#The implication here is (but I ran out of characters) is say you have a character who is major in the canon

[bloody-peach]

Anything For a Friend Part 1: A Friend in Need is a Friend Indeed (Hazbin Hotel: Alastor x F!Reader smut fic)

(gif made by me)

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Now Playing: Closer x Beautiful is Boring, Animal, Blood (please listen to these while reading this, you will not regret it)

Goodie bag: vaginal sex, anal sex, oral sex, cock rubbing, tentacles, mating season, monster sex, monster fucking, rough sex, cursing, creampie, wall sex, somewhat of a slow burn at first [let me know if i miss anything]

A/N: Okay, so before I continue, I feel the need to say something. I know Alastor is aroace. I know it, you know it, we all know it. In the show's canon, I completely respect that. I have a friend that's aroace, and I have a deep respect for them and the community. However, this story is outside of canon, where anything goes. Plus, in this, Alastor still doesn't normally feel sexual attraction towards anyone, except when he's in his rut. But he is not aromantic in this. You can say he's demi-romantic; there needs to be a very deep connection between him and the target of the affection in order for romance to occur, hence why it happens here due to him and Y/N being so close. So yeah, no disrespect is intended here. I just want to give the people what they want. Besides, I'm clearly not the only one who is guilty of putting Al in sexual situations. I'm just aware of the implications this could bring and tried to give it some respect to the character. So if you're offended by even the idea of Alastor being romantic or him having sex at all, feel free to skip this. I won't blame you one bit. Anyways, enjoy!

Taglist: @omniuravity @fatgumsurpremacy-remastered @neonvehk @moths-and-mantids

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It was the beginning of October. Something was going on at the hotel. Alastor was staying away from everyone, holing himself in his room. You knew this wasn’t like him. Today, when you first confronted him about his odd behavior, he pushed you away and ran to his room. He had a panicked look in his eyes, which was an expression you never saw from him before. That’s how you knew something was wrong. You asked around the hotel to find out what happened, but they just told you that they didn’t know and to just let him be. But you refused, you knew you had to help him somehow, regardless of what everyone else said. That night, you walked up to his door and knocked on it.

Alastor softly groaned, turning his head slightly to glare at the door. As he walked to the door and prepared his speech in his mind, he heard your voice. “Alastor...? It’s me, Y/N. Are you okay?” He opened the door and was surprised to see you standing there, a worried expression marring your normally cheerful features. He sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair before letting out a sigh as he tried to control himself. “Y/N...” He muttered, his voice laced with a mixture of disappointment and frustration. Despite his efforts to push you away to keep you safe, here you were, like a loyal little puppy. He avoided eye contact and said, “I said I don’t want any company. Please, just go.”

You noticed how disheveled he looked, his suit in disarray and partially open, exposing the scar on his chest from his fight with Adam. His breathing was heavy, like he had done something strenuous inside his room. You focused on the task at hand, saying, “You’ve been avoiding everyone all day and been so distant towards me. You’ve never acted like that before. Did something happen?” Alastor’s eyes narrowed as he stared at you, his heart beating faster as he looked at you. He knew that he should maintain distance, but seeing you so concerned about him made it even harder to resist the primal urges inside him. With a deep breath, he tried to gather his thoughts and come up with an explanation that wouldn’t reveal what was really going on. “It’s nothing important,” he muttered, attempting to sound dismissive. But the worry in your eyes made him rethink his response. “Just a minor issue, really. Now please, go back to your room.” He took a step forward, trying to usher you away from his room. His tentacles were starting to emerge from his back, twitching slightly, antsy to just grab you and pull you in.

You look into his eyes and knew he was lying. “I know you’re lying, Alastor. Your eyes give away so much. Right now, they’re saying, ‘Help me’.” His gaze flickered briefly before returning to its normal coldness, masking the conflict within him. “No, really, I’m fine,” he lied, forcing a chuckle. “You shouldn’t worry about me.” However, despite his words, he couldn’t shake off the desire burning brightly inside him. With a pleading glance and then a defeated sigh, he reluctantly stepped aside, allowing you entrance into his room. “Come in. Please, sit down.” He pointed towards the antique couch in the corner, trying to distract himself with tidying up some papers strewn across his desk as you sat down. You noticed that his room was a total mess, things flung all over the floor, scratches on the walls and furniture. Even the couch you were sitting in had some claw marks embedded on it. As you looked around, he busied himself with picking up random items and placing them back neatly, hoping the movement would help calm his racing thoughts. But you noticed something. “Alastor...? You’re not okay. You’re shaking.”

Alastor froze mid-movement, his hands trembling slightly as he held onto a stack of papers. “Fuck...” He cursed under his breath, his eyes soon meeting yours. “I..I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to involve you in this. I promise that everything is under control.” He quickly set down the papers and attempted to regain his posture, fixing his suit and tying his bow tie nervously. “Perhaps we can chat in the morning when things have settled down?” He suggested, offering his signature smile. Deep down, he knew he needed help, but admitting weakness wasn’t easy for someone like him. For now, he could only hope that time would ease his torment. You got up and walked over to him, gently taking his hand and looking at him. You spoke in a concerned yet soothing voice, “Please...tell me what’s going on. I want to help you, Alastor. I don’t care what it is, I’ll help you no matter what.” Alastor hesitated for a moment, his mind battling between acceptance and denial. Finally, he let out a resigned sigh and gently gripped your hand, feeling a wave of warmth emanating from your touch. Despite his fear right now, Alastor found solace in your presence, knowing that you were willing to stand by him no matter what. Your unwavering support was both comforting and overwhelming; it reminded him how much he truly cared for you.

You and him were like two peas in a pod, the closest of friends. You two were so close, you were the only one permitted to touch him without any consequences. Even Rosie was surprised when she saw you two hug at one point. It was clear you both cared for each other deeply, but Alastor, being himself, was always one to deny it when others brought it up. But deep down, Alastor admired your compassion and putting others before yourself. He didn’t know why, it was something about you that drew him to you. If there was one person he could trust with his life, it was you.

“It...It’s my rut season again,” he confessed softly, averting his gaze from yours. “I’m usually able to handle this just fine, but...lately, I’ve been struggling to control myself, especially around you.” He gripped your hand tighter, his voice barely audible. “If I lose control, I know I’ll end up hurting you or worse - change into something...most unpleasant.” You smiled and cupped his cheek, turning his head to face you. “Is that what this was all about? Alastor, you had me worried sick.” Alastor looked at you, his eyes filled with gratitude and relief as he met your gentle gaze. Your reassuring words eased some of his anxiety, but the fear still lingered in the back of his mind. “Thank you for understanding. I promise I won’t let anything happen to you,” he said as he leaned into your touch. His heart pounded against his chest, the scent of your perfume wafting through the air. Though he appeared calmer, the tension in his body remained, a testament to the struggle he faced internally. You concern brought him comfort, but it also heightened his awareness of his inner turmoil.

In that moment, you made a decision. You looked him straight in the eye and said, “Alastor...if it really is that troublesome for you...I’ll help you through it.”

Alastor’s eyes shot wide and a small blush appeared on his cheeks, a look very unlike Alastor. He shook his head vigorously, pulling away slightly. “No, no, it’s fine. Really, I appreciate your offer, but--.” That’s when you hugged him before he could finish his sentence. Surprised yet pleased by your bold move, Alastor hesitated for a moment before slowly wrapping his arms around you, returning the hug. The warmth of your body against his calmed him somewhat, and he leaned his head against yours, closing his eyes. You spoke gently, “Alastor...I care about you. Deeper than just friends. I’ll do whatever it takes to help you through anything. Please...let me help you here.”

Normally, he would be repulsed at the idea of having sex. He never felt any sexual attraction to anyone, not even when he was a human. But even asexuals have their bodily urges, whether they want to or not. And since he became a demon, these urges became stronger, much stronger. He had thought about coming to you for this, but he was afraid of chasing you away. He cared for you as deeply as you did for him, and he didn’t want to ruin that. Finding a friend like you in Hell is like finding a diamond in a vast desert, and he certainly wasn’t going to go and throw that away. But seeing you being so supportive and seeing your want to help him, he started to second guess his choices. Maybe it was okay to let you help him. It was just a friend wanting to help another one out with something they were dealing with, and they were pretty close already. Plus, this could help him deal with the month much easier if there was someone to help him release the constant urges, and it was a way for them to make their bond stronger than anything.

“Alright, Y/N,” he murmured softly, his voice breaking slightly. “If that’s what you truly want, then I’ll accept your help.” In that instant, he felt a sudden surge of strength coursing through him, as if some invisible weight had lifted off from his shoulders. “Thank you...thank you,” he repeated, his eyes brimming with unshed tears. You smiled and wiped a tear away from his eye before you leaned in and kissed him softly and tenderly. Alastor’s lips parted involuntarily at your touch, his tongue tentatively seeking entry into your mouth. The taste of your lips against his own sent waves of pleasure coursing through his veins, making it difficult for him to think straight. However, he forced himself to pull away after a brief moment. “I...I can’t...I..I...We’re in public...” You were confused for a moment until you realized that the door was left wide open, anyone could walk by and see the current scene. You walked over and closed the door, locking it. You turned back to Alastor and said, “Now we’re in private.” Alastor blinked for a moment and then he let a low growl escape him, his eyes gleaming dangerously as he walked towards you. “Private or not..We need to focus on the conversation first.” Despite his words, he couldn’t ignore the animalistic urge gnawing at him, demanding release. You were a bit confused. “What conversation is there to have? Boundaries?” Alastor chuckled softly, tilting his head. “I suppose there is that, isn’t there?” Fed up by his attempts at avoiding the inevitable, you decided to lay it on him. You looked him in the eye and said, “I’ll just give it to you straight, since it’s easier that way. I’m open for making this friendship deeper. I’m willing to give myself to you if it’ll help you though this rut. I’m not worried about you hurting me, I can handle a lot more than you think. All I want to do is to help you, and there’s only one way to do it. I don’t know how you feel about it, but that’s how I feel.”

Alastor stared at you, his eyes widened and his heart pounding in his chest as he processed your words. This revelation was more than what he expected, but despite his confusion and apprehension, Alastor couldn’t deny the swelling desire within him. Slowly, he reached up and brushed a strand of hair behind your ear, his touch gentle yet firm. “Y/N...” He breathed out your name, his voice laced with emotion. “You’re offering yourself...to help me..? Are you sure about this?” His eyes searched yours, looking for any signs of doubt or hesitation. The thought of having you so close was almost too much to bear, but he knew he had to be careful not to push you beyond your limits. You nodded, with zero hesitation. “I am. I’m more sure of this than anything,” you said as you cupped his cheek.

Alastor’s breath hitched at your determination, his eyes never leaving yours. Your touch sent electric shocks throughout his body, making it impossible to resist the urge any longer. He leaned in, capturing your lips in a fierce kiss, his tongue delving deeply into your mouth. You kissed him back deeply, wrapping your arms around him, softly moaning in his mouth. His tentacles stirred restlessly, eager for more than just physical contact. But he focused on the present, savoring the taste of your lips and the feel of your body pressed against his own. In this moment, all other worries seemed trivial compared to the connection you both shared. Alastor groaned into the kiss, his hands sliding down your back to grip your hips firmly as he pinned you to the wall. The sensation of your body against his, coupled with the sound of your moans, drove him wild. Breaking the kiss, he said softly yet seductively, “God, you taste divine...” His voice was raged, his eyes half-closed in lust. “Let’s...let’s get you undressed, shall we?”

With that, he began unbuttoning your shirt, his movements hurried yet precise, his mind fixated solely on satisfying his primal desires. He pulled open your shirt and the tentacles remove it along with your bra. You moaned softly as you felt the tentacles brush along your skin. Alastor’s eyes widened slightly at the sight of your bare breasts, his breath catching in his throat. With deft precision, two of his tentacles wrapped around each of your breasts, gently pinching and stroking your nipples simultaneously. Hearing your moans made his smile widen and his eyes close half-way. “How beautiful,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire. The rest of this tentacles danced around you, exploring every inch of exposed skin, their movements slow and deliberate. Despite his best efforts, as he watched the tentacles remove the rest of your clothes, he couldn’t shake off the feeling that this was more than just a conquest - it felt like something sacred, something meaningful. Maybe it was.

You moaned as the tentacles wrap around you, they felt so warm against your skin. Alastor’s eyes roamed greedily over your naked form, drinking in every curve and contour of your body. His cock throbbed in his pants, straining against the fabric, begging for release. “You’re perfect,” he whispered. “Just perfect.” Without further ado, he took his jacket and shirt off and then pushed his pants down, freeing his massive member from its confines. It stood erect and ready, dripping with pre-cum, as he went up to you. He leaned so his lips were to your ear and purred, “Tell me, my lovely Y/N. Do you want this? Do you want me to claim you fully?” His tentacles continued to explore your body, teasingly brushing against your sensitive spots, driving you wild. You looked at him, your eyes and voice full of desire, “Yeah..I..I do..” You then reached out and stroked his cock while licking his neck. Alastor hissed at your touch, his entire body tensing in response. You stroked him gently, your hand warm and soft, sending waves of pleasure cascading through him. He looked at you, his eyes glowing red. “You’re killing me, sweetheart.” He grasped your waist, pulling you closer, aligning his erection to your pussy. “Are you ready for this?” He asked, his voice heavy with desire. “This is going to be rough, my dear. I can’t promise to hold back completely.” He paused, waiting for your answer, knowing full well that despite your willingness, you deserved to make an informed decision. You cupped his cheek again and smiled as you nodded. You spoke in a voice full of need and desperation, “Please...put it in...” You didn’t have to tell him twice.

His hips bucked forward, pushing his length inside you with one swift motion, causing him to groan in pleasure. The sound of your moan was muffled against his neck as he buried himself to the hilt, his member stretching you wide. His tentacles wrapped around you tightly, supporting your weight as he started moving rhythmically, thrusting in and out of you. You wrapped your arms around his neck, moaning at each thrust. Each powerful thrust send waves of pleasure coursing through the both of you, growing your arousals. Sweat trickled down his forehead as he lost control of himself. “Oh sweet Satan, you’re tight!” He growled, his voice hoarse with lust. “You feel amazing, so fucking good...” His pace quickened, becoming faster and harder, matching the intensity of your mutual desire. You couldn’t help but let out your moans, “Ohh fuck...so good..!” Seeing your eyes roll back in pure ecstasy and hearing your words spurred him on. His thrusts grew frantic, his hips slamming against yours relentlessly. “That’s it, take it,” he panted, his voice barely above a whisper. “Take everything I have.” The room echoed with the sounds of your passion, filled with gasps and moans. His tentacles brushed against your skin delicately, adding another layer of stimulation to the already intense experience.

As he kept thrusting, you saw him start to change. He let out a animalistic growl as his transformation accelerated, his body shifting under the influence of his primal urges. His antlers grew much larger, their points almost scraping the ceiling, while his muscles bulged with power. His eyes changed, the sclera turning black and his irises glowing red, drool dripping from his mouth that showed his sharp teeth. “Fuck, Y/N...” His voice was deep and guttural now, his full demon form now on display. “You’re mine, aren’t you? Mine to possess and devour?” Each thrust became more violent, his movements brutal yet tender, driven by an insatiable hunger only you could satiate. His tentacles pulsed erratically, eager to join in the frenzy, but bode their time to let Alastor be the star of the show. You moaned even louder, losing your mind over the pleasure. “Ahh..A..Alastor...! Y..Yes..! I’m yours..! I..I belong to you...!” Alastor’s eyes glowed crimson, his face contorted in a mix of pleasure and agony. “Yes!” He roared, his voice echoing through the room. “You’re mine, Y/N! My sweet, sweet Y/N!” With a final thrust, he came inside you, his seed spilling out in hot waves, causing you to cum so hard, your mind was gone. His final few thrusts caused a second orgasm to rock your body. His body shook violently and once he left his high, he slowly transformed back to his normal form.

He grabbed you and collapsed on the bed with you in his arms, panting heavily. He pulled you close, gently grabbing your chin, and whispering, “You’re mine, forever and always.” His tentacles finally joined the fray, caressing your skin gently, soothing the ache left behind by your passion. You held him, your hands gently rubbing his back. Once you looked at him, you saw that he was grinning mischievously. You were wondering why until you felt the tentacles grab you, wrapping around you. “You know I couldn’t hold them back forever.” Each tentacle danced across your skin, exploring every inch of your body, sending shivers down your spine. They slid into you and into your ass, mimicking his previous thrusts, stretching you wide and filling you up, going deeper than he ever could. You felt one tentacle slip over to your lips and when you let out a moan, it slipped into your mouth, going deep down your throat. You couldn’t help but suck on the appendage invading your mouth and filling your stomach with its essence. Despite the fullness, you couldn’t help but moan at the sensations, your body still craving more. “You’re such a precious little thing, darling,” he murmured, his voice thick with satisfaction. “So sweet, so perfect.” His tentacles continued their rhythmic dance, keeping you on the edge of pleasure. Despite his exhaustion, his eyes gleamed with desire, promising many more nights like this to come.

“You thought it was just one time, sweetheart? Come on now, you know better than that. Oh, this is just the beginning, my dear. We’re in for one wild night...”

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[froschli96]

As an asexual Good Omens fan

There's something I've noticed in this fandom that makes me really uncomfortable, and that is the way that Crowley and Aziraphale's possible asexuality is constantly being connected to and justified by them being not human.

I just honestly really hate that, because implying that asexuality is something that somehow "logically" follows from characters being nonhuman is ... not great. Like, I hate having to be the one to point this out, but asexuality is, in fact, very much a human attribute.

And unfortunately, most of the time when I come across this take, it doesn't feel like someone seeing themselves in the characters and relating to their experience, but rather an othering, this kind of otherwordly pure non-sexualness, where people put these characters above such trivial things like sexuality.

I am not asexual because I am somehow confounded by this oh so complicated human concept of sexuality, or because I don't ever think or care about sexuality at all (a lot of thinking was unfortunately involved actually before I finally came to a conclusion about my identity) it is just a fact of who I am, as a human being, it’s a part of my human experience.

And let's be honest, attributing asexuality to nonhuman characters is not the hot new take a lot of people seem to think it is — this trope has been around for ages. And it hasn't done a great deal to normalize asexuality. In fact I'd argue it's perpetuated an othering of ace people, but you take what you can get, really. (This is not to say that it is in any way wrong to identify with these kinds of characters, I definitely do, too! It's just sad that the topic of discussion is always about how "human" someone can be considered when they don't feel sexual or romantic attraction)

To be honest, I don't actually see A&C being asexual as canon — as a lot of people seemingly do — just because the author kind of suggested it in a tweet where he basically conflates "asexual" and "sexless" (for the record, this is not a dig at Neil, I just think the implications were kind of unfortunate, even if it might not have been intentional, which makes it all the more frustrating that a lot of fans just ran with it). And yeah, going around calling people aphobic for seeing the Ineffable Husbands as gay rep or any other identity, when they’re oh so obviously canonically ace, is honestly kind of insane.

I get that it might feel nice and tempting to be able to "claim" these characters and this relationship and being able to tell other fans off whose headcanons on their sexuality differ from your own because it is hard to come by any kind of representation when you're ace and there's finally a creator who's not only not contemptuous towards but even supportive of fans reading his characters as queer. And if you feel represented by A&C as it is then all the more power to you. But the thing is, it doesn't matter what kind of justifications there are or what canon might or might not say (bc when has that ever mattered in fandom spaces) or what the creator says, you cannot convert people to your opinion about a character, and you're going to have a bad time if you spend your time in fandom trying to do that.

And really, I am just wondering why we necessarily even need an explanation or justification for them possibly being asexual. Why does it have to be that all angels and demons are asexual by virtue of being nonhuman, and so A&C have to be too? why can't that just be an aspect of them that is completely unrelated to them not being human? Could these characters maybe not simply identify as asexual, not because they're nonhuman, but in spite of it? (btw, in the same vein it is equally stupid to argue that A&C can't be ace because they have "gone native", which is also an argument I've come across)

Honestly, I'm not even asking anyone to fundamentally change how they see these characters here — if you think they must be asexual solely because they're angels and have no concept of human sexuality, then whatever, I can't stop you and I don’t want to police anyone's headcanons bc as I said that's stupid and a waste of time. What I am asking you is that you maybe reflect a little bit on why exactly it is that humanity and sexuality are somehow so intrinsically linked in your mind to the point where you automatically use it as a way to distinguish between human and nonhuman characters.

Anyways.

Tldr: please stop equating asexuality with non-humanness thank you and good day.

[moonlightndaydreams]

Room 143 | idol!han x fem!reader \ part 7

1k followers celebration story

If someone had told you that you would have one night with Han Jisung, you would have laughed in their face.

Read Part 1 here | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7

Delulu! Absolute delulu! Last year I wrote a little fic about y/n going to the concert and by chance having a night of passion with the yummy Han Jisung. I thought it might be nice to revisit it with a rework (the original had an original female character but I’m changing it to y/n).

CW: videoing sex, anal, angst heavy.

“Can I video you?” Han asked through ragged breaths. You hesitated. He wants to what? He wants to video you?

Your brain ran through all the possible implications. 

What if someone saw it?

What if it got leaked?

If you let him record you you’d have no control over it.

Has he done this before?

Does he video all his encounters?

Does he have a whole hard drive of conquests?

You had both woken up half an hour earlier at half past five in the morning, so that you could have a few more hours together. He was lazily fucking you, because you needed to be connected for as long as possible, when he popped the video question.

“Baby,” he broke your thoughts. “We don’t have to…” he added. “I..don’t want to make you uncomfortable.” He stroked your inner thigh lightly, tenderly.

“Yes…” You whispered. “Yes it’s okay…it’s just…I’ve never done something like that before.” You lowered your eyes sheepishly.

“Me either…But I really want to… If you’re okay with it.” He grinned.

You studied his face. His expression was soft and caring. He was being honest. He was telling the truth.

You nodded. “Yes… let’s do it.” Your concern faded and was replaced with a nervous smile.

He’s going to have you forever.

He’s going to jerk off to this later.

You’re going to make him come long after today.

The thought excited you.

Han pulled himself from your warmth and fetched his phone, then repositioned himself, kneeling between your legs.

He looked up at you. “Are you ready, y/n.” He whispered.

You sucked in your bottom lip and nodded profusely.

Holding the phone near his chest, he aimed it down towards your pussy. Then with a few pumps of his cock with his hand he pushed the head against your lips, sliding it from the entrance up to your clitoris. You gasped and looked down to watch his cock slide up and down through your sensitive folds. They were swollen and sore now from all the delicious fucking you’d been doing, yet you wanted him to give you more.

“Han…” you squeaked, your voice cracking. He looked up at you, camera following his gaze. “I…Please…I need your cock inside me…” you begged. You wanted him to know how much you needed him, right now in this moment, and every time he watched his video in the future. You hooked a hand under each of your thighs and pulled them as wide as you could so you could give him the best view possible.

With what could only described as a growl, he pointed the camera back down between you, and plunged his cock inside of you.

“Fuck… you feel so tight…baby.” He panted. He’d been saying that all night, as though every time he penetrated you was for the first time. For you, each time you felt that first push inside, it felt like relief. Relief that he was finally back where you needed him most. Back where he belonged.

His jaw was slack, mouth agape, as he concentrated on long, slow thrusts. He’d drag his cock out almost to the tip, pause, then squeeze back inside to the hilt. His eyes flickering between what he saw in real life, and the screen on his phone. The noises you were making were becoming obscene and pornographic. You needed him to know how good, how perfect, he felt. He looked so fucking hot filming you like this, just as it felt so erotic being filmed!

“I wanna see you play with yourself, baby.” He instructed.

You let go of one of your legs and Han pressed against it with his free hand, keeping it pinned out of the way. He was stronger than you and pushed your leg further than you thought it could go.

You reached down to your pussy and spread your lips with two fingers, exposing your most intimate parts to the man filming you.

Han’s eyes glazed over, his lids hooded, and he hadn’t closed his mouth yet. He hungrily licked his lip as he watched you begin to swirl your fingers over your clit and then rub and flick the nub in an upward motion.

The camera drifted up your body to your face. You stared right into the lens with an expression of pure pleasure. You bit your lower lip hard as your eyes begged him to ruin you.

Han whispered a “Fuck!” under his breath and he suddenly snapped his hips faster, making your breasts bounce and knock the breath out of you.

“That’s it, Han… Fuck me faster…harder…” you cried out. “I wanna come on your cock!”

His hips pounded into you, and the sudden change from the relentless, slow thrusts that he had been torturing you with previously, to this forceful pace, tipped you over the precipice. Your back bowed off the bed, your hands gripped the sheets as you released a long, primal guttural moan. You didn’t care how you sounded or how you looked, or what it must’ve looked like on video. You were too wrapped up in the moment to give a fuck.

“That was so fucking hot.” Han said dead seriously. He’d stopped fucking you and was simply staring at you in wonderment.

“You make me this way.” You panted and relaxed back into the bed.

Han paused in thought. “Baby…y/n…?” he put the phone down on the bed beside him and crawled up to meet your face. He stroked your cheek and kissed your jawline. “There’s something…one more thing I want to try…” he hovered over you, looking in your eyes with a nervous expression. “And… We really don’t have to do it… And if we start…and you feel like you need to stop… you have to tell me, ‘kay?”

You cupped his adorable cheeks with both hands and kissed him.

“Han…” you cooed. “What is it? What do you want to try?”

Han swallowed “I wanna fuck your ass.” He said and exhaled loudly.

You raised an eyebrow, then softened your face. “Then do it.”

His eyes widened. “Really? You’re sure?” he sounded shocked. “Okay… Um…Well…lube…We’ll need the lube.” He scrambled to retrieve the lube from the bedside table while you positioned yourself on all fours.

He knelt behind you. “Do I need to…you know… prep you?” He had already squirted some lube on his fingers and massaging your rim. You dug your teeth into your lower lip to muffle a moan when his thumb breached your opening. His other hand greedily attacked your sopping cunt, slipping two fingers inside of you and digging into your g-spot.

“Fuck Han!” You squealed. “You’re gonna make me come again doing that!” Your surprised reaction morphed into a laugh, and then into a low moan as his fingers dug at your sensitive walls.

“Just trying to get you ready to take me.” He grinned and slid his two fingers out only to return with three fingers directed straight into your g-spot. You mewled at the stretch and the ache in your pelvis.

“Ah but Han, baby, that’s not the hole you’re getting me ready for!” You teased. He growled roughly and removed his thumb from your ass and repositioned his hand so he could press against you with two lubricated fingers. “Are you ready, baby?”

You nodded. “Please…hurry.”

He pushed his two fingers into you. “Is that better?”

“Mmm-hhhm.” You hissed through gritted teeth.

“Does it hurt, baby? I can stop.”

Does it hurt, baby? Those words made you want nothing more than to have him hurt you deliberately just to say those words. But in your mind instead of saying “I can stop” he’d say “Can you be a good girl and take it for me?”

“Yes…yes it hurts but in the best possible way.” You managed through your panting breath. “Hurt me more.” You whined.

Han hesitated.

“I promise to tell you if I need you stop, okay?” You assured him.

“Okay baby, if you’re sure.” His words were barely a whisper.

He removed all his digits and you cried out at the emptiness. The emptiness wasn’t just in your body, it was in your heart too. Is this what it will feel like when this is over?

You felt his cock push against your ass. “If you’re ready, baby, I want you take me, okay? All of me. I know how badly you want it.” He pushed the head past the entrance.

“Oh…fucking…God…” The stretch was like nothing you’d ever felt. It was like you were being split in two. You gripped the sheets and squeezed your eyes shut, panting until the burning eased and was replaced with pleasure.

“M..more…” you mumbled. “I…want…need -”

“Shhh. It’s okay, baby. It won’t be long until I’m fucking you, okay?” He cooed and massaged your ass cheeks.

As he continued to penetrate you it sounded like he was struggling to compose himself. His breath was short and shallow and he kept muttering how “fucking tight” you were and how good it felt. It felt satisfying knowing that you made him feel this way.

You continued to hiss through your teeth at the intensity of pleasure you felt with every slight movement that was caused merely from breathing. It felt like he was filling up your entire body, stretching you so wide you thought you’d die. His hips met your body. He was completely inside you.

“You’re taking me so well.” He was saying all the right things to make you completely lose your mind.

Holding onto your hips, he guided you forward halfway off his cock and then slid your hips back to meet his.

“Jesus Christ…this…fuck…Oh shit…This feels…” He cried “I have to go harder…is that okay? Do you think you can take it?” He pulled hips away and slammed against you, ramming his cock into you. Then again, groaning loudly.

Your arms gave way making you fall face first into the mattress, and your legs struggled to hold you up. He was so deep inside you it felt like you were going to choke on his cock. You felt like you were going to burst into a million pieces and scatter across the universe.

“Yes, Han…Please…Fuck the feelings out of me!”

Han stopped abruptly and went quiet.

“Han?” Your voice was tiny and wobbly. 

He pulled his cock out of your ass and flipped you onto your back forcefully. Anger burned in his eyes and his brow furrowed as he glared at you. Wordlessly, he grabbed a pillow, folded it in half and pushed it underneath your hips. He grabbed your legs not caring how hard he gripped you, and hooked them over his shoulders.

Leaning forward, he cupped the side of you face and roughly shoved a thumb into the corner of your mouth forcing you to suck his thumb. Then his hand slipped down to your neck. You stared into his burning, furious eyes as he squeezed his hand around your neck. You felt the air constrict. Your eyes widened.

“WHY DID YOU SAY THAT?” he growled. “Why do want me to fuck…the feelings… out of you?” he winced at the last part, his voice sounding hurt. The anger in his eyes turning to despair.

You placed a hand over the hand on your neck, tears welling up in your eyes. He released his grip, but his hand remained where it was. He dropped his head and sighed.

“Hannie…” you sobbed. “It hurts.” He looked up at you confused. “In here.” You moved his hand from around your neck and placed it on your chest. His eyes followed his hand to where you’d placed it over your heart. “I thought maybe you could…like…fuck the feelings away.”

His face turned soft. “Oh baby,” he soothed and took your hand to his chest “it hurts for me too.”

Tears streamed down your face as you sobbed loudly.

“Baby…shh” he leaned in kissing away your tears, stroking your face. “It’ll be okay. It will. I promise.”

“I know…it’s just…hard.” You sniffled.

“Hey, come here.” He said soothingly and his mouth met yours with a slow deep kiss. A kiss that made every part of you surrender, and every inch of your body, every cell of your being melt. His tongue danced tenderly with yours, and you moaned into his mouth making him smile. You sucked on his lower lip taking the flesh into your mouth savoring the feel and the taste, before pushing your tongue inside.

You could feel his cock twitching against you.

“It seems you’re getting excited again, Sir.” You smiled.

“You make me crazy, you know that?” He grinned.

You smirked, although you must have looked a complete mess with your puffy eyes and tear-stained face.

“You know…” he leaned in close to your ear. “I won’t fuck your feelings out…but I tell you what I can do.” He whispered darkly.

“What?” You asked eagerly, your breath hitching.

“I can fuck your brains out.” He said in the deepest voice you’d ever heard.

He pushed himself up to kneel between your legs. “Would you like me to do that?” he asked, pressing himself against your ass again.

“Yes, I want you to.” You replied desperately.

He reapplied whatever remaining lube you still had to his dick, and with barely any warning he pushed his entire length into you.

You welcomed every sensation that came with it. The burning, the stretch, the fullness, the pain. The sensations were amplified as they mirrored how your heart felt. It too burned, and felt stretched, full, and it was definitely in pain. Your heart and body together.

You closed your eyes losing yourself to the feeling as Han hovered above you.

“Don’t take you eyes off me.” It was more of a plead than a demand or request.

You locked eyes on his, his face contorted with angst and euphoria as his cock dragged along your inner walls and you squeezed around him like a vice.

“I’m gonna fuck your brains out now…and you can’t come ‘till I say.” He said huskily. “And you can’t look away. I wanna see your eyes the whole time.”

“O…okay..” you nodded, holding on tight to his shoulder.

He set a brutal pace. It was the hardest he’d gone the entire two nights together. His hips snapped fast, rutting into you relentlessly. He slammed into you so hard that you knew that you would be feeling this for days. It’s what you had wanted all along, to feel him even after this. His body was sweaty and burning hot as you ran your hands over his biceps and shoulders.

The noises were absolutely obscene, your groans, whimpers and cries becoming louder and more feral. Han was making a lot of noise too, his breathing was laboured and heavy, and he kept muttering in Korean. He was struggling to keep his eyes open, but when they were they dark and hazy and locked on yours. You only truly broke eye contact when your mouths crashed together in messy, wet kisses.

“Fuck, I really do think you were made for me, baby.” he breathed.

You could feel your orgasm approaching, and was nearly sent hurtling over the edge with one particularly hard thrust that made you cry out. “Han…!”

“Yes, baby?” he said as he slowed his pace for a moment.

“I…I’m so…so close.” You whined.

He smiled and kissed you. “Me too, baby. You can come when you’re ready, okay?” he leaned his forehead on yours. “I won’t be far behind you.”

You nodded.

He began to move again but he didn’t match the pace he had set before. His thrusts still had force behind them, but they were much slower and it heightened the sensations. You could focus on how exactly his cock felt as it dragged against your insides, or the how your stretched rim felt as he passed through it back and forth, or how your vagina would clench and ache as it yearned to be filled.

“Oh God! Oh….fuck!!!” Your entire body stiffened and you choked on your breath as you saw stars. Your orgasm wouldn’t slow down, it just kept going and you dug your fingers into his shoulders and sobbed loudly.

“Come for me Han Jisung. I want you to own me.” You somehow managed to say, even though you thought your lungs had stopped working.

Han groaned as he released himself deep inside you, coating your walls as your extended orgasm eventually waned.

He pulled out and collapsed on top of you out of breath and panting. He removed the pillow, not caring about the cum seeping out underneath you, and propped himself up on and elbow.

“That was…intense.” He grinned the biggest fucked-out grin you’d ever seen. “You’re incredible.” He shook his head in disbelief. “I’m so lucky to have met you, you know that?”

You stroked his cheek. “You know what happened, don’t you?”

He looked at you intrigued. “What?” he smirked.

“We turned what was supposed to be raw and dirty anal sex into making love.” You laughed.

“Ha!” he bellowed “True! You know what that means, right?”

You shook your head “No. What?”

“With all this making love, we might actually be in love.” He nestled his head onto your chest and you wrapped your arms around him tight.

“Maybe.” You sighed, but you didn’t let your mind entertain that idea.

—

Han pov.

Han turned on the shower and waited for the hot water to come through.

“I can’t promise I won’t grope you.” He joked as he ushered you into the shower with him. You stepped into the cubicle and allowed him to soap you up.

“And I can’t promise I won’t spank your ass.” You equally teased, smacking him on the butt.

Your time together was almost over and you had finally come to terms with it (not just putting on a brave face, surely).

And after your shower you ordered room service breakfast and scoffed down muffins and fruit because it was tasty (not to squash down your sadness, or anything like that).

Eventually, it really was time to say goodbye.

“Y/n,” He held you tight as you stood at the hotel room entrance. “I’ll never forget…this…What we shared. You don’t know how much you’ve helped me…to feel like myself again.” He admitted.

“You’d better not forget!” You playfully punched his arm. “You’ve got a fucking porno of me in your phone!”

He grinned like an idiot. “Yeah!” he feigned embarrassment.

“Well…” he started and looked down at his feet.

“Yeah…” you responded quietly, eyes downcast.

“I.. I have to go.”

Silence.

The heaviness between you thick and heavy.

Then you threw your arms around him, almost knocking him over.

You kissed him. Really kissed him. A kiss that was full of love and sorrow. A kiss that was a “thank you” and a “you’re welcome”. A kiss that was a “goodbye” and an “until next time”.

Han kissed you back. He wanted to say so much but he couldn’t find the words. At least not English words. Actually, even the Korean words were hard to find. It was unlike him to be speechless. But he tried to convey how he felt in the way he kissed you. A slow, tender, deep kiss. He tried to memorise the softness of your lips, and the taste of your mouth, and the way you’d bite his lip as he pulled his mouth away.

“Remember me, okay?” He whispered.

“How could I ever forget you?” You replied.

—

Tears had already running down Han’s face as he walked back to his room, and once he was inside he fell to the floor sobbing uncontrollably, where no one could hear or see him.

-------

A month later Han was in a hotel room in Atlanta. He’d just finished a show and he was alone again with his thoughts.

Even though he always kept himself busy, thoughts of you still crept into his head. He hardly slept because he’d dream about you. Last night he dreamed that you were on tour with him, but when he woke up he was alone.

He searched for your face everywhere he went. Every show, every meet, fucking everywhere! He searched even when he knew there was no possibility that you’d even be there. He wrote songs about you. He tried to distract himself with work.

And every night he would open his phone and watch the video of you. Seeing how you came undone on his cock always made him so hard and so heartbroken.

Sometimes he’d jerk off to watching the video like a porno. Sometimes he’d just listen to the audio in the dark and fantasise about fucking you while he got off.

Sometimes he just watched it without masturbating just to see your face and hear your voice.

And sometimes he’d cry when he watched it.

“Pull yourself together.” He would say, or “this is the last time I’m going to watch this.”

He even contemplated deleting the video entirely but he could never bring himself to do it.

That night, Han opened his contact list, like he did every night, and brought your number up on the screen.

“You can’t fucking call her.”  He’d say each and every time.

But this time he hit dial.

—

After your time with Han your life went back to its regular rhythm, but it was like you were living on autopilot, and in some sort of hazy state. It was like you were doing all of the things you normally did, but nothing felt right anymore.

Stray Kids were finishing their final leg of their tour and it took every ounce of willpower not to watch clips of Han on Instagram. You didn’t want to be reminded of him, and you knew if you did look, it would be like picking a scab off a wound too soon.

It was a struggle to move on and you had often found yourself thinking about him. 

It would start when you opened your eyes in the morning. You’d imagine he was curled up beside you. Then you’d wonder what he was doing right now. If he was in Korea was he still fast asleep? What is he dreaming about? Does he dream about you? If he was in another country what is he doing? Do you creep into his mind too?

Does he watch the video he took?

And then eventually you’d get up and go about your day functioning as best you could. 

You didn’t know how he felt. All you knew for sure was that you hadn’t forgot about him.

The weeks passed and the foggy haze that had been clouding you be began to ease just slightly. You’d decided that it was okay to be sad and to grieve. It was a special, once in a lifetime, romantic encounter, and you shouldn’t want to forget it. You somehow found the trust in yourself that eventually the pain would fade and this will one day be a cherished memory. One that will make your heart burst with happiness, rather than feel heavy and ache. You just wish it’d hurry the fuck up.

One Friday afternoon you were in a cafe working on your laptop, enjoying a coffee and cake. Stray Kids were in the US finishing off their tour. You knew because you’d finally started to be brave and sneak a few peeks at Instagram. It was okay if you looked at clips of the other members, but if you saw Han, your chest would pound and you’d have to turn it off. You were still not ready to look at him.

You finished your work, packed up and paid for your afternoon tea before heading out into the warm afternoon sun. 

As you walked you focused your mind on your surroundings.

What could you see? The beautiful parkland to your left. The green grass. Trees that have been there far longer than you’ve been alive.

What could you feel? The warm sun. The breeze. The heaviness of your laptop bag strap digging into your shoulder.

What could you hear? People talking. Seagulls squawking. Your phone ringing.

Your phone ringing? Fuck! 

You scrambled into your bag searching for your phone. It was probably a client. You pulled it out and looked at who was calling you.

You stopped dead in your tracks as the impossible appeared on your screen.

Incoming Call: Han Jisung

——

Han video called you every week. And in between he’d send you selfies and sweet messages. Occasionally, you’d get a cheeky dick pic. He said those particular photos were to make you so hungry that you’d fly to Korea.

You would count down the days until your video calls. It’s where you got to learn about, and get to know each other properly. You’d talk about everything. From your childhood to his time as a trainee, your passions, interests, dreams. Sometimes you’d talk about random shit, or he’d show you a new song.

He’d share with you his struggles and worries, and he’d listen to yours, always offering you empathy.

Sometimes your calls turned sexy and he’d masturbate while he instructed you to undress and play with yourself. Sometimes he’d get you to use your toys or demonstrate the fluffy plug for him. 

One particular evening you were on one of your calls and you’d slipped your top off for him. 

“Fuck, baby! I’ll never get sick of your tits!” He hissed and you knew he was playing with himself.

“I should’ve given them more attention.” He said regretfully.

You responded with a seductive smirk and began to play with your nipples and then cup them in your palms, squeezing and massaging them. 

“Imagine these wrapped around you cock, Hannie.” You suggested huskily as you pushed your breasts together. “Would you like to fuck my tits?”

His mouth fell open and his tongue hung out the corner as he worked his cock. You couldn’t see what he was doing but his face told you that he’d cum because of the way he squeezed his eyes shut, and from the choked sound in his throat. You loved seeing Han’s “pleasure face” as you’d affectionately started calling it. 

Once he came back down to earth he stared at you lovingly, and reached out to touch the screen.

“I’d give anything to hold you right now.” He whispered. He had pure longing in his eyes.

You couldn’t keep it a secret any longer. You’d planned to taunt and tease him and drop hints. But the pained, tormented look he was giving you melted your heart.

“Well baby!” You smiled. “You will get to touch me very soon.” 

His expression changed from longing to confusion, and then to hope. He raised his eyebrows and his eyes widened questioningly as realisation hit him.

“Wait! What? … Does that…. mean?” 

You grinned “Yep, Han. I’ve bought flights to Korea!”

The end.

@channieandhisgoonsquad @noellllslut @itsseohannbin @weareapackofstrays @xxkissesforchanniexx @starr-lvst @queen-in-the-shadows @bethanysnow @newhope8 @vanillacupcakefrosting @3rachasdomesticbanana @fun-fanfics @palindrome969 @rhonnie23 @jisunglyricist @strayywayy @rixenluv @yaorzu-blog @drunkewok @igetcarriedawaywithyou @minh0scat @kiaralynn3838 @everythingboutkpop @jiminssluttyminx @n0y4 @chuuyaobsessed @krayzieestay

@sunnyhonie @minnieprincess85 @stanskzot8

[jessmaybank]

heyyy! congrats on 1k that's hugeee!!!

i wanted to request playlist roulette with the song telephone by vacations!!! (any character you want but for me it's such a jj-coded song!!!)

Navigation & 1k celebration

Pairing(s): JJ Maybank x fem! Reader

word count: 1.4k

Summary: JJ gets jealous. Friends to lovers.

Warnings: swearing, alcohol use, implications of sex.

AN: Thank you🫶🏼 this is not my best work and it’s unedited but I hope you like it! This song is 100% Maybank-coded.

Fall into the night

As I gaze into you

Her figure demanded JJ’s attention as soon as she entered the room, her legs exposed as she waltzed through the house in a pink dress - one which happened to be JJ’s favourite. The dress was held up by two flimsy straps tied into bows on her shoulder; one flick of his fingers and it would fall off. He was determined to make that happen tonight.

She fiddled with her fingers as she met his gaze from across the room. His blue orbs were sparkling with something she couldn’t quite place. He watched as her line of vision shifted to empty seat beside him, and he had to bite his tongue to suppress a smile. The blonde patted the empty space next to him with zero hesitation.

The rest of the party seemed insufficient to him as she began walking towards him, her dainty figure looking delectable as he shamelessly let his eyes roam around her body.

She pretended not to notice his stare as she took a seat beside JJ on the couch. His aftershave invaded her senses as he turned to face her, an intense look laying behind his eyes that made her feel hazy.

“Has anyone ever told you it’s rude to stare?” She says, fiddling with her rings in order to avoid his gaze. Usually, she was a confident girl. But JJ just knew how to turn her into a nervous wreck, and she hated it.

JJ took notice of her flustered state, ashamed of the fact he fucking loved to see her squirm. “Is that why you won’t look at me?” He says, a teasing tone in his voice as he draped his arm along the back of the couch, his fingers dangerously close to her shoulder.

Her heart skipped a beat as she turned to face him, her cheeks stained with a faint redness as she took note of the crooked smile which graced his features. He was so beautiful.

“Happy now?” She questions, fluttering her eyelashes innocently at him. That depends if your coming home with me tonight, he thought, but he bit his tongue. They were just supposed to be friends after all.

He didn’t even need to respond, his eyes said everything she needed to know. His fingers inched closer to her shoulder, and she almost gasped when he started fiddling with the straps of her dress, mouth agape as she drowns in his blue orbs. He was suddenly thankful they were in a room full of people, otherwise he wouldn’t of been able to stop himself from tearing the flimsy material straight off her.

She bit her lip as his fingers traced circles on her shoulder, her smooth skin burning his insides. It was a simple gesture of affection, but it drove her absolutely insane, and it dawned on her then that this man could absolutely ruin her if he wanted to.

And my god, did he want to.

I wish I could live without you

But you're a part of me

JJ’s jaw clenched as he sat on the couch of the chateau, taking a swig of his beer to try and calm himself down. She turned up about 20 minutes ago, but unlike all the other times, she wasn’t alone. It felt like all of the air was sucked out of his body the moment they walked through the door. He just couldn’t fathom the fact that she was here with someone else.

He didn’t recognise the guy, but it wouldn’t have mattered anyway. It wasn’t him.

His blood ran cold as he watched them, her sweet smile leaving a sickly taste in his mouth as she giggled at something the guy said. He once thought those smiles were reserved for him, and him only.

He felt disposable in that moment, like a piece of obsolete machinery that no longer needed to be used. These emotions weren’t unfamiliar to JJ, thanks to his dysfunctional mess of a family. But that didn’t mean it hurt any less.

It was like a part of him was ripped out, a wound that only she could heal. But he couldn’t even blame her, they were only friends after all.

John B sat next to JJ on the couch, his smile fading as he observes the emotional wreck that was his best friend. John B followed the shaggy blondes line of vision, and his jaw almost dropped as he saw what he was so focused on. He had never seen JJ so distracted by a girl before.

“Never took you for a simp” John B says to him, snapping JJ out of his trance. It was an obvious attempt to lighten the mood, but John B knew he evidently failed when JJ scoffed.

“Funny” he responds dryly, finding solace in fidgeting with the label on his beer bottle. John B knew then that this wasn’t some silly crush, it was more than that.

The brunette had a quizzical look on his face as he came up with a plan, and he wasted no time in putting it into action.

“Y/N!” John B shouts, gesturing for her to come over, and JJ’s stomach dropped when she turned to them, their eyes meeting briefly.

“John B what the fu-“

“Just trust me” is all he says. And although he trusted John B with his life, he had zero faith in him when it came to this.

JJ stared at nothing as she walked over to them, avoiding her gaze as she stopped in front of them. Her perfume invaded his senses, and it took everything in him to stay still, to not drag her into his bedroom and show her that’s where she belongs. With him.

“Hey guys” she says, a bright smile on her glossy lips. John B smiled, but her eyebrows furrowed as she trailed her eyes to JJ. He didn’t even acknowledge her.

“Who’s that?” John B says, gesturing across the room to the guy she was with. He was already talking to another girl, and she couldn’t help but sigh.

“Family friend. My mum forced me to bring him here tonight, but he seems more interested in finding someone to swap saliva with then engage in conversation” she says, and they all watch as he starts making out with some girl.

“So you’re not…” John B trails off, leaving her to fill in the blanks. Her eyes widened at the implication.

“Ew. No way, he’s way too kook for me” she says, her face contorting with disgust as she considers the possibility.

“Really?” John B says rhetorically, his features bright as the corners of his lips turn upward into a shit-eating grin, turning his head to face JJ.

John B winced slightly as JJ kicked him in the shin. The blonde had never felt so stupid than he did in that moment.

“Okay, someone wanna tell me what’s going on?” She says, eyes tinged with confusion as she studies her friends faces.

“Can’t. Need a refill” John B starts, getting up from his seat on the worn out couch.

“I’m sure JJ will fill you in” he says, patting his best friend on the back before retreating to the kitchen.

He felt defeated as she took John B’s seat, eyes glued to his fingers as if he wanted to make sure they were still there.

“How the tables have turned” she says, a nonchalant expression gracing her features.

“What?” He mumbles, his eyebrows furrowing.

“Now your the one who won’t look at me”

That grabbed his attention then. His features immediately softened as he met her gaze, and suddenly he could breathe again. It was if that one look had melted away all his pain. All of his anger. All of his frustration.

“How could I not look at you?” He says, a certain intensity laying behind his blue eyes that sent a shiver straight down her spine. She had to suppress a gasp as he ran his thumb over her bottom lip, and her eyes fluttered shut for a second at the contact. It warmed his heart seeing her so flustered, so pure. “Your so fucking beautiful”

She could have died right then, and she would have been the happiest girl in the world. She came to the realisation then that she didn’t want to be touched by anyone else ever again. Only him.

It had always been him.

Wherever I go

You'll always be next to me

[riggedtraps]

IT'S ALL BULLSHIT, IT'S ALL A LIE...

...AND I'M JUST A PAWN IN YOUR STUPID GAMES.

Hi, I'm Amanda. Or you can call me Mandy, I don't care. I'm 29. I guess I'm a woman, but I don't care about that either. She/her or they/them is fine, maybe even he/him if you want. Definition of the 'mean lesbian' stereotype.

I work for Jigsaw, so watch what you say around me. He helped me and maybe He can help you, too. DMs and asks from anyone is fine.

I should probably mention I have BPD. Petulant, impulsive and self destructive. So if I'm rude, it's probably me being a cunt, not you.

that intro better be in character or ill cry </3

anyway ooc introduction!!

i'm gia, i use they/them pronouns. im agender (and so is amanda, she just doesnt know it yet!). i also have bpd too, so yes, will be accurate to my experiences. im a minor so nothing too nsfw or gross.

literally anyone can interact! whether ur a rp blog or not, i will literally roleplay with anyone, even oc blogs (y'all are so cool). send me asks or dm me, whatever works. any ships too, i dont mind, though ofc mandys only romantically interested in women and nonbinary folks, but platonic ships with anyone works! :3C

i'm making this because im obsessed with saw rn its my special interest and i kin amanda so hard <3 first ever roleplay blog ive ran, so excuse any mistakes. gonna try keep amanda in character as much as possible, but may add a few headcanons in here and there. if she's ooc, please excuse that too. 🙏

of course, it's amanda so there's gonna be triggers for self harm, suicidal tendencies, mental health, and then general triggers for the saw franchise. will tag things such as self harm with 'tw self harm' or 'tw cutting' so block those if you don’t wanna see it.

also gonna reblog stuff i think amanda would like, so stuff like punk, goth, music stuff—but also blood, weapons, horror. not full gore but implications of it. will trigger tag them, so block those if you don't wanna see it.

gonna use ❪ ❫ for when out of character. e.g ❪hii!! :3❫

'꩜—mandy rants' : making in character posts

'꩜—gia rants' : ooc posts

'꩜—mandy answers' : tag to keep track of answering asks

'꩜—mandy rps' : for roleplay threads

'꩜—mandy writes' : short stories i imagine amanda wrote as a hobby/vent

my main blog: @messyscarletdreams

'♫—mandy's playlist' : songs i associate with amanda/think she'd like

each blog i interact with will have their own tag of their user for easier tracking

each character i interact with has a tag with amanda e.g '❪ john & amanda. ❫'

my saw oc blog: @poor-impulsecontrol

[devildom-drabbles]

Snippet - Stained with Red (MC Attacked by a Demon)

Here's the winning headcanon for the 1.5k+ Followers Celebration! I hope you all enjoy it! =) Warnings: Blood, bodily injuries, violence, swearing, implications/mentions of torture and death — (None of these are overly descriptive, though.) Note: Due to the length and type of content, each character's reactions can be found under the "Keep reading" cut-off. Tag List: @not-a-cat-lawyer, @deepestartisanhumanoidshark, @qilinelf

How does everyone react when MC has been attacked by a demon?

It was just supposed to be a quick errand.  Pick up a few items at the store and then head straight home—that’s all MC wanted to do.  But accidentally bumping into a demon in the crowded streets put a major dent in their plans.  Having already been in a sour mood, the demon snapped at MC’s unintentional shoulder-check and hardly gave them a chance to speak before dragging them to a more secluded area nearby.

“You think you’re so high and mighty here, don’t you, human?” the demon snarled after tossing MC’s body to the hard ground.  “You may have won the favor of our prince and seven lords, but that doesn’t give you any right to trample on us lower-ranking demons.”

Although MC attempted to explain themself and apologize, the demon simply spat, “Oh, shut it.  I’m sick of even breathing the same air as you.  It’s about time someone reminded you what demons are truly capable of.”

MC scrambled to their feet as the demon lunged at them.  A brief tussle ensued, one that left MC with parts of their clothes torn and few wounds on their skin while they struggled to escape the demon’s sharp clutches.  The fight would have been fatal to the human if they hadn’t managed to retrieve the defensive magic charm gifted to them by Solomon from within their pocket.  With the demon incapacitated by the charm’s power before striking another blow, MC hastily retreated back to the House of Lamentation.

More focused on getting to safety and trying to recover from the sudden attack, MC was too distracted to notice the individual almost directly on the other side of the house’s front door, causing the two of them to roughly collide when the human hurried inside.  Both of their groans echoed in the entrance hall. The one whom MC ran into was about to say something, only to stop short upon registering the disheveled and mildly bloody figure in front of him/her.

“MC?" was what came out instead.  "What happened?”

Still a bit shaken up, MC hesitated in answering the question right away.

The individual had come to care about MC during their time together in the Devildom, so there was no way that he/she was going to let them remain silent on this matter.  Thus, he/she promptly took them to another—more private—room, where MC soon ended up admitting everything.

“This is precisely why I tell you not to go out on your own,” Lucifer chided as he disinfected the last of MC’s open wounds.  It was the first time he had spoken since bringing the human (and a first aid kit) into his bedroom and demanding that they explain exactly what happened to them while sitting them down on the sofa.  As they told their story, the powerful demon used his magic to heal their minor injuries and remove the dried blood from their clothing and skin, and then he tended to the few, more severe wounds on their body, not allowing MC to do it themself.  His touch was surprisingly gentle against their injuries, a significant contrast to his stern expression that was just barely containing his growing anger while he listened to what the spiteful demon did to the human he held dear.

“I’m certain you’ve learned your lesson,” Lucifer remarked, moving on to bandage the wound he had cleaned, “but in light of these events, you’re not permitted to leave my side for the rest of the day.  I’ll also be accompanying you to and from RAD this whole week.  Do I make myself clear?”  Knowing that there was no room for argument—and because they’d genuinely feel safer by Lucifer’s side—MC accepted his decision, which effectively removed some of the tension from his shoulders. “Good," he said.

Upon ensuring that all of MC’s physical injuries were taken care of, Lucifer reached out to rest his hand on their cheek, his gaze becoming warmer.  “I’m glad you’re safe.  I’m sure you were frightened, but you did well in keeping your wits about you and pulling through to escape.  I promise, I won’t let that demon harm you again.”

Afterward, Lucifer obeyed just about any request MC had—from making their favorite food for dinner, to holding them in his arms whenever they were alone—in an effort to ease any lingering anxiety they felt and remind them (and himself) that they were safe with him.  Once the human was fast asleep in his bed, the affectionate smile faded from his face as his serious features took over once more.  With them protected in his room, he took this opportunity to hunt down the demon who assaulted them.  The details from MC’s story, the type of scratch marks and wounds he saw, and the scent left on MC’s clothing were enough to help him pinpoint the exact culprit, so he headed straight to where they lived.

If the low-ranking demon wasn’t wide awake from the sound of their door being kicked down, they certainly were at the sight of Lucifer in his demon form looming over them.

“So,” he began darkly, “you’re the one who attacked MC.  Do you have anything to say for yourself?  Think carefully.  They may be your last words.”

The red gradient from Lucifer’s irises seemed to glow within the dark room and foreshadow the color the quivering demon's body would be stained with when he was through with them.  No one messed with what belonged to the Avatar of Pride.

“Ya should’ve called me right away!” Mammon declared, fumbling over the bandaging that he was attempting to secure around MC’s swollen wrist.  He had been doing his best to help MC clean up from the attack in his bedroom, giving them some of his loungewear to change into and using the house’s first aid kit to address their cuts and bruises.  All the while, he bit his tongue for as long as he could while the human explained their quarrel with the demon in town.  At this point, he couldn’t hold back his thoughts anymore.  “I could’ve taken ‘em down in no time flat, y’know!  And I promised ya that I would save ya next time something like this happened, remember?  But now I gotta patch ya up instead.  Tch, damn demon, touchin’ what don’t belong to ‘em...  Hey, don’t give me that look!  I fixed ya up just fine after that TSL contest with Levi, didn’t I?  So I can do it now, too, no problem!  Just—”

Mammon paused as he stared down at MC’s wrist, his jaw clenching from how much damage the demon had done to his most precious human.  His voice quieted down into a more solemn tone, “—don’t make me have to do this again, MC.  It doesn’t matter if I’m busy or somewhere else, ya better tell me the next time ya even think about goin’ out alone so that I can come with ya, got it?  No ‘buts’ about it.  ...Gahh, why’d this stupid bandage come undone?!”  He growled at the inanimate object—despite his true fury stemming from the demon who caused the wounds that he had to bandage—before redoing the wrapping process from the beginning.  “I swear, when I find who did this to ya, MC, I’m really gonna let ‘em have it!”

For the remainder of the day, Mammon was glued to MC’s side, appearing “more clingy and overbearing than usual” in his brothers’ eyes.  Of course, if anyone questioned his behavior, he simply refuted it with a red face and asserted that he just-so-happened to need to go to the same places MC went to throughout the house.  In truth, he couldn’t shake off his concerns for their well-being and wanted to be the first to jump to their aid if anything else happened, such as if their injuries worsened.  They were obviously safe from harm in the house, but Mammon found it impossible to relax unless they were within his line of sight, to the extent that he had to be in the same room (if not the same bed) as MC that night.  In order for this feeling to stop, he needed to locate the demon responsible for this, and fast.  So, in the early morning hours before MC awoke, he sent out his crows to gather intel on the low-ranking demon’s name and whereabouts.

The crows returned to Mammon just after dinner, and he left the house in a hurry, shouting back to his puzzled brothers and MC about how he was off to win big at the casino.  Soon after his arrival, he spotted his target at one of the poker tables and challenged them to play one-on-one with him.  Since Mammon didn’t have much money on hand, the demon accepted, thinking it would only last a few rounds at the most.  However, the Avatar of Greed kept winning until the demon was out of money/chips.  They tried to call it quits, but he wouldn’t allow them to leave, insisting that they still owed a lot after what they did to MC.  The color drained from the demon’s face at this realization.

“Didn't I mention that we’re playin’ ‘all or nothing’ tonight?” Mammon questioned with a smirk.  “Should we try a different ‘game’ then?  ‘Cause I ain’t nearly satisfied—not ’til I bleed ya dry.”

Although he urgently wanted to know what happened, Leviathan panicked more at how roughed up MC looked as they stood before him, so his brain temporarily went into a fear-induced autopilot.  He hastily dragged them to his room with a first aid kit, sat them down on the floor with him, and began handling their wounds without fretting over how he was touching them.  Hearing MC express their thanks managed to snap him out of his trance and drive him to apologize profusely for putting his “yucky otaku hands all over” them.  With their permission (and reassurance), he cautiously resumed his task while they told him about the events that put them in their current physical state.

“Ugh, normies are already terrible, but that demon is the worst of them all,” Levi commented bitterly.  “They’re stupider and scummier than Mammon, and that’s saying something.  I mean, you’re S-tier status, MC!  Nobody should be able to touch you at all, not even me!  You really are an angel for putting up with being this close to me.”  

He cleared his throat.  “A-Anyway, if anything, this is a good reason to stick to ordering the things you need online instead of going out to buy them.  That’s what I normally do, and it hasn’t failed me yet.  So, when we’re done here, let’s go on Akuzon to buy the stuff you were trying to get earlier.  And, um, if it’ll help, you’re welcome to chill out here with me for the rest of the day.  We can catch up on some anime and play that new game I was telling you about the other day, and you can borrow my Ruri-chan pillow and blanket set for extra comfort!  It’s like the best otaku-certified medicine for any ailment, don’t you think?”

Since they enjoyed his company and wanted to take their mind off of what happened to them, MC agreed to Levi’s ideas.  In turn, Levi did whatever he could to ensure that the human was having fun and felt relaxed the whole time they were together.  A sense of relief washed over him when he witnessed MC smiling for the first time since they came home.  It was good that they were at ease with him, but he still wished he could do more for them...

Levi's wish came true when, later, he and MC decided to play an online co-op game, using their own accounts and on separate computer screens at the otaku’s desk.  Through their headsets, they could communicate with their randomly assigned opponents during each round, and it was at the start of a new match that MC recognized one of the voices.  The sound of the player’s angry shouting toward the game’s mechanics caused the human to yank off their headset while pushing their chair away from the computers.  Levi slid his headphones down around his neck to hear them admit that a certain player was the same hostile demon from earlier before logging off and excusing themself to the bathroom.  Seeking to avenge his Henry, the Lord of Shadow mercilessly targeted the demon in the game and mocked their skills throughout the match.  But just winning against them in a game wasn’t enough—Levi needed to destroy them in the real world, too.  A bit of hacking gave him the location of the demon he was playing against, bringing a triumphant yet menacing grin to his face.

Upon receiving a threat from the attacker for him to fight them in reality, Levi simply answered, “Gladly,” before logging off.

When MC returned to the bedroom after a while, all that awaited them was a note from Levi stating that he would be back after taking Lotan out for “an urgent mission."

Satan could physically feel the wrath boiling and intensifying within him the more that MC spoke about the incident in town.  He initially was working alongside them in his bedroom to properly address their injuries, using his knowledge to determine which ones could be healed with magic and which ones required the items from the first aid kit.  However, he reached a point where his thinking grew too clouded and his movements became too rough, so he had to step aside to let the human handle the rest of their wounds while they continued to talk.  Then, just as they had come to the end of their story, Satan abruptly changed into his demon form.  He was seething with pure rage as his tail whipped wildly behind him, knocking over some of the book piles in his bedroom in the process. 

“I’m going to rip them to shreds,” the Avatar of Wrath hissed, overwhelmed with resentment toward MC’s attacker.  “Where exactly did you leave them, MC?  They might still be stuck from Solomon’s magic charm, so now’s my chance to teach them a lesson.”

MC tried to calm him, but their words fell on deaf ears.  Satan seemed to be too far gone to care about anything other than taking revenge on the “brainless” demon who laid their hands on someone so important to him.  As such, he started to push through MC when they attempted to prevent him from leaving, only to freeze at the sight of the human wincing in pain.  His hand had accidentally squeezed the injury on their arm while he was trying to pull them away from the door.  That was all it took for him to finally stop seeing red and reconsider his priorities.  With a deep exhale, as if to let out all of his fuming rage, his demon form disappeared, and he looked back at MC in a much kinder yet still troubled manner.

After confirming that MC was okay, Satan’s tone became softer as he said, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to grab you like that.  I...couldn’t think straight at all, and I almost lost sight of what matters most right now.”  He patted their head with a smile.  “Thank you for helping me come back to my senses.  Let me take another look at what you’ve patched up to make sure everything is good for now.  Then, I think it would be best for your body if you took a short nap.  You can stay here in my room so my brothers won’t disturb you, and, if you’d like, I could sit beside you and read you a book until you fall asleep.  ...Don’t worry, I’ll still be here when you wake up.”

Satan did just as he stated, but while MC slept, he started getting in touch with his countless acquaintances via text message in hopes of acquiring any further information about the demon who harmed MC earlier.  A few eyewitness accounts of the fight’s aftermath and some exchanges of info enabled him to figure out the hostile demon’s identity.  With the hardest part taken care of, he spent his time in between hanging out with MC and reassessing their injuries to plot their attacker’s impending doom.

RAD classes had just ended for the day when Satan cornered the demon, who happened to be a student, into a classroom under the guise that he wanted to learn more about one of their hobbies.  Once the rest of the students had left the room, he casually locked the door before replacing his friendly façade with his demon form.

“You put MC through a lot of pain yesterday, you know,” Satan remarked with a monstrous expression as the low-ranking demon hurriedly backed away from him.  “For that, I intend to give you an experience a hundred times worse than what you did to them.  I even read through the latest books on torture just for this occasion.  Are you ready?  Because I sure am.”

While leading them upstairs, Asmodeus actually decided to hold off on having MC discuss the details of their situation in favor of tending to their physical condition.  He whisked them into his large bathroom, filled the tub with warm water and a mix of bath salts and oils that loosen tense muscles and promote healing, and instructed the human to take a bath (whether or not he stayed with them and helped was entirely MC’s choice).  Once they were done, Asmo gave them a soft robe to wear and brought them to his room so that they could rest on his bed while he basically gave them a mini spa day.  His voice encouraging them to relax was as delicate as his touch on the injuries he examined.  He then used magically enhanced ointments on any reddened or bruised areas of their skin and bandaged the more severe wounds.  

By this time, MC was ready to reveal how they got hurt, and with their approval, Asmo settled down at their side to gently cuddle with them.  When he normally listens to stories, he’s prone to be rather vocal and interject during key parts, but considering the context of this one, he kept his lips sealed from start to finish.

“You did absolutely nothing wrong, MC,” Asmo reassured them.  “That nasty demon should’ve never acted that way toward you.  If you ask me, it sounds like they were jealous of your popularity.  We all love you because of who you are, and someone with an ugly personality like that demon won’t ever receive such positive attention.  I almost feel sorry for them.  ...Oh, that gives me an idea!”  

He grabbed his phone and began tapping away on the screen, prompting MC to question what he’s doing.  “Well, if they’re so eager for attention,” he replied, “then that’s exactly what they’ll get.  A little quality time with me should set them straight.  ...Hm?  What do I mean?  Don’t worry your pretty little head about it, dear.  I’ll take care of everything.  Soon, that no-name nobody will be a forgotten memory.”  He then set aside his phone to completely refocus on his precious human, pampering all of their pain and troubles away.

That evening, a notification sound pinged on Asmo’s phone, bringing a giddy smile to his face.  Earlier, he had reached out to his social media followers to help him track down the one who assaulted MC, and it looked like a group of his fans now had that demon in their clutches as they awaited Asmo’s orders on what to do next.  With a skip in his step, he headed off to “a special gathering with his adoring fans,” leaving MC in his brothers’ care for the time being.  The bubbling delight in his features grew more wicked the moment he locked eyes with the captured demon at the designated meeting place.

“Why, hello there,” Asmo greeted as he walked closer.  “You must be the naughty demon who just couldn’t keep their hands to themself when they saw my darling MC.  But you didn’t ask for consent and went way too far with them, so now I’m going to do the same with you.”  He giggled at their reaction.  “Aw, you’re just dying with anticipation for what I have in store for you, huh?  As much as I’d love to give you the full ‘Asmo treatment,’ I don’t want to ruin my freshly manicured nails, so I’m going to leave half of the work to my adoring fans here.  Everyone, watch me closely!  This is how you punish a bad demon.”

About an hour later, MC came across a new post on Asmo's Devilgram.  It was a photo of him surrounded by a bunch of others holding or drinking glasses of Demonus with the caption: “Cheers to all these lovelies for their hard work today!  My fans are the best! ❤ ”

“I’m so sorry, MC,” Beelzebub said, guilt etched on his face while he assisted MC in tending to their wounds.  With how worn out the human looked when they arrived home, he had decided to carry them to their bedroom so that they could rest a bit while he took care of their needs, such as fetching them some food and water from the kitchen and picking out clean clothes from their dresser.  Soon enough, MC finally had the strength to explain what transpired between them and the malicious demon in town.  The details saddened Beel greatly and reminded him of how he wasn’t able to protect Lilith, leading him to blame himself for the pain that MC experienced.  “I should’ve gone with you.  Then I would’ve been able to stop that demon from hurting you.”

After MC reassured that none of this was his fault, Beel felt a little better, but the guilt continued to gnaw at him relentlessly, just like his hunger always did.  “I know,” he replied, “but I still wish I could’ve been there to save you before things turned out the way they did.  I don’t like seeing you in this state.”  His eyes somberly trailed over the human’s beaten figure before he gave a serious firm nod, making an unbreakable vow to himself and them.  “I won’t let this happen to you anymore, MC.” With their approval, he then (carefully) wrapped them in his warm embrace.

Beel became rather overprotective of MC for a while, offering to help them with the smallest of tasks and even having Belphegor watch over them at home while he went out to get the items that they were shopping for earlier.  He also wanted to avoid making their injuries any worse, so he encouraged MC to eat and rest whenever they seemed sluggish and kept his hugs as gentle as possible.  He never strayed far from their side unless they asked him to or circumstances required them to be apart, such as when they had different RAD classes.  If one of his brothers was with MC, then he didn’t worry too much, but he strived to ensure that they were never alone, at least in public places.

About a week after the incident, when Beel and MC were waiting for their order in Café Lament at one of the indoor tables, MC’s whole body tensed the moment they witnessed their attacker walk through the door.  Beel noticed the abrupt change in their demeanor, so he asked them what was wrong.  They gave him a hushed answer along with a subtle motion toward the demon waiting in line.  Beel then draped his jacket over their shoulders—as if to provide them with an impenetrable layer of protection—and instructed them to stay at the table.  Without another word, he approached the low-ranking demon, grabbed them by the face with one hand, and dragged them out of the café.  He ignored their muffled pleas as he rounded a street corner and then slammed the back of their body against the outside wall of another building.

“You tried to kill someone who matters a lot to me—and to my family, too,” Beel declared, his tone strongly matching his intimidating features.  “I can never forgive you for that.  You should be grateful that I’m going to make this quick.”

Beel later returned to the busy café just in time for his and MC’s order to be brought to their table.  After assuring MC that the demon wouldn’t bother them again, he retrieved his jacket, zipping it up the whole way to cover the splattered stains on his black shirt.  When asked about the stains, he simply replied that they were caused by the snack he ate before he came back.

MC’s unnaturally messy appearance snapped Belphegor’s lazy eyes wide open, and he checked if anyone was following behind them from outside before leading them to the attic with him, grabbing the first aid kit along the way.  Once both of them were sitting comfortably on the bed, Belphie casted the strongest healing spell he could remember to cure the bulk MC’s injuries and then asked them again to tell him how they got hurt.  Although he was prone to dozing off whenever he listened to a story, MC’s retelling of their encounter with their attacker kept him wide awake.  The sheer hatred that coursed through his veins were reminiscent of when he blamed humans for Lilith’s death.

“That bastard,” Belphie cursed through gritted teeth while working with MC to patch up their remaining wounds.  “They’re not going to get away with this.  I’ll make them pay for doing this to you, MC.”  He calmed down somewhat when he felt his favorite human place their hand overtop of his.  “...Well, I guess revenge can wait for now.  After all, you’re still here, and I want to hold you close for as long as I can before we’re inevitably interrupted by one of my brothers.  We’ve done all we can for your injuries, so why don’t you lie down to rest while I cuddle you?”

The warm snuggles with MC did make Belphie drowsy, but he struggled to fall asleep knowing that the demon who assaulted them was still on the loose.  Once the others found out what happened, he was sure they’d likely be on the hunt for the nameless demon as well, but he wanted to be the one who ultimately handled it, which he ended up voicing to his brothers.  So, the details of the incident remained strictly within the family, and by the end of the day, they had all the information they needed for Belphie to take care of MC’s attacker on his own.  Because of this, he was able to relax and smile more when he and Beel hung out with MC that evening.

During the lunch break at RAD the next day, Belphie roamed the halls in search of his prey.  His expression may have appeared grumpy or tired at a glance, but anyone who decided not to move out of his way witnessed the murderous intent in his eyes before he continued onward.  With no luck indoors, he headed outside to the school’s courtyard, where his gaze soon landed on MC’s attacker eating and conversing with a few other classmates on a bench.

“Hey, you,” Belphie said as he approached the small group, staring down at the oblivious demon.  “Get up.  You’re coming with me.  Now.”

Any sensible RAD student was aware that an order from a student council officer—or simply one of the seven demon brothers in general—could not be ignored, which led the demon to reluctantly follow behind Belphie without question.  When the two of them reached the back of the school, the Avatar of Sloth immediately switched into his demon form.

“I know what you did to MC,” Belphie declared with a dangerous look in his eyes.  The demon started to stutter out excuses, but their words abruptly became garbled from the pressure of Belphie’s hands around their neck.  “Save it.  Your fate was sealed the moment you touched them.  ...In pain already?  This is nothing compared to what I have in store for you.”

“I see...  And that’s what led to you rushing into the House of Lamentation like that at the same time I was leaving from my meeting with Lucifer,” Diavolo noted, his eyes closed thoughtfully as he took in the details of MC’s story.  With MC looking the worse for wear, he had contacted Barbatos to open a portal to the Demon Lord’s Castle so that he could provide them with the best treatment for their injuries and a new set of clothes.  Even with his and Barbatos’s combined efforts to clean and heal MC, he still called upon a doctor who was familiar with human physiology to double-check if there was anything else that needed to be done.  Determining that “rest” was the only other thing they needed, Diavolo dismissed Barbatos and the doctor and encouraged MC to take a nap in his bed while he did some work nearby in case they needed him.  It wasn’t until after MC slept a bit that they mentioned wanting to talk to him about their earlier predicament, which was why he was now seated across from the human in his room.

“I’m so sorry this happened to you, MC,” Diavolo stated as he opened his eyes to gaze remorsefully into theirs.  “The denizens of the Devildom are allowed to have their own opinions, but none of them have the right to unjustly harm visitors from another realm because of those opinions.  Therefore, I will ensure that demon is found and receives a punishment fitting for their crime.  Your safety matters greatly to me, so I’ll continue to work towards a future where you and all other beings can peacefully coexist here.  I hope just knowing that relieves your stress a little.”

Still concerned about their condition, Diavolo reached out to Lucifer to let him know that MC would be staying overnight at the castle (and to provide him with a summary of the situation itself).  The prince also tasked Barbatos with tracking down the malicious demon so that he could finish his own work as soon as possible in order to spend time with the human he cherished.  If MC had any lingering fears, he offered them reassuring words and distracted them through fun activities.  It was MC’s choice that night whether they slept alone in one of the guest rooms or with him in his bed, securely wrapped in his arms.

It wasn’t long after the demon brothers picked up MC the following morning that Barbatos informed Diavolo that the demon who attacked MC had been located.  Shortly thereafter, the low-ranking demon was brought into his office for a private chat about their altercation the previous day.  He easily noticed the lies, exaggerations, and hidden hostility in their words, which made it more difficult for him to be professional the longer they spoke.  The last bit of patience that he was clinging onto disappeared completely when the attacker claimed that they “only wanted to give MC a good lesson on the true strength of demons.”  The prince rose from his seat, taking on his demon form as he promptly yanked the weaker demon up by the neckline of their shirt to bring them to his eye level.

“Your ‘lesson’ nearly killed them,” Diavolo declared sharply to the terrified demon.  “You would’ve not only disrupted the balance between the three realms, but also taken the life of someone who’s done a lot for me and the Devildom.”  He dropped MC’s attacker to the ground and loomed over their quaking figure.  His wings stretched wide while magic sparked from his fingertips.  “As punishment for your crimes of attempted murder and lying to your sovereign about it, allow me to teach you a lesson you won’t soon forget.”

Barbatos already knew that humans were fragile, but witnessing MC in such a damaged state was a painful reminder of that fact.  He wasted no time in bringing them straight to a guest room in the Demon Lord’s Castle through one of his portals, where he took it upon himself to take care of their wounds in an efficient yet tender manner.  The Little D.’s also provided their aid by fetching water, clothes, disinfectant, and any other items that the royal butler requested.

“If it’s too much for you to speak on the matter right now, then that’s all right,” Barbatos assured MC while casting healing magic on their body.  “However, I must ask that you reveal everything to me before you leave the castle.  It is imperative that I know the truth behind your injuries so that I can guarantee your safety in the future.  Furthermore, judging by what I’m seeing here, it’s likely that this incident affects Lord Diavolo’s goals, and I cannot allow anyone to threaten his work or the peace between the three realms.”

When MC felt that the time was right, Barbatos listened patiently as they finally disclosed that they had been assaulted by a demon in town.  Holding their hand in both of his own, he replied, “Thank you for telling me all of this, MC.  Lord Diavolo and I shall see to it that the demon who attacked you faces consequences for their actions, so you needn’t worry about them going after you anymore.  If you’re still feeling anxious, however, then you are more than welcome to remain here until you’re ready to return to the House of Lamentation.  ...And, if I’m being honest, I myself feel more at ease knowing that you’re safe and sound right by my side.  What I’m saying is, take all the time you need here.  It’s no trouble at all.”

For the duration of MC’s stay at the castle that day, Barbatos served the human dutifully as if he was their butler.  Whatever they required (as long as it was within reason), he made sure it was done, along with the completion of his regular daily tasks.  They even were permitted to sleep overnight there if that’s what they wanted, which also gave Barbatos the opportunity to cuddle them close and reassess their injuries for any additional treatment they may need. 

After MC left, Diavolo granted Barbatos permission to go back in time to see who exactly assaulted MC, with the condition that he couldn’t interact with anyone there.  Knowing he wouldn’t be able to restrain himself from the sight of someone so special to him being harmed, he entered the past at the time the demon was recovering from being incapacitated by the magic charm.  With their identity verified, he returned to the present time and located the demon’s whereabouts.  He lurked in the shadows, waiting for the low-ranking demon to be alone before knocking them unconscious from behind.

MC’s attacker awoke in shackles in a room filled with various weapons and dangerous devices.  Their stomach sunk at the sight of Barbatos’s sly grin from across the room, realizing that they were in the royal butler’s rumored torture room.

“I’m sure you know why you’re here,” Barbatos remarked as he picked up one of the weapons to toy with it.  “Your actions toward MC posed a great risk to both Lord Diavolo’s goals and the life of the one most precious to many others here, myself included.  Such misdeeds cannot be overlooked.  So, consider this your ‘karma.’  Or, if you’re not as strong as you act like you are, then perhaps ‘execution’ will be the more fitting word.”

Simeon was a nervous wreck from seeing MC’s condition, but he managed to remain calm enough to attend to their immediate needs once the two of them entered MC’s bedroom.  For the time being, he concluded that it was more important to prioritize the human’s health over learning how they ended up like this.  His voice and gestures contained their usual levels of warmth and gentleness while he took care of their injuries, but his worry lines deepened at each new bruise or open wound he came across.  He also became alarmed whenever MC flinched from the pain of certain injuries, causing him to apologize and ask if they were okay before continuing his self-assigned task even more carefully.  When MC let him know that they were ready to talk, he checked to make sure they weren’t forcing themself to recall the incident this soon for his sake.  They promised that it was fine, so he offered his hand for them to hold and even his shoulder for them to lean on as they spoke.

“Oh, MC...” Simeon murmured sadly at the end of their retelling, his hand moving over to rub their back soothingly.  “To think that something like this would happen after how much time you’ve spent here in the Devildom.  You didn’t deserve it at all.  I’m sure you already know this, but not all demons outside of our friends think about humans in the same way that the one who attacked you does.  It was purely bad luck that you bumped into someone that cruel at the wrong time.  I wish I could’ve been there to protect you...”  

He shook his head and then resumed, “Well, there’s no use dwelling on what can’t be changed.  But I’m here now, so please tell me what I can do for you.  Shall we get you into some clean clothes?  Or maybe you’d like something to eat first?  ...Oh!  Would you like to see this new app on my D.D.D.?  Levi helped me install it earlier and went over the basics, but he wasn’t able to teach me everything since a new episode of an anime was about to start.  It’s still a little confusing to me, but perhaps we could learn more about it together?  It’s supposed to add silly details to photos, so I’m sure we’ll have fun with it.”

Simeon stuck by MC’s side for as long as they wanted him to and focused on comforting them to the best of his abilities.  Once MC was doing better, he left the House of Lamentation feeling a bit more relaxed yet still fretting over what had happened to the human.  While mulling over if there was anything else he could do for them, he received a text from Solomon asking him to pick up a few items from Hocus Pocus before returning to Purgatory Hall.  Because he accepted this request, he was able to literally bump into MC’s attacker as they were browsing the store’s wares.  The demon snapped at him, and in the heat of their anger, they brought up how they “already got rammed into by a pretentious human earlier today” and now had to “find a potion to get rid of the aftereffects of the magic charm they used.”

Simeon firmly pressed his hand against the demon’s sternum to prevent them from storming past him.  “It was you who hurt MC?” he questioned with an uncharacteristically narrowed gaze.  The demon’s panicked expression confirmed his suspicions.  “I see.  In that case, listen to me carefully:  If you come anywhere near them again, I won’t hesitate to show you exactly why demons used to fear the power of angels.  Do you understand?”

The strange burning sensation coming from the angel’s hand that joined with his threat was enough to make the pale-faced demon nod repeatedly, desperate to avoid a terrible fate. Simeon removed his hand and flashed a friendly grin as he bid them a permanent farewell.  Sure enough, MC never encountered that particular demon again.

“While I’m glad that my defensive charm was of use to you,” Solomon stated, “it’s unfortunate that you still had to go through such an ordeal.  I’ve had my fair share of demons try to pick fights with me, too, specifically back when I wasn’t as skilled with my magic.  So, I can understand how you’re feeling right now.  Maybe I can create a new charm that activates automatically when its holder is in danger..."

The immortal sorcerer brainstormed the technicalities of making this type of magic charm, muttering his thoughts aloud as he searched in his collection for a potent tonic that would aid in healing MC’s injuries.  He had decided to use the spell that allows him to instantly travel to different places in order to take MC back to his room in Purgatory Hall.  It was not only one of the best places for privacy, but it also contained plenty of magical items that would help with MC’s current condition.  He had already taken care of their dried blood, tattered clothes, and small scratches, which only left the bigger wounds and bruises untreated.  Throughout this time, he had listened to his fellow human’s explanation about how they ended up this way.  He wasn’t too shocked that this sort of exchange occurred, but it deeply angered him nonetheless, even though he didn’t outwardly express it.

Solomon soon chose the best tonic he could find, giving it to MC to drink as he resumed, “In any case, I’ll make you a duplicate of that charm so that you can protect yourself if a similar situation arises.  Still, your best bet in avoiding any irritable demons would be to stick with someone you know when you go out.”  He grinned warmly at them while retrieving the empty bottle from their hands.  “I’m more than willing to join you anytime, MC, so don’t hesitate to contact me.  Whether it’s to hang out or just to watch over you, I always enjoy the time we spend together.  ...Oh, look at that!  The bruises on your arms are already starting to fade.  That tonic worked very well.  How are you feeling, though?  Any other ailments I should address?”

Just to be sure that there were no unusual side effects from the magically enhanced healing items, Solomon insisted that MC stay with him for a little while longer.  The two of them engaged in leisurely and comforting activities during that time, like reading, watching videos on DevilTube, and listening to music.  Solomon also tried to cook MC a meal—certain that they must’ve been hungry after everything that happened—but they managed to talk him out of it.  (They want to get better, not worse!)  Depending on how well MC was doing in the evening, they either went back home or spent the night at Purgatory Hall with Solomon and the others.

After escorting MC home from RAD classes the following afternoon, the sorcerer locked himself in his room to conduct a summoning spell.  He had noticed a peculiar strand of hair on MC’s shirt the previous day and—based on some of the hair-pulling struggle in their story—concluded that it belonged to their attacker.  It was a lucky find that enabled him to summon the low-ranking demon directly to his room without having to track them down.  Once the demon appeared, Solomon quickly followed up with a spell that rendered them completely immoble.

“What’s this?  Can’t move?” the witty sorcerer inquired with feigned surprise.  “I thought you wanted to show us humans ‘what demons are truly capable of?’  Well, since you’re not going anywhere, I’m going to show you what I’m capable of when you hurt someone important to me.”

It was fortunate that no one else was home to hear the demon’s mangled screams.

“What an awful demon!” Luke huffed as he helped MC clean and bandage their wounds in the bathroom.  “They had no right to treat you like that just because you bumped into them by accident!  Demons really are—!”  He paused abruptly, realizing what he was about to say.  As easy as it would be for him to label all demons as “evil,” “ruthless,” “the worst,” and so on, he knew better now that such thoughts weren’t true, especially with how kind the demon brothers, Diavolo, and Barbatos had been to him.

“I’m sorry, MC,” Luke said.  “I’m just really upset about what that demon did to you.  But I shouldn’t be focused on my feelings right now. Are you okay?  If you’re feeling up to it, would you like to try one of the cupcakes I just brought over?  I made extra so that I could share them with you and the others. That’s why I was here when you came home.  Beel isn’t around right now, so they should still be in the kitchen.”

The young angel put on a smile for MC’s sake, and it seemed to be enough to persuade them to accept his suggestion.  While they went to their bedroom to change out of their blood-stained clothes, Luke trotted off to the kitchen to fetch a cupcake for them.  During his brief time alone, he pondered over what happened to MC, and his heart ached from how hurt his best friend was and from the understanding that not all demons were as accepting of humans and angels as those closest to the two of them.  He didn’t want MC to go through such a scary, terrible event again, so shortly after he entered their bedroom, he offered to cast his angel’s blessing on them, which would protect them from any other malicious demons.  He also told them that they can rely on him anytime, even if it’s just to accompany them to a store.  

Luke then stayed with MC for the rest of the day, chatting and playing games until he fell asleep and Simeon was called to pick him up.  The next time the young angel saw all of the demon brothers together, he scolded them, demanding that they do a better job in watching over MC from now on. (The brothers outwardly brushed off his remarks, but they actually felt the same way. By this point, though, they had already learned about what happened from MC and handled the demon together through their own means.)

“Considering the results of the latest ‘RAD Exchange Program’ survey, I can’t say I’m too surprised about this,” Mephistopheles noted.  “Nevertheless, this is unacceptable.  Any civilized demon—  Hold it!  The bandage will fall off if you don’t wrap it correctly, and then it'll be harder for that cut to heal.”  He sighed as he took off his white gloves and set them on the table in the human’s bedroom, not wanting to get any of MC’s slightly-oozing blood on them.  “Hand it here.  I’ll wrap it for you this time, but watch carefully.”

When Mephisto had come over to the House of Lamentation to borrow a book from Satan, the last thing he expected to encounter in his short visit —and just before leaving, of all times!—was a battered MC.  To top it off, now he was dressing their wounds!  Though, if he was being honest with himself, he was more concerned about what transpired between the malicious demon and MC than about having to spend more time at HoL on his day off.

“As I was saying,” Mephisto went on, scooting his chair a bit closer to where MC was seated beside him while he tended to their arm, “any civilized demon would know better than to threaten Diavolo’s goals.  They may as well have put a target on their back for assaulting an exchange student, especially you out of everyone.  But without a name, that target could still easily hide in a crowd.  How would we bring them out into the open...?”

After securing the bandage and putting his gloves back on, Mephisto had an idea.  He proceeded to ask MC to describe the demon who hurt them in as much detail as they could recall.  The image of the individual that formed in his mind prompted him to take out his D.D.D. to show MC a photo of some RAD students that he used for a past newspaper article.

“That’s them on the end?” he double-checked with the human.  “You’re certain?  ...All right, then leave the rest to me.  In the meantime, focus on taking care of yourself, got it?  And if you need anything, you can call or text me.  Don’t abuse this privilege, though!  Anyway, I’ll see you in class tomorrow.”

Mephisto believed that noblemen like himself should never get their hands dirty, but that didn’t mean that he couldn’t tear apart MC’s attacker in another way.  Once he returned home, he drafted an article about the incident, complete with the malicious demon’s name and face, and emailed it to the demon with the warning that if they didn’t want it to be published, then they would meet him in the newspaper club room before tomorrow’s morning classes.  Sure enough, the demon arrived the next day, their expression irate but their words filled with fear and desperation.  They admitted to everything that had happened with MC the previous day at Mephisto’s request, but they also tried to rationalize their actions and plead why the article shouldn’t be published.  Unbeknownst to the demon, however, Mephisto had already sent the article to Diavolo and Barbatos and even had his phone opened in the middle of a call with the two of them, allowing them to hear everything MC’s attacker had said to him.  Within minutes, the prince and butler entered the room to seize the demon and punish them for what they had done.  No one saw that student ever again, much to Mephisto’s delight.

“Hm, so that’s what happened...” Raphael muttered pensively, his gaze trained to the shirt he was sewing in MC’s room.  He had asked the human to give him their tattered clothes for him to mend, certain that he could fix it to be as good as new considering how often he used to do this for Lucifer’s younger brothers. He also insisted that he didn't mind doing so since he was free the rest of the day—he was just on his way out from a brief meeting with Lucifer when MC had run into him.  As he worked, MC spoke to him while they tended to their wounds and changed into clean clothes, not once feeling the angel’s eyes on them but assured that he was still listening to them when he was able to repeat back things they had said.

“That goes against Lord Diavolo’s rules here, though, right?” Raphael questioned.  Upon receiving confirmation, he continued, “Then, that demon broke a law.  Such an act cannot go unpunished.  When I find them, I’ll take care of them for you.”

Regardless of MC’s response, the angel was determined to seek justice.  In his mind, just as those in the Celestial Realm were obligated to follow the rules, so should those in the Devildom, no matter how feral or bound by instinct the demon may be.  Plus, he wasn’t going to let anyone get away with hurting someone close to him, especially for no good reason.  But as for the present moment, he would finish mending MC’s clothes and, if they wanted him to, stick around a little longer to help them feel better and safe.

“Make sure Lucifer or one of the others is with you when you go out,” Raphael calmly lectured before he left.  “If they’re not available, then I don’t mind if you call on me.  And try to keep a closer eye on your surroundings so that you don’t unintentionally upset someone again.  Oh, and I'll ask Solomon to make you some more of those defensive charms for similar emergencies.  ...I’ll get going now.  I hope your wounds heal quickly, MC.”

The next day, MC seemed to be doing better, so Raphael didn’t dwell on the situation as much aside from watching out for anyone who looked like their attacker.  But later, when the two of them were out in town, MC caught sight of the demon from before.  Raphael wasted no time in summoning a shower of spears that ultimately cornered MC's attacker into an alleyway.  He pulled one of the spears out of the ground and pointed it dangerously close to the demon’s throat, his gaze on them just as sharp as the weapon in his hand. If MC chose to intervene, then he’d leave with a threat that’d shake the demon down to their core and drive them to live on the other side of the realm.  Otherwise, Raphael would wordlessly cut down the demon in an instant with no remorse, making it clear why he’s known as “the hit man from the Celestial Realm.” In either case, Raphael would feel relieved in knowing that MC was safe from that particular demon, and perhaps other demons would think twice before they lay a hand on the human he protected.

“There’s plenty of demons like that one out here,” Thirteen remarked, her leg crossed over the other as she sat on MC’s bed.  She passed the human some gauze from the first aid kit so they could wrap it around their forearm.  “I guess that’s hard to believe with those seven brothers constantly fawning over you, but even they were cruel to you when you first met, right?  Well, that’s what Asmodeus told me while he was painting my nails earlier. My point is, you can’t ever let your guard down.”

After hearing MC express their understanding of her words, the reaper resumed, “Glad we're in agreement.  Now hurry and get yourself fixed up.  The sooner we head back out, the better.  ...Why?  We’re going to get revenge on that demon, of course!  I doubt they’re still subdued from that magic charm, but they should still be weak enough for us to track them down.”

While the human finished cleaning themself up, Thirteen excitedly discussed the different traps she had in order to capture the demon and give them a taste of their own medicine.  Since MC wasn’t able to properly fight back when they were attacked, Thirteen had every intention of helping them one-up the demon, viewing the skirmish more like a competition that she and MC had to win. The demon struck first, so now the two of them were going to strike back, even harder and better than the attacker would ever expect, she concluded.

Should MC express hesitation toward the idea, Thirteen would try to persuade them by saying that letting the demon get away with their actions would be the same as admitting defeat and permitting them to attack again anytime.  Also, despite knowing the true nature of demons, she couldn’t help but feel angry about what happened to MC and wanted to stop anyone who dared to threaten their life.

Whether they followed by choice or were basically dragged along, MC soon returned to the scene of the crime with Thirteen in search of the perpetrator.  It took a bit of time, but the duo eventually found the demon on the outskirts of town and pursued them into the forest.  Thirteen used a trap she named “Pretty Pitfall Number 6” to blast a deep hole in the ground for the demon to fall into.  The reaper stood over the edge of the pit, looking down smugly at the disoriented being below.

“I was expecting more of a fight,” Thirteen laughed.  “Oh well.  I guess that just makes it easier for me to test out some more traps on you.  They’re designed to help me reap the soul of a certain immortal sorcerer, you know.  I wonder how they’ll fare on you.”  She then happily tossed down a multitude of her handmade mechanisms to attack the demon as payback for what they did to MC.  

The cries of the demon echoed through the forest as Thirteen watched her traps in action.  Satisfied with their effectiveness, she put her arm around MC’s shoulders and led them back into town for a celebratory meal.  (Even if the demon survived, there was no way they’d have the courage or physical strength to retaliate again with the reaper on MC’s side.)

[misc-obeyme]

9 Days of Solomon: Day 9 - Humanity

Okay I have just enough time to post this today. Happy birthday Solomon, you old sorcerer. I don't know what it is about your cheeky lil laugh, but I love it and your stupid face.

Since we were talking about other characters mentioning that Solomon is a little less than human, I kinda took that idea and ran with it.

Anyway, thank you to @/impish-ivy for hosting this event! I had fun with all of the prompts and I loved writing about Solomon.

GN!MC x Solomon

Warnings: bed sharing but nothing sexy (if you want sexy, go read the one I wrote for the "pact" prompt lol)

Most of the time, you were admiring the way the starlight of the Devildom sparkled across Solomon's hair, making it look like shining silver. But the way it looked in the human world, with the sun's rays bringing out the warmth and making it look almost gold was just as captivating.

You had come to the human world for a little while with everyone in tow. It was a getaway hosted by Diavolo, a time for you to take a break from school work and enjoy the world you so rarely inhabited these days.

And while everyone else enjoyed their time there, it was undeniable that you and Solomon had a different experience. It was something you mentioned, about being in the world that had been your home for most of your life, the nuances about it that you understood better than those of the Devildom.

When Solomon agreed with you, someone else brought up the fact that he himself was practically a demon. They had said it before, of course. But for some reason, it was on your mind today. Perhaps because you were here with Solomon in the world you both originally came from - the world where you belonged and yet did not belong at the same time.

The two of you had gone for a little coffee break at a nearby cafe. You were sitting together outside at one of the small tables, soaking in the bright sunlight of afternoon.

There was a moment of comfortable silence between you before you said, "Do you ever feel that you're no longer human?"

Solomon blinked, clearly not expecting you to ask such a heavy question. He put down his coffee to think about it for a moment, seriously considering it.

"Sometimes," he said. "But in the end, no matter how I've changed, I am still human. Are you feeling that way, MC?"

You sighed. "Not exactly," you said. "But being back here in the human world makes me realize how different I've become. You must have been dealing with that feeling for a long time now."

Solomon sat back and looked out at the street, the passing people, the sunlight in the trees. "It's a unique experience. Even humans that become sorcerers or witches still have their short lifespan. In that sense, I'm more like the demons and angels - living far longer than any human normally would."

"How do you deal with that?" you asked.

Solomon looked back at you and smiled brightly. "It's easier now than it's ever been."

You frowned. "How so?"

Solomon leaned on the table toward you. "Because every time I look at you, I see my own humanity reflected back at me."

Your eyes widened a little before you laughed and looked away. "You're so ridiculous."

Solomon laughed, too, leaning back in his chair again.

Perhaps you didn't believe him. It seemed so silly to think that Solomon's understanding of his own identity was profoundly affected by your very presence. You were sure he was only saying that to make you feel better. He was always looking out for you and minimizing his own pain to make things easier for you. It wasn't like you didn't notice.

That night, your thoughts were churning as you stared up at the dark ceiling of the hotel room that Diavolo had procured for you. A few doors down, you hoped Solomon was peacefully asleep in his.

As for yourself, you couldn't stop thinking about the conversation you had with him earlier. The implications of everything he had said, about his life and what it meant to be human, were weighing heavily upon your heart. You wanted him to be happy. If he found himself in you, what would he do when you were gone?

There was a soft knock on your hotel room door. Puzzled, you got out of bed to open it.

Your stomach twisted when you saw Solomon on the other side. He looked terrible, like he had been tossing and turning all night. There were dark circles under his eyes, his hair was mussed, and his pajamas were askew.

"MC," he said, his voice sounding strained and hoarse. "I'm sorry, did I wake you?"

"No," you said. "I was still awake. Is everything okay?"

Solomon's eyes met yours. In those shades of grey, brown, and a hint of blue, you saw a depth of pain you had never seen in him before. Only for a moment did it linger before everything seemed to clear, before it was all replaced with something else. Fondness? Love?

No. It was belonging.

Solomon looked at you like he had finally found himself.

"I couldn't sleep," Solomon said simply. "And I wanted to see you."

He didn't really need to tell you this. Understanding shivered between you, like two lost souls resonating at the same vibration.

You reached out and took his hand, pulling him into your room. You closed the door behind him. You didn't let go of him as you went back to your bed.

Solomon didn't protest. He allowed you to guide him, finding his way beneath the blankets beside you in the plush hotel linens.

You snuggled into his side, wrapping one arm around him. The other hand held his still, clutched against your chest.

You gently kissed the back of his hand. "I couldn't sleep, either. So I'm glad you're here."

Solomon huffed a small laugh that ruffled against your hair. "You were thinking about my humanity, weren't you?"

You wiggled against him a little bit, but didn't say anything.

Solomon kissed the top of your head. "I've learned that it isn't very helpful to worry about the future, MC," he said. "And I've never felt more human than I have right now, right here, with you."

Maybe things would change in the future. You couldn't predict the way the tides would turn. But Solomon was right. In a world of magic, demons, and angels, the two of you would always find your humanity in each other. And for now, that was all that mattered.

day 1: stars | day 2: nostalgia | day 3: knife | day 4: ocean | day 5: pact (nsfw) | day 6: snow | day 7: familiar | day 8: Barbatos

masterlist | Thank you for reading!

[davekat-sucks]

(Found this image on Twitter)

I really don't like the Omega kids. I take them as seriously as I take the alphasprites, they don't exist to me. Hearing you guys talk about these little mistakes feels like watching everyone talk about a hypothetical scenario or dream some guy had once... which is the Homestuck experience now.

I dislike them, but it's not just because their stories stem from terrible couples, it's because they're so over designed but there is no meaning to anything.

It's cute Tavros has a bow tie and that Harry has a bandana but those feel like little trinkets that should have been added on later after we get used to seeing them. Show me their personalities first before you overload a character with this much clothing. Yiffy is the worst of these. It's too much. For some reason Eridan feels like a simpler design than this avril lavigne clone. There is something less cohesive and more busy about these designs than the original cast. Maybe it's because it has too many different grays and blacks. She looks more like a vast error character than a Homestuck one.

Look at how simple the character designs start out as, and then they purposely make their own outfits that fit their interests and personalities. Dirk may be a bit of an exception here actually, he changes his clothes right after he is introduced. Which introduces him as anal.

There is meaning here. There is a purpose that the story shares throughout it's run. Look at Rose's dress it was made from the velvet pillow introduced when her mom one-upped her and Roxy's outfit here clearly being a reference to her mom's love of knitting. There is a reason Jade wears blue and John wears green even though that isn't their colors. Dave's shades are a gift from John. John is wearing a bootlegged slimer shirt. I'm not saying the Omega kids need every article of clothing to have a backstory, but if they wear this much clothing it doesn't tell me much.

Why does Yiffy wear cleats if she was hidden away from the world? Did she run around in a backyard like a dog or something? I don't even remember if that is her story or not, I forgot so much about her because I was more focused on how she was a child that Rose had behind her wife's back. They're overloaded with drama too.

To add to that. I haven't placed much thought in it but I don't know what the Omega kids color scheme is supposed to be. I assume the Beta kids colors come from basic web colors. If you invert the beta kid's colors you get the Alpha kids color scheme.

The Omega kids just feel scattered and unorganized. It makes them feel even more meaningless because they don't fit in. If that is the point then why not have five kids to really fuck with the system here? The writers should have really ran with the whole "we're flipping the script and subverting expectations" thing.

I also don't give a shit if this is nitpicky, I'm sure you guys can all see there is something off about the omega kids.

I agree about the accessories doesn't really show they are connected with the Beta Kid adults. If the bandana is suppose to be like a replacement to how Roxy wears a scarf, then let the boy wear a scarf and not a stupid gay bandana. You think that Kanaya, who is a fashionista herself, would be critical of what her daughter, Vrissy wears. And if you are saying she would never reprimand her daughter because she looks like her crush, then that brings up a worse implication that she really is grooming her to be like Vriska by enabling her bad habits. What confuses me is Tavvy's overshirt has the matching color of Gamzee, the one who MOLESTED HIM. You think after his death, he would never wear that color and be disgusted by any shade of purple that's within his sight. Unless him still wearing that purple vest now is still symbolizing he is still bound by Gamzee or can't move on after what he did to him.

But yeah, nothing about the Omega Kids designs makes sense. And I still am on the side that laughs at Yiffany looking more like Nostalgia Critic.

[afro-hispwriter]

Come back to me

Zach Turner(Retribution) x f!reader

Warnings- implications of character death, mental issues

Wc-601

-

“You’re skipping school Zach. Do you have a girlfriend?” Matt asks his son as he looks at him through the rearview mirror. Zach looked up at him with large widened eyes before glaring at him.

“W-What no,” Zach says and Matt softened slightly, but Zach could see the judgment in his father's eyes along with maybe some sadness. Just like everyone else who knew him, and knew what happened.

“Of course he does. Her name is Mila.” Emily says almost like she was singing. 

“Shut up Em, just shut up.” He says through gritted teeth. The car went silent and Zach turned his body away and scrolled on his phone. A photo from his memories of a year ago popped up as a notification. His eyes flicker to the small square of the picture and his heart clenched. 

“You shouldn’t yell at her.” A sweet familiar voice says next to him and his head whipped around. “She’s just being a little sibling. Oh and on the topic of little siblings, how's my little brother?”

Zach tuned out everyone and everyone, all he could focus on was your beautiful face. You sat there between him and his sister, seatbelt secured around you, and the sun shining behind you.

You looked like an angel.

“Y/n I- I missed you.” 

“Do you? Because it looks like you’re moving on from me quickly.” You peered over to his phone to see a picture of a girl on his lock screen. Zach’s eyes widened and unlocked his phone and went to the settings to change the wallpaper. 

“S-She changed it, m’sorry.” He frantically started going through his albums of pictures… pictures of you. Suddenly his face was grabbed gently by you. The warmth of your hand was so comforting he melted into it. 

“It’s okay Zach, it’s been almost a year.” 

“No, it's not baby, I don’t know what I was thinking.” He was rambling so you pressed a gentle kiss to his lips. 

“I missed you too.” Tears ran out of his brown eyes and down his cheeks. You looked at his neck, at the orange headphones making you smile. “I'm glad you took my headphones, keeping them nice a safe.” 

“He’s forgetting you,” Zach says and you frown.

“I know, he’s still so young and I can only watch over him. Please don’t forget me, Zach.” You say and dig your face into the crook of his neck. He closed his eyes and dug his face into your hair, taking in your smell.

“Never.” 

“Zach.”

“Zach!”

“ZACH!” 

Zach blinked and he was back in reality. The car was stopped and pulled over to the side of the road. His father was grabbing him by his shoulders and Emily was looking at him in shock. 

“What-What?.” He looked around, searching for you. “Y/n? Where? She was just here. WHAT DID YOU DO TO HER!” He practically screamed at Matt. 

“Son do not yell. Did you take your meds, have you been taking them at all?” Zach wiped his glossy eyes and looked down at his now-changed lock screen.

“N-No.” His breathing started to pick up and he clutched his chest. 

“Breath Zach.” Emily placed a hand on her brother’s arm. 

“How many times have we told you that taking your medication is important?” Matt said before sighing and taking in his son’s state. 

He was sobbing at this point, snot and tears down his face.

“I-I just wanted to see her again.”

[tortoisesshells]

do you have any favorite headcanons about Burke you'd wanna share? :3c

I don't think I've gone very far off the beaten path; he's got a well-established past (well. maybe not the last five years.) in-show that works, I think? There's not a lot of gaps that need filling in - this is more like some light embroidery on information that's already in the show? Also - I think he's really interesting as a character that others react to - that forces other characters to adjust, or to reveal something to the audience about themselves in how they react to him - that Joe Haskell, who hates Burke's guts, can still draw a straight line in between what happened with Roger, Burke, and Laura and what's happening with Burke, him, and Carolyn now? Or that he and Vicki are in no small ways mirrors of each other - Vicki representing his past as a poor kid working for the Collinses; Burke representing a bad possible future for her of what happens when the Collinses throw someone under the bus to protect themselves? If that makes sense? But! In order of most-to-least textually supported!

He dropped out in high school: he reminds Bill Malloy that he (Bill) paid him a man's wages working for him when he was just a boy, but later mentions physics class. Given his father abandoned the family when he was nine, and Burke doesn't mention his mother ever (I know there's a cut line of dialogue that says she worked in the cannery, but.), or any siblings, or close relatives, I tend to assume he did it for money? Besides. He's a poor kid from the wrong side of the tracks in Collinsport: he was always going to end up working for the Collinses one way or another. Senior year English wasn't going to change that.

He's not touchy about doing what he had to to survive and get ahead as a teenager, but he's nowhere near as educated as most people he's socializing with now, and that is a sore spot with him - buying and bullying only gets someone so far, I think. He may be richer than the Collinses but it's a little hard to buy respect or belonging outright.

There's cut dialogue (I can't remember which episode, maybe @widowshill does) that implies at least one of the times he ran away from home as a kid was because his mother died - the dialogue itself doesn't quite square with what he says about when his dad walked out on "us", but I buy it in broad strokes - Burke talks mostly fondly about recreational fishing with his father, but even so, his dad beat the hell out of him at least once. On the whole, and I don't think I'm going out on a limb here, I think he had a much better relationship with his mother - while she was alive.

(I think, too, that's backed up by his past good relationship with the Evanses? Maggie says he was always around when she was younger; Sam says he was so used to him being around that if they didn't see him for a few days he'd send Maggie to look for him? The implication being there wasn't much keeping him at home.)

(Which makes the revelation that it was *Sam* whose testimony was the clincher devastating. Absolutely maddening to me that they dropped that in one scene and it never got revisited. but that's not a headcanon.)

Absolutely hilarious to me that apparently everyone but him seems to think that David's his son, not Roger's. I go back and forth on whether I think David is, biologically, his - on the one hand, it makes everything worse for Burke - that he's become an absent father just like his; on the other hand, it makes it a matter of biological determination that he and David get along like a house on fire, and not that Burke's one of the few people who treat David like a person and not The Last Heir To The Collins Line or a whipping boy?

speaking of David: I tend to read what happened ten years ago less as a love triangle and more as he, Roger, and Laura were all involved simultaneously.

Lastly, and strictly because it amuses the hell out of me, not because I think it's remotely likely: as far as I can tell, Burke's never been an amazingly popular first name for men, and certainly didn't crack the top 200 names in the 1920s or 1930s. Either it's a family name - his mother's maiden name, maybe? - or, I argue, his parents were weird about 18th century English political philosophers: his full name is Edmund Burke Devlin, he'll just never admit it. not even Laura or Roger know.

Thank you for the ask! I'm not sure what it is about my brain, but the minute this hit my inbox I suddenly had never thought about Burke at all. ever. head empty.

[cinamun]

Hello Cinamun! I wanna start off by saying I love your blog very much, and your story is my favorite on Tumblr so PLEASE don’t block me!! But, I have to wonder if you’re starting to add drama just for chaos sake? We’re still in the middle of all the stuff with Dira/Ryker/Rah that’s unresolved, and now Jayce, who we’ve only seen as loyal and honest is gonna have an affair? It just feels like a bit too much. Can anyone be happy and secure for once? Does everyone have to go through pain and struggle every time? Hope is dealing with grief while being a first time mom of twins, and I have a soft spot for her so maybe I’m biased but I think she deserves a happily ever after. Black women deserve peace and happiness, along with all the BS we go through, there’s room for both. I really appreciate you as a writer. I just don’t want you to feel like you have to give us non-stop trauma just to keep up with the story.

Hey friend! Thank you for the kind words. But now, let us ask ourselves some questions, shall we?

"and now Jayce, who we’ve only seen as loyal and honest is gonna have an affair? It just feels like a bit too much."

Firstly....

Why do you think this man is going to have an affair? Why do you automatically assume that? ESPECIALLY after all of the qualifiers you gave him. Its only too much if you're *making* it too much.

Hear me out....

If you're new here, yes, it might seem like "too much" so I ask, too much of what, specifically? Implication? Subtext? Friend, that is THEE best part of writing. Your head is spinning so when and IF a shoe drops, you never see it coming. So again, "too much" of what, specfically?

"Can anyone be happy and secure for once? Does everyone have to go through pain and struggle every time?"

Nope, you're not new here and I can tell because you started with "please don't block me" so you MUST know that I get your second question all the time. So you're not new here you just rebranded to fucking troll me, and I hate that, but I'm gonna entertain you while I wait for my flight.

If you think pain and struggle is coming because Jay ran into a student in a coffee shop on campus, you need to ask yourself why you assume there will be "pain and struggle" every time. I enjoy mindfucking you, it might not be painful or a struggle but you might be shook and question your life choices when I'm done.

As for your last few sentences, I am a Black woman so I write about the experiences of Black women. You're anon so I don't know if you're a Black woman, I don't assume the identities of my readers.

Myself and a bunch of IDENTIFIED Black women readers have been over this topic already, about Black women deserving joy and our happily ever after. It is absolutely true that we do. So for you to assume the characters in this story wont get their happily ever after because they are Black women says more about you than it does about me as an author and Black woman.

Initially I was going to block you because if you want happy shit in every plot, every arc, you can find that on other blogs. I write real shit. I don't sugar coat a gotdamn thing. But I decided to just let you make the decision of unfollowing me if its "too much" for you. I am actually writing what I like to write about and if that's non-stop trauma then so be it. If people don't like that then its on them to stay or go. Fortunately, I am NOT writing non-stop trauma and anyone who feels like that clearly isn't reading the same story as the rest of the room.

Would you like your wings to go?

[boyfhee]

· BELLADONNA · lee heeseung

SYNOPSIS · sometimes, love is not about the sacrifices you make, but about the selfishness you hide.

GENRE · thriller, historical

WORD COUNT · 5k

WARNINGS · slight mentions of drugs and alcohol, slight implications of sexual activity ( not between the main characters ) graphic descriptions of injuries and associated weapons, blood, descriptions of graphic acts of violence, descriptions of a person in a very bad state. over all, this could be disturbing to some extent so please watch out before reading.

NOTE · thought i was slaying with this but i got sleepy and idk what happened in the middle, you're on your own. for @koishua's there were two collab i am literally so embarrassed fr bff idk what's ab to come, the style part of my writing yeeted itself somewhere in between i have no recollection of what happens in the middle . vie i apologise in advance. OK A FEW THINGS BYR :

don't trust me on the history here. i don't know when atropa belladonna was introduced in korea, google doesn't help. just know, it isn't native to east asia

the clans mentioned here are real though none of them reigned in the timeline this fic is set in ( since monarchy ended in korea after the end of Japanese occupation, please correct me if i'm wrong ) so, every character here is rather a descendant than a ruling figure. moreover, i don't know if lee heeseung is from jeonju lee clan or not so please do not rely on my information

atropa belladonna is toxic and contains neurotoxic alkaloids. no it was never given to pregnant women ( it's dangerous ) the severeness of this drug is heavily ignored and watered down in this fic. do no associate with the plant / drug irl

the wedding 'dress' here refers to a hanbok

THIS IS FICTION ! DONT RELY ON THE INFO HERE im saying half of it is wrong

“The best thing about being identical twins,”— Ah-young hands over her school bag to you, carefully stepping across the short trail of bush that ran along the length of the roads inside the public tutoring house— “we can switch places and no one would ever know.” 

PRESENT DAY, 1951

“Are you sure? Shouldn’t Ah-young be the one trying this?” 

“She’s trying on another dress,” Your caretaker hissed. “It’ll suit her if it suits you. You both look the same, anyway,” The first time you met her was when you and your sister were five, in the yard, picking tangerines for your mother— Madame Bella, as people called her.  

Belladonna, ‘beautiful woman’ in Italian, refers to a common cosmetic practice during the Renaissance, in which women used the plant to dilate their pupils, making their eyes look bigger. However, the name popularised in Myeongryebang in the late eighteenth century, originally assigned to women with bewitching beauty, who were known to be blessed by the Gods on the day of their birth. Atropa Belladonna, a plant introduced in Korea in the early sixteenth century, deemed illegal and marketed at a high price for those who desired it’s captivating effect, was taken and prepared into a syrup to be given in drops to women with milk in the first three months of her pregnancy, in hopes that she would give birth to beautiful children, and the bloodline will be graced by beauty for generations to come. 

Its plant was grown by the previous Lady of your house— the Belladonna Residency— who was known for her blinding attractiveness. As time passed, legend dissolved along with other historical practices, leaving behind a few of those who continued to believe, your great grandmother being one of them. And on a full moon night, with nightshade in its full bloom, your mother was born. 

“Oh, Miss Ko, I’ll take these two,” Ah-young stepped outside from her room, handing the dresses to your caretaker.“I can’t believe I’m getting married already,”

“Right, it feels like just yesterday you asked me to attend History lessons in your place because you disliked the teacher,” She sits next to you on your bed in her chemise, not caring enough to put on a shawl even during the peak of winters. 

One of the earliest memories you have with your twin sister is about the two of you attending lessons in place of each other. Ah-young filled in for your piano lessons while you did the same for History. A sense of pride followed the two of you around every time you successfully fooled your tutors under your father’s nose. Perhaps, it’s the gift of being identical— to be present and yet, be completely invisible. To win games and lodge fear in your younger cousins was the best use you both make of your striking familiarities. Amusement drizzled through your eyes every time you and Ah-young came up with another childish trick, although it didn’t last longer than when you both turned ten and met Heeseung. 

She takes your hand. “I wanted you to get married first, Yn,” 

Ah-young, meaning, grace and kindness. 

“Why?” 

“It’s scary. I’ve seen how it was for mother. So, I wanted to get married after you, for you have always been the braver one,” Your mother’s name was Sang-hee, who was married to the one of the most influential jewel merchants— your father. Sang-hee, benevolence and pleasure, that’s what her name means. They say, the meaning that a person’s name holds reflects upon their life. Names are not just words to distinguish an individual from the other, but rather, they define the person for who they are, and what they will become in life. From your maternal grandmother, Min Hei-ran from the Yoheung Min Clan, to your father, Kim Yong-san, who is a descendant of Gwangsan Kim Clan, everyone has a few things common in them— versatility, grace, wealth, desire. 

Names are for people just the way colours are for paintings. 

“But now, I have Heeseung,” The frown of her face morphs into a gleeful smile. “I’m not scared anymore,” The earliest memory you have of envy and regrets was when you were ten, and when Ah-young brought Heeseung home to introduce him to you and consequently, the whole family. 

Coming from Jeonju Lee Clan, or more appropriately, one of the descendants of the same, you knew Heeseung would hold an important place in your household. Your father focuses on establishing secure connections with prominent families while your mother, well, Miss Ko— who your father married when you and Ah-young were eight, after your birth mother hung herself from the cherry tree that faced your shared bedroom with your sister— pursued an unwavering goal of acquiring wealth and exploiting luxuries after becoming the Lady of the Belladonna Residence. Heeseung, though for you, was a ray of hope. 

Not a day was spent without you intoxicating your blood with regrets of skipping piano lessons and making Ah-young take those for you. The reason could be anywhere between not wanting to trim your perfectly manicured nails, and the fear of facing failure after knowing that your hands were nowhere as swift as hers when they danced on the keys, to the very melodies they produced. In a letter shared with your grandmother after your mother’s death, she quoted, ‘A noble blood shall bleed like one,’ Eight year old you didn’t understand the weight of those words, but thirteen year old did then you saw Miss Ko, the woman who had claimed to love your father dearly, bring drunken men into her bedroom on nights your father didn’t come home for the sake of business. The fruits of Belladonna are poisonous, presumably deadly. The tree withstands the changing of seasons, from harsh monsoon winds to calloused winter streams laced with snow. Every leaf plucked and every scar that wounds the trunk, a heart so determined to protect what belongs to it, a poison that takes life from the ones who dare ingest it raw. 

The tree is old but it never weakened. Your mother died wearing the royal hanbok that was passed down through generations by newlywed women, hiding the scars on her skin that tell tales of every moment that she spend being mistreated by your father, for a noble blood shall bleed like one, your mother never hung her head low even after a war she lost. 

“Why do you love Ah-young?” It’s a question that ought to be asked long ago, when you had first heard about their relationship. Heeseung has been the man of every woman’s dream, the ideal son-in-law for every mother with a daughter. Yet, fate guided him towards the Belladonna tree in your backyard in the middle of the night, and you knew he’s the one you’d need. Despite meeting Ah-young first, you and him were closer than any other companions you have had. He would walk you around his estate, tell you about the distant seas you’ve only heard of in stories, of the girls that chimed around him and how it makes your skin itch with disgust, because no one deserved him more than you. If so, then why her. 

“She’s beautiful,” He responded almost immediately. 

“Does that mean you love me too?” And words fell off your mouth involuntarily. Maybe because you’ve been keeping them in for so long, this was bound to happen someday. “We look the same,” 

A pause. He took a sharp breath in, averting his eyes away from you. It felt like ignorance at first, as if he’s avoiding your words, suppressing an urge to tell you how gauche they sound. The unsophisticated behaviour didn’t suit you, but every memory you share with him resurfaces every time the picture of him and Ah-young at the temple crosses your mind. Envying your sister is new, for you have always received the same things— clothes, toys, jewelries, footwears, anything materialistically possible. Neither of you have lived a life much different from each other. Seeing Ah-young has always been like seeing yourself, living with yourself, watching yourself do things in a different fashion. It has been as if you’ve been living your life with two different perspectives, but watching her with Heeseung felt foreign, like some parasite has taken your place and is living as if it belongs to her. But you can’t show it, so you continued with a chuckle, “I’m kidding,” 

“I think it’s the colours,” You realised later that what you’ve been thinking of as sheer ignorance was actually hesitation. “Red suits her more,” He added, fingers fiddling over his engagement ring. “as for you, white has always been your colour,” 

You’ve been thinking about white and red since that day. 

Day and night, awake and while sleeping, eating, bathing; his words have been plaguing your mind ever since you had that conversation with him. ‘Red suits her more,’ it rings in your ear like the sinister cawing of a crow. ‘White has always been your colour,’ it comes off as the sweetest melody you’ve ever heard. You remember him ordering cherry topped desserts every time you both ate out, the reason being, cherries are his favourite fruit and red happens to be his favourite colour. Heeseung tells you about his preferences and you hear his talk as if they’re your own, and with every ounce of information that you learn about him, a new you is born. You never liked red but started wearing it more around him, red lipstick for the evening you were supposed to tell him your feelings before he sent a messenger notifying you that he wouldn’t be able to come. You wouldn’t have minded being disrespected if he hadn’t gone to the academy to visit your sister and congratulate her with red roses for winning the debate.   

You rush to her room and shut the door the moment she steps out to finalise a few things regarding the wedding. You take her wedding dress out from the cupboard, there’s jealousy oozing through the cracks on your skin, fingertips leaving prints of greed all over the silk fabric as you stand in front of the mirror, one hand holding it in front of you while the other brushes over it’s soft creases, admiring it’s heavenly look. You’re picturing yourself in the attire, next to your Heeseung, celebrating your day, just like it was supposed to be from the beginning. Sisters for life, what everyone taught you both as children. ‘Because your sister is your biggest fear and your greatest weapon, treat her with tenderness,’ quoted your grandmother. But you’ve attended all the history lessons for her; and the lesson of History is that no one ever learns. 

Your eyes traverse between the dress and the image of you in the mirror, heart sighing with admiration that screamed of wanting more. A smile makes it way up your lips, fingers wrapping tighter around the hem of your dress— a promise you make with the silk, to never let go. You twirl around, the image of you in that dress next to Heeseung getting clearer and clearer in your mind. You’ve spent your childhood playing into each other’s roles. You know it in your blood, the foot she steps forward first while walking, the turn she sleeps, the style she dances, the pattern she breathes. Your eyes land upon a photo frame of her and Heeseung from the day of their engagement. A sharp breath in, you straighten your back, mimicking her pose from the picture, a soft sigh out; sometimes, you think you are more like Ah-young than she, herself, could ever be. 

“What are you doing?” The door flies open, your blood runs cold. The sight of your sister has never been so frightening. 

Ah-young has been all about sharing, from elite delicacies to credits for things you didn’t even help her enough with, to reach the finished product. To think, she gets more of her traits from your aunt. You don’t remember your mother being much of a saint, except when it came to her daughters. You remember her cradling you in her lap on nights neither of you could sleep. While most of the mothers would recite tales of fairies and land of sweets, your mother told you about the horrendous acts of people, the traps set by family members, about how trust is nothing but giving someone the power over yourself. She’d warn you about the horrors of the nights, the limits that men would cross to strip a woman off her dignity, the acts your best companion would exhibit behind your back to step over you. She would teach you of ways you could secure your position in the hierarchy— 

“Oh, well, I was seeing how I’d look in a wedding dress,” —and of ways you could acquire what if yours, and if, for some reason, you’re unable to find one, she’d teach you to make one. 

“You would not look much different from me,” She mumbles up close, standing right behind you and holding you steady by your shoulder with one hand while the other lifts up your chin to face the mirror. “Just as pretty,” 

“I love how dreamy it looks,” She takes the dress from your hand, putting it around herself and twirls like a toddler. There’s a faint blush on her cheeks, eyes glistening with all the happiness the world could offer to the mortals. Her words talk about her content with the dress and how perfect it looks, while your mind paints a picture of Ah-young standing next to Heeseung on your wedding day, and you know she’s trying to steal him from you just as she has always done. “The design, patterns, and such fine work of embroidery. Don’t you think so?” 

You walk to the drawer behind her. “Yes, it’s spellbindingly beautiful,” 

“I’ve always thought white of as an empty colour, it doesn’t quite fit me. But wearing this, I look pretty,” Every passing second erodes the patience you’ve been keeping in for years. Her voice stings in your ears, making you feel like they’d bleed out of pain. She looks at herself in the mirror, the smile never leaving her face, saccharine words of love leaving her mouth relentlessly; you want to shut her up. A knife from the kitchen would do the work, you can slice off her tongue, or take the embroidery box from her bedside table and sew the mouth with nylon. Your breath gets faster, shallower than it was, ears begging you to stop her from talking further, but she doesn’t shut up. You pick up the flower vase. “White must really suit me!” 

And the next second, she’s on the floor, succumbing to unconsciousness while looking at you with eyes that call for help, despite knowing what you did. Her eyes shut close, silence takes over the room, you stand still with the flower vase in your hand. A part of you feels content, she’s gone, while the other fears the reality of being caught. You consider running away, but her words ring inside your head like a tinnitus, making it unable for you to think straight. And so, you drag her unconscious body under your bed, wiping the droplets of blood from the wooden floor with acetone, hoping it would go away. But the voices compel you to go further. 

You snatch the dress out of her grip before kicking her under the bed. “White has always been my colour.” 

A part of you hopes she never wakes up, for this is your chance. Another part of you wants her to be alright, because you wouldn’t be able to answer if someone asked for the two of you together. Though, the voice tells you to keep going— kill her, throw her, burn her, all sorts of things that have never crossed your mind in any situation. You could go, grab water and help her wake up, but the picture of you and Heeseng appears before your eyes, and suddenly you want her gone. 

“Your sister is not coming down for dinner?” Miss Ko asks when only you show up for dinner instead of the two of you. She has been working for the Residence for years but still hasn't learnt how to distinguish between the two of you. She has been looking after the two of you ever since you both were four but, there hasn’t been one day where she actually cared about you and your sister. Ko’s goal was to earn as much as she could, to live a lavish life, and she would go beyond extents if it means she could get what she dreams for. Maybe, it’s another reason why you’ve always found her similar to yourself. 

“She’s not hungry as of now,” You reply with a smile, a smile that otherwise dances on Ah-young’s face. “I’ll take her food upstairs,” A part of you wants to poison her dinner, easiest of all methods. Or maybe, you should melt her face with concentrated acids to create disfigurements and throw her by the city outskirts so that no one suspects who she actually is. You can stab her and hire guards who would feed her to hungry wolves and vultures. There are a number of other ways, burying her in your backyard and making it seem like she ran away— you ran away, because from today onwards, you were going to live as her, for her identity is all you need to make Heeseung yours.                                              

“Ah-young, I have brought you dinner!” Your voice sounds cynically sweet, words laced with deadly adoration, hoping to see your sister, but the place where you left her remains empty. You pause, fingers gripping the diner plate firmly. “My lovely sister, you never learn, do yo—” And a strike from behind you sends you to the floor, pain radiating from the site of injury to your entire head. You turn your head around, your sister stands with her jewellery box in her hands, shaking with fear. Your hands are covered with the dinner you brought her, and now you wish they were coloured in her blood. 

“Yn,” She crouches in front of you, putting the jewellery box aside, taking your face in her hands. “This is not you,” And listening to her talk like she actually knew you made your blood boil, so you grab her neck, holding her down to the floor, watching her tap your hands to let go while struggling to breathe, with a smile on your face. Her face turns pale, eyes shutting close before you let go, loosening the grip around her throat. 

“No, this is you,” You brush strands of hairs off her face, hovering over the frightened figure that struggled and coughed to breath. “I am you, Ah-young, the one who’s getting married tomorrow,” A sinister touch graces your words, a smile that keeps growing wider with every sob that chokes out of her mouth. There’s an odd sense of satisfaction in the way she begs for her life, as if the Heavens are making her pay for stealing what belonged to someone else, and you wish you could relive this moment for as long as you wanted. 

Her hand reaches out for yours. “Why are you doing this?” She cries out. 

“Right, why do I have to do this?” And you sit back, pretending to think of reasons to justify your actions, although there is only one explanation: Heeseung, and you continue, “I am pretty. I have no reason to be jealous of you,” 

“We’re literally the same,” Somehow, she manages to draw a chuckle out of her, attempting to pull herself up and sit straight. You’ve come to despise those words, ‘twins,’ ; ‘same,’ they make you feel suffocated. Ah-young always had the habit of using those against you, and every time those words rolled off her tongue, it felt like you'd ripped off your identity, not that you had one that belonged solely to you in the first place. You try to imagine Heeseung’s reaction in this situation, would he take your side or hers, or if he would even care who survives because you both look the same, it barely makes any difference. 

But, somewhere inside, you know he would choose her over you.  “That’s right,” There’s firmness in your voice, a sense of hatred, as your hand ghosts up her cheeks and grabs onto her hair. “Then why do you get to have all the good things?” 

Perhaps, it’s the fragrance of the nightshade flowers that fill your room and intoxicate your senses, but the blood on your palms feels like jewels of a newlywed, and her pleas to be spared— music to your ears. You always had it in you, the will to fight back, the numbness to fear, the sparks of insanity that blew up and suddenly, your heart is in flames. Normality has always been a paved road, comfortable to walk but no flowers could grow. You were the flower that yearned to bloom, your sister was the tree taking up your sunlight. When a flower doesn’t grow, one shall change the environment it has been planted in, and not the flower itself. The soil must be tilled, weeds should be removed, pests are to be killed, anything unnecessary shall be discarded. You could care less about her silent wails trying to reach across the piece of cloth in her mouth as you dragged her to the basement from under the staircase. Her cries got louder with every step that her head hit down the stairs, across the cold concrete stinging her satiny skin, albeit not enough to cross the walls and reach for help, every second filled you with content; a step closer to the love of your life. 

“Heeseung would never love you,” And silence. The words leave her mouth as soon as you remove the handkerchief. You wanted to hear her beg for her life, to plead forgiveness, to quietly hand over what you wanted if she feared death, but her words come off as a curse, as if she’s trying to anathematise your to-be married life with him, to take away the happiness you’ve been devoid of for years. You could fear her words and the wrath of Gods that may follow along as a consequence of your actions, but you have the desire, and nothing to lose. 

For you have always been a child of war, and Ah-young is simply born with tragedy in her blood. 

The basement served as a cell for solitary confinement for the previous family who lived in the house, for children who displayed unacceptable behaviour and disobeyed their parents, for servants who said more than what was needed, for wives who dared standing on the same level as their husbands. The walls of the house have been renovated over the years, decorated with exquisite wallpapers everytime they have been changed. People fawn upon its beauty, unaware of the secrets it hides deep down below. The walls of the basement have seen a lot over the decades, centuries, even, and the decoloured blood stains on the floor and corners describe each of those stories. One would quiver under the worn out ceiling that feels that it holds eyes and spirits of the dead beyond its arches. Though, Ah-young stares at you with resentment in her stare, one that was filled with hope up until a few minutes ago. 

You could gauge her eyes out, the ones that she’s so proud of, the ones that hold all the memories of Heeseung that should’ve been yours. Or, you could carve her plum skin with incisions and lacerations, painful enough that her soul withers inside, deep enough to leave scars that would make it difficult for anyone to believe she's the daughter of the most beautiful woman in the state. You could do things no one would do to their siblings— the ten year old didn’t know a day like this would come— but some things are inevitable. The scissors are in your hand, she is in front of you, slouched down, hands tied behind her back with wrists that have been bruised by the rope, oh so poor eyes gleaming with pain and hatred wishing they could do something. The scissors are in your hand, and your hand is on her cheek, the cold metal sending shivers down her spine as you run it down her face— the game was yours to play.  

“Hell, you look so much like me, I can’t even kill you,” You whisper close. The scissor is on her neck, it’s as if you could fear her blood rushing through the arteries, right under the skin. You slide it across her throat, pressing it on her collarbones— Ah-young draws in a quick breath— you pierce through her skin, a minute cut, single tear rolling down her cheek that lands on the back of your hand; it feels like you’re killing yourself. “Well, I guess we’ll get to see each other around, yes?” 

You discard the scissor somewhere behind you, taking a few steps back, watching her fall down to the floor, eyes squeezed shut in excruciating pain. It’s nowhere near what you’ve experienced all these years, alone and in regrets, guilt and depreciation, watching the person you love fall in love with someone else. But, love doesn’t ask for sacrifices, for kindness. Love isn’t about letting go, but instead, it’s about holding onto, love is about crossing the limits to prove that you’re deserving of it; because love has always been about the selfishness your heart conceals. You pick up the handkerchief, your sister chanting trails of nos while shaking her head, throwing her leg around frantically to keep you away, but your hand grabs her face, nails digging mercilessly into her skin, enough to draw blood. A moment of silence, ‘stop’ she begs you with her eyes, ‘die’ you tell her with yours, and put the cloth around her mouth, tying it behind her head. 

Tears fall further. Your lips curl up. 

“He’s right, red suits you the best,” You wipe your thumb on her temple, over the loose clot that had formed on her wound. Your smile grows wider, you pluck out the mass of dead cells, letting the pus and blood ooze out as her muffled wails fill the room. Your hands cup her cheeks, a touch of pity, and you lean in towards her forehead, a kiss of death. “Goodnight, dear sister,” 

Perhaps, it’s the game of fates, how destiny plays into the hands of those who continue to fight without fearing the aftermath. The irony of happiness and despair— they go hand in hand. Sunlight graces upon the lands and your handmaidens are ready with everything they need for the bride, not you— Ah-young; unaware of the truth that lies beneath the grounds they walk onto, the truth under the enchanting smile that makes everyone believe in the tricks you’ve played. 

The eyes leave you unattended for minutes and you're on your way to the basement. The air inside smells of urine; your nose scrunches in disgust. A lot could happen in one night, you expected to greet her corpse by dawn, for she has always been as fragile as a dandelion, but you’re met with her exhausted body that dragged itself to the cover, above the dusty rags to save itself from the deadly cold of winter nights. 

“Look at you,” You say it in a way she would’ve said it if she could. It wasn’t intentional, you’ve just always been more like her sister, more than anyone ever knew. A chuckle rolls off your tongue as you walk to her, pulling her rolled up chemise down her thighs, admiring the scratches on her legs that she had gotten while dragging herself over the concrete and the numerous little red spots left by the mosquitos on her arms and feet. Even with chapped lips that beg for water and hands that are tied to even wipe off the nasal discharge off her face, her eyes spell of indignation at the sight of you, brimming with fear and yet so full of anger and detest. The blood had dried off her face, the wound inflicted on her collarbone inflamed to stages it could possibly be home to infections her soul would have never heard of. You could barely say she was your sister, that she was even a part of you, let alone being the splitting image, because you were standing in your best dress while she was lying in the dust that had soaked the blood off the injury on the back of her head. She looks defeated, head hung low, like a pest that had been hunted by the predator and is now ready to be eaten. Her eyes ask a question— why, and nothing more. Perhaps, an answer would help her survive without food and water longer than her body could sustain itself. You take a step towards her, accidently hitting your elbow against the corner of a rusted iron cupboard and wincing in the process. She laughs through the cloth, you restrain yourself from coercing into picking up the scissors thrown around and slitting her face from one end to the other, making sure she smiled forever. 

You grit your teeth, fist closed tight, eyes glaring into her putrid sight. Her condition makes you feel good about yourself, that you don’t need to feel threatened by such lowly lives, until your eyes land onto something shiny on her fingers, and it belongs to you. She needed an answer why, you have nothing to say for she’s smart, except what she used to tell you all the time: 

“The best thing about being identical twins,”— You take her hand, slipping out the engagement ring from her finger before sliding it on your own— “we can switch places and no one would ever know.” 

note : if u made it this far ,, thank u i luv u pls lmk what u think im itching to know 😔

[catsconflictscopicsandchamomile]

@kimberleyjean ok, you asked for this, its cursed and I'm sorry.

So first off I'm NOT going to try to explain what Supernatural is. Its a garbage fire, and I am unfortunate enough to be one of the feral, touch-starved gays to live in said garbage fire. Its the best show ever but all of its accidental, its the worst show ever in terms of anything that was done on purpose, etc etc. You're on tumblr you know the drill

Anyway, before GOs2's "Final Fifteen", the ONLY connections between GO and SPN were:

A demon in spn is named Crowley, in an homage to GO Crowley. They are alike, but they are NOT the same character and I don't think it can be argued that they're the same person in different forms (bc with demons that would be possible). They are however both Scottish, greasy and have a deep disrespect for authority. I do HAVE a theory/hc connecting the two Crowleys but that's another post for another day. Weirdly, SPN!Crowley (who I'm going to call Fergus from here on out, bc even though nobody in spn or the fandom calls him that, it is his canonical first name) has very little to do with anything I'm about to say. Just fyi, he exists.

Secondly, The Hillywood show did a Supernatural parody back in 2014-ish. I will link it below if you're curious, but again not much in this video is ACTUALLY RELEVANT to what I'm about to say (however, Fergus is there. He's the Scottish guy)

However, the specific arcs of Supernatural that SURROUND the season/topic this parody is centered on (Mark of Cain arc, ~s9-10) are where the coincidences get weird, and ok now I do have to talk about Supernatural a bit.

mmmfffff. Okay so the Metatron is a greasy, annoying, manipulative, power-hungry bastard who lies every time he speaks, wants full rule over Heaven and will control anyone and wreck anything he can to get there....

...and I'm talking about the version of the Metatron from Supernatural. LONG tldr, Dean (buzz cut, older brother, guy who's in love with an angel, the guy who says the news headlines in the Destiel meme) takes this thing/curse/whole other mess called the "Mark of Cain" to kill this kinda super-powerful arch-demon called Abaddon (more on her later), and blah blah blah Supernatural Happens For A Bit, and due to the Mark's curse making Dean act like a total psycho (and also, its implied, slowly turning him into a demon) they try to get help from the Metatron, who had been locked up after... well.

-when God was no longer contacting heaven, Metatron ran away from Heaven and hid on earth because he thought that the angels would use the Word of God (which the Metatron holds) "wrong" or something

-later, took advantage of strife & power vacuums in Heaven to manipulate Cas (angel, deeply autistic, the guy who says "I love you" in the destiel meme, in love with Dean) into doing a spell that CAUSED ALL OF THE ANGELS IN HEAVEN TO FALL, for no reason other than the Metatron is an actual pissbaby.

anyway, Metatron claims he can help Dean, that was a lie (shocking, I know), Metatron pulls some bs including basically stealing Cas' life-force (a second time. the first time was when he was ALREADY fucking w Cas as mentioned above) and runs off back to heaven... along with Gadreel, who he has manipulated/convinced to help him take power in Heaven.

who's Gadreel?

well. he's the angel who let the Serpent (or in this canon, just Lucifer) into the Garden of Eden, and he was cast into Hell to be tortured forever or something as punishment. However, after Metatron's earlier all-the-angels-falling scheme, Gadreel (for reasons I'm not too sure of tbh) took the name/identity of a VERY highly-regarded and powerful angel named Ezekiel, who died of his injuries during the fall

^this last part is a detail I try hard not to think about. this is because the names and roles are JUST similar enough to GO's Ineffable Husbands for the implications make me very, very sad.

Anyway, Gadreel had been around spn canon before, posing as Ezekiel, possessing Sam blah blah blah shit happened

Anyway this is a whole lot of words to say that the season/s of SPN that The Hillywood Show was parodying were the seasons where the Metatron was a main villain, and attempted/temporarily succeeded in taking power in Heaven BY MANIPULATING THE GUY WHO LET THE DEVIL INTO THE GARDEN OF EDEN

and then The Hillywood Show (who tbh I almost feel bad for lmao like BRUH) got signed to produce the parody/teaser/release date announcement for GOs2. Where the Metatron...

yeah.

yeahhhhhh

I would have LOVED to see the Hillywood Show team's live and immediate reaction to the Final Fifteen because I can't even imagine what must have been going through their heads.

ah yes. the FUCKING Metatron

oh also in spn, the Metatron (its complicated but basically)severely/fatally wounds Cas, and straight-up KILLS Dean, but Dean resurrects as a demon (for a few eps at least), meaning that Metatron DID technically try, and almost succeeded in, killing both members of an angel/demon gay couple, if only bc timing lined up so that Metatron was an antagonist in the arcs where Dean was turning into a demon.

so yeah

anyway I mentioned we'd get back to Abaddon so here's those major spoilers I mentioned. I'm fairly sure these are real spoilers and not theories, since my source is wikipedia

that's the whole article, there's not much else on her on wiki (though I should really do more research on Muriel). I think I heard Neil say somewhere that he created Muriel because "he wanted an angel character, from Heaven, who was 'just nice'" but idk if anything specific has ever been said about her name.

anyway that's why the Metatron gave Muriel that book "The Crow Road" in the Final 15, why he likes her so much, and why he's having her stay on earth

"The Crow Road" is a book about the nature of Death, and Metatron is, for lack of a better/less problematic word, grooming Muriel for the role of angel of Death in the apocalypse (Abaddon being a VERY prominent figure in revelations, for those who weren't aware)

...so on top of all the other Supernatural/Hillywood-Specific coincidences, sure, let's have Abaddon too.

uhhhhh

yeah

[gumnut-logic]

Sweetapple Slice 5

Alexander Sweetapple series

@idontknowreallywhy asked:

What kind of music does your character enjoy?

...and the boys didn't really answer it very well. It got tied up in one of the other questions and didn't answer that either, but whatever. Have 2000 words of tired Virgil, meddling Gords, and an Alex who finally has an idea of what he's gotten himself into...and honestly, he doesn't mind at all.

Many thanks to @onereyofstarlight who read part of this before bed tonight, but afterwards it took a left turn at Alberqueque and ended up here. Also thanks go to @katblu42 for joining in the plot sparking late this afternoon.

I would also like to especially thank the wonderful group of Thunderfam who keep egging me on to write more Sweetapple. I hope you're having fun with what you're inspiring ::hugs the lot of you::

I hope you enjoy :D

-o-o-o-

It had been a long rescue and honestly Virgil was tired despite it being only the middle of the afternoon. But he owed Alex a visit as this was the third time he had had to bug out on a planned get together. It was habit he couldn’t fight, but he could at least apologise.

Gordon, of course, knew Virgil had missed another date due to his job and had been nagging him to go down to Māhia and ‘kiss Alex’s face off’ to make up for it.

Somehow this action involved his fish brother coming along, apparently to watch?

Well, his brother’s motivations were his own, generally kind of trustworthy, and Virgil was too tired to care.

All he wanted was to see his boyfriend, make sure he hadn’t screwed anything up permanently, and maybe share a hug and a kiss that could help make everything better.

He didn’t take Two, instead being a good non-disturbing-neighbourly type and flew down in Tracy Two instead.

It took far too long in comparison.

Gordon was as tired as Virgil, but in contrast was much more chirpy and somewhat annoying. Why was he coming anyway?

Virgil reached out and touched the thermos containing a brew from the coffee station on Two and couldn’t help but smile at the thought.

Gordon eyed him but didn’t say a thing.

They landed on the strip with much less fanfare than a Thunderbird, and, stashing the personal jet, both brothers began the walk to the central facility.

“How are you feeling?”

Virgil frowned, fiddling with the jacket he had folded over one arm. “Fine. Why?”

“Well, you have been heavy lifting for most of the day. Can’t a bro ask how his brother is feeling?”

Virgil stopped and stared at Gordon for a moment. “Did you come all the way down here just to keep an eye on me? I’ve been through medical, Gords.” It was both frustrating and loveable of him.

“I just wanted to make sure you made it safe.” He grinned. “And you know, when you decide to stay the night, I can fly the plane back for you.” Gordon was wiggling his eyebrows with plenty of implication.

Virgil hit him with his jacket.

Turning he increased his pace towards the main buildings, ignoring his brother.

Gordon snorted behind him and ran to catch up. “Things are going great with you two, aren’t they?”

“Gordon.”

“Hey, I reserve the right to care about you.”

Virgil sighed and stopped again. “Gordon.”

“Okay, okay, I know you’re pretty private about this stuff, and honest, I’m not making fun of you. I just want to make sure you’re happy.”

Virgil reached out and placed a hand on his little brother’s shoulder. “Everything is fine. I’m happy. I promise. I’m just a little tired today.”

“Gee, I wonder why. It’s not like you lifted seventeen tonnes of concrete off a class of school children this morning or anything.”

“Gordon!”

But his little brother was staring at him, something soft in his eyes. “C’mon, let’s get you hooked up with your man. Maybe he’ll let you use his bubble bath machine.” Gordon wrapped an arm around one of Virgil’s and began walking him up the path towards the lab buildings.

A grunt and Virgil found himself just doing as he was told.

God, he was tired.

Wait a minute.

“How do you know about the bubble bath machine?!”

Gordon cackled and kept dragging him forward.

-o-o-o-

They ran into Erica just outside Alex’s lab. ‘Ran into’ actually as she stepped in front of both of them physically forcing them to stop.

Virgil opened his mouth to question, but Erica held up a finger to her lips and he swallowed instead.

She led them up to Alex’s lab and quietly opened the door, grinning at them both, again indicating they should be quiet.

Down the hall and into the first of the labs…

Alex had his back to them, obviously working at his laptop…well, kind of working. The man was not sitting down, he was on his feet, dancing, a large pair of headphones on his head. The view was…inspiring and lifted Virgil’s mood mightily, but that wasn’t all.

Alex was singing.

It was obviously a rendition of ‘How Far I’ll Go’ from the Disney musical Moana, but the voice that was often frantic or studied in design, was focussed, on key, and honestly just good.

Wow.

A sound from Virgil’s right and he found Gordon fit to blow a gasket in suppressed laughter. Erica’s eyes were dancing with mirth.

His eyes flicked back to Alex as the engineer wiggled all his bits, one arm gesturing towards some horizon only he could see.

Another sound leaked out of his fish brother.

Virgil turned and, with the strength of his eyebrows, hustled both Gordon and Erica out of the room. Enough glare threatened Gordon into sensibility and his little brother sobered into a genuine smile.

Enough that Virgil trusted him to keep quiet long enough for him to be threatened later at least. Then he shut the door quietly in both their faces.

Turning back to Alex, he was relieved to see that he was still dancing and oblivious to their invasion.

Virgil wasn’t sure whether to make his presence known, or just sit down and enjoy the show.

He should do the former, but he actually did the latter and, putting down the thermos and his jacket, sat down on a nearby chair and watched.

Alex wasn’t a physical man. He liked long walks on beaches and he did keep himself trim and healthy, something Virgil could definitely appreciate. But he didn’t visit the gym or play any sport. Engineering was his passion and a passion Virgil shared with him, but while rescues, medicine, music and art also shared Virgil’s brain, Alex had never mentioned any hobbies other than his passion for engineering. His focus gave him his brilliance.

Yet, here he was singing, and singing well. It was obvious his voice had been trained at some point because it was just good.

The musician in Virgil fell in love all over again.

The rest of him didn’t mind the dancing either.

But Alex must’ve caught a whiff of the coffee in the thermos and spun around. “Virgil!”

The way his face lit up when Alex said his name would never grow old.

“Hey.” He pushed himself off the chair and his body groaned at him. Okay, a bit stiff from earlier, surprise, surprise.

“Are you okay?” The headphones were flung to one side and the engineer was hurrying over.

Virgil held up a hand. “I’m fine.” He finally straightened. “But you, where did you learn to sing like that?”

Alex’s eyes widened and his face went through several shades of red before deciding on an embarrassed pink. “You heard that?”

Virgil didn’t hesitate, wrapping his arms around him in reassurance. “I did. Your voice is good. Where did you train?”

“Uh, choir in school?”

“What? Really?”

Alex shrugged. “Okay, I admit, Mum did get a tutor in and they said I could have done something with my voice.” Another shrug. “Engineering was more fun.”

Virgil stared up at him. “You still could.”

A grin. “Engineering is still more fun.”

“So you don’t take requests?”

“Oh, that depends who’s asking.” An exaggerated sniff of the air. “And if he brought his opera-inducing coffee with him.”

“Oh, we’re talking coffee bribery now?” He reached for the thermos.

“Uh-huh.” Alex drew him in closer. “Gotta have my coffee, after all.”

A scuffle at the door and Gordon poked his head in. “Hey, Alex!” Erica appeared next to him, apparently attempting to yank the aquanaut out of the room…with no success.

“Gordon!” Alex said it with surprise.

Virgil said it with frustration.

“Hey, just letting your boy know that you are tired and in need of a little TLC.”

Virgil took a step forward.

“Well, it’s not like you’re going to tell him, is it? Alex, he over did it this morning. Lifted several too many tonnes.” Gordon held up a hand, his face sober. “He’s okay, I promise. No injuries. Just exhausted and aching, if I read my Virgil right.”

Virgil put everything into his glare.

Gordon ignored him.

“He needs a little looking after, is what I’m trying to say, Alex. And I know you are the man for the job.” Gordon offered a soft smile. “The only man for the job.”

Virgil looked between Alex and his fish brother and it was obvious something he was unaware of was being communicated.

Alex smiled just a little. “FAB.”

“Thanks, Alex.” Gordon waved to the both of them. “You’ve got a great voice there, Apples, and those hip wiggles are to die for!”

Virgil moved, but Gordon was out the door and gone.

He let his shoulders drop, turning slowly to face his boyfriend. “I feel I am going to spend the rest of my life apologising for my brothers.”

Alex was in his space rubbing his shoulders, his hands sliding down Virgil’s arms until his hands caught fingers. “He’s Gordon. You’ve said it yourself; he only bites the ones he loves.” An exhale. “Now, apparently I work flexitime. Which means I can stop work and attend to the ones I love, making the time up later.”

Virgil snorted. “At this point, I think Tracy Industries owes you time rather than the reverse. Erica was very adamant the last time she dobbed you in.”

“What?!”

As if called by name, Erica stuck her head through the door. “It was 3am! For the second night running!” Pink pigtails bobbed in indignation.

“Erica!”

It was probably the exhaustion, but Virgil found himself giggling. Hysteria, maybe?

“You were walking into doors!”

“Erica, for goodness sake!”

“Leaving. Gonna go talk with Mr Tracy and maybe do some math on those hours of yours.”

“For the love of-“

Virgil was still giggling. Definitely hysteria. He sat down on the chair again.

“As I was saying…” Alex paused as if waiting for anyone else who had an opinion on the matter to rudely interrupt.

There was silence.

“As I was saying…” Alex dropped an arm around Virgil’s back and rubbed gently. “Want to come back to my place?”

“Always.” His voice was more breath than anything else, caught between the wheeze of laughter and the exhaustion that was determined to have its way with him sooner or later.

Standing up again proved the point as everything creaked.

Gordon apparently knew how to read his Virgil.

A small smile at his brother’s terminology. He really did mean well.

“C’mon, you can have exclusive use of the bubble bath machine.”

“Exclusive?” Virgil looked up at Alex as the engineer led him out of the lab. “Not going to join me?”

“I haven’t been given any coffee yet.”

Virgil slipped out from under his arm, darted back into the lab, and grabbed the thermos. Puffing just a little, he jogged back to Alex and handed him the coffee. “Here.”

“I was kidding!” But Alex took the thermos anyway and wrapped his arm around Virgil’s shoulders again, pulling him close. “Let’s get you out of prying eyes so we can get into the TLC of the deal, okay?”

“I’m fine, Alex.”

“Then you can enjoy it even more, can’t you.”

As Alex herded him out towards the residential block, Virgil caught sight of Erica and Gordon talking in a corner and had the distinct feeling something had been planned. That somehow he had been cornered.

And perhaps Alex, too.

But as he was led through the familiar apartment front door while Alex listed off the contents of the latest Engineering Weekly, Virgil found that he really didn’t mind at all.

He could sit with the man he loved, maybe fall asleep in his arms, listening to his wonderful voice, and let the day slip away.

He closed his eyes.

A soft kiss to his forehead. He found himself in front of Alex’s sofa.

“Sit down, love, and rest.”

Drawing Alex into his arms, he lowered both of them down and rested his head on his shoulder.

He closed his eyes.

“Okay.”

-o-o-o-

[bapydemonprincess]

I’m 24 and I’ve been in this fandom since like 2010 . So not the entire time it’s been around but I was here for its main surge I feel like. And I won’t lie, when I was 10 and a majority of the fandom did ship sebaciel publicly and people made you feel weird for not shipping it, I definitely did engage with it. It was pushed on me as a 10 year old by a majority of the fandom, and I didn’t see anything wrong because I was younger than ciel/same age and I was like “yeah I think Sebastian is cute and I’m the same age as ciel so—“ BUT you know as I got older I’d say even by 14 I had the realization of how gross it was and how I didn’t actually ship it it was just that they were the two main characters in the fandom and that typically main characters are the ones who get shipped and that at that time in the fandom it was impossible to not be faced with ship stuff. And I was groomed by adults in the fandom on this very website. They knew my age and would send me smut and talk to me about myself and flirt and I honestly feel bad that I ever did engage with the ship. I didn’t know any better. But now as an adult when I do see sebaciel stuff I find myself questioning if they’re just young and if they’re going to grow out of it too and I wonder if maybe they’re also having it pushed on them by older fans like I was. I find it concerning because i know what it did to myself and what kind of situations I was put in because of it. I try to avoid the adult ones because unfortunately I think if they haven’t grown out of it and realized the implications of the ship and how it does affect real life I don’t know that they ever will. I hate that this fandom has such a bad label on it. Every person I mention it to is like— “oh the pedophile demon anime?” And it just sickens me. Idk this is kind of just a rant and I wanted to offer my thoughts as someone who has been in the fandom a long time and as someone who was in the fandom as a child even. I’m sorry if this is weird ask to send but I see you posting content about it sometimes and it made me feel safe to share my thoughts

Well I am not personally good at answering these types of asks but I am glad you felt safe to send this to me, specifically, and get it off your chest, it's all good!! 💖 And glad to know you came to realize how bad the ship was at one point, I'm always happy to see that happen once in a while in kuro, because there are so many folks around my age refusing to accept the truth and doubling down on proshipping, and also I notice very recently too trying to cause problems on purpose for antis in their spaces. 😒 It's getting hard out there since the new anime came out, and a lot of those types have attempted to return.. likely from twitter where they ran off to last time they were booted (some quite literally banned hmm I wonder why) from tumblr.

And the worst WORST part knowing proshippers around my age is knowing.. remembering.. the very beginnings of kuro, seeing the early fics on ao3 by those guys, who really started it all, knowing somewhere they're still out there.. some even maybe with kids of their own WHO KNOWS... Ugh.

And I hope new fans, no matter their age really, make sure to be careful esp on here in the main kuro tag, for these proshippers have been constantly- AND VERY BLATANTLY I MIGHT ADD -trying to advertise their blogs and discords as safe spaces for interacting... CLEARLY trying to start/continue the process of grooming that is so well known in fandoms like kuro at this point.

Overall just use block on tumblr recreationally, it's free real estate ✨, stay safe in general, and again don't be afraid whether on fellow anti blogs like mine send messages or if you feel more comfortable make posts of your own on your own blog expressing how you feel, getting it out of your system.

Hope my response was okay (I say because I'm at work at also health-wise a bit out of it so sorry grbhjfkugu) and hope you, anon are currently doing okay now!! Thank you again for sharing your personal experience!!