any other day, you would have melted at the sight of Azriel’s cock tall and proud in front of you. There was a steady drip of precum that seemed too eager, too early.

He had an impressive resistance, as you well knew. But his balls were almost purple, the veins along his shaft pulsing.

“If you don’t give in, you will die” you announced him, trying to keep your eyes on his. Your own core was starting to pulse with unwanted need. “None of them could do it on their own. And you’re not different”

“And none of the females live either, Y/N. Please, please” his voice broke at the end. His nostrils flared at your own smell, and his thighs tightened in an effort to keep still. “Run as far as you can, and take Truthteller with you. I can’t – with you, I… leave, please”

“There is one who made it”

The lie rolled off your tongue easily, and you knew Azriel was in too much pain and desperation to notice. Only a male had survived, after killing three women in a row. Your heart seemed to work on its own as you noticed the opportunity. Staying wasn’t the reasonable option, yet leaving him was no option at all.

“It might take a while, but we can make it. You need to fuck it out, and we have done it before”

“With consent!” he almost screamed, ending up in a frustrated moan. “I won’t touch you while this is in me. Either you leave or I – I’m gonna – Y/N”

His heart speeded even more if that was possible, and his hand flattered. How long had it been? You didn’t want to think about how long he could make it, how long he could resist it. But you were certain that he would die before touching you in that cabin.

Azriel had been denied of many choices and options in his life, and you knew how much he hated to have decisions taken from him. You watched the anger in his eyes as you stepped closer, unbuttoning your jeans.

With muscle memory, you stepped out of your confines and stepped up to him. Every part of Azriel was on edge, every nerve on his body screamed. And still, he didn’t touch you. Azriel stared with a silent plea in his eyes, a last warning.

“I can’t do this” Azriel begged. “Not to you, Y/N. Don’t make me do this”

“I won’t lose you”

Those were your last words before you snuck up your arms around his shoulders, forcibly lowering his head so you could lock your lips with him. One last act of normality before the drug took control over him. At that point, there was only one real objective in your mind, one coherent thought – don’t let the only light in your life die. Don’t let Azriel die because a stupid mistake.

You brushed your lips against his and didn’t show the surprise at his body temperature. He was burning, not only hot against the cold wind, but sickly hot. His skin was sweaty against your palms, his lips cracked already.

“It’s fine, Az” you whispered against his mouth. “I trust you”

Before you could blink or fully register the implications of your consent, you were turned around and pushed to the closest wall. Only Azriel hand on your forehead avoided the blow to your head.

His other hand wasted no time to roam through your body, already with enough pressure to leave bruises. It wasn’t the kindness you were used to, the love Azriel professed for you in every touch and caress. His touch was rough and brutal, and you didn’t know what to do with the pooling wetness at the thought.

It could have been tears of frustration or drops of sweat falling onto your shoulder, but Azriel didn’t let you turn around to check. As if looking into your eyes made it worse.

“Az” you moaned loudly when he found your center, trembling with the restrain. “The door, close the door”

He obeyed when his index finger pressed in you with enough pression to make your knees tremble. You only heard the sound of the door closing, maybe his shadows doing the work, as your eyes rolled back when he started fingering you as if it was your own pleasure who was making him mad.

Azriel rutted into your body from behind, growling like a feral animal. His hips pushed into you again and again, the hand holding your face into place lowering to your neck. He kept pushing his finger in and out of you, in a rush to make you wet enough to take him. It wouldn’t have been a problem if it wasn’t for his size, that you were feeling in your lower back.

When you heard Azriel’s breath hitch, when you were sure he wouldn’t last another second with the drug speeding his heart, you urged him to continue.

“If it gets too much, kill me” Azriel whispered with the last remains of his self-control. “Promise me if it’s between me and you, you’ll kill me”

“We’re gonna be fine”

“Promise me”

You only nodded, and hoped he wouldn’t notice the second lie thrown his way.

His fingers left your entrance with a wet sound, and his cock replaced them. You were lifted a few inches with just one of his hands, your feet leaving the ground. Along the smell of both arousals and the sickening scent of the drug, you noticed the blood that peaked through the scratch on your naked chest.

The brief pain of the rough wood against them died down when Azriel finally pushed into you.

Azriel’s cock stretched you so much that, for a moment, you lost your breath. His body moved on its own accord, driven by the drug, and didn’t let you time to adjust. No matter how wet he had gotten you, it hurt. It hurt as he pistoled himself in and out, fast and hard. As he moaned and whined and screamed your name.

He fucked you so hard, yet you could see from the corner of your eye his fingers creating dents on the well. His sheer will was the only thing keeping him from killing you, according to the reports you had read previously.

You didn’t know for how long it went on, only that you came around his cock and he didn’t stop. He came minutes later, sputtering like a teenager with trembling knees, only to keep fucking you with the same strength.

It could have been minutes, or hours, yet the only thought you could focus on was that his heart was still beating, strong and steady. That you were alive and he was with you.

“I’m going to wreck you” Azriel panted, and his voice was only a distant sound in your haze of pain and pleasure. “Please kill me. Kill me before I do, Y/N”

It wasn’t a playful promise of two lovers, but a terrified pled from a drugged male. Azriel’s body was the only thing keeping you straight, his cock keeping his restless movement inside you. There were cuts all over your breast from how hard he was pushing you against the wall, yet he couldn’t stop.

The drug was so powerful, so primal, that he could only keep fucking you on and on.

Even if you wanted, you couldn’t have answered him. If felt like your throat had closed up long ago, only opening for moans or whines. The line between pain and pleasure was blurry all the time, and you didn’t know how much longer you could take it.

“Y/N. Y/N” he called your name as he emptied himself inside you once more – only to keep going a second after.

Your thighs were sticky with his cum and yours, cascading down your legs like a torrent. But the drug kept affecting his body, and he continued even when your body was too sore to handle it. You knew your tears would hurt him and break him into two, but you couldn’t control the overstimulation as you let them free fall your cheeks.

Azriel must have smelt them, the saltiness in the air, because for a moment the male was strong enough to slower his movements. You almost fell to the ground when he took a step back, his heart speeding all over again.

As if the last hours hadn’t meant nothing.

“Run” he whispered desperately, one of his hands furiously stroking his cock.

“I’m not leaving you here to die, Azriel” you managed to say. “Don’t make this harder”

You used the advantage of his self-control before it consumed, and turned around. You didn’t need to follow his gaze to the wounds on your chest, to the bruises with the form on his fingertips, to know they were there. The pain of Azriel’s action was making your mind dizzy.

Yet it was fuck or die. It was for him, whose eyes were still pitch black, his whole body covered in sweat. That you had managed to survive so long broke the records on that old notebook, and that alone would have been enough to make you consider how strong Azriel was.

But you couldn’t think about the pain he must have been in, only dried your tears on your forearm. More threatened to fall because you were tired. You wanted to stop and go back a few hours ago, burn that place down before it was too late. Still, you knew you couldn’t do that.

“I trust you, okay?” you reminded him as Azriel’s own eyes became glossy. “We can make it out. You just need to endure through and try not to kill me in the meantime. We can do it”

You weren’t as confident as before, but you didn’t have time to consider it. With your enhanced hearing, you could hear his heart. It had slowed down from that frenetic, dangerous point at the beginning, but it wasn’t safe still. At any moment, it would give up and you couldn’t phantom that thought.

So, with a trembling hand, you replaced his hand on his cock with yours. He had finished three times already, a fourth time when you used your other hand to squeezed his balls. They emptied on your stomach, precum flowing as soon as he finished.

“I’m so sorry” Azriel admitted, and your breath hitched as you kept stroking him.

It wasn’t enough, the drug made him need to be inside a woman. But it was giving you time to regain your breath, hug his shoulders once more and let him lower you to the ground.

-

Gaining back consciousness was a long process, that took you a few minutes. First it was the notice of the snow beneath your body, and on you. Flakes fell from the sky and covered your hair and nose, your naked feet. It should have made you cold, but you were warm.

Then it was the soreness that hug every inch of you, from your legs to your shoulders, even your neck. Your throat felt dry and it took you a few tries to open your eyes. When you did, you were met with white.

White ground, white sky, white trees. You frowned at your surroundings before the last events caught up with you, and your body perked up with panic.

Finally, you noticed Azriel’s body draped over yours. He was still inside you, one of his hands cupping your cheek. As you turned to look at him, you saw frozen tears on his cheeks, a sight so rare yet beautiful that broke the last of your stupor away.

“Az” you croaked out, more of a groan than a word.

You weren’t cold because his body and wings were a blanket against the weather. He too was unconscious, covered in snow. The last hours were blurry, only him and his body and the persistent need to hold on. You remembered his body heat, you suggesting the snow to lower it – and the cabin crumbling under his power as he came inside you once more.

One of your hands rose to his cheek, and you watched with morbid fascination the paleness on your fingertips, almost blue. You were far too tired to care about it, the edge of your consciousness slipping away once more.

“We should go” you muttered, tapping those frozen fingers against his cheek. His head just rolled back.

You tried to listen to his heart, to make sure he was alive and had survived the drug. But you blacked out before you could worry about it.

Want to read more? Check out my side blog @imaginesmaimasterlists, where I keep all the masterlists! Feedback is always appreciated

Let me know if you want me to do an Azriel taglist!

Azriel taglist:

@boygeniuses10 , @tothestarsandwhateverend , @starsinyourseyes , @bakananya , @tele86 , @lilah-asteria

[heizlut]

Jealousy pt 2 😍 (I love ur writing sm omgz..) (have a good day/night)

i’m sooo sorry i’m just now getting to this. this request and the others before this one were made when i was getting my life together after my breakup but i’m here now! thank you so much, i’m so happy you love my writing❤️❤️ since you didn’t specify specific characters, this one will be with cyno, wanderer, ayato, and heizou☺️ (i never write for them and they need to be shown some love)

cw: none!

tags: multiple chars x reader (separate), lowkey yandere!ayato, fem!reader

read part 1 here!

m!list here

Cyno~

You and Cyno had been together for so long now. It had started when you were introduced through Tighnari, who had taken you on as his newest assistant after hearing about how you made the top of your class in the same darshan Tighnari graduated from a few of years prior. Tighnari would go on and on about how much easier his research has been since you became his assistant until Cyno had enough and demanded to meet you. Cyno hates to admit it, but it was practically love at first sight. Not only were you a strong fighter with good instincts when you needed to be, you were also whole-heartedly passionate for what you held interest in.

Cyno had asked you and Tighnari to take a break from research to join him for TCG night at the tavern, to which you both agreed. Once arriving to the tavern, you three take your usual table and get set up for the match. Drinks were ordered to the table and the heated match began. When it came to playing TCG with Cyno, the matches either ended swiftly or he would purposefully draw them out just to win in the end. Somehow, over the course of the match, you and Tighnari ended up helping each other here and there with, whispering in each other's ears about strategies for your next moves.

Cyno watched the two of you, not particularly enjoying how physically close you two were getting as you both snickered and whispered to each other. He did his best to keep his cool until Tighnari's fingers grazed yours as he turned your deck towards him to guide you on your next move. You paid no mind to it, but Cyno could feel the possessed spirit within him practically clawing its way out of his body, looking for a fight. Tighnari was the first to notice the subtle flashes of purple light that began to linger around Cyno's body, a clear sign that the spirit was trying to take over, "Um, Cyno?"

Tighnari's concerned tone made you look up from your cards to see the sight before you. Your smile slips into one of concern and you get up from the table and move towards Cyno's spot, "How about we take a break and get some fresh air? Just you and me..." Cyno's red eyes seem to flash as they meet yours, but all he does is nod. You give an apologetic smile to Tighnari who just nods in understanding. You and Cyno step outside into the sticky, hot night. You reach up with both hands, placing them lightly on his tanned cheeks, "Cyno, love... Tell me what's wrong?"

The sweet, soft sound of your voice, your gentle touch, and the way you were looking at him with such love and concern put the possessed spirit to rest. He looks into your eyes and sighs, not one to admit his emotions let alone jealousy, "I don't want to talk about it at the moment." His tone monotone as usual, but the look in his eyes held a hint of longing, "As much as I hate to say this, let's forget about the match and go home...please." You kiss the tip of his nose, making his cheeks go a light shade of red, "Alright. Let's gather our things and say goodbye to our friend."

Wanderer~

Ever since Wanderer regained his memories, Nahida had asked you to keep an eye on him. You two hardly got along until one night, months ago, he kissed you. He likes to say it was a temporary moment of weakness, but you knew better. Ever since then, you two have been almost inseparable as you helped him with Akademiya projects or wandered through Sumeru.

On this particular afternoon, you had resigned yourself to the House of Daena with a male student you couldn't remember the name of for the life of you. He approached you knowing that you always helped Wanderer get the best grades on his project and promised to pay you handsomely if you could help him as well. You shrugged and agreed, not denying the chance to earn such a nice amount of mora.

Wanderer was pissed when he couldn't find you until he entered the House Of Daena. He felt ready to explode when he saw you sitting so close to that random guy, seemingly laughing at something he had said while you reached over (a little too close in Wanderer's opinion), making a correction on the guy's paper. You look up with surprise which turns to the cutest smile when you see Wanderer approach the table, completely unaware of just how pissed off he was. The foul look on Wanderer's face didn't go unnoticed by the guy you were working with who now had a subtle smirk on his face.

Wanderer's eyebrows furrow as he clenches his fist, "I suggest you wipe that stupid smirk off your face and walk away now while you still can." You blink once in confusion. Your eyes flitting between the guy and your boyfriend, "What are you going on about now?" Wanderer's frustrated gaze falls to you, his demeanor almost cracks when he sees how cute and oblivious you look. Then his gaze returns to the guy who hasn't made a single move to leave, "I gave you a warning already. Don't make me repeat myself or you won't have legs to walk away with."

The guy puts his hands up defensively and takes his stuff, only leaving half the amount he had promised to pay you as he walks away grumbling to himself. You look up at Wanderer, your initial shock morphing into quiet laughter that you tried so hard to hold in. He plops himself into the seat next to you, shooting you a glare, "What's so funny?" The childlike angry pout on his face made it hard to contain your laughter, "Are you jealous right now?" Wanderer looks like you just said the greatest insult, but the redness of his cheeks give away how embarrassed he is, "Yeah, right. As if I'd be jealous of a weak nobody." You lean in and press a kiss to his cheek, which makes him blush up to his ears, "Whatever you say~"

Ayato~

You were so precious to Ayato. He simply cannot imagine his life without you. You were smart, strong, and so sweet; he couldn't ever get enough of you. It wasn't really a secret how close Ayato kept you. Honestly he was a bit too obsessed with you, but that's part of what made you fall for him in the first place. Wherever he was, you were too. Except for today.

Today you had spent most of your day with Aether helping him with a commission he had insisted he needed your guidance on. Of course, you had asked Ayato from permission first. That's just how your relationship was and you didn't mind it one bit. Ayato was a bit wary of sending you off without him being by your side, but Aether insisted he would keep you safe and he knew you were capable of handling yourself. So, begrudgingly, Ayato agreed but made you promise to be back before nightfall, dragging you in for an over the top kiss to your lips.

Hours had gone by and Ayato felt he was about to go insane without you by his side. He gets up from his desk and begins pacing the estate, bringing on questioning looks from the guards and groundskeepers. It's not long until he hears one of the guards by the main gate give his greeting. It takes Ayato so much restraint to keep himself from practically storming over to you and taking you into his arms. Aether was still with you, and Ayato had an image to upkeep. What he didn't expect to see was Aether holding you as if you were his bride as he entered the grounds. "What is the meaning of this?", Ayato demands as he quickly approaches the two of you.

You stir in Aether's arms, turning your head to give Ayato a tired smile before your eyes close once again. Ayato is absolutely furious as he practically rips you out of Aether's arms, making you let out a sleepy groan, "You have three seconds to explain why you have brought her home in such a state, in your arms no less." You nuzzle into Ayato's chest and Aether releases a breath, "We got dragged into a fight with some Kairagi." If Ayato hadn't been holding you tightly in his arms, he would have drawn his sword to Aether's throat. Sensing the immense anger, Aether raises his hands defensively, "Don't worry, she doesn't have a single scratch on her. I think she just passed out from exhaustion."

Ayato looks down at your beautiful sleeping face, then glares up at Aether, "Do you mean to tell me you checked her body for scratches? I've heard enough. Please exit quickly before I do something I may come to regret." Aether looks sincerely apologetic as he leaves the estate and Ayato carries you to your shared bedroom. Once he lays you on the bed, he gets in and immediately holds you as if you were going to disappear right in front of his eyes. Ayato nuzzles into your hair, breathing in your scent, speaking softly so as to not wake you, "I will not allow any man to touch you nor allow you to leave my presence ever again."

Heizou~

Everyone knew you were Detective Heizou's girlfriend. He would never shut up about you, going on and on about how you're almost just as bright as he is when it comes to solving cases. It also takes a lot for him to feel jealousy with the big ego he has. How could anyone be better than him? That would be absurd and simply out of the question. But one person seems to put him on edge despite both of you being so close to him: Kazuha.

There was something about Kazuha's easy-going and free-spirited nature that made Heizou want to pay close attention to the way you and him acted while in each other's presence. It wasn't that he didn't trust you or Kazuha, he just had this unfamiliar feeling that bubbled up inside of him whenever he would see you laugh together or be near each other. The night stars were shining brightly as the three of you laid on an empty cliff, away from the main city of Inazuma. You were laying between both boys as you admired the twinkling stars. You and Kazuha were going on and on about the constellations, recalling the mythology behind them with such passion and romanticism. You and Kazuha were very similar in that aspect. Everything to you both had a sense of romance to it which Heizou normally found endearing, but not in this moment.

Kazuha was telling you the story behind Orion's constellation as you listened with great intrigue. Heizou was growing jealous of the conversation and the way you kept looking from Kazuha and back up to the stars. Heizou wanted you to do that for him. You were his girlfriend for fucks sake, not Kazuha's. So he makes a quick decision, grabbing your hand to get your attention, effectively cutting Kazuha off from his story-telling by butting in, "I know of an even better story." You and Kazuha look to Heizou, confused but interested. Heizou clears his throat and begins telling a tale of a god who gave up his power for a human girl he had fallen for just so that he could be with her. When he finishes, you and Kazuha share a look and you speak up first, "Did you just make that up?"

Heizou's face heats up and he frowns, looking away from you both which makes you laugh, "Why are you pouting? It was a cute story, love." Kazuha tries his best not to laugh which only makes Heizou more annoyed, "Why is it that you can romance my girlfriend but I can't?" Now both you and Kazuha begin to laugh, not at Heizou, but of the absurdity of his statement. Now furious with jealousy, Heizou moves to get up from his spot, but you grab hold of his hand, giving him a silly smile, "You don't need to 'romance' me with silly stories, I much prefer your ramblings when you're going on about a case." Heizou's expression relaxes, but still huffs out a breath, "Then quit getting all gooey with him over those balls of gas in the sky." Kazuha finds this to be the perfect opportunity to crack a joke, "Would you prefer we discuss other types of balls instead?" This makes Heizou's demeanor crack completely as laughter from all three of you fills the night air.

a/n: writing this made me realize i actually love writing for ayato! he gives serious yandere vibes but in the best way. i hope you liked this anon❤️

[hoshigray]

I WANT TOJI TO GUIDE ME (like literally almost teach me) HOW TO GIVE HIM HEAD PLZZZZ

Ohhhh, I don't know how tf I'm gonna write this, but here we go!! Hope I did alright on this one hehehe~ *sweats nervously*

Cw: Toji x fem!reader - oral (m! receiving) - it starts off cute but gets dirty, so minors DNI - reader admiring Toji's dick lol - face+throat-fucking (Toji goes at a reasonable pace) - pet names (angel, baby, cutie, sweetie, mama) - heavily detailed descriptions of a blowjob - praise - Toji laughing at you asking him to help bc what are boyfriends for, but you get a laugh out of it too - some humor. Wc: 2.8k

"You okay, kid?"

"Hmm?"

"You look lost in thought about somethin'."

"I do?" He lifts a brow and nods at you. "Oh, it's nothing, Toji, honest." The man looks at you for a few seconds as if he doesn't believe your answer, yet he goes back to watching the television, and the big hand on your shoulder brings you closer to him.

It's a lazy Sunday afternoon, and you and Toji are watching your favorite sitcom on the couch in your living room. But the show wasn't capturing your attention like it usually does. Instead, your mind wandered to other matters. Other...explicit matters.

How explicit? The two of you have been together for a long while now, and you can honestly say things have been going great. For him to be your first serious relationship — plus him being older and more mature than you — it's nice to know that things have been going way smoother than you'd thought in the beginning.

Although things may seem fine, something has been clouding your head recently. This is where explicit matters come into the conversation.

Through all this time together, it just occurred to you that you haven't given Toji head. Scratch that: you've NEVER given a blowjob, period.

It's always been the other way around. Not that you're complaining, because your boyfriend seems to enjoy eating you out. And he's actually good at it! Like, really good at it. Just reminiscing all the moments he's had you turn into jelly with just his scarred lips and relentless tongue is enough to make you go dizzy.

It's a pleasure how attentive he is to you during sex. And you appreciate that he cares for you in that regard...yet you can't help but feel like you're not a good partner in bed with your lack of reciprocity.

And it's not like you don't want to give him head. Because trust, you would've done so already! The real problem is that...you don't know how.

You've watched videos and read articles on how to do it, even practicing on a banana (per your friend's advice). Nevertheless, whenever you wish to initiate; or the opportunity arises, you just freeze on the spot and force yourself to forget about it. It's as if researching and amping yourself up is way easier than the execution.

Though, you can't just let your man be the only person doing the work — sex is supposed to be enjoyable for both parties, damn it! And you're gonna push yourself to have his dick in your mouth one way or the fucking other! But......where the hell do I start!!??

You release a defeated sigh, bringing your hand up to massage your forehead from the endless banter in your brain. And Toji watches you from his peripheral, his brows drawing downward at your display of frustration. "Alright," his gruff voice snaps you back to him as he lowers the TV volume. "What's goin' on in your lil' head, baby?"

You blink at his question. "Hmm? What do you—"

"Aht aht, don't do that with me." His jade eyes harden, and you hold back from finishing whatever you were going to say. "Somethin's wrong, so tell me. I'm over here watchin' this stupid show that you dragged me on to, and you're not even paying attention."

"Hey! It is not stupid," you counterargue, and use his comment to dissuade him from the topic. "You were very invested last week when my favorite character punched the guy she likes for stabbing her in the back! So who are you to—"

"Y/n." It didn't work. Your name was thrown at you with such seriousness that there was no use in trying to distract him. "Tell me what's goin' on. If somethin' is bothering you, don't be scared to come to me about it." He says it sternly, yet he's still gentle with his delivery.

"Toji..." You can only call him by name before he leans forward to kiss your forehead, and it almost melts all your worries away.

"Tell me."

The two of you look at each other for mere seconds, you searching for any sign of uncertainty before confessing your thoughts to him. You sigh once more and lean onto Toji, his hand rubbing on your shoulder — a silent gesture of him giving you all the time you need before confiding with him.

You told him, "Don't laugh, okay?"

He scoffs. "Can't make promises I can't keep, kid." His smile manifests when you shake your head at his shenanigans. "I won't laugh, angel."

When he uses the pet name on you, it seals the deal. It's now or never.

"I was just thinking that...I might need your help with something."

A brow is lifted. "With what?"

"Umm, it's..." Your fingers find each other to fiddle with to keep you busy from the awkward tension. "It's for......y-you know—"

"I don't know."

"I-ahem-I want," you can only gulp to ease the uncomfortable bob in your throat. ".........Iwannagiveyouablowjob."

No words. No movements. Nothing. Only the noise from the TV gives a sense of life to the silence following your confession. Even the big hand on your shoulder chose to remain completely still. And you can feel the slight quiver of your lips start to come to fruition.

Nothing happens until you feel a jolt on the shoulder you're resting on. Your face blooms hot, and your lips can't fight the uncomfortable twinge. Oh, this motherfucker is about to laugh.

"Is...Is that—ahem," A tiny gust of wind exits through his nostrils, trying to extinguish the beginning of a chortle. "Is that what was botherin' you this entire time?"

Now your ears get hot, and all you can think about is how you'll dig a nice big hole for yourself to crawl in later. God, why me??!

"W-Well, I mean, I notice how you're always doing it on me," another jolt from the older man. "And...I just feel like I'm not doing my part." He lifts his hand from your shoulder and rests it on his face. Fits of chuckles silently enter the air. "But I don't know how to....do that kinda stuff. So, I was just wondering—" He starts smacking his thigh, and with the twitch of your eyebrow, you've had enough. "Toji, I swear to Christ, if you don't fucking stop—"

And with that, the floodgates opened. The laughs he was doing a terrible job suppressing wheezed out, his hand covering his eyes while the shit-eating grin was present with laughter seeping out his system. You cover your face with your hands, shielding away from the embarrassment and not letting him hear giggles of your own.

"Oh shit, c'mere ya damn cutie." Toji pulls you in with both arms, caging you so he can place a kiss on your temple. "Pfft, kid, I'm not laughing at you. But goddamn, you looked so fuckin' stressed fr' no reason."

"But it is a reason!" You chuckle under your hands, only prompting your boyfriend to laugh harder. Once he calms down, you explain yourself further. "Toji, I'm serious. We've been together for this long, and it's always been me getting eaten out. I just think it's unfair that I get to feel good and you don't, ya know?"

He snickers. "I'm always feelin' good when I fuck the shit out of you."

"You KNOW that's not the same thing!!" Toji barks a laugh from you yelling at him, and you can't take this anymore. Removing yourself from him, you get up from the couch before you sink further into the internal pool of regret. "Just forget it. This conversation never happened...I'll just go to sleep." And hopefully, die of suffocation from my pillow.

However, before you could step toward your bedroom, Toji quickly caught your wrist. You reluctantly turn to see him looking at you with a playful smirk and soft hooded emerald eyes. "Not so fast there, sweetie." His hand slides down to fully grasp your hand, engulfing it with his size. "Ya know, you're a real cutie when worryin' about me. But don't go thinking you're not making me feel good, because you do with what you got. I woulda found someone else if you didn't." You briefly glare at him, though you know he has a point.

"Yeah, I know. But I want to do more. You always take good care of me, so...I wanna do the same for you." And Toji knows you're serious about this. It doesn't matter if you can't look directly at him because of your bashfulness; your words are sincere. God, you looked so cute it drove him crazy.

He sighs quietly with a smirk, his thumb making circles on the back of your palm. "Well, if you're really sure about putting y'r mouth on my dick," and before you could fully process his words, the older man spreads his legs for your eyes to observe. And the first thing that corrupts your vision is the outline of his erect cock, the tent prominent through his dark sweatpants. "Looks like ya got yourself a lesson. Up for it?"

You gawk at his erection for three extra seconds before you look at your boyfriend and give him a nod for confirmation. Seems like your plans of suffocation and dying in a hole have been postponed to another day.

Toji grins hard, his teeth peeking through under his scar, and then he points to the floor with his chin. As instructed, you kneel between his legs.

He pulls down the waistband of his sweatpants, freeing his cock from the clothed prison for you. And you're in awe with the sight before you. Of course, you've known his girth to be immense. You've had the damn thing inside you, for God's sake. But now, seeing his length so close, it's hard to believe you had him before. You can take note of every dent and vein of his shaft, how they structure all the way down to the base, and the pinkish-red color of the tip. It all overwhelms you and makes you second-guess what you're about to do...and the throbbing sensation down south flourishes.

"Like what ya see down there, angel?" The heat on your face worsens when you glance up and see Toji sneering down at you, and a hand comes down to massage your cheeks. "Try lickin' it first."

You gulp before following his suggestion, opening your mouth for your tongue to flick on the frenulum of his cock. You can hear him moan from the action, so you proceed and lap around the head of his cock until you feel adventurous enough to take his glans in your mouth. Toji groans from the wet walls of your mouth, and your teeth brushing against his glans makes his body jerk. "Hmmm, be careful with y'r teeth, baby. Relax that jaw and puff those cheeks a bit fr' me."

His comments are taken wholeheartedly, making sure everything goes right for him. Your cheeks go hollow for you to suck his cockhead and take in a few more of his length, his hums of pleasure egging you on. It goes well until the tip hits your uvula, resulting in your gag reflex. And Toji is quick to gently pull you from him, your saliva coating his dick.

"Woah there, sweetie. Don't forget to breathe." He coaxes while you cough. Your eyes start to water as you gasp for air to even your breathing. "We can stop now, don't want you chokin' on— Aisssh!!."

He's unable to finish his sentence when your hand strokes his cock, paired with kisses to the underside of his shaft. "No, I can keep going." You look at him with half-lidded eyes, having the man twinge his lips upward.

"Alright, then we're gonna go slow, okay? No rush." He aligns his cock to your lips, waiting for re-entry. "I'll push, and you breathe."

You give him a nod to signal you're ready, and your mouth agape to take in his returning limb. Toji brings your head in while you remind yourself to breathe, but your body jolts when you feel the tip come almost close to your uvula again. "Relax, mama, relax. Keep taking deep breaths fr' me." He coos at you, and you do as he says. Breathe in, breathe out. Once you slowly move, Toji aids you by gently pushing the back of your head toward him. And a wave of astonishment and relief hits you when you manage to have his dick hit the back of your throat.

"There ya go, cutie." He smirks at you, aware of your tiny display of giddiness. "Now, try goin' at your own pace."

With a few bobs up and down, slowly but surely, you get used to having Toji's cock in your oral cavity, going at your own tempo and enjoying yourself with this. Your movements are filled with confidence, and you whimper every time you try to go as far as you can but not too crazy.

And Toji loves every second of it. Your moans vibrate the walls around his cock, and it turns him on even more when he peers down to see you suck on him so deliciously. Spit covers your lips the more you take him in your mouth, and he groans when he feels your hands stroking him and kneading his balls (something you've learned to do from the articles you've read). "So good...Hmmph! So fucking good..." It's been a long time since Toji's been given a blowjob, and it feels so good to have you — his sweet thing — do it for him.

But then a thought pops into his mind, and the pleasure in his body churns into a different path of want and need. "Sweetie." Your eyes flutter up at him when he calls you, stopping midway through. "Wanna go a lil' further than this?" It takes a moment for you to register, but you give a curt nod with a hum on his dick, which he can only assume is a "yes."

"I'm gonna stand up, okay? So keep taking deep breaths and follow my lead." You don't answer, only gaze at him as you mentally prepare yourself. Toji rests a hand at the rear of your head as he gets up from the couch, keeping you still on his cock in hopes you don't choke. Now he's standing upright, and his sweatpants slide down to his sturdy thighs. He places both his hands on each side of your head. "I'm gonna start moving slowly, 'kay baby?"

And so he does, unhurriedly pushing his shaft into you, and your hands find purchase on his thighs as he does so. His dick that once stopped at the back of your throat eventually finds its way deeper within, and you're senses are clouded with his smell when your nose and mouth meet his pelvis. It all feels so overwhelming that tears start to form.

Toji lets you adjust to all of him for a while, grinding his hips on your lips to fully accommodate his whole girth, prompting more muffled mewls from you. He ruts his hips at your face when he notes your steady breathing. Gradually, every inch of his cock sinks into your mouth. Your head starts to pound as you enter a haze.

The pace of his thrusts eventually goes faster and faster by the minute, and the tears finally come down with every jab to your throat. Saliva runs down your chin with the smack of his balls, the head bullying your insides with the erratic rhythm. Your nails form scratch marks on his thighs from all the stimulation you're going through, but you'd be lying to yourself if you said you didn't feel so fucking good. Having your boyfriend's pelvis smack on your face on par with the sounds of you sucking him off felt like fire to your eardrums. So hot but so electrifying the more you indulge yourself.

As for the older man fucking the hell out of your face? Oh, how he missed this. It's been so long since he stuck his dick on such a pretty mouth. And your throat's tight, velvety walls have him rutting for more. He knew this would make his thirst return, and now he was sure an addiction would form from this. But right now, he can feel the surge of his orgasm arise, and his brows crease with a guttural groan as he thrusts into your face with harsh motions.

"Shit, ahhhhh shit, shit," It's so close, almost there. "Gonna cum, mama, gonna—Mmmm! Haaah, oh fuck, oh fuckin' Christ!" Through his moans of pleasure, Toji releases his load down your throat. And you're in no other position than to just take it, whimpering blissfully onto his length as he gives you a few more ruts to your face.

When he's done experiencing his ecstatic high, the older man withdraws himself from you. Your throat and mouth become empty except for his essence that you swallow. Strands of spit and come connect your wet face to him for a crude yet intimate moment before they break out.

He pulls up his sweatpants and drops down to wipe your pretty face with his hand. "So? Was I a good teacher?"

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Three for One 1

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, cheating, customer service abuse, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: As a customer service associate, you're used to work with a wide variety of characters. Your efforts to go above and beyond draw the attention of a certain set of customers who want more than what's on the shelf.

Character: Andy Barber, Lloyd Hansen, Ransom Drysdale

Note: Right, this was supposed to be a drabble series but it morphed and not I'm fucked.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me &lt;3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you all. Take care. 💖

It's the most special time of year! Mistletoe, jingle bells, and holiday cheer! Oh, and hot chocolate. Lots of that.

You hide your thermos under the desk and grab the crystal bottle again, giving a test spritz to the air. Your job isn't very complicated. All you do is say hi and chat about the perfume. Your manager says the job is selling but you don't like to see it that way.

You smile at a family of five as they veer towards the toy section. You don't think the six year old would be into an eau de parfum. It's understandable.

While you spend your hours wandering around expensive makeups and scents, you're filled with a certain hint of longing. For what you're paid to push the merchandise, you can't afford any of it yourself. Well, you've never been very materialistic.

You spin around and see a gentlemen approaching, though he doesn't seem to see you. He looks past you, almost through you. You stop in place and put on your best smile, fixing the red band around your head.

"Hello, sir, would you like to try some Gucci?" You offer and spray the nozzle at him.

He skids to a stop and recoils as if he's been slapped. He holds out his arm as he looks down at his coat, little droplets seeping into the fabric. He takes a whiff, his short mustache wiggling under his nose, and he scoffs as he tries to shake off the cologne.

"What the fuck are you doing?" He snips.

"Sorry, sir, I didn't mean to scare you."

"You just go around spray people with that horseshit?"

"Well, sir, with respect, I don't like that sort of language.

"And I don't like being drenched in dog piss," he blusters, "point me to the goddamn trimmers."

"Um, what kind? Nail trimmers? Pet trimmers? Garden trimmers?"

"What the fuck do you think?" He points to his own face.

You hold your smile. There's always that one customer who's having a bad day. Whatever's got him so upset must be worse than dealing with him.

"Personal care," you point to the far corner, "right over there, sir."

"Ugh," he stomps and storms off.

"I hope your day gets better," you call after him, "oh, did you want a store coupon--"

He ignores you as he waves you off over his shoulder. You watch him turn towards men's grooming and you shrug, rocking slightly. You try not to let them get to you. As jolly as you find this time of year, a lot of people don't feel the same.

You shrug off the encounter. You still have a few hours ahead of you and it's starting to bustle with customers. You help a couple find the home wares while keeping the boundary of cosmetics firm. Lucille, the manager, doesn't like you leaving your zone.

You approach a woman looking at the Prada selection and get her checked out with a new fragrance, specially gift-wrapped by yours truly. She leaves happy, a small victory for the day. You celebrate but not too much.

You come around the counter just as you see that man strutting back up. He has an item in his hand and ignores you as he passes. Still you smile at him.

"Annoying," he mutters under his breath.

"Need help finding anything else, sir?" You ask his heels.

He stops and you see the way his spine stiffens. Oh no, you shouldn't have said anything. He slowly turns to face you.

"You can shut up," he marches up to you and grabs the bottle from your hands, "shut." He sprays you in the face, "up." He squirts you several more times before shoving the vial against your chest, "stupid little girl."

You take the bottle, blinking as you use your cuff to wipe the perfume away from your eyes. He continues on his path as you stand dumbfounded, drenched in Gucci cologne. It's hard to breathe through the heavy scent and you can't help but cough.

What a jerk. Just because he's having a bad day, doesn't mean everyone needs to.

Slowly you grow accustomed to the smell of yourself. It’s not too unusual. You go nose blind about halfway through your shift once you spray a few too many samples. You keep your distance from customers, offering them a spritz but trying not to crowd them with the vapors of cologne rippling off of you.

You yawn as the afterwork rush floods in and you make another round, smiling at Sofia as she peeks over at you. She’s with another customer at the counter, ringing them up as she gabs. You spin at the display at the center of the crossway that runs through the beauty department and stagger back before another can run you over.

You apologise to the tall man as he skids to a stop on his soles. You can tell he’s in a hurry by the way he grips his briefcase and squares his jaw. He wears a long dark wool coat as flecks of snow melt into his thick beard.

“Oh, sorry, I er, wasn’t–” He clears his throat, collecting himself, “I… didn’t see you.”

“That’s okay, sir,” you assure him, “would you like to try the new scent?”

You hold up the onyx bottle but don’t spray him. You don’t need another dousing. He looks at the silver letters on the side then at you. The furrow in his brow lightens as his blue eyes swim.

“No thanks, but er, you think you could help me find something?”

“Of course,” you chime and lower the bottle, “are you looking for a gift for someone special?”

He nods, “my mother-in-law is on her way into town, I need a present. Maybe perfume?”

His tone is tinted with frustration as he reaches up to rub the back of his neck. He lets out a long sigh. He’s one of those shoppers; the last minute scrambler. You grasp the vial in one hand and tug at the front of your thick red sweater, you’re starting to get a bit toasty in the crowded store.

“How old is she?” You ask.

“Um,” he clamps his lips together and thinks, “hmmm, probably seventy-something? I’m sorry, I guess I should know that.”

“That’s okay, I… I would suggest some Liz Taylor,” you turn on your heel and wave him after you as you head off, “it’s a classic. Not so much a me scent but the older crowd likes it. Oh, and it’s on special so your wallet won’t hate it, either.”

You stop by the Diamonds display as you face him again. He follows at a pace and stops before the shelf, perusing the gold caps and crystal caps. He considers the rack in deep thought.

“Here,” you set down your bottle on a nearby table of seasonal decorations and take one from the display. You slip out a strip of cardstock and spray it with the sampler, “this one is gardenia. That was her favourite scent. It’s probably the least pungent.”

You offer him the sample and he eyes it. He slowly bends and sniffs the end of the paper. He wiggles his nose. It makes you sneeze too. As much as you’re a fan of the classic actress, her scents are dated.

“Smells like her,” he grumbles under his breath, “sure, I’ll take that.”

“Great,” you declare and trade the sampler for a boxed bottle, then retrieve your disposed Gucci vial, “would you like me to check you out, sir?”

“Is it faster?” 

“I can be fast,” you promise him, “this way.”

You go around the sparkling counters and he meets you across the till. You type in your log in, taking several tries to get your passcode right. The man places his briefcase on the counter,a hand resting on the edge.

“You know a lot about this stuff?” He prompts.

“Yeah, I guess,” you smile as you scan the perfume and tap the special offer on the screen, “kinda part of the job.”

“Hmm” he hums again, in that thoughtful manner. You look at him but he’s not looking at your face, “that’s a nice sweater.”

You look down at the red wool speckled with pearls. It’s new and one of your favourites already. You can’t help a little wiggle of your shoulders, “thanks!”

“Very… cheerful,” he muses as he takes out his wallet, “wish I could say the same of what awaits me.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, sir, it’s that time of year, I guess,” you push the debit machine towards him and he taps his credit card, “I’m sure your mother-in-law will love the perfume.” The transaction approves and the receipt prompts, “would you like an email?”

“Nah, that’s fine,” he tucks his credit card away.

“Would you like it gift-wrapped?” You offer, “it’s free?”

He hovers his hand over his briefcase as he considers it. His eyes meet yours and his cheek dimples, “alright, yeah, that’s… that’s perfect. Thank you.”

“No problem,” you beam back at him, “let me just get some tissue paper…”

You murmur to yourself as you grab some gold tissue paper and a white gift bag with a Christmas tree embossed into the side. You carefully line up the small box on the paper and begin your intensive work. You're a master wrapper, you used to work at the wrapping station in the mall.

“What about you?” He asks before the silence can stretch too far, “you seeing family for the holidays? When you’re not working?”

“Um,” you smile as you look up, “I’m just hanging out with my dog. I bought him a bone.”

“A dog,” he nods, “your family live out of town?”

Usually, you ask the questions. It’s easier that way. It deflects the attention from you. It’s why you like the job; you can hear all about others and not have to think about yourself.

“Yeah, something like that,” you slip the wrapped box into the bag and fluff the tissue paper.

“Eh!” The loud exclamation makes you jump as the man merely turns his head, a tic in his jaw. His eyes narrow as another customer approaches, strutting with hands in his jacket pocket as he calls out, “Barber, what the hell?”

Your customer shifts towards the man, heels squeaking on the floor, “Hugh.”

“Don’t Hugh me, asshole,” the other man retorts, “you said you were busy? What’s the matter, you lose too much money last time?”

“Suzette is in town. Family dinner,” the man, Barber, drones dully.

“Ah, ditched for the old crone, I get it.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Well, wouldn’t you know it, poker night was canceled, something about not enough seats,” the man counters sharply.

“Next week,” the first man growls.

“Hey, you,” the man in the russet coat snaps his fingers in your direction, “you got some of that Acqua di Gio. That dumb girl over there said you’re sold out.”

Your brows pop up and you swallow tightly. He’s another type. The arrogant demander. He doesn’t hear no. He’ll ask everyone the same question in hope of getting a different answer.

“We are out of stock, sir, but I could order it in for you,” you suggest.

“Order in? I can just go on Amazon, thanks for nothing,” he chops his hand at you dismissively.

“Hey,” the other man nudges his chest, “be nice. She’s working.”

“What? I’m here to spend money and they got shit all–”

“It’s December,” the other man reproaches before he turns back to you, “sorry, my friend is a jerk.” He accepts the gift bag as you hold it out, “thank you. You saved me.”

“No problem, but er, I was gonna say,” you turn to the other man, “sir, I have some samples of the Armani. I could give you those while you wait for the order.”

“Samples?” He echoes, “how many?”

“Let me have a look,” you back up and go to the drawer at the back of the checkout.

“I gotta get going, miss,” the first man waves his hand as you peek over your shoulder, “have a happy holiday.”

“You too,” you chirp back and find the last few tubes of Armani. You claim them and prance back to meet the new customer at the counter, “I have five.” You lay out your wares, “if I order in a bottle it’ll be in just before Christmas.”

“Two weeks?” He puffs.

“I’m sorry, sir, that’s the earliest I can do. It’s the last day I can guarantee delivery before Christmas.”

“Talk, talk, talk, order it,” he snaps.

“Right, let me just…” you open the shop and search up the scent. You add it to the cart and proceed. “Alright, got that, did you want it shipped for pick up here or to your address.”

“Here, they can never fucking find my house,” he sniffs.

“Great, so when it arrives, we’ll give you a call. You’ll also get an email to confirm.”

“What’s going on here?” He points at you suddenly. You look down again at your sweater but don’t see anything amiss. You flinch as he reaches to pinch one of the pearls, “what is this?”

“Oh, I… my sweater,” you raise your head, swallowing down the insult. It’s cute!

“Huh, Walmart clearance, huh,” he scoffs, “alright, how much are you robbing me for?”

He reaches into his coat as you hit total. You read out the final amount but he doesn’t pull out a card; he hands you cash. You count the bills, twice over, then give him his change. He looms with impatient huffs.

“Here’s your receipt,” you hand him the strip of paper. “Have a good day, sir.”

“Mmm,” he pokes his tongue into his cheek as he shoves the receipt into his pocket, “actually, while I’m here, I’d like a new sweater. You can help me and I’ll show you what real quality is.”

You almost laugh. Not spitefully, it’s just a bit silly. He’s competing with you, a perfume pusher.

“Well, sir, I can point you towards men’s fashion but I’m not able to leave this department, I’m sorry,” you give a sheepish smile.

“Oh no, good girl wouldn’t want to break the rules,” he rolls his eyes, “goody goody and her precious little smile.” He hooks his thumbs in his pockets, “my shit better be in by Christmas.”

He twists and strides away. You watch him go but not for long as you’re quickly distracted by a customer looking at the Britney Spears collection. Those are easy sellers.

[eyecan02]

Alastor Analysis

Alastor's background regarding romance and sexuality goes all the way back to early drawings that depict Alastor crushing on Kay-cee.

The story then moves on from a crush on Kay-cee to a full on relationship with Mimzy.

It makes me wonder how Viv jumped from Alastor in a relationship to Alastor being ace. It feels like quite a wide leap. With Viv being the creator, I have nothing but respect for her but I feel like Alastor can still love/possibly do sexual acts while still keeping in character and looking out for #1.

I feel like while Alastor was alive, he leaned toward graysexual and this is why. I don't believe this man died a virgin. As we all know Alastor is from the 20s. He's in his late 30s/40s, meaning that it would've been uncommon for a man his age to still be unwed/unattached to someone. I'm sure he went on blind dates set up by his mom, and even occasionally slept with women in order to keep up appearances. He most likely did this in order to make his mother happy since any mother would've liked to have seen their child happily married.

And after Alastor became an overlord, the occasional sex probably didn't stop there, because Alastor is all about about keeping up appearances and deals. He definitely comes off as someone who would use sex as a means to and end. If a woman wanted to trade their soul in exchange for Alastor's protection and one night with him, I feel like Alastor wouldn't turn her down. It would be a decision that would end up leading to an increase in power for him. He just likely wouldn't kiss during the act.

Now finally onto Alastor's relationship with Charlie. From the beginning, we've all known that Alastor has his own agenda and reasons for involving himself with Charlie. He's a master of manipulation, knowing love is a powerful motivator (the way he manipulates Vaggie by making her feel bad about Charlie and the commercial) and also digging into Charlie's daddy issues.

It was clear that Alastor tried to play the boyfriend card to piss off Luci. It was only after Charlie introduced Vaggie that Alastor changed tactics and switched to the daddy card.

This means that Alastor would be willing to play any role to get what he wants from Charlie, whether the endgame is obtaining her soul or becoming her royal advisor or whatever. If Vaggie had been introduced in the pilot as a mere crush, Alastor would've caught onto the daddy issues quick and would've angled for a romantic role in Charlie's life since love and sex would be easy things for Alastor to manipulate (if my theory is right about him using sex as a means to an end).

I feel like this kind of materializes during the pilot with the way Alastor keeps pushing Vaggie out of the way, and how Vaggie seems jealous whenever Alastor impresses Charlie.

We don't know if this weird competition for Charlie's attention will persist between them as the series goes on considering that behavior was absent in season one. What's interesting is that the jealousy aspect switched from Vaggie to Alastor. The second Luci hugged Charlie, we're shown Alastor looking maliciously at Luci with his eye twitching in irritation.

What do we know about Alastor so far? He's an attention whore . He's used to being one of the strongest demon lords (at least from the pride ring) so suddenly not having attention, particularly Charlie's attention is making him act nuttier than usual.

Usually, it's hard for someone to be jealous without at least having some feelings toward the one they're feeling jealousy over. "Ah, an enjoyable collective to be around. I admit that one could get accustomed." This line is for the entire Hazbin gang, but also a real sign he cares for Charlie.

He can still have his own hidden agenda while caring about Charlie and being attracted to her. And he definitely is attracted to her. Calls her "charming and adorable". The constant touching.

Some might argue that that's just a part of Alastor's power play/dominance but he already knows that those types of moves don't intimidate Charlie. In fact, she never seems bothered at all when Alastor tries physically to get closer to her.

Also, the animators placing Alastor in Charlie's bed with both of them on a HEART pillow is insane. They know what they were doing. We see the way Alastor's hands possessively spider crawl up Charlie's shoulders and the way he grips her face.

And by the looks of it, Alastor seems to lust after Charlie's soul almost as much as his freedom. Viv has said that Alastor can't love anyone because he loves himself too much. Yet, she has also described Charlie as "Alastor's mirror".

The fact that they even made Charlie's color palette similar to Alastor's. Her hot pink jacket is almost a reddish color and they both wear bow ties. If Charlie is a reflection of Alastor then wouldn't that mean he does technically love himself by loving Charlie? He could be Charliesexual.

Not saying Viv will change her mind. She already chose her endgame. BUT what if Prime and Viv compromise and we get to have one sided Charlastor where Alastor admits to someone or even directly confesses his romantic love to Charlie herself (without actually trying to steal her from Vaggie)?

[dailyadventureprompts]

Homebrew Mechanic: Meaningful Research

Being careful about when you deliver information to your party is one of the most difficult challenges a dungeonmaster may face, a balancing act that we constantly have to tweak as it affects the pacing of our campaigns.

That said, unlike a novel or movie or videogame where the writers can carefully mete out exposition at just the right time, we dungeonmasters have to deal with the fact that at any time (though usually not without prompting) our players are going to want answers about what's ACTUALLY going on, and they're going to take steps to find out.

To that end I'm going to offer up a few solutions to a problem I've seen pop up time and time again, where the heroes have gone to all the trouble to get themselves into a great repository of knowledge and end up rolling what seems like endless knowledge checks to find out what they probably already know. This has been largely inspired by my own experience but may have been influenced by watching what felt like several episodes worth of the critical role gang hitting the books and getting nothing in return.

I've got a whole write up on loredumps, and the best way to dripfeed information to the party, but this post is specifically for the point where a party has gained access to a supposed repository of lore and are then left twiddling their thumbs while the dm decides how much of the metaplot they're going to parcel out.

When the party gets to the library you need to ask yourself: Is the information there to be found?

No, I don't want them to know yet: Welcome them into the library and then save everyone some time by saying that after a few days of searching it’s become obvious the answers they seek aren’t here. Most vitally, you then either need to give them a new lead on where the information might be found, or present the development of another plot thread (new or old) so they can jump on something else without losing momentum.

No, I want them to have to work for it:  your players have suddenly given you a free “insert plothook here” opportunity. Send them in whichever direction you like, so long as they have to overcome great challenge to get there. This is technically just kicking the can down the road, but you can use that time to have important plot/character beats happen.

Yes, but I don’t want to give away the whole picture just yet:  The great thing about libraries is that they’re full of books, which are written by people,  who are famously bad at keeping their facts straight. Today we live in a world of objective or at least peer reviewed information but the facts in any texts your party are going to stumble across are going to be distorted by bias. This gives you the chance to give them the awnsers they want mixed in with a bunch of red herrings and misdirections. ( See the section below for ideas)

Yes, they just need to dig for it:  This is the option to pick if you're willing to give your party information upfront while at the same time making it SEEM like they're overcoming the odds . Consider having an encounter, or using my minigame system to represent their efforts at looking for needles in the lithographic haystack. Failure at this system results in one of the previous two options ( mixed information, or the need to go elsewhere), where as success gets them the info dump they so clearly crave.

The Art of obscuring knowledge AKA Plato’s allegory of the cave, but in reverse

One of the handiest tools in learning to deliver the right information at the right time is a sort of “slow release exposition” where you wrap a fragment lore the party vitally needs to know in a coating of irrelevant information,  which forces them to conjecture on possibilities and draw their own conclusions.  Once they have two or more pieces on the same subject they can begin to compare and contrast, forming an understanding that is merely the shadow of the truth but strong enough to operate off of. 

As someone who majored in history let me share some of my favourite ways I’ve had to dig for information, in the hopes that you’ll be able to use it to function your players.

A highly personal record in the relevant information is interpreted through a personal lens to the point where they can only see the information in question 

Important information cameos in the background of an unrelated historical account

The information can only be inferred from dry as hell accounts or census information. Cross reference with accounts of major historical events to get a better picture, but everything we need to know has been flattened into datapoints useful to the bureaucracy and needs to be re-extrapolated.

The original work was lost, and we only have this work alluding to it. Bonus points if the existent work is notably parodying the original, or is an attempt to discredit it.

Part of a larger chain of correspondence, referring to something the writers both experienced first hand and so had no reason to describe in detail. 

The storage medium (scroll, tablet, arcane data crystal) is damaged in some way, leading to only bits of information being known. 

Original witnesses Didn’t have the words to describe the thing or events in question and so used references from their own environment and culture. Alternatively, they had specific words but those have been bastardized by rough translations. 

Tremendously based towards a historical figure/ideology/religion to the point that all facts in the piece are questionable.  Bonus points if its part of a treatise on an observably untrue fact IE the flatness of earth

[wakkass]

It's impossible to put into words how much I love designing characters, especially for AU.

Yes, I recently had an avatar AU, and I really wanted to draw Katara from there (and also Zuko). I usually draw a static pose in order to display all the details of the clothes. This is such a kind of character sheet that helps me to better imagine the scenes in my head.

If you're interested in reading about the AU itself, then there will be some information about it.

I apologize in advance for mistakes in the text, English is not my native language. But, I hope, this will not interfere with understanding.

In general, my AU concerns the ending of the series, because at some point it seemed unrealistic to me. There is too much positivity with the obvious problems of the post-military space, as well as little logic in some moments (for example, I don't understand what Zuko was doing in Ba Sing Se. Did he abandon his newfound throne to the mercy of fate with the risk of a palace coup? Did he not feel the effects of a lightning strike? The longer I think about it, the surreal it seems to me).

At some point I thought, "this is all like Aang's dream, in which everything is intentionally good. As if this is the ending he wants, but it's unattainable." And then it dawned on me. But it really looks like his fantasy about the future after defeating the root of evil. This explains why Zuko recovered so easily, why everyone is just relaxing and having fun without a drop of post-trauma. Because Aang wants everything to be so naive and simple after defeating the Fire Lord. Because he's dreaming about it.

I know this is a very hackneyed narrative technique. It's pretty easy to say "this is someone's dream" to deny any events. But I found it curious, especially against the background of the episode "Nightmares and Daydreams", where Aang's dreams already simplified the reality around him. For me, it's like a lead-up to the finale, where he actually sleeps.

You ask, "but why is he sleeping?". I also asked this question, and the answer to it killed me. Because during the battle with Ozai, when the stone hit Aang in the wound, he fell into a coma. His body was paralyzed because his brain perceived it as a repeated lightning strike, again fatal. The avatar's state was the only one that did not allow Aang to die, but only to fall into a coma. And instead of an epic battle, we have a little helpless boy spending a huge amount of energy just to maintain his life.

The second Aang collapsed, he disappeared, leaving Ozai alone with the remnants of his temporary power. And no one else saw the avatar…

I'll leave the intrigue for you about this, but for now I'll tell you about the concepts from the art.

Naturally, everyone searched for Aang, and, naturally, they did not find him. Katara and Zuko were the only ones who did not participate in the search, for several reasons:

Zuko was rehabilitated for a very long time after being struck by lightning, and Katara nursed him (I'm sure there are a lot of fics about this topic. The only difference is that there is no romance here. The focus of my AU is not on it, but on the problems of the consequences of the war). He survived, but he had major problems with his heart, digestive system and spine. Who noticed the cane in his hands? Yes, Zuko couldn't walk without it. From now on and forever. He was physically unable to leave the palace, and Katara maintained at least some of his condition.

Even after Zuko's rehabilitation, it was necessary to keep the power in his hands. Imagine what a shock the Fire Nation experienced when not just the former Fire Lord was overthrown, but the country's policy changed dramatically. Now Zuko needed to keep power in his hands and establish a new regime as soon as possible, before his opponents raised armies and people against him. This boy, who recently sat quietly at a military meeting, needed to show unprecedented strength and power to everyone: both officials sought to turn the situation in their favor, and the people who wanted stability and prosperity. But how to do this if Zuko couldn't even breathe normally, and getting out of bed required tremendous effort? It was impossible… Anyone else would have given up, but not Zuko. He has never given up without a fight and has never turned his back on danger, even if he risks dying.

It hurts me a lot for him, too. Fate has never stopped pushing Zuko against obstacles, but this time he couldn't rely on himself. He almost couldn't bend, his body almost didn't obey. He was an easy target and there was nothing he could do about it. This helplessness irritated him, saddened him, oppressed him. The only thing that wasn't broken yet was his spirit, and Zuko was barely able to maintain it in such conditions. If it wasn't for Katara, I don't know if he would have coped in the end. She was now his only support, his only ally in these cold oppressive walls, the only rational grain in his doubts.

You ask, "Where is Iroh? Where is Mai?"

Iroh, along with the White Lotus, took on a mission to liberate the Earth Kingdom from the Fire Army and establish relations with the kingdom. In fact, Iroh now shared power with Zuko: uncle was engaged in foreign policy so that his nephew could focus on domestic policy.

With Mai, everything was much simpler: after getting out of prison, she was completely disappointed in the guy who always left her. She sent him a letter, where she finally ended their relationship, and left with her family somewhere far away. Perhaps she and Zuko will cross paths again and will be able to establish a relationship. But not now.

Katara remained to help Zuko not only with treatment, but also with his policy. As a resident of an almost disappearing tribe, as well as an able leader, she helped him with projects and plans to improve the quality of life of the population and actively participates in them. She performed those missions that Zuko can only entrust to her. After all, she was a friend he could rely on and to whom he could open his feelings.

In her design, I wanted to reflect the combination of two cultures: Fire and Water. I was based on the designs of the "12 Kingdoms" (if you haven't watched this gorgeous anime or haven't read ranobe, I strongly recommend doing it. This universe is no less interesting than the avatar's world, I'm sure you'll like it), because the palace intrigues and the plot with winning the respect of the court reminds me very much of the story from there.

One day Zuko's legs finally gave up, he could not get up. All the stress he was going through was breaking his body so much that at some point the Katara's treatment stopped working.

It was a very difficult moment for both of them. Zuko has just started to promote his ideas and defend his rights to the throne, and Katara sincerely did not know what to do. If the truth about the true state of the Fire Lord had come out, all the ill-wishers would not leave this opportunity and attack, this couldn't be allowed. They urgently needed to create the appearance that everything is in order, but how?

Zuko came up with a very brazen idea. He asked Katara to use bloodbending on him to simulate walking. It was a very difficult request for her, because this skill represented the worst face of the war, it was created to torture people. And the last thing she wanted was to torment Zuko. She hesitated for a long time, he saw it, but he couldn't wait. He couldn't stop, it wasn't a luxury he could afford. Therefore, he went out, trying not to get up and move much.

Naturally, at some point his weakness was noticed at the most inopportune moment. Naturally, at this moment Katara couldn't let Zuko fall. Imperceptibly under her sleeves, she moved her friend's body like a puppet, causing him as much unbearable pain as most would not stand. But Zuko was not like that. He stood it.

It looked like this to me somehow:

They were both very depressed that day. He was suffering physically because of Katara's bending, and she could not believe that she had caused the suffering of a person dear to her. It broke and scared her, she opened the way to the Hama's madness, and was very afraid to fall into it.

Zuko assured her that it was impossible. Hama didn't have people to guide her, while Katara has friends. Maybe Zuko didn't consider himself the best moral mentor, but he promised to be there in the most difficult moments for Katara, and now he won't leave her.

This encouraged her and opened her eyes to her own cowardice. She was afraid of the darkness of Hama, and instead of curbing it, Katara hid it in herself, ignored it. And that's what it led to: the person who needed her help suffered. But she didn't want to run away anymore. She wasn't going to give up without a fight and turn her back on those who needed her.

At the beginning, Katara trained on herself, experiencing the same pain as the victims of bloodbending. Careless movement of blood through the vessels could cause internal bleeding at any time, it was very dangerous. The Hama's voice in her head pressed on her conscience, saying that innocent people felt all this pain, and only Katara was to blame for this.

Later, she learned to control the flow of water on puppets, like Hama. The point was to pass water through the threads without bursting them. Absolute control was required here, and Zuko taught her the techniques of firebending for self-control. This was necessary for Katara, because the Hama's voice in her head did not subside and did not allow her to correctly distribute her forces. It seemed like Katara was about to stumble, but Zuko wouldn't let her do it.

Gradually, Katara mastered this skill and tried to draw blood on Zuko's legs. The effect was unexpected. Her great willpower and desire to help him resulted in healing. Zuko began to feel his legs, and Katara discovered the reverse side of this bending. No, she didn't heal him completely, it's too early for him to get rid of the cane. But maybe one day she will become so strong that she can do it.

Katara realized that there was no evil magic, there was only evil intent. This was her first step towards learning to look inner demons in the face, and not to hide them in herself when it was possible to hurt others.

But what about the other design?

Katara's father sent her a letter asking her to return. Her family needed her help, because she was the last waterbender, a carrier of culture and skills, as well as a healer of a new level, the daughter of a tribal leader.

At home, everything was not the same as before, moreover, everything taked shape as a Northern Tribe. I really like the idea of the comic "North and South" about the problem of assimilation. Only here has Katara accepted all aspects of its culture, even the most unpleasant ones, and she would not give up so easily when this newfound knowledge was in danger of disappearing.

Actually, I wanted to draw her outfit of this arch. I wanted to redesign the costume for myself, because I like to do it. I kept the front strands of Katara, we don't talk much about them.

I would really like to describe the path of the rest of the team and what they do, of Aang and what happens to him. But I'm already tired of typing, and you probably read.

After all, the post is more about designs, and not about the AU itself, so the goal to reveal some of my ideas has been achieved in principle. Maybe sometime later.

Hope you enjoyed reading this :3

[luna-rainbow]

On Steve Rogers, loss, and loneliness

Unlike some of the other characters, Steve's hurt isn't as plain to the eye. His demeanour is usually one of stoicism and optimism, and it is easy to forget that his story is steeped in loss and loneliness.

Steve's introduction highlighted how alone he was - an orphan, armed with a list of ailments, and hiding behind a newspaper to avoid small chat with other recruits. When rejected by the recruitment centre, Steve shrugs and heads to watch a movie - alone.

Steve is a loner, we are shown, and then just as abruptly - perhaps just like the way it had happened many years ago - Bucky crashes into Steve's world and hooks an arm around his shoulders and noisily talks about an expo and dispels all of Steve's melancholic air. Steve is a loner, except for Bucky.

But Bucky is now leaving to go to war.

Steve is used to being stoic, because there were no adults around him to spoil him. He is used to being buoyant, because Sarah taught him how to pick himself up and carry on. Steve is used facing the empty house and lonely silence -- except for Bucky, who filled his room with chatter, "We can put the couch cushions on the floor, like when we were kids."

So when we hear the anxious strain in his voice as he is informed by Bucky that he is leaving -- it also becomes plain that Steve is also used to loss, or the threat of loss shadowing him, everyday.

In his short life, he has already lost so much. He has lost his health (my thought is he was probably healthier in his early childhood until he caught scarlet fever, and then his health got a lot worse after that). He has lost his father, and all the security of having a family breadwinner. He has lost his mother - to long hours of work and eventually to the disease she was battling against.

What he dreads would happen, does happen. Life seems to have a way of chasing him down like that. Sarah gets sick, and his fear of coming home to find her gone...one day inevitably comes true.

At his darkest moment, Bucky squeezes his shoulder and promises, "You don't have to do it (alone). I'm with you to the end of the line."

It's just enough for Steve to square his shoulders and push on, as Sarah had always taught him to do. Deep inside - possibly buried so deep that he can barely put it into words, he knows that he pulled through because "Even when I had nothing, I had Bucky."

I'm going to pause here and emphasise how deeply lonely (and young) Steve was, and how, naturally, the only stable presence — ie Bucky — in his life, through periods of terrible grief and uncertainty, is going to be such a deep-rooted emotional foundation for him (regardless of how you ship).

When the draft does come for Bucky, it's not just Bucky who's unhappy, it's Steve who's also aghast. Suddenly, the possibility of losing his last bastion looms over him, and he remembers the fear and anxiety and the devastating grief of losing Sarah. But it is also a war that needs fighting - so he comes up with a solution: sign himself up. He can't keep Bucky from the war, but he wants to fight alongside him. Besides Bucky, what else does he have to lose?

"Men are laying down their lives, I have no right to do any less. That's what you don't understand, Bucky."

He says this angrily, because the words he can't say aloud are, "You are laying down your life, Bucky, and I might never see you again, and I can't go through all that again, not by myself."

When he hears about the 107th being captured, he has to go. He is saving Bucky, sure, but he is also saving himself, because the pillar, the lifebuoy, the harness that has kept him afloat all those years is Bucky, and he's terrified of sinking.

The serum makes him taller and more women pause to smile at him, but he is still incredibly alone. He sits alone during break, he draws alone in his book, he runs off alone and none of the USO girls even notices until it's his turn on stage.

But Bucky notices him immediately, and says, "I thought you were smaller," and, "Did it hurt?"

Steve doesn't really believe in miracles. His whole life feels like one bad luck after another, even if he forces one foot in front of another and keeps marching on. But maybe at that moment, he feels like Bucky is his miracle. Bucky, who always seems to notice when he's alone and pulls him into his social circle. Bucky, who had seen him lose his dad and Sarah and promised him the end of the line. Bucky, who he - and all the commanders - thought was dead, pulls through and gives him another promise - that he would follow the little guy back into war.

When Steve is finally thrust into the frontline, the losses keeps mounting, man after man are falling, condolence letter after letter is being written. And then towards the end of 1944, the tides seem to finally turn. German forces are waning, the Allied forces are advancing, and quietly, secretly, Steve dreams of home.

And that dream dies with Bucky.

"Honour the dignity of his choice," he is told, but he can't shake off the guilt.

He pushes himself forward, step by dragging step. Nazi Germany is falling. He is taking down Hydra with his own hands…and at the end, he buries them all in the ocean with himself.

His is sinking, but he isn’t afraid, because he is going where all the people who mattered are waiting.

And he is denied even that.

He opens his eyes to a world he doesn’t recognise. They tell him they had won the war.

But no one wants to speak with him about what was lost.

A folder of old photos, the museum of unmoving murals, the silent movies of a smile he would never see again.

He thought he had lost all there was to lose, but somehow life always seem to find something else to take.

What we see of off-duty Steve in the modern world is once again a figure of loneliness. He goes to the gym alone, he goes for a ride on the train alone, he sits at the cafe alone, he goes for runs alone, he goes to the museum alone.

Only during those solitary moments he could truly be Steve Rogers, instead of trying to meet everyone's expectations of Captain America. He is just shy of 27 years old, but suddenly, he can no longer lay claim to youth. Only a dream ago he was "just a kid from Brooklyn", and now he's an "old-fashioned" (as per Coulson) "older fellow" (as per Tony).

He's in the history books, he's on the television, he's in the classrooms; everyone knows of Captain America, but Steve Rogers is lost.

He had been willing to lose his life on the Valkyrie, but what he lost was every living connection and his own identity.

"Must have freaked you out, coming home after the whole defrosting thing," the friendly man says to him on their first meeting, but Sam only knows half of it.

The too soft bed and the too quiet room is one thing, the unshakeable nightmares another, but the worst of it is -- this isn't home.

He is marooned in a place that bears eerie resemblance to the world he knew, without being familiar.

Until the moment Bucky's mask comes off.

It's like the anchor dropping. He's now got a connection tethering him to this strange place, someone with "shared experience" that means he is no longer alone, and he is no longer a ghost forgotten by the seventy years of lost time.

"He doesn't know you."

"He will."

He has to believe that Bucky will, because Bucky is proof that Steve Rogers exists.

And once again, Bucky is his miracle. On the brink of killing them both, Bucky reels back from his brainwashing and hauls them both to safety.

Even if Bucky leaves after that, he's left behind something Steve hasn't had for a long time -- hope, and belonging.

"Family, stability. The guy who wanted all that went in the ice seventy-five years ago," he says to Tony as he prepares to meet the ragged team of enhanced people that is to become the Avengers. "I'm home."

Stoic and buoyant as he has always been, Steve sets to work building that home for himself. Gradually, we see Steve open up. He forms new connections and new friendships, he talks about his vulnerabilities with people he trusts, and he reclaims his own identity. He looks for Bucky, and waits until Bucky is ready to build that home for himself.

Until it is once again blown apart by the end of Infinity War - he loses not just Bucky, the anchor to his past, but the new family he has made apart from Natasha.

That's why it makes sense that Steve, not Tony, is the one working so hard to reverse the Snap. His family was 5 years ago, Tony's family is now. The people who rallied behind Steve and not Captain America, the people who followed him after he dropped the shield, the people with whom he no longer needed to be endlessly lonely and tirelessly stoic and who loved him for who Steve Rogers was, they all vanished in the Snap.

So even if there was only a small hope, Steve wants them back.

And that's why his decision to leave everything he had built, the sacrifices he had made to bring them back, in order to go into a life of incredibly loneliness and deception is still the dumbest narrative faux pas in the MCU.

[brigdh]

I want to talk about Izzy's rant to Ed in episode 10, the one that brings out the Kraken. I've seen a lot of different descriptions of what is going on in this scene – death threat, homophobic slurs, etc – and I don't think either of those are what's actually what's happening.

Let's look at it closely, line by line, and the way Ed reacts, from the very beginning of the scene.

Ed: Well, feels nice to tidy up a little. Can't believe I was living like this. Can you, Iz? Izzy? Izzy: I'm going to speak plainly. Ed: Wonderful. You know we share our thoughts on this ship.

Izzy, cont: This, whatever it is that you've become... is a fate worse than death.

Okay. So there we've got what some have interpreted as a death threat. But does Ed seem threatened? He's startled, certainly, put on his back foot – literally – but he doesn't look afraid or alarmed to me. He draws in a slow breath, assessing the situation, but overall seems more confused than frightened.

In fact he laughs it off with his next line:

Izzy then escalates the level of aggression in the conversation:

But Ed, again, looks more confused than anything. Check out that furrowed brow, that head tilt! This is a man going "what is your deal?", not a man thinking "uh-oh, you might kill me!".

Extremely noticeably, even when Izzy storms right up into his face, Ed holds steady. He doesn't run, doesn't lean back, doesn't hunch his shoulders or drop eye contact – there is no vulnerability or defensiveness in Ed's body language at all. Ed is in supreme control of this confrontation – look at the slow way he deigns to turn back to the paper Izzy's holding! As though he's making the point that he chooses when to turn, not Izzy:

Then we have the "homophobic slur". But watch closely:

Ed does not react to "namby-pamby", "silk gown", or "pining" at all. He doesn't even blink. He barely seems like he's hearing Izzy. His entire attention is on the picture.

Ed's body language and behavior changes at one word and one word only, and that is "boyfriend". As soon as Izzy says it, Ed's furious:

(It's even easier to notice when you actually watch the scene instead of using gifs, because Izzy really draws out 'piiiiiiining', putting a lot of time between the first half of the sentence and 'boyfriend'.)

Why is the use of the word 'boyfriend' so important?

Well, what has Ed been doing all episode? He's been crying in a blanket fort and singing sad songs, yes, but he's been keeping a careful level of mystique about why he's doing it. Ed often uses distanced circumlocutions instead of directly acknowledging his emotions, but he's doing it in this episode even more so than usual:

Here are the lyrics to his song:

(Version one, with Lucius) Hanging on By a thread Hanging on Shouldn't let go If I let go, all will fall Fingers bleeding down to the bone now Can't let go Nothing makes sense Hold on Hold on Hold... on

(Version two, performed for the whole crew) Just let go Make yourself let go Make it go away Away, away today Life's a hard sad death And then you're Deaaad

Notice something? There is no mention of Stede, or love, or break-ups, or abandonments, or relationships in general. All Ed discusses is a vague life-sucks attitude, which could apply to basically anyone under any circumstances. He seems pretty okay with people knowing that Blackbeard is having some sort of weird emotional breakdown as long as he convinces himself that no one knows it's specifically from having his heart broken

This is true of everything Ed says and does for this entire episode. He never once even mentions Stede's name, unless "Farewell, Bonnet's playthings" at the very end counts. The only thing Ed openly admits to feeling bad about is a fictional character who's having a hard time "holding on" (holding on to what? he never says). There are no allusions to heartbreak or romance anywhere in his dialogue.

Now, Ed's not stupid. I'm sure he knows Izzy and Lucius and the rest of the crew can connect the dots and realize that something bad happened with Stede, even if Ed doesn't fill them in on the details. But Ed is also traumatized, and has a whole host of coping mechanisms set up to help him avoiding thinking about things that he doesn't want to think about. If he's not a murderer because "technically the fire killed those guys", then no one knows he's heartbroken because technically he hasn't acknowledged it.

Until Izzy says the word 'boyfriend'. Suddenly the secret is out, and Ed can't handle it. Izzy knows his weakness. That's why this word effects Ed more than anything else Izzy says in the whole scene.

At the end of the confrontation, he hears the crew calling for another song. Look at Ed here. He looks as haunted, as disturbed, in this moment as he does at any point in Izzy's rant.

This is an important part of the scene, not just a closing note. Because if Izzy (the Caribbean's most emotionally constipated man) can see through him, obviously the whole crew can too.

Obviously Lucius – who advised Ed on his and Stede's relationship, who played along with Ed's 'fictional character' claim, who wrote down Ed's lyrics – can do so most of all.

There's a direct emotional logic to Ed killing Lucius because he had a fight with Izzy, and it doesn't involve Ed having been threatened or hate crime'd at all. Ed doesn't deal well with his own feelings (from Stede), so he chooses to become Blackbeard/the Kraken and gets rid of all the witnesses who saw otherwise.

[janasrdhr]

Stay - Simon “Ghost” Riley

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Warning(s): Major Character Death, Explicit Language, Angst

──────────────────────

Ghost signals to proceed towards the fourth floor of the building, indicating it as the final hurdle to overcome.

An eerie silence envelops the surroundings.

Suddenly, Ghost forcefully pulls you downward with a shout, sending waves of pain coursing through your body.

In the midst of chaos, an explosion shatters the floor beneath you.

You find yourself wounded, partially trapped under concrete, as Ghost's voice reaches you amidst the wreckage.

“You stay with me. Don’t you die on me. That’s an order.”

You whimper, your body wracked with excruciating pain, swallowing hard as your eyes glaze over.

Ghost's arms wrap around your body tightly. His touch firm, reassuring. His eyes are locked into yours. He needs to see you holding onto him. To see your eyes and make sure that you're still there. That you're not gone.

He looks at your chest. His hand presses up against it. He needs to see your chest rise and fall beneath the rubble.

“Stay with me. Stay. Please.”

Your hand darts up, seizing his own in a desperate grasp, fingers trembling to match the tremors of his own chest. “I-it hurts,” you stammer, the pain coursing through you like molten lava, threatening to consume you whole.

You're losing strength. He can see your free hand struggling to grip his hand as tightly as it was.

He's silent for a moment, then a short, quick command to no one in particular.

“I need morphine now.”

The rubble starts moving slightly, and you know that Ghost can't move you just yet.

But he's not leaving your side.

“You stay with me dove, yeah?”

“It hurts so much. F-fuck...I can't-” you heave, drawing in air as though each labored breath were a lifeline.

“I need you to do somethin' for me, dove.”

Ghost's voice is firm. Almost an order. But his grip on you is gentle, as if he doesn't want to hurt you more than you are already hurting.

“You're goin' to take slow, deep breaths. And you're goin' to keep lookin' at me. Only me.”

You nod pitifully, your concussed head barely able to comply, your consciousness teetering on the brink.

“Good girl.”

The rubble continues to shift. As the debris slowly gets removed from your body. The morphine slowly enters your system. Pain alleviating, as the world starts to spin.

“I need you to stay awake for me, love?”

Ghost's voice is reassuring, comforting, warm. Even with the mask covering his mouth, his eyes are intent - waiting. Waiting to see if you're still there.

“Stay with me.”

Your eyes begin to roll back, struggling as if trying to stitch themselves shut.

“Dove.”

Ghost's tone is urgent now. As if he's going to shake you into staying awake. Into living.

“I need you to look at me. Look at me.”

His grip presses into your hand. Trying to find some semblance of life in you. It must kill him to see you like this. See you suffer.

“Look at me, pretty.”

Your eyes snap open, fueled by the dwindling remnants of your energy, slowly succumbing to the pull of slumber; despite the plea in his usual taut voice.

“That's it,” Ghost whispers, his voice filled with relief.

“Don't you dare close your eyes. Keep lookin' at me. Keep lookin'.”

There's still rubble pinning you to the ground. The EVAC team trying their hardest to free you - and keep you alive.

“Don't you close your eyes again. Ya hear me?”

“...s-so tired...” You stutter, your voice faltering, as weariness grips you like a heavy cloak.

His voice, normally resonant and commanding, now carries a plea, a desolate edge honed by urgency. Each word is measured, and delivered with a staggering resolve. A raw vulnerability that struggles to break free from its jagged, rusty confines, something only you seem to have the key to. It echoes the weight of unspoken fears and the fervent hope of finding salvation amid turmoil.

God, does he push on. For you.

Anything for you.

“Keep lookin'.”

You're slipping away. His grip on you grows tighter as he pleads.

“Don't you go on me. Ya hear that? Don't you go on me.”

It would tear his heart out to lose you. He knows that. He knows just as well as you do.

But you have to stay. You have to stay.

“Ghost,” you stammer, your words catching in your throat like a fish struggling against a hook, “I d-don't think I can...”

“You have to. You get me?”

He's so desperate. So desperate. He can't lose you. Not here. Not now where you lie in a pile of rubble. Where everything is chaos.

There's noise around you, the rubble being lifted, the sound of feet and voices.

Your hand, barely clinging to him, tightens ever so slightly, a silent plea for reassurance.

“I-If I don't make it...you'll miss me, r-right?”

“Don't you dare talk like that, dove.”

Ghost's voice cracks. His grip has tightened to the point that it's painful.

“You're makin' it out of here, and I'm not leavin' until you do.”

His eyes narrow.

“You're not goin' anywhere.”

A solitary tear escapes, tracing a silent path down the contours of your weary face. “I...I'll miss you,” you confess, your voice trembling with emotion, each word a delicate thread in the tapestry of your heartache. “So much...”

“You're not dyin', damn it.”

Ghost hisses the words. The frustration is evident in his voice. The fear and dread, the knowledge of just how close you're to the end of the line.

Ghost can't even begin to describe the emotions he's feeling. The guilt over bringing you to this. The anger over someone else doing this to you.

A strained whimper manages to escape your parched throat. “I-...I had everything planned, y-y'know?” you confess, your voice strained, carrying the weight of stolen expectations. “E-Everything.”

“Shut it.”

It's quiet this time. As if Ghost is trying to deny the truth in those words. As if he can push it back and make it not real.

“Shut up... you're not thinkin' like that. Don't you dare.”

A pause as a tear falls from his eye. A low, grunted curse as his lips tighten under the balaclava.

Your words emerge in fragments, like fragile petals torn from a wilting flower, each syllable a struggle against unspoken desires.

“I...I wanted,” you begin, your breaths strained as if wrestling with unseen burdens. “I wanted to marry you.” you manage to confess amidst the tumult of your emotions, the words hanging in the air like delicate threads on the verge of snapping.

“And...and children...” you choke back tears, the image of a future slipping through your trembling grasp. “I imagined...a home,” you continue, your voice a whispered plea, “filled with love.” But even as you struggle to speak, the words falter, slipping away like sand through your fingers.

“I...I can't hold on,” you admit, weak gasps punctuating the realization of time slipping inexorably away. Tears stream down your cheeks, each drop a testament to the depth of your longing.

“I wanted...so much.” your voice trails off, fading into the silence battered breaths.

“Stop.”

Ghost tries. He tries to block it. The truth. The reality.

You're lying here, barely hanging on. The life within your body slipping away.

“Don't say that. It's...”

There's a pause as he swallows hard.

“It's not slippin' away.”

Another beat as his grasp on you loosens slightly. The fear, the anger, the panic, the pain, the guilt. It's all in his voice. His voice cracking. Breaking.

“A d-destination wedding,” you manage, a dry chuckle escaping your lips, as if dust had settled upon your laughter.

“Italy....Tuscany.” Your voice wavers, painting a picture of distant shores and moonlit sands. “On the beach, m-maybe? Barefoot, under the nighttime sky. Just us and the stars,” Your thoughts drift away by the current of your yearning.

“White roses...everywhere,” you continue, the image forming in your mind's eye like a fragile constellation.

“I love white roses...” you trail off, lost in the reverie of what could have been.

Ghost listens to your dreams. Your thoughts of a future together. A life together.

A faint smile pulls at the corner of his mouth. His eyes narrow more as it's barely noticeable, only if you really look at his face.

“Italy.” Ghost repeats, his voice stronger now. “White roses.”

A pause as he swallows hard. A deep sigh to collect himself.

“What else?”

“It s-should be intimate,” you falter, your voice wavering with sincerity, "just family and friends with us.” You pause, gathering your thoughts before continuing with a soft giggle, “I've always imagined Captain Price officiating, maybe even walking me down the aisle too...”

“Price?”

The corner of his mouth twitches. The faintest of smirks pull at the corner of his mouth for a moment.

“No chance in hell is Price going to be our priest.”

It doesn't last long. That faint flicker of joy. Because it's drowned out by everything else.

“Why not?” you pout, suppressing the pain coursing through you as you raise your gaze to meet his.

“Because, believe it or not, Price still has a level of professionalism to him. He's not going to be marrying off some of his best soldiers in the middle of a war.”

Ghost tries to smile. Tries to find some humor in this situation.

“Besides, he wouldn't know how to officiate a proper wedding ceremony. He'd just ramble on about how the relationship is a battle.”

You laugh softly, a melody to him. “I also w-wanted to retire from the military,” you confess, your words weaving a tapestry of aspirations. “Opening a bakery or a floral shop... or maybe both,” you muse, letting the possibilities dance.

“A bakery... a floral shop.”

Ghost's voice is soft, almost a whisper as he speaks.

“I'd buy an entire bakery from you just to try some of whatever you'd make.” he chuckles lightly. A breath as he swallows hard.

“And a floral shop,” His grip tightens ever so slightly on your hand.

“I'd buy that, too. I'd bring you flowers every day. All sorts. Roses. Sunflowers. Lilies. Hydrangeas...”

You shake your head, a wince flickering across your features like a shadow passing over the sun. Almost instantly, you feel the sting of ripped arteries creeping in. “Just white roses,” you murmur.

“...white roses,” Ghost repeats quietly, his grip on you softening.

“I'd bring you white roses, dove.”

Another pause. The silence is deafening.

“White roses. The brightest, most beautiful ones out there.”

Just for you.

You gaze upwards, absorbing the expanse of the skies above, as if embracing the vastness of the unknown that lies ahead. “I'll have to get used to this,” you whisper, the realization settling in like a gentle breeze on a summer day.

“Two kids,” you continue, your voice progressively dimming, “a boy and a girl. Spend everyday t-taking care of 'em, watching 'em grow” With a tremble in your voice, you add, “I'll send you off to work each day, stealing a kiss from you b-before you go.”

“Two kids, I can agree to that. A boy and a girl, definitely. You'll spoil them horribly though.” he teases gently, the corner of his mouth twitching slightly.

A long pause. The sounds of the world around them finally register. The sounds of the medics working to free you.

“W-wouldn't,” you muse, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips, “our daughter become a daddy's girl?”

“Our daughter...she'll definitely be a daddy's girl. But our son...” Ghost's voice softens. “...our son would be a mommy's boy. For sure.”

He'd be just as protective of his mother as she is of him."

“What would you name her?” you inquire.

Ghost hesitates for a moment. As if he's trying to pick the perfect name.

“Beth.”

He pauses again.

“She'd be a lovely little girl. She'll have her mother's smile. Her mother's laugh. Her mother's heart.”

“And what name would you give our son, my love?” Simon asked.

You ponder, feeble eyes fluttering.

“Tommy.”

“Tommy,” Ghost repeats. The ghost of a smile is just barely visible under the mask.

Another beat as he holds you tightly. As if by holding you, he can make things right again.

“...yeah. Tommy's a good name.”

You find yourself whimpering more frequently now, each sound a plaintive note in the symphony of your agony as the pain sets in again. “I...I don't wanna die,” you murmur, your words a fragile plea.

“You're not going to die. You're not going to die”

But Ghost doesn't seem entirely convinced with his own words.

The medics are still working furiously to free you.

But the fear and anxiety inside of him is clear. He's afraid that he's losing you. That the wounds you've suffered are irreversible.

He tries to block it. To be strong for you. But he can't deny that feeling inside of him. The dread.

“I don't wanna leave, Ghost,” you sob, the words choked with emotion, longing to remain by his side.

“I know...I know.” He whispers, his words soft.

“I don't want you to go, either.”

Oh, how he didn't.

The medic finally manages to remove a large piece of rubble that was weighing you down.

“Stay with me. Focus on me,” he tells you softly, gently squeezing your hands.

“Look into my eyes.”

You let out a piercing scream as the oppressive weight is finally lifted from you.

Ghost's grasp on you tightens. He holds you tighter, squeezing your hands even harder as if somehow, he can spare your pain.

“Keep lookin' at me, dove,” he whispers.

“Lemme see those pretty eyes.”

You sob uncontrollably, each breath a struggle as if your lungs were drowning in white-hot pain. “Don't leave me,” you plead, your voice a trembling whisper. “s-so scared..."

“I'm not leavin' you.”

His voice cracks. His grip tightens even further so as to try and relieve your own pain.

“I am not leavin' you.”

Another beat as Ghost forces himself to continue. To look at you. To stare into your eyes as if he could somehow spare you from this.

“Just keep holdin' me and everythin' will be okay.”

He tries to soothe your pain, rubbing your shoulders with one hand and squeezing you tightly with the other.

“Yeah? Everythin' will be okay.”

You nod, your grasp on him tightening every so often.

“He should have your eyes,” you murmur, a sentiment blooming between you once more.

“He'd be as strong as you, as brave as you, as protective as you...as s-safe as you are.”

“He would.”

Ghost tries to smile. To imagine the son that he'd have.

“He'd be as stubborn as me, too.”

You break into a soft smile, “You'd be a g-good father, Simon,” you murmur, your words carrying certainty.

The smile falters. The realization hitting him again.

Ghost's grip on you tightens further. This is the only thing he can do to prevent himself from breaking down.

“Yeah," he murmurs. “I-...I'd be a good father. Yeah.”

Two heartbeats.

One irregular, the other irregular too.

“....A-And our daughter?”

“Our daughter.”

Ghost's voice cracks.

“She'd be so beautiful. The light of my life.”

Another heartbeat as a tear rolls down his cheeks.

“Like her mother.”

Your hold on him slackens, as your exhausted eyelids surrender to an eternal slumber. Yet, even in your final moments, a serene smile graces your lips, an enduring emblem of peace. As you draw your last breath, you depart adorned with that same tranquil expression, leaving behind a poignant echo of your essence.

“Like you.”

A pained whimper escapes Ghost. Soon, a sob.

“She'll definitely be like you.”

Another beat before he whispers again.

“But you should live to see her. You should live to see our son...”

Your vision blurs, colours fading into shades of grey as the world around you dims. Sounds muffle and distance themselves, like echoes fading into the night. Surrendering to the engulfing pain, you muster the last of your strength to whisper a fragile declaration: “I love you.”

Another beat before a soft cry hitches in his throat.

Another whisper.

“Don't leave...”

Ghost's grip on you tightens. He whispers one more time.

“Stay...”

Your chest stagnates, trapped in a moment of suspended animation, as if time has folded in on itself. The vibrant hues drain from your once radiant skin, leaving it as pale and lifeless as cold wax. Your body begins to chill, a stark reminder of the journey ahead. Muscles slacken, limbs surrendering to a weighty lethargy. The rhythmic ebb and flow of your chest's rise and fall fades into a profound silence. Consciousness slips away like a whisper on the wind, leaving behind naught but a hollow, silent void.

Ghost squeezes you tighter. Trying to fight the inevitable.

But he can feel it.

He's losing you.

Slowly, your grip goes slack. The rise and fall of your chest stops. Your once warm body growing cold.

The medics are still working, trying to remove the rubble that remains.

All Ghost can do is hold you. Hold you in his arms.

All he can hear is the silence. The void.

“Stay...”

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masterlist - cod masterlist

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[let-spretend]

bi-han x reader but the reader is flirty !! this was a requested fic over on ao3 ! i was sort of hesitant about doing it since personally i think bi-han is a difficult character to write and i was afraid it was going to be ooc. but i still wanted to give it a shot !! i do use Y/N in this fic, but it is gender-neutral.

sorry for just a drabble! and i will be stopping requests! thinking of starting a batman fanfic...

bi-han x reader

Being Liu Kang's assistant wasn't easy but you loved being able to serve the people of Earthrealm. Liu Kang always had a mysterious aura around him but you never sensed anything evil. On the other hand, dealing with the Lin Kuei's new grandmaster was tiring. He was always trying to prove himself, went above and beyond, and said inconsiderate things. No denying, he was a very handsome and beautiful man, but after his father's passing, he was becoming ugly. He would never actually do evil things, but his execution of action was definitely weird. Speaking of the devil, his footsteps were easily recognizable. Big and bold, letting people know of his presence. 

"You come here often, Bi-han. Do I perhaps have something to do with that?" You scribble down his name and the time he got here. The chart was mostly just Bi-han or his brothers' names. Occasionally Geras, but he usually just appears in Liu Kang's temple unannounced. Bi-Han chuckles and crosses his arms. "You know that I am only here for Liu Kang." You look at him with playful doubt.

"He will be available in 3 minutes... Also, are you making that voice deeper for me?" You chuckle. An oddly low but endearing voice. You just like to tease him. He sighs. He clears his throat a bit before talking. "How much longer do I have to wait?" "I said 3 minutes, Bi-Han. What's so distracting, hm?" You tilt your head and try to look at him innocently. He inhales sharply from your demeanor. You smirk from his cute reaction. Liu Kang's hand appears in between the sliding doors and reveals a small smile on his face. "I see you two are getting along?" You think his question is rhetorical. He motions his head for Bi-Han to come in. The man clad in blue gives you a playful glare before shutting the doors behind him.

-

Scribbling on the sign-in paper was probably going to get you in trouble but you were dying from boredom. You huff and decide to erase the drawings. Quiet shuffling could be heard and you fix your posture. Familiar yellow and gray emerge. "Tomas! Kuai Liang! Here for your brother?" Tomas' face lights up from your call and Kuai Liang sends a small wave. "Yes, is he going to be long?" "They've been in there for quite some time now. How about we just chat 'till he comes out?"

30 minutes pass and finally Bi-Han emerges out of Liu Kang's doors. "Brother! What took you so long?" Kuai Liang stands with some worry. Him and Tomas were sitting across from your desk. Bi-Han pinches the bridge of his nose. "We were just discussing the new Protectors of Earthrealm. We will have to test them some time next week, to measure their strength and will." He seemed irritated about the whole thing. "Go. I have to talk with Y/N about making an appointment with Liu Kang beforehand." They shuffle away by Bi-Han's command.

"Couldn't stand to wait just 3 minutes with me alone, Bi-Han?" He sits where Kuai Liang was sitting moments ago. "Yes." His answer was curt but weirdly honest. "Oh? How so?" You feel his answer has more meaning to it. "I am the Grandmaster of the Lin Kuei. I won't stand for your teasing, Y/N." Bi-Han puts emphasis on teasing. "Teasing? Partially, I am teasing, but take a hint. I don't do this just for anyone." You use the same tone on teasing as Bi-Han did. His face scrunches in confusion but also tints with red. "Now. What day did you say you want that appointment?" His left caresses his face and has no answer. All you could do was chuckle. "Was I able to melt the stone-cold faced Bi-Han?" Moving his hand out of the way reveals his eyes looking into yours. His hair was tied up into a bun like always but had loose strands hugging his face. You push the ones on the right, behind his ear to take a good look at him. "I'm jealous of your beauty, Bi-Han." He stiffens from your comment. You give him a light peck on the cheek. 

"I'll call you about the appointment thing." Slightly regretting your action from Bi-Han's reaction, you decide to flee. That was the problem with Bi-Han. You never knew what emotion he was expressing. Clipping the sign-in sheet to your clipboard, you knock three times before opening Liu Kang's doors. "Your cheek was very cold." You point to your right cheek and close the doors. You saw him feel his cheek before you shut them. Closing your hand into a fist, you take his last minute reaction as a win. "Woo!" Quietly cheering with a whispered voice. "Perhaps getting along too well." You could feel Liu Kang's glare immensely.