#also you WILL ignore the repost teehee

[wind-up-thancred]

"A bit thin in the aether, but there's no mistaking it—the color of its soul is almost identical to Azem's." "The two of us can discern the color of souls, you see, and yours happens to resemble that of a friend."

[joosthead]

SMUT PROMPT 2 PLZZZ

just too soft for all of it || j.k. f!reader

₊˚⊹⋆ prompt(s): 2S) crying crying during sex that leads to a pause or early end to comfort and take care of whatever emotions bubbled over & 3F)  gently pushing their hair behind their ear to see their face better

₊˚⊹⋆ reader: f!reader, no pronouns, reader gets referred to as his “favourite girl” one time. notfamous!reader lol also does not speak dutch

₊˚⊹⋆ word count: 4.4k

₊˚⊹⋆ cw: smut (fingering, piv), a good amount of negative self thought (i may have gone overboard—feeling inadequate as a partner, reader is very hard on themself and quite sensitive), mentions of anxiety/stress/being overwhelmed, a very fluffy and healthy joost :( aur i love him anyways, pls heed the prompt cuz that in itself is a content warning teehee, 🧀🧀🧀alert i can’t lie!!, a variety of dutch terms of endearment i'm not sure i’m using right but it’s for the sake of no y/n

₊˚⊹⋆ track of the fic: "sweet nothing" by taylor swift

₊˚⊹⋆ junote: i resonate heavy with this 🙃🙃 had the worst last few weeks of this uni year but i’m FREE!!!! thanks for requesting this, i combined this with a few other asks stated above! happy first juno joost fic to meee yippeee

rpf ahead—don't like it, don't read it!! you've been warned. please do not repost this on any other platform.

18+ only — explicit rpf content ahead, minors dni.

To say the utter least—it had been a hard few weeks for you. 

The whims of life carried you away like a tsunami to your normal routine—work and classes and friends and family and life, life that you couldn’t ignore or get away from like you wanted to do, nothing to do except doing it. And you’d been doing it, just fine for the most part, but one thing led to another, and the last week was a whirlwind of commitments, obligations, your procrastinating on all of them, somehow. You got yourself into a mess of your own making. 

It certainly didn’t help that your boyfriend, Joost, was away for his own life: a festival performance in Canada, one in Belgium, one in the Netherlands but not one you could attend easily with all of the work you had for yourself. After that, he worked on the new album in Germany, putting the final touches on his 9th project, filming new content and preparing for his upcoming tour. 

He left around the beginning of when your life started getting busier. If you added it up—23 days you hadn’t seen him in person, but it’s not like you were counting (you were counting, and sad the entire time about his absence.). It felt like the same amount of time you hadn’t even seen or talked to him, through the phone, on Facetime, even texting each other.

Voice memos in the bathroom at work, always apologizing for how rushed you had to be; leaving him on delivered for hours as you studied, or had an event you needed to be at, or had a person you needed to talk to, someone else who needed your time more than Joost needed yours, and it was too much. All of it was too much. Too much for you to handle easily, every second taken by someone else. 

You felt like a terrible partner, not being able to speak to him as much as you wanted. Seeing all of his messages, the reassurance that he understands how busy you are and that in the end, you'll always make time for each other…his ability to be such a good partner held up next to your perceived inadequacy made you even more stressed. 

In the end, it’ll all work out—today, Joost flew back home, though you still had a number of commitments and assignments to get to and couldn’t pick him up from the airport. Your mutual friend picked him up, and you bit your nails at every update given; willing the time to go slower so you could tidy up more, work on that one last piece of paperwork so you wouldn’t have to worry about it, make sure everything is perfect so Joost can have a good welcome back.

In the nick of time, you were able to get everything done, but it still felt as if there was something missing, like you'd be hit with a missed deadline in the midst of your time back together, and it would all come crumbling down. 

As you opened the door, right as your friend pulled up to your street, you tried to put it aside, and you did—for now. Late afternoon and you stand at the top of your townhouse steps, watching in nervous excitement as Joost unloads his luggage from the trunk. Your friend closes the trunk and waves at you.

You wave back, but your eyes are on Joost as he gathers the two suitcases and starts rolling them to you in a sort of disorganized frenzy, just as excited as you are; you would come forward and help, but it’s cute to watch him, clumsy and stumbling over his long pants and tote bag and everything—your Joost, finally back with you. 

He wears a heavy black jacket, sunglasses, a black cap that he takes off and shakes his hair out of; the sun shines off him, and you can't help but smile at the sight. His hair grew out a little, the darker blonde roots growing in. Those jeans are ones you’ve never seen before, new glasses, new clunky boots that look greatly uncomfortable but perfectly his style. Evidence of the time passed, and for some strange reason, it brings a pang to your chest that you try to ignore as you come down the steps of your house. 

“Come here, come here, come here, baby, I missed you,” Joost exclaims, arms open and leaving his bags behind him to come meet you halfway, laughing. 

You say as you hug him around his neck, his arms around your waist and squeezing you tight, “I’m so sorry I couldn’t pick—” 

“Don’t worry about it, I know you were busy.” 

You nod as he moves his arms around your neck and you go around his waist, Joost pecking your cheek several times and making you laugh. “I still feel bad I couldn’t pick you up.”

“Never feel bad, you’d still be the best even if you left me on the side of the road.” You give him and his compliment a weak smile as you pull away. 

—

The first time you get a moment to yourself in a month: Joost’s head lays in your lap as you both watch some cartoon on the couch together after eating. 

You cleaned most of yesterday and some of today; you cooked most of last night since you knew you had more time, preparing Joost’s favorite meal—it was the best you could reasonably do, considering all of the other obligations you had in these last two days. 

As he ate, you pushed around your own food; would’ve made it fresh, could've had a nice table setting for dinner, should’ve prepared more for all of this. You still gave him a sheepish smile as you watched him happily eat the microwaved meal you warmed up for him, no indication at all that he’s disappointed or unhappy like you are with yourself. You shouldn’t feel like this, but you do. It’s getting increasingly difficult to shake. 

The colors and lines dance across the TV, spouting raunchy jokes that you can half understand with the few years of Dutch you have under your belt; the air conditioner is on, and you can finally rest. Joost is changed out of his airport outfit and into some shorts and a shirt. He’s home, and you did the best you could do, and now he’s in your arms again. 

You don’t even mean to, but you sigh, perhaps louder than usual, because Joost looks up at you from your lap, brushes a lock of your hair out of your eyes, says, “You’re the best, you know?” 

It catches you off guard enough that you shake your head almost instinctively, not fast enough to hide…whatever feeling this is you’re feeling. “I don’t feel like it, Joosty.” 

“You don’t?” He gets up from your lap, sitting next to you, and brings his face close to yours. “You should, because you are.” 

Your noses are brushing, and even in the midst of your racing thoughts, you can't help but smile at him. His face grows into a smile, and you come forward and kiss him, deeply; you know it takes him by surprise, how he takes a little to kiss back, like trying to learn each other again. Nonetheless, he kisses back, holding your face in his hands, grinning into it—he's so pleased, so content, you know it by how sweetly he holds you. 

The TV becomes background noise to you, the air conditioner no use with how hot you feel when you move to sit atop him in his lap, one of his hands on the small of your back, the other on your ass as you grind down on him, licking into his mouth. 

“You're so tense,” Joost says when you pull away, thumbs rubbing into your back where there are sure to be knots in your muscles. 

You roll your eyes. “Can you blame me?” you snicker and he smiles. 

“I’ll relieve some tension for you, then.” 

Nothing but a few layers of clothes separate you—he smells so good, tastes so good, feels so good that you pull away, run your hands underneath his shirt, feeling his warm body, his stomach. You move to take it off of him, and he’s a step ahead of you, taking it off himself and attaching his lips to yours again, like a magnet. 

“You’re not wasting any time,” he says as you rest your hands on his chest and kiss down his stubble covered jaw to his neck, on top of Lola Bunny and back up again. 

“I need you, Joost,” you breathe in between kisses, and he pulls back and groans which makes you giggle, “What is that supposed to mean?” 

“You can't just say that, oh my god,” Joost whines, looking up at you pathetically, pupils blown and lips swollen from yours. “That’s so hot,” he laughs, and it makes you laugh too, how ridiculous he is. “Fuck, I love you.” He comes back in for one more kiss before he shifts so you can lay down on the couch, and he's on top of you, kissing again. He helps you shimmy down your shorts, your underwear, and in no time—his hand is between your legs.

“I would have taken it slow but—I’m too excited,” he breathes. You palm his hard cock through his shorts, coaxing a sigh out of him. Joost hovers above, leaning on one elbow and using the other hand to run his fingers through your slit, wetting them with how aroused you are. Involuntarily, your legs twitch, your breath catches in your mouth, and Joost gives you a soft laugh. “You’re so sensitive, schat.” Fingers still touching you so gently, he noses at your cheek—you’re a hairpin trigger, how reactive you are to him. “Has it been that long?” 

Breathless, you nod as he presses his thumb to your clit, petting at it. “Too long, I was waiting for you.”

“I could say the same for you.” 

You sit up, pushing up against him, still kissing like you can’t bear to be separated from him, but he pulls back from you—brings two fingers to his mouth, wetting them with his spit, and the sight brings your heart to your stomach with how arousing it is. 

Sure, Joost sends videos; yes, you have…homemade…videos of your own between the two of you; his deep voice through the speaker in your late night Facetimes, talking you through it or his incessant compliments when you send him some pictures of your own. 

Nothing compares to the real thing—the smell of his cologne on his collar even after he’s taken a shower; his blonde hair in your eyes as he kisses you; holding onto his strong arms as he fingers you, the wet sound music to your ears though normally, it would make you sheepish at how filthy this all is.  

Sometimes it makes you laugh that the random guy you met with a Crazy Frog tattoo on his forearm is now your boyfriend, but it feels so serious now more than ever. You realize now how much you’ve missed him, and how much you’ve pushed down that feeling in favor of everything else. 

Joost crooks his fingers inside of you and you moan into his mouth, which he smiles at. “You like it?” he asks, both of you knowing the answer. He knows you so well, inside and out. Knows that spot inside of you that renders you unable to speak, how to hit it just right like it’s muscle memory to fuck you with his fingers. He rubs your clit at the same time, using his spit and your wetness to do so, and God—you wish never leaving this spot was an option. 

Your climax fast approaches you; Joost kissing at the side of your lips, your chin because you’re too lost in your pleasure to kiss back. With a few more pumps of his fingers, he brings you there, a choked moan tumbling from your mouth as you cum, almost falling into him as he takes you through the last waves of your orgasm. “Thank you,” you breathe, pressing a deep kiss to his lips again now that you have the ability to. 

��Thanking me? Nothing to thank me for,” he says, but you shake your head.

“I disagree,” you say quietly, palming over his erection once more now that you’ve gathered yourself. “I have everything to thank you for,” you think, but can’t say out loud. You move so you can be on your knees on the ground in between his legs. It’s been quite a bit, enough so that the program on the TV is completely different now, the AC has turned off—he’s still so hard, still hasn’t been taken care of.

You're about to lower his shorts, take him into your mouth, but Joost takes your hand and says, “Can we skip it? I wanna be inside of you, lieverd.” 

Almost a whisper, you reply, “Whatever you want,” nodding, and he cocks his head to the side in confusion.

“You’re so quiet today. Is anything wrong?” He can read you like a book, the furrowing of your brow at his suggestion an easy giveaway. 

“Nothing’s the matter,” you lie, but he still looks disbelieving. “I just wanted to give you something back.”

“This is something back and more, baby. Lie down.” 

You do, too tired to argue for your side—the side that wants to give Joost everything you have and more, pay him back for the time you’ve been so absent, so distracted from your relationship and all the things Joost had been doing in the time away. It’s not as if you don’t want to lie down and have him fuck you—it’s just that you feel that you haven’t earned it yet. 

Your body language gives you away—“Still so tense, lieverd,” he says, squeezing your shoulder as you adjust, legs on either side of his thighs. “You sure you want to do this?” 

“Of course I do,” you purr, because of course you do, reaching into his briefs—Joost Klein branded, of course—and pulling his cock out, jerking it a few times and making him groan with the sensation. “You're so sensitive,” you quote him from earlier. “Has it been that long, schat?” 

The pet name makes his cock twitch; a month away, hard work on his album and music videos, content and marketing, coming back home to his favourite girl gazing at him starry-eyed with a hand around his dick and ready to take him inside. If you peered into his mind, this is what he’d be thinking. No thoughts match your worried thinking about how you may or may not have let him down—you didn’t. That would be impossible, at least to him. 

“Much too long.” 

You rest your head on a throw pillow that Joost has laid for you, and he lines himself up with your entrance. Fingertips on his stomach, you stop him for a few seconds from coming forward, and you wrap your hand around his shaft, swiping it through your slit a few times, collecting your wetness and his pre-cum on the head of his cock.

Loudly, he swears in Dutch, and the latter half sounds more like a strangled whisper than any real word. “You…fuck, my god…you are evil,” he laughs, even though he’s now rubbing the head of it against your clit, making you mewl. 

“You ready for me?” he asks, and you nod, licking your lips, trying to control your breathing. Your initial apprehension is long gone, though it could creep back every second—who cares? You’re finally together again. “You’re so wet,” Joost breathes as he eases the head of his cock into you. The stretch is something to get used to after so long away, but he gives time for you to adjust—seems like he might need it more than you do, how he sucks a breath in through gritted teeth, the snail’s pace he's going at. “I might cum right now.” 

“You promise?” you tease, watching the slow slide of his cock inside of you, watching just like he is. 

“I might have to promise with how this is going.” 

“You can do it,” you giggle and then moan because he's managed to fit half of his length into you. “I believe in you.” 

“Yay,” Joost smiles as he bottoms out in you, then gives you a kiss. “We did it!”

He holds his hand up for a high-five and you laugh—”I’m not high-fiving you while you're inside me.” 

“When has that ever stopped you before?”  

Rolling your eyes, you give him the high-five he so desperately wants and he beams at you with a toothy grin. “Never, I guess.” 

“Never,” Joost repeats, and then straightens up. You look up at him through your eyelashes—his mullet is mussed from the tangles of your fingers through his hair, his chest moving steadily up and down with the exertion of this all.  He moves your legs so your left ankle rests on his shoulder, the right wrapped around his hips. 

His hand creeps up your shirt, and you do the rest, exposing your tits to him. Joost is normally so clumsy, so heavy-handed—what a contrast that he can be so calm dragging his fingertips around your nipple, making it pebble in the cold.

He cups your cheek after you moan, then runs his tattooed knuckles down it, slips his thumb between your lips and hooks it on your teeth momentarily—you chase  it, but he continues down your chest and to your belly until his thumb is finally back on your clit and circling it slowly. 

The drag of his cock out of you is wonderful, so wonderful it makes you shudder when he does it, combined with his terribly slow treatment of your clit.

“My baby, did you miss me?” Joost says softly, kissing at your calf, your ankle as he sinks back into you. The sensation robs you of a response, a sigh tumbling out of your mouth before you can stop it, but he takes it as a response enough.  The smile on his face—the beauty mark under his lip, those deep dimples so prominent—you could never tire of it. “I missed you more, schatje.”

It feels so good, it feels like heaven being with him again. He comes back from such a busy time in his life, where you’ve done little, and all he has is praise and warmth and affection for you—fingers you within an inch of your life and doesn’t even ask for anything in return, just takes care of you in the way you need most. 

You know that he benefits from this just as much as you do—this isn’t so one-sided. But your brain is so frazzled from this last month, the nerve endings fried and in want of a fuck up to cling to like they have been whenever you’ve made a mistake at work, in class, in your relationship. 

Joost interrupts your thoughts: “I was so happy to see you on the steps, I could’ve sprinted to you if I wasn’t wearing those damn shoes.”

All of the times that you forgot to reply to Joost, getting a text saying your name and a sad face right after; the times where you were too distracted to give him your full attention and could only hum your acknowledgement to him, having to be reminded about what he said later; that one time just a few days ago you fell asleep on call with him in the middle of him excitedly speaking about a breakthrough with a bridge on the most important song of the album. 

The pleasure you felt earlier is now overshadowed by your racing thoughts. 

“I wrote a song about you, you know?” Joost says, his voice so gentle. I was only going to let you know when the album came out, but I can’t keep a secret.” Rocking against you, his pelvis rubs against your clit and it makes you cling to his shoulders. “The voice memo I sent you earlier—it was my first draft, just me. Did you like it?” 

“You…you wrote a song about me?” 

Only now do you remember the voice memo Joost sent you in the morning when you were still cleaning, the one that you saw and made a fleeting mental note to reply to later on, which you promptly forgot as you vacuumed, dusted, folded. 

Such misplaced priorities, and now you're paying the sad price.

“Joost,” you say, eyebrows screwing up, that all too familiar pulling feeling behind your nose and eyes—you realize quickly that all of the emotions bottled up inside of you from the past month have come out with vengeance at the new knowledge of Joost’s song about you. The knowledge wouldn’t have been new if you just paid more attention. 

You try to hold it back, pushing down the feelings again, but it just won’t work. All of it spilling over at the worst possible time, tears streaming down your face before you even know it. You fail to wipe the wetness from your cheeks—Joost stops his movements, asks in a panicked and concerned voice, “Oh my—are you crying, schat?”

Attempting to pull it together once more, you cover your face with your hands and shake your head silently, but your already sniffly nose sells you out. Your shoulders shake with your crying. Too far gone now. 

“I wanted—“ you sniffle, and he hands you a tissue from the side table for you to blow your nose into as he stumbles out and off of you. “I wanted to be with you tonight, but I just—so much—I never—I never listened to your memo, I couldn’t, I had to finish so much before you got here and I couldn’t and I feel so bad, like, you wrote a song about me and I didn’t even have the time to listen—” 

“Shh, shh, shh, shh,” Joost coos, brushing your hair out of your eyes as you sob. “Baby, please.” His expression is so concerned, eyebrows furrowed as he pats your back. “Wait, shit,” he says, getting up from the couch and looking down at his still bare bottom half. “Let me put everything back on, I’m sorry schatje, give me—“ In a hurry, he puts his underwear and shorts back on, tripping over himself and almost falling over. “I just can’t do this naked, I’m sorry.” 

That brings a laugh out of you and a laugh out of him, and you start explaining as he sits back down next to you, rubbing your arm. “I don’t—I don’t deserve you.” You shake your head, wiping your eyes with the backs of your hands. “I should’ve listened to what you sent me, I should’ve been there more.” 

“Bro,” he deadpans, beckoning you to come and sit on his lap. 

You do, still trying to get the tears out of your eyes as you settle into his arms. “Shut up, don’t call me bro while I’m crying,” you laugh, voice weak but lighthearted.

“Bro. I will do it again.” Joost gives you a second to let it out more, to breathe as he smooths his hands back and forth on your back. “You did everything perfectly, lieverd. Perfectly. We were both so busy, and you still made time to call me and text me. I would have been lost without you, I know for certain.” 

You shake your head. “I forgot to reply and pick up your texts so many times, Joost, I felt like such a bad person for doing so.” 

“You did? I didn’t notice. All I cared about was that you replied.  You’re not a bad person at all,” Joost says, and the sweetness of his words just make you want to cry more. “I appreciate more from you the effort that you put into everything, into what we have. Not what you couldn’t or didn’t do.” 

“You’re so nice,” you whisper, sniffling. You can’t think of a better compliment with how overwhelmed you are, so you kiss him, instead, and he kisses back. Even with this, you can tell how gentle Joost is holding your cracked pieces back together. 

“I’m nice?” he asks, smiling. “Best compliment I’ve ever gotten.” For a little, you both sit there in the silence together. “How about this—tomorrow, we can have a day to ourselves. You can lounge and study by the pool, and I’ll be your little butler or whoever and we can just relax for a bit, hm? Order food, drink, smoke, whatever.” Pausing, he grins. “We can even listen to the whole album, if you want.”

“You finished it?” you ask, sitting up more and incredulous. That’s complete news to you.

“This morning, right before I flew back here,” Joost says, nodding proudly. “I also texted you, but duty calls, no?” 

“You texted me?” He texted you? And you missed it?!?!? Again, the new information makes you cry, and he holds you tight as you do. “You should be mad that I didn’t see it,” you say in between dry heaves into his shoulder. “I’m so proud of you.” 

“I could never be mad at you, lieverd, and I’m sorry I made you cry again,” he says, rubbing your back, petting your hair. “I just wanted to let you know when I did it—it was just a timestamp, that doesn’t mean you needed to know right that second.” 

“But I wanted to know.” 

“You know now, and I know how proud you are of me. That’s enough, that’s even more than what I wanted.” You trust him and his words so fully, every passing second with him is another way to help you feel better. “I love you,” Joost says your name so seriously, a punctuation to his love letter. “I mean it.” 

“I love you too.” You kiss him, deeply, moments passing that you use to thank everything you can that he’s so good with your worries, your anxieties. “I’ll take you up on that offer for tomorrow, Joost,” you say, finally calmed down enough. Your eyes are incredibly bleary—you didn’t know that was possible. But at least you aren’t actively crying anymore. “Thank you for everything.” 

“Thank you for giving me something more to look forward to, schat. Now—let’s go run a bath together and listen to my song for you.” 

[malereadermaniac]

MASTERLIST

FEM READERS DNI - this is a mlm and nblm blog!

Minors DNI if the post involves smut!!

Helloooo! Here is a list of all of my fics/links to their own masterlists

I'll be posting fics and drabbles/imagines of specific characters or (y/c) - your crush

I also repost pleanty of fics I really like, you should totes check out their profiles, I'm just trying to do my part in sharing male reader fics cause there are NONE

I try to keep my fics as inclusive as possible, as in I try to not refence skin colour and when I do keep it as open as possible

My ask-box is open, and I am happy to receive requests - however there is a very low likelihood that I will actually do the request unless it's something that I really like and I feel I could write; so please don't be offended if I ignore your ask!

Shit I might write abt:

Genshin guys

Male crush x reader

Bnha (aged up)

Danganronpa (aged up)

Camp Buddy

Haikyuu (aged up)

Pokemon

JJK (I haven't watched it tho!!)

Stranger things men

Obscure childhood crushes (teehee soz)

Anything else I wantt

I'll be updating the list below with links to all of my work :)

If some links don't work, you search up the characters same on my profile or a specific tag (pretty much all of my posts are fanfiction)

Masterlist links:

Your Crush

Haikyuu

Actors/Characters

My Hero Academia

Genshin Impact

Danganronpa

Pokemon

Miscellaneous

Camp Buddy

Mini-masterlist

Key: 🩷 Fluff 🖤Angst (and fluff usually) ❤️Nsfw

FairyTail

❤️🖤 Insecure - Natsu is insecure that he was a virgin but you weren't

🩷 Royal Secrets - You and Gray are from affluent families, your parents don't know you two are sneaking about together

Jujutsu Kaisen

🩷 Love-Hate - You wake up in Toji's bed, why this dickhead?? (Drabble/Imagine)

❤️ Someone Older - Meeting Sukuna in a club and your 'relationship' ensues

[kkitsunesama]

oh... hi there !! 🌷

you can call me mizki and my pronouns are they☆she! i am also below the age of XVIII and i am 🏹♠️

☆ on this precious blog i post my art :3 as you may have figured by my pinterest account kkitsunesama i am a very much a fukaflower fan and i have no intent of stopping making art of them anytime soon teehee (i swear there are other art every now and then so stay tuned!)

(!!) please open me🎀 (under the cut)

thanks for your attention pooks !!❤️‍🩹💜 have an amazing day and stay hydrated🥤

(!!) ☆ REQUEST INFO : i take requests on fandom characters only! i still reserve the right to ignore ur request if i don't like it sorry darlings :(

☆ if you want to get to know me better, visit my side blog mizbnuuy where i repost stuff i like!

☆ here's my sona reference sheet for the needing! draw them all ya want as long as it's appropriate thank yew :3

[toffyrats]

ok hi yes my dear you n i both know i know next to nothing abt splatoon

but consider

newsies x splatoon crossover

like what would the newsies look like as inklings/octolings (and our ocs if you wanna get silly w it)

TEEHEE IVE BEEN WAITING TO GET ANOTHER ASK LIKE THIS!!

ignore my shitty handwriting LMAOO

also is now a good time to repost the inkling jack kelly i made for dave?? yeah it is

[vexmorningstar]

Hello fellow tumblrinas 💜

I've decided to set up a sideblog for my vtubing activities which thus far... are very much in the starting phase!

Here's my socials:

Twitch: vexmorningstarVT

Twitter / x: vexmorningstar

Youtube: vexmorningstar

You're at my tumblr! If you want to find my main that's probably not a hard thing to do.

And here's some information about me:

I am an adult and while my content is for a mature audience, it is not primarily 18+

I am nonbinary - my preferred pronouns are he/it!

My lore is very light - it's there for people who enjoy it and is easily ignored by those who don't :)

My concept is: a satanic priest! This is because I enjoy the clothes from an aesthetic perspective and am also a theistic satanist!

I'm not yet sure what my content will be. I'll probably rotate a few ideas around in my head and unofficially try some smaller things out before I commit to anything in particular!

Please feel free to invade my inbox. Silly video aside, I have a fairly high tolerance for nonsense. Asks will be tagged as #Confession Booth.

Art (both original and fanart) will be tagged as #VexMorningstArt. I may repost fanart from other socials such as twitter with proper permissions and credit.

Yes, I blazed my silly little shitpost. If you hated that, sorry. It was only a tenner. Teehee.

[ardenssolis]

I posted 1,495 times in 2022

896 posts created (60%)

599 posts reblogged (40%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@tenkoseiensei

@caemthe

@oldestking

@bigdhashira

@006461

I tagged 1,495 of my posts in 2022

#answered - 649 posts

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#;v: summoned forth - 155 posts

Longest Tag: 87 characters

#the king of kings is fond of a certain ancient blockhead but you didn't hear it from me

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

KNOWING YOUR PARTNER WELL CAN POTENTIALLY MAKE WRITING TOGETHER A LOT EASIER. REPOST DO NOT REBLOG !

NAME: Shi

PRONOUNS:  she / her / they / them 

PREFERENCE OF COMMUNICATION: IMs usually! Discord is fine too especially for plotting and general chitchat since that IM box is tiny as hell. But it tends to definitely be easier to catch me on here since for some reason, my discord doesn’t always alert me to people talking and left messages kfjsdfhdsfs. Me checking discord to see someone talked to me hours ago -- me sweating wondering if they think I ignored them while I was posting on tumblr. 

NAME OF MUSE(S): Ozymandias

RP EXPERIENCE/HOW LONG (MONTHS / YEARS?): Like...over 15 years? I have, quite literally, seen and experienced everything at this point. That’s why my rules probably sound so strict because I am just a tired woman who feels like I aged to 80 sometimes. I don’t play when it comes to my boundaries anymore like when I was younger and allowed things I shouldn’t have allowed for the sake of keeping the peace and being liked. I have been so much happier putting my foot down.

BEST EXPERIENCE: Meeting really great people and continuing to meet great people! Idk I’ve met so many who have inspired me to keep writing and just enjoying this little hobby of mine. Even now I just finger gun at all those individuals and really great mutuals that make my time here on tumblr A+.

RP PET PEEVES/DEALBREAKERS: Getting me excited for stuff and then ghosting me. Then coming to me, getting me excited again, ghosting me again -- rinse repeat like that’s a normal way to communicate with someone. Like I’m not here for that. I’ll softblock or hardblock you in a heartbeat and move on.

FLUFF, ANGST OR SMUT: I like all three honestly, but angst??? Emotional stuff? GAWD DO I EAT THAT UP. Especially for Ozy because he’s just -gestures at him- Sometimes I want him to really feel things which can be difficult. But the fact it’s difficult is what makes me love it even more.

PLOTS OR MEMES: I don’t mind both since we can basic plot something like oh how they’d meet? Are they friends? Do they hate one another?? That kind of stuff can make interaction so much easier. But memes are certainly the best way to come at me and continue things from there since I don’t do starters. 

LONG OR SHORT REPLIES: Long replies! But short is nice when your brain is tired and after staring at a computer for eight hours and working HR, my brain is often very tired during the weekdays. So a nice balance of both!

BEST TIME TO WRITE: Normally in the evening. My writing just feels like it flows better for some reason.

ARE YOU LIKE YOUR MUSE(S): Not even REMOTELY jkfhdskfdkfsd

tagged by: @chaieos​​​ (ilu Lis)

tagging: anyone! take it and talk about yourself! (also tag me I wanna read)

16 notes - Posted November 21, 2022

#4

Crossover ships and OC x Canon ships save lives.

17 notes - Posted April 5, 2022

#3

@tenkoseiensei​ said (inbox):

sa vc teehee

     HE DOES NOT PERCEIVE. 

18 notes - Posted May 12, 2022

#2

If you’re a lot younger than Ozy, chances are he will:

a.) Adopt you as his child

b.) Adopt you as his younger sibling

These are just the rules I don’t make them.

18 notes - Posted April 18, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

[Glowing beans. D.o not r.eblog.]

19 notes - Posted April 24, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[gojology]

Clubs Aren’t My Thing. (1/2)

𝑨𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓'𝒔 𝑵𝒐𝒕𝒆 | i’m REPOSTING this because my already bruised ego absolutely rejects the fact that my writing got 33 notes, that, and i just don’t want to continue this if it doesn’t get any traction. i’m not good at nsfw, so i feel like if not a lotta people wanna read my work, why try hard on something i’m bad at? anyways, this whole club concept is totally from @/mystic-sky or skyfelt on ao3. pls check her out. if anything is inaccurate its prob bcuz the only reference i have is the club penguin dance club teehee. 

𝑾𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 | mentions of sex, drinking, you’re literally at a club.

𝑷𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 | Gojo x Female Reader

𝑾𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝑪𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 | 2847

𝑺𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚 | You’re alone, at a bar, waiting for the end of the night to come. Then again this was bound to happen, as clubs weren’t really your thing, but promises of snacks and money from your friends were really what you came for. A mysterious, yet intriguing white haired man approaches you, and eventually he piques your interest. Little do you know, you had piqued his as well, and he’s having a hard time trying to hide it.

Bright, flickering vivid lights was all the human eye could see from where you were sitting.  You’re sitting at a bar, legs restless and rhythmically bumping against the table. You had come here for a “fun night”, even though they promptly ditched you for the lively dance floor afterwards, you assumed to pick up guys and have some encounters in the bedroom.  It wasn’t quite your thing though, well, you didn’t know yourself, you were far too shy to find out, though.  That’s how you found yourself alone, at a bar, completely sober.   Your friends pushed you, (which was a bit weird since they were no where near you now- so really now, what was the point?) luring you with yummy snacks and treats to come out of your house for once. Hesitantly agreeing, you didn’t expect to have them dress you up as well.   Fighting them off and running for the bedroom door, you hated the very idea of even interacting with anyone. Moaning and groaning like a child that you weren’t getting enough for going to a social event, and not wearing your beloved baggy hoodies and sweatpants.   “Okay, okay!” your friend stood up, hands above her. Shaking her head and letting out an exasperated sigh.   “We’ll add on a free dinner- on us.”   Raising an eyebrow, you scrolled through your phone. This wasn’t a bad deal, not at all. You decided to not reply, though.   “Ugh, (Y/N), Okay. A 50 DOLLAR GIFTCARD TO YOUR FAVORITE STORE. Do we have a deal?” Your friend blurted out, sitting down on her chair with a huff.   The girl clearly wanted you to go to the club.  You grinned evilly, realizing just how much you can get.   Of course, you wouldn’t spend the money without spoiling some of your girlies, but you had gotten even more then you asked for, and well- sure it was a bit mean, but you figured afterwards you could go out with them without the bargaining.   And so, facepalm after facepalm ensued, offering you more and more unnecessary amounts of money and food, you finally broke under the pressure of being a tad too mean. You weren’t planning on torturing your friends for life.   At that point, who could really resist?   Now, enthusiastic with your eyes only on the prize, you allowed yourself to be dressed up just this once. Your friends had whipped up the nicest outfit they could without it showing very much skin (per your request!).   Your friends had let you borrow a rather short white plaid skirt they had paired with a casual simple t-shirt. Slightly sheer, and a warm, yet soft cardigan that was kind of scratchy. Donning a pair of tights that you had picked yourself and your favorite pair of beaten up Doc Martens. You realize that it didn’t look half-bad on you.  For once, you thought you looked nice.   However, it seemed to pale in comparison with the scandalous outfits your friends seemed to prefer. Dresses hugging their curves, showing as much of their skin as possible without being full-blown naked, you wonder how one can hold so much self-confidence. But you ignore the feeling, repeating to yourself that you looked good in your own ways.  You wave for the bar tender, feeling a rush of self confidence as you glance down at your outfit. The rather disgruntled man eyes perked up at the request, rushing over.  “May I offer you something, ma’am?”  You gulp, the self confidence rapidly crashing back down, almost as soon as it had come up. You weren’t quite the drinker, and you weren’t looking to find if you were. Running a hand through your already tousled hair, you stutter out a short sentence.  “Can I have some.. Water? With, uh, ice.”  He nods, seemingly shocked that you weren’t ordering any alcoholic beverages before turning his back on you and quickly whipping up the rather simplistic drink. Well, then again, judging by the outfit, one glance would be enough to tell him that you were forced to come, or shy.    Shocked by how comprehensible you had been when speaking to him, your lips curve slightly into a warm smile. Working around your fear of talking to people in unusual places was good.   Handing the glass of water to you with cold fingertips, you nod back. Skimming his hand as you did so. You grimace, contact felt weird.   Taking a sip, you looked away and hoped not to make conversation.  You heard a rather loud laugh, which was an understatement, because you could hear it even through the mass of chatter and movement of the club.  Curious by who could possibly be louder than the sheer deafening cheers of a drunken crowd, you look towards the other direction, before setting your eyes on a ridiculously white haired man.  He was laughing again now, and your eyes immediately drift over to his very defined jawline. No wonder so many girls were around him, by the looks of it, he looked like a famous model.  His head high above all the females crowding around him, you notice the man next to him. A disgruntled, yet polite looking individual you assumed to be his friend sat next to him.   He was also towering over the women, nodding and smiling at the many girls tempting him with their bodies, but he seemed so clueless that you doubted he even had a clue of what was going on.   Fidgeting and playing with his hair, he was clad in an unbuttoned Hawaiian shirt. The crowd of women around him wasn’t as large as the white haired man, you noted, but still large nonetheless.  “Oh, him?” the bartender blurted, you turn to face him again, cursing yourself for being so obvious in your endeavors.  Wiping a cocktail shaker down with a towel, he ducks his head, studying the remaining water droplets. You stare daggers at the bartender for interrupting your train of thought, before cursing yourself for being so mean.  “He’s a regular, gets drunk quite frequently, and he’s Prince Charming to the ladies.”  Rubbing the back of your head, you stare back at the bartender. Unsure what to make of his approach on conversation.  Reconsidering like the good person you are, you thought about how annoyed the guy got talking to a bunch of drunk college kids. He seemed like he had good intentions, and talking to someone that was sober was sure to be refreshing.  “Yeah, I can tell, the guy has a lot of girls around him. He looks really... Lively. To put it simply.”  The bartender laughed, relaxing himself as soon as he heard the friendly words leave your lips. He finished wiping down the cocktail shaker and proceeded to the neatly stacked cups which had just been washed.  “No, the guy’s just friendly. Real hit with the ladies, especially his.. Uh, physical attributes. See his friend over there? Lil bit more modest, he started coming here recently. Don’t let that good natured face fool you though, they’re both the same..”  You rolled your eyes, Typical. Taking the last few gulps of your water before you slammed it back down. The bartender took the cup, refilling it hastily and giving it back to you.  You heard several girls giggling, and you glanced back in the direction of the men. The long, raven haired man had his arms wrapped around dozen or more girls, swarming him as if he was a celebrity.  The bartender was right, he looked so bored when you had studied the two, but here he was now with the same army of girls heeding his every call.  That left the white haired man alone.  Shaking his head with a small chortle, he took another swig out of his drink before looking down at the empty glass, he stood up, and by God were those legs long, before walking to the empty stool next to you.  “Yo. Bartender. Refill?”  The bartender set down the cup he was scrubbing down, rummaging his hands through various shelfs, filled with various drinks and add-ons, before taking the mysterious man’s glass.  Curious, you take a small peek at the man, almost jumping back when he was staring unflinching at you, too. Taking this as an invitation to gape at such an incredibly well-fit body. Your eyes stare up at what you could; starting with his collarbones.  Paired deliciously with a simple gold chain, you had to admit, it was a good touch. The simplicity of the chain was enough for you to gape dumbly at anything else that was interesting, and was left dumbfounded by the sheer hotness of... Well, him, and those incredibly prominent collarbones.  You look downwards, and he’s wearing a black, simple t-shirt. Not a wrinkle, nor specks of lint in sight.  Well toned arms, and incredibly strong looking ones at that rested idly against his sides. An expensive watch glinted in the light.  He hadn’t quite said anything yet, so you look down even more without hesitation. Almost like you couldn’t control yourself.   Tucking his shirt in neatly was his belt, you could easily tell it was a high-end brand. Casual, wide flared black jeans, the guy really loved black you noted. The accessories made up for it though, various chains were lazily thrown in, and it made the outfit so much more hotter, especially on him.  “My eyes are up here, girly.”  Feeling your cheeks become full to the brim with warmth, your hands fumble about, words formulating at the tip of your tongue to apologize profusely, you look up.  Circular black shades concealed the white haired man’s eyes, and your heart pounds more. Something about him was so intriguing.  About to blurt out nonsense about actually being very interested at a wall, he held his palm up, a large toothy grin gracing his features.  “It’s okay, I’m into hot chicks ogling me. Especially hot chicks with cute outfits.”  Everything on your mind was suddenly wiped clean, you open your mouth before closing, unsure about what to say.  He thought you were hot?   He thought your outfit was cute?  He laughs, and you snap out of your daze. Muttering a quick thanks when the bartender handed his rather sugary exotic drink to him.  “Saw you looking at me earlier, sweetcheeks.” he hums before tipping the glassware near his glossy lips, sipping the drink, looking down at you as he did.  “No, I think you saw wrong... Are you blind?” you asked, still recovering from the compliments you hadn’t ever received in your life prior to this strange encounter. Desperate to get out of the advancingly awkward conversation, you had never been placed in such a weird setting.  He snorts, taking another deep sip of his drink.  “Nah. People think that, though. People think I’m... Old, for some reason?”  “Hm, I wonder why.” replying sarcastically, you felt yourself jolt up, a mix of uneasiness and excitement bubbling up inside of you. By your experience and tips from your friends, these type of guys seemed to like sassy, teasing girls.  Whipping out your phone from your bag, you try to appear casual, even though your excitement was starting to die down by his silence, turning into dread.  Whistling, trying to look like you didn’t have a care in the world, you physically wince as you realize how stupid you potentially look. Wondering what your friends would say about such an attractive guy seemingly hitting on you, then again, they didn’t seem to really care.  No new notifications, and no familiar faces running up to you with open, friendly arms.  He chuckles again. “I like your style, missy. You come here alone? That’s a shame, pretty girls like you deserve to have someone to come with.”  You look down, struggling to contain the growing smile. Doing a small little victory dance in your head as you realize that he had literally stated that he liked your style.   “I did come with someone, my friends.”  “Where’s your friends?” he inquired.  “Partying at the dance floor, flirting with guys probably.” you nonchalantly reply, struggling to hold your tone, but even then it wavered. You didn’t get hit on often, and when you did they were there to help you.  “That makes two of us, my friend Geto pulled all my chicks, and my pussy for tonight.”  He said it so nonchalantly, you almost spat out your water.  “What are you here for? Some good dick?” he shifted his arm to rest against the table, his hand against his head, lazily looking at you.  You study his figure once more, ignoring his previous question. He looked like he came straight out of a magazine, or a movie. Broad, yet strong looking shoulders.  He looked straight up fake.  He towered over you, and you estimated that he was over 6 foot. His hair seemed soft, and manageable, and so, so fun to play with. A Deep, yet playful voice that would probably make everyone within a 6 mile radius instantly melt.  “Hm, cute. I like straight-forward girls.” he poked fun at you, grinning carelessly.  “I’m not being straightforward in any shape or form, what do you mean?” you flutter your eyelashes innocently at him, knowing damn well what he meant.  “You’re fucking studying me like a textbook before finals.”  “You still haven’t told me your name!” you shot back without thinking, you didn’t want to be caught doing something so scandalous. He winked, you took this as a sign of him following suit.  “That’s what makes it fun, baby.”  “Here, lets trade.”   You had decided that you really liked his style, after letting you off the hook so easily like that. He was shrouded in a cloak of mystery, and you found it hot. That, or maybe he wanted to just fuck around and have one night-stands, which wasn’t your style at all, but you still wanted to see where this would go.  “Tell me your name, and I’ll tell you mine. Fair right?”  He stroked his chin with his unoccupied arm, contorting his face and making you giggle a little, even though it wasn’t very funny. With him, you felt like you could strangely be yourself.  “Hmmmmm....” stroking his chin more, he began to pick up and sip his beverage as if it was a tea cup, holding opposite ends of each other and deeply drinking. He set the cup down.  “Nope.”  Exasperated, you slam your cup down.  “That aside, let’s get back to the point!,” he leaned closer into you, smiling a little as you jumped back. Your confidence when you talked with him had dissolved into thin air.  “You’re really cute.”  Frozen in place, you gawk back at him.    He was straightforward, no doubt it, but you didn’t think he was this straightforward. Most men you knew played a game of cat and mouse, only if you caught them you were rewarded.  Opening and closing your mouth, no sound came out. He snorts, taking another sip and waving the bartender to come back, who was now washing cups awkwardly on the other side of the bar.   You almost pitied the bartender, the guy had ordered so many refills at this point, you wouldn’t be dumb to assume he was either a raging alcoholic or another dumb college kid.  “Refill, again.”   The bartender nodded solemnly in reply, swiftly taking the cup. You realize how overworked the poor guy was, wondering how many refills the mysterious white haired man had gotten before you had even step foot in the vicinity.  “I’d love to take you to the bedroom, baby.” he nods as the bartender returns, sipping and looking back down at you.   You bolted upwards, cursing as you realize you’re slouching, not very attractive. The straightforwardness from him was, though. No doubt it, but you were really not looking to break your heart over a fuckboy.  “Uh, um.”  He tips your chin upward, and your heart leaps out of your throat. There was something so undeniably attractive about this act, maybe it was the way he knew how to make you into pudding, or maybe it was the aura of dominance.   Haughtiness literally radiated off of him, as if he knew he could pull a girl in under 1 minute. Well, then again, he probably did know.  Fuck, what were you thinking, this was a complete stranger that could probably pull chicks more attractive then you, times 100.  “Aw, shy? Cute. Don’t worry, you’re intriguing, and if you’re bad at sex, not to worry. I’ll do it all, and I’m good. Maybe give you a few lessons here and there.” he chirped, tilting his head, curiosity evident.   “But, it’s all up to you, sugar. I’m not trying to force you into this.” the man added.   He did seem hot, and this was really a one-in-a-million chance. No one had really looked at you that way at the level of attractiveness that he had. You didn’t want to regret anything, and getting out of your shell was good right?   What could go wrong?   “...I wouldn’t mind.”   A crooked smirk spread across his face.   “I’ll call an Uber.”

[reinawantspie]

So, my teacher in Personal Development decided that we should make a drawing of what we want to be in the future

And so I did

But, in JoJolion style (~˘▾˘)~

I wants to bees a Psychologistsssststsss

Stand Name: Chains of Roses

Stand User: Jade [No last name], a Psychologist that lives in the outskirts of Morioh.

Stand Appearance: A golden chain that wraps around the stand user with a roses that grows on top of the chains with turqouise light that emits around it.

Stand Ability: It can alter a person's mind, emotions, and memories. Can also create illusions. The user can use it to read minds and can also be a great lie detector. Since it can alter the memory, it can help you remember where the remote is placed so you will no longer bother your mother who is in a SERIOUS BATTLE in Candy Crush, to look for the remote.

Offense: it can grow golden thorns and wrap itself on the attacker. It's attack range is 10 meters.

Defense: it will turn into pure gold chains and wrap itself to its user.

Too OP?

Weakness: Mercury. It desolves in Mercury.

P.S.

Ignore the hand. I got lazy and decided not to put much effort on the hand (ﾉ≧ڡ≦) Teehee~!

Sorry Kira !

P.P.S.

Reposting for more details (ﾉ≧ڡ≦) Teehee~!

[pestopascal]

i just logged into the server what is going ON people are talking about cws and stuff???

okay so bee messaged me at like 6am my time sayign that ppl were like ‘oh i need a break from social media its getting too heavy’ in teh fhr server which is for a game btw that deals with police brutality, anarchy against the state, taking back your rights, racism, homophobia, etc etc like sry sweeties but there are heavy topics in that game sry u cant read

ANYWAY posted a donation link to be like just. not even sarcastic. just hey you can do this to donate and like its got resources. it got deleted. reposted like hrs later and hidden under spoiler tags bc apparently blm donations are a political opinion. so i was like naw fuck that and reposted it again

it dissolved like i pointed out that there are other ways to donate like that stream one or like even just spreading information and how it has resources on how to help first nations as well (yes this includes australia im not ignoring australia contrary to popular belief). and then like people were saying that its leftist fox news propoganda, and how apparently blm is a political opinion, adn then the donation post got buried like nobody’s business but they tagged the spoilered one in genchat and ppl were like well i cant donate so therefore whatever

and then the mods came in like keep heavy topics out and i know we all have moments of jared, 19, but thats fucking dumb lmao and it just got busier and ppl rly showing their asses on what they think is a fucking opinion and eventually there was an announcement made (2hrs after i posted, a week after the protests started), which is UNDER cws btw u need to scroll like i even gave them a script of just post and go.

then someone was like omg u support the riots how dare u so THEN it kicked off again and they got coned but not the person who compared this to fox news and now ppl are talking about how bad they are at modding and how theyve let the server just rot for over a year and posting smute screenshots and like theyre letting this “community manager” just handle basically the stuff now while theyre all there sitting online like you fucked over ur only good mod and now ur stuck to realise u cant be friends with everyone sucks 2 be u ig!!!!!

oh also theyre messaging ppl to not interact with me 💖 and they went into their AU server (which still had the link on the main server but has been removed now) and just trash talked me but i went in and got screenshots and dipped teehee

[mystupidoverwatchimagines]

How Bad Can I Be? (6-Part Series)

Ignore Lorax reference it is not for this blog. So. The idea! I want to do a fun thing of our heros being bad guys. This is a good way to practice some angsty stuff. I am a proud member of the fluffy folk but... I also really like making people suffer a little bit (sadistic? Me? Whaaaaat? Noooooo.) So this is just where the favs are the bad guys (and for some the REAL bad guys)

REQUESTS ARE OPEN HOWEVER

My inbox doesn't accept asks or anon so you will have to send it to my personal messages. I'll be happy to keep you anon.

This is for Reaper, The Shimadas (together), Junkrat & Roadhog (together), Pharah, Soldier 76, and McCree

Reaper-- Manipulation

(Switching it up and putting him first this time)

° He couldn't quite put his finger on this situation as he wondered through the alleys of King's Row. He saw you up ahead, jumping over walls onto stairs and trying to get away from him. To give yourself some distance to take some shots, but you knew if you stayed to close to him, those shot guns would rip you to shreds. You were a young up and coming in Overwatch.

° Jackie's new favorite, he was sure. You were fast, intelligent, agile, and Gabriel had gotten all that just from watching you fight. He could only imagine what it would be like to see you in full action. Too bad he'd probably miss it. He repostioned to be following you through the higher buildings, but he somehow had lost track of you.

° You were hiding. Smart kid. He listened for any sound he could when he looked over his shoulder as he heard a click of a gun loading right behind him. And there you were. Standing with your gun aimed directly at his head. He turned slowly to look at you dead on(teehee), and he took in your face. You really were a young upstart. In your 20s. Early 30s at most. He watched as your chest rose and fell deeply, keeping a steady gaze at his mask.

° "Smart kid," he stated out loud this time, and you wanted to wince at that deep voice but you kept strong. You cocked the gun you held, knowing full well it wouldn't do you any good. Reaper was known for coming back from the dead. That was who he was. A whisper. A ghost. "I bet you're the new favorite of the Overwatch team," he hissed, raising his own guns to point at you. You kept your gaze unmoving but spoke back.

° "A lot of good that does for me today, right?" You retorted coolly. You knew this close range would kill you. He could tear you apart with just one shot. You knew better than to get so close to death but... Without Reaper there, the rest of his Talon team would fall. He was the muscle, without the muscle, the payload could move forward. Distraction. Distraction was the key.

° "And they're going to leave you here to make your sacrifice. Good to know things never change," he spat, inching closer to the end of your gun so that the barrel was touching his mask. "It could be different, though."

° "I'm not interested so you might as well kill me now," you chidded him, unable to help the sassy tone in your voice. You didn't really have time to care if you angered him, but you were caught off guard when you hard a dark laugh come instead of a bullet.

° "What would be the point in killing you?" He stated sarcastically, cruelly. You keep the gun trained on him but he put his guns away in a relaxed way, your eyes searching him up and down in confusion. "But I do have a deal for you." You stayed silent but your eyes narrowed to show you were paying attention. "Join Talon. We could use a little more muscle on the team. And with a little training... A few upgrades... I bet you would be... unstoppable."

° "Doesn't sound like much of a deal, what's in it for me?" You asked, tilting your head to the side, an unamused look on your face. He did the same, cracking his neck with a loud snap.

° "I'll let the payload through, pull the operatives out, your 'team' members make it through another day."

° "And if I refuse?"

° "I kill each and everyone of them, slowly and mercilessly. And leave you, the only surviving member. How do you think ol' Jackie boy would like that?" He asked, taking a clawed hand and lowering your weapon out of his face and putting it so it pointed at his heart. But you looked on in confusion.

° "Jackie?" You questioned gently, not registering the name and this seemed to anger him.

° "Yes..." He hissed but he spoke no more on the topic, the empty eye sockets on the mask looking into your eyes, "Do we have a deal?" He watched as you thought about his offer and looked over your shoulder as you heard gun fire and yelling ring through the air. You narrow your eyes in thought as you turned back to look at him. This payload was so important. You needed to ensure its safe passage. You lowered your eyes and took a deep breath. You finally lowered your weapon, relaxing your grip on the trigger.

"Yes," he stated gently, suddenly wrapping an arm over you, trench coat covering you and suddenly the both of you vanished into the night. However, the shooting did stop abruptly, and the payload did reach its destination.

--6 Months Later--

° "Y/N?" 76's voice reached your ears but you didn't raise your eyes to look at him, but your gun was raised, aimed directly between his eyes.

° You looked different. You looked... Scary. He remembered the bright young recruit they had brought into the fold, and it was you. But you... Had been changed. Your skin looked dim, eyes bright red with wires seemingly laced into your skin, connecting to your eyes. The edges were black, the veins around your eyes black as well. Some more wires were evident down the sides of your neck. Moira and Maximilen must have had big plabs for you. You were wrapped in black combat gear, the Talon symbol sewn into the arm. You...

° "You..." He stated, but his eyes weren't looking at you anymore, but to the ghost of a man who had walked into the scene. You shook your head.

° "Jack." You said gently, raising your eyes now, glowing red looking into him. Gabriel floated over to stand behind you, looking into the man of story, of legend as told by Reaper. You kept your gun steady as 76 moved his eyes to look at you.

° "What did you call me?" He asked harshly and you shook your head again as if confused.

° "You're lying to all of us. You never stepped up and took control. You left it to Winston. You could have helped me, you would have found me," you stated harshly, eyes narrowed as your chest heaved.

° "Y/N, he's filling your head with lie--" he started but you cut him off quickly.

° "Morrison its either you or everyone else. He said he would call them off if I killed you, and spare everyone else in Overwatch," you stated weakly, your anger falling and a sadness overcoming you. You lower your eyes again, as some tears escaped you. You felt a clawed hand on your shoulder and you shrugged it off angrily. You stand up straight and point the gun with more confidence at Jack's head, face looking stone still. Jack's face stayed hidden behind his mask up until this point, but he sighed in defeat and rose his hands and clicked off the mask. He removed it from his face, revealing a scarred face, the face of a man who had gone through so much. You look upon it in respect, nodding gently. You still had tears streaming down your cheeks as you cocked your gun. You look at his features, studying them.

° "You look like Gabriel," you stated gently, meaning the scars on his face. Jack laughed weakly.

° "No need to add insult to injury, cadet," he stated firmly, but he gave a smile, "Make sure its you that does it. I don't want that mistake taking me out," he added bitterly. You nod firmly and speak.

° "He made a deal with me. He said I would do it to save everyone else," you state honestly. You keep the gun aimed at him and you add, "Thank you, soldier. For everything." Jack nodded with a smile and he sits his head back against the wall. More and more tears stream down your cheeks as Reaper stood behind you still, watching on, behind the mask there was so much want to see this. So many years. And he got Jack's favorite to do it. He was taken back when a sob escaped your lips. You really were Jack's protege. Even though he had lied to you about his identity, you felt close to him. Gabriel felt a twinge of jealousy enter his heart. But as he heard you yell suddenly and loudly, screaming out your heart, your anger but the gun went off and Reaper sae Jack's blood splatter all over the wall. He watched as you fell to your knees, hands covering your eyes as you cried weakly. Jack Morrison, Soldier 76, Ex-Commander of Overwatch, was dead.

° Gabriel heard gun shots ring closer to where you two were and he called into the comm, "Move back, target down. Retreat and leave survivors." He quickly wrapped you in his trench coat and the both of you disappeared in a swirl of smoke.