#and the worst part is they’re like ‘you’re a king’ and

[autumnhobbit]

made a huge mistake (watched the lotr behind the scenes on wrapping production of rotk)

[deadsetobsessions]

AU of my Gotham/Tim Drake! Danny where Danny doesn’t know any knowledge beforehand about the DC universe.

Danny doesn’t know how he got here, but the fact that he now shares something in common with Vlad other than their technical halfa status disgusts him

His new name is Timothy Jackson Drake. It’s so far removed from Danny that his parents had him examined for deafness because he didn’t respond to it. He got better at it, at putting on the mask Janet and Jack Drake wanted to see. So they took him to the circus.

He meets Dick Grayson. Danny thinks the kid is adorable, even if Danny himself is technically younger. He sees the flying Graysons fall. The buzzing in his head doesn’t go away.

He’s five, when the fading spirit of Gotham reaches out and pleads her King to protect her city in her stead. She is fading. He says yes, because she’s one of his. The buzzing in his head settles and oh because that’s what’s been missing this entire time. Danny didn’t have a haunt and Gotham gave him one.

He grieves when she dies, the new title settling around small shoulders, and the city grieves with him. In the city proper, Batman and Robin are having the worst night of their lives in the sudden storm.

He’s nine. Robin is Dick Grayson. Dick Grayson, in turn, is an idiot. Batman… well, he’s at least mentoring and protecting the child vigilante, which is more than Danny ever had. He grows fond of them. How could he not, when they tried their hardest to help his city? To help him?

He shows himself, to the duo, in his Phantom form. It’s still him, still modeled after Danny Fenton’s face instead of Tim Drake’s. Ghosts are a reflection of the soul, after all.

“Who are you,” Batman demands, shielding Robin with half a step.

“Gotham.” He replies. Danny wills the city to affirm his claim and the city wraps its arms around the vigilantes. Batman and Robin understands, a deep well of pure knowledge being tapped into in ways they weren’t truly meant to understand.

“…How?”

“Magic,” Phantom says, dry. He tells them of city spirits, and that they can call him in times of dire need.

Dick calls him to help with Two Face. Two Face learns the pain of unmelting ice to the balls.

His core aches when the Bats fight, but Danny knows now that it is inevitable. They’re part of his haunt, his ‘fraid. He knows these things far before they come into fruition.

Dick moves to a sister city. Phantom expands his haunt to Bludhaven because he doesn’t, won’t, ever leave his Robins to themselves.

Nightwing is hopeful, is pleasantly surprised, and very suspicious when he shows up during patrol.

“Gotham…? What are you doing here…? This isn’t, well, Gotham?”

“Satellite City. It is an extension of myself. You were Robin, yes. You’re Nightwing, now. But that doesn’t mean I won’t protect you when I can.”

Phantom goes back, and finds a kid trying to steal tires to make a living. He guides his Knight to him. The starved features, the bones Danny could see, it tugs at his core. It feels like the Ancient of Fate themselves were pulling him along.

“How’d you know I was taking the wheels?”

“Gotham.”

“Are you… high on shrooms or something?”

Bruce sighs. Batman asks Gotham to meet the new Robin, and chuckles when Jason is surprised by the glowing green figure.

Phantom hides this Robin just as much as the last one. He curls shadows around his vigilantes, sometimes at the same time, and softens what little sounds they made while stalking through his city for crime.

He makes small jokes with Jason. Danny forgets, a little, the crushing loneliness of being Timothy Drake.

“I didn’t kill Garzona!”

“You-”

Batman stops as a chill he’s never had experienced directed at him weaves around his neck. An angry Gotham.

“He didn’t kill him.” Danny slides a cold hand on Jason’s shoulders.

But the damage had been done and the next day, Batman is begging Danny to tell him any clues of where Jason had gone.

“Ethiopia.”

He clears the way for Batman to get to Robin. He clears the way for Bruce to get to Jason.

He’d fallen into the trap of believing that Batman would handle everything when in the end, he’s just a man in a mantle that demands more than he ever thought he’d have to pay.

Robin is dead and Danny grieves. The skies crack open and pours a torrent of smogged rain water upon the streets of Gotham. Despite that, Crime Alley is untouched by flood. They say the second Robin was protecting his home.

In a way, it’s not wrong.

Gotham fishes Batman from the bay, carelessly tossing the broken Joker against a shipping container.

“You can’t keep doing this. You’ll die.”

Bruce, Batman, lays on his back, eyes glazed and empty. “Maybe I want to.” He admits. And Danny can’t lose someone else. It’s already bad enough he feels the death of everyone in his city, he can’t lose him too. But Dick won’t come back. He already denied Gotham when Phantom had asked him to come back. Granted, Dick was nervous about denying him the entire time, but Danny realized that he’d lost a brother in the colors his parents chose for Dick. Danny- Phantom had cradled Dick in a swaddle of shadows and comfort.

“Alright.”

“Is it? Alright? I- I don’t want to fail you, Gotham.”

“It is. You’ve always made me proud. You will always make me proud. Whether it be by different name, it matters to me not. Stay. Heal.”

Like Dick was given permission, like he received a hint of peace, Dick Grayson crumpled to the floor and sobbed into Gotham’s shoulder.

(Later, long after Dick Grayson realized his little brother was also his city personified, he cries again into Tim’s shoulders after the later dropped a flower pot perfectly on top of Catalina Flores’ head.)

Gotham, Phantom, Danny makes a choice.

“Tomorrow, a child will show up at your door. You will let him in.”

“No- I can’t. I won’t.” He knows what Danny will ask of him.

“You will.” Danny doesn’t ever do it with his people, with his city, but dire times call for dire actions. It is an order. And Batman is Gotham’s knight. “You will. You will train him. You need a Robin to leash your brutality. I need a Robin, for Robin is my hope. The city’s hope. Our people’s hope. Do not forget the goal you have set out to accomplish in my city.”

Batman rages at him, until he falls unconscious from the wounds he’s gathered. Danny brings him home. He tells Alfred what to expect tomorrow. Bruce wakes up, eyes fixated on the crack that appeared on Danny’s neon green face. “Did. Did I do that?”

Danny nods slowly.

Batman crumples into Bruce Wayne. “Okay.” He says. “Alright. Tomorrow.”

Gotham watches him, unreadable. “Tomorrow.” He says, before fading away.

Tim Drake shows up at the door. Nightwing shows up not long after. Tim Drake adapts to Bruce Wayne’s cold looks and brutal training. Slowly, but surely, he leashes in Batman’s grief fueled brutality and less criminals go to prison with half of their lives beaten out of them.

Batman doesn’t see Gotham as much anymore. He feared that he’s angered his city, that he is no longer welcome.

When Tim figures it out… he allows the roads and the shadows to help Batman once more.

Batman stared intently at the extra coverage. “Thank you,” Tim hears him whisper. “I’m sorry.”

And when Jason Todd comes back to life and attacks Tim in the tower, Tim lets Hood beat him. Gotham had failed him, as Jason’s city. He deserves it. (He doesn’t but Danny had gone past the point of being healthy about his own physical wellbeing. Perhaps being a city spirit this long had affected him, even with the King’s title mitigating the worst of the damages.

“HE REPLACED ME!”

“Because I ordered him to.” Tim whispers, past the pain of a broken leg.

“You? Order Batman around? If you’re going to lie, make it a better one, Replacement.”

Tim catches Jason’s wrist, the one holding the knife to Tim’s throat.

“Robin,” he says simply, allowing Gotham to come out and peer at the child that is his.

Jason stares, disbelieving. Gotham had… Gotham had come by and approved of his plans to clean up Crime Alley. Gotham had extracted a promise not to damage the buildings.

“No.”

His city stares back and him and Jason stumbles away. Tim shifts into Danny, into Gotham.

“You…”

“I am Gotham. I- I did not want to wear these colors. They were yours and Dick’s. But Bruce was hurting the city, he was hurting me. So I made sure he stopped.”

Jason stares at the new cracks, the fresh ones he just caused and the old ones he does not remember being on Danny’s ghostly skin.

Jason swallows. “I’m sorry.”

“As am I. I am sorry I was not there to save you. I am sorry that you died.”

Jason stares at him. The Replacement is Gotham. Jason almost destroyed his city.

“I am glad that you’ve returned. That you’re alive, now.”

“…Really?”

“Always.”

Alternative Version of the above Tower Scene:

Jason slides the knife against the Replacement’s neck.

Danny sighs. “I can’t believe I’m dying again.”

Jason pauses. “What the fuck did you just say, Replacement?”

Danny rolls his eyes at him and Jason rethinks his decision of not offing the little fucker right away.

“You think you’re the first one to die in this household? Get a grip. I did it first, way before you did, jackass.”

Tim is 14. He’s a child. What the fuck is Jason doing?

“When…?”

“How do you think I became Gotham, little bird?”

Jason freezes. And then he’s scrambling backwards, the knife flung away in his horror.

Tim shifts into Gotham and Jason bites back a cut of regret and bitterness.

He… no, what? What even is happening?

“Why is the Joker not dead? You… you told me that you loved me. That Gotham… that-”

“I’m cruel, little bird. The Joker would not suffer as much if he were dead.”

“He’s killing people! He’s killing your own!”

“So everyone thinks.”

“What?”

“I am Gotham, little bird. Mass hallucinogenic gasses are so within my reach to the point it is concerning. Perhaps you should help Ivy with the city clean up?”

“Huh?!”

[lild00td00t]

Hi, I hope you are doing well! Can I request headcanons on how Crocodile, Buggy, Mihawk and Doflamingo would propose to their s/o or how they would react if their s/o was the one to propose to them? (Which ever you feel like is fine! :))

Have a great day!

One Piece War Lords: Proposing to their S/O

This was so adorable thank you for requesting the War Lords!! I’ll have to write a part 2. Buggy was honestly my favorite for a bit… 👉🏻👈🏻 but these are gonna be so HELLA friggin cheesy. I’m a hopeless romantic.. so please… COURT ME LIKE WE’RE IN PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.

Buggy

• He’s so nervous, his hands are clammy, even on the inside of his gloves sweat is lining along the fabric of them. He’s talked it over to himself multiple times, rationalizing the best and worst case scenario.

• He can’t help but melt when he sees you with the promise ring he gifted. He sweats bullets when you tease him about getting married… at dinner he nearly choked, and poor Mr.3 nearly had a heart attack just trying to dislodge the food that got caught in his throat. But he felt like that a majority of the times you discussed it. Like something was lodged in his throat and cutting off his air.

• So when you’re watching the crew bring a haul back on the ship, hands on your hips in a relaxed stance, you barely notice when he slips a ring on your finger, and he discreetly prays you don’t say anything about it until you screech and throw your arms around him, his body probably splits in 2 out of shock- this poor man -

• “ How does it feel knowing you’re going to be married to the future pirate king ?! Flashy ?! As it should feel?! “ Then the second you romanticize over the idea he practically hemorrhages 🥲

Mihawk

• The most poetic. God - he probably leaves you little poems every where, and they’re all based on you <3

• Your dates are so adorable. Like picnics, or going on row boats. It’s so quiet on the water, so you don’t notice when he slips down on one knee, clasping your hands in his while presenting a ring.

• You nearly flip the boat when you finally comprehend what’s happening but luckily your better half is much more calm and collected.. he was prepared for this reaction.. atleast he thinks he was -

• He kisses your knuckles, then overlaps your hands with his and holds them to his heart

• “ It seems as though the love saga of my poems will continue until death do us part…“

Crocodile

• Posessive..

• He truly is materialistic and is telling the truth. You genuinely will get what you want. But he can see it in your eyes that you’re not after his money, or his valuables or even his status. He can see the way you adoringly look up to him when he talks. And he’s not used to such an innocent form of love you offer.

• He feels that you must be protected, for what you make him feel is vulnerability. Which scares him. Because no one has ever made him feel that way before. So when the time is right, most likely on a starry night when you’re on a walk he’ll stop, just long enough to kneel and pull out the box, just long enough for you to realize what he’s doing. And with that, he confesses his love

• “ With this ring, you are mine.. whatever you want you can have. You will always be treated with my respect and my love, nothing will ever be enough to satiate how I feel for you. No amount of gold compares to that ring on your finger, for it holds the greatest power in all the world.. my promise to you. “

Doflamingo

• Like crocodile he’s possessive.. but with a sweet?? Spin ?? To it ???

• The moment he slips the ring on your finger he brings your hand to his lips for a sweet kiss, giving you that bone chilling smile while keeping his lips pressed to your skin.

• He doesn’t make a big, fancy show out of it. Because he knows that you don’t need everyone to know. It’s obvious that you’re his

• You listen when he talks. You’re never put off by his nightmares or bad moods. You urge him to talk about his brother and family. You talk about starting a new one… as a second chance.

• “ A second chance for the Heavenly Demon.. “ he thinks to himself, lost in thought. You weren’t scared to say that he was flawed, but it didn’t matter, because you could work on it together

• “ As long as you are mine, you will be taken care of and no one, I mean no one, will ever mistreat you ever again, lest they want my wrath… “ And he means it. He means every word of it. He would wage wars in your name, bring cities to the ground, and split the ocean in two if he could, unlike crocodile, who is alittle more materialistic with his promises. <3

[rebelspykatie]

Steve joins a fraternity because of his father, slots himself easily into the most prestigious fraternity on campus as a legacy. All the guys envy him, his father’s name following him, branding him as a top dog, even as a lowly freshman. The other pledges either resent him or suck up to him, hoping some of that Harrington charm will rub off on them. 

Steve’s done what’s expected of him his whole life, but college gives him that taste of freedom he’s longed for. When he starts dating Eddie, it’s like a breath of fresh air. Besides Robin, he’s the first person that really sees Steve. He’s not a Harrington, or King Steve, or a legacy pledge. He’s just Steve and it’s intoxicating. 

Expectations weigh heavily on Steve. He’s bound to disappoint. He’s used to being the prettiest person in the room, but not the smartest, and the future his father has laid out for him is outside of his capabilities. He’s never going to be a lawyer and take over his father’s firm. He’s never going to be as smart as his little brother Dustin. He’s never going to be anything besides a trophy husband at this rate, good at spending daddy’s money and looking good on social media. 

But Eddie makes him feel like he’s more. More than his father’s name, more than the notoriety he brings to his house. What’s not easy, is that Eddie is in a rival fraternity. Steve begged him not to go to the dark side, but Eddie couldn’t be swayed. The stuffy, prestigious nature of Steve’s house didn’t appeal to Eddie. No, he was drawn to the misfits, the house of slackers and party animals. He wanted to have fun, not make a name for himself. Steve wishes he had that freedom.

The rivalry gets between them, pranks wars gone wrong, comments on how they’re fraternizing with the enemy. Eddie’s better than Steve at ignoring it. It gets under his skin and festers. Eddie’s never on time, always partying with his brothers, late night dnd sessions that seem to be more important than their dates. When Eddie misses a function and leaves Steve standing there alone like an idiot, it’s the last straw and they part ways. 

It’s hard to avoid your ex when you’re on the same campus, just a few houses down from each other. But Steve gets over Eddie by getting under Tommy. He falls prey to his father’s expectations again and sees Tommy as the advantageous match he could be. They’re closer to equals, rich fathers and ambitions that get the best of them. 

It’s easy with Tommy in a different way, the way they both know deep down it’s a political match. They’re both gaining something from this. Tommy gets the hottest guy on campus on his arm, the future leader of their fraternity, and Steve gets to tell his father he’s not messing up his entire life dating a directionless, no-name loser from the worst fraternity on campus. Even if his father’s comments on Eddie make his blood boil, wanting to leap to Eddie's defense, even if he doesn’t deserve it after abandoning Steve. 

Steve’s never been made of the hard stuff like his father or Tommy, he’s always been brittle, too soft on the inside, too fragile to handle that kind of pressure long term. And it cracks, blows up in his face when Dustin wants to pledge and finds Tommy cheating on him with Carol. 

Dustin is less scared of their father, not the firstborn, never expected to take over the business, but he’s also inherently got more freedom because he’s known since he was a kid that he wanted to be a polymer engineer. That path is straightforward and one filled with accolades that impress, the kind of degree you can name drop at a business meeting and not be embarrassed about, because you know Dustin’s not destitute and broke. Dustin’s also never been good at the game their father plays. He’s honest and kind, even if he’s a sarcastic little shit. 

It shocks everyone when Dustin decides to rush Eddie’s fraternity. It’s become a home to misfits in the Greek system, the ones that don’t realy fit in anywhere else. Probably because they’re less worried about grades and more worried about their dnd campaigns and how many nerds they can collect under one roof. That should’ve been enough of a clue for Steve on where he’d land, but Steve is still blindsided by it. Mostly because it inadvertently brings Eddie back into his life. 

Suddenly he’s around every corner, teasing Steve about Dustin, asking more questions about their home life than he ever did while they were together, like there’s no bad blood between them and with a hint of understanding behind his eyes. He even checks in on Steve post Tommy fiasco. It tugs at something in his gut, tricks Steve into thinking Eddie still cares, that he didn’t abandon him because he found out how little Steve has to offer. That he didn’t get tired of Steve not being enough. 

Maybe Steve’s ready to give Eddie another chance. Maybe they deserve another chance at something real, especially when the universe keeps pulling them together. Steve wants something that’s his for once, something he built on his own, something that his father has no hand in. Eddie Munson might just be the very thing that saves Steve from himself. 

[thesuperiorrobin]

𝐒𝐚𝐟𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝~

❥Pairing: Damian Al Ghul x Wife!Reader

❥Word count: 1.0k

❥Warning: mentions of blood but very brief, mentions of killing, mentions of kidnapping

❥S: Damian worst fear is losing his beloved wife (I wrote this in an hour. It’s 3:20 am rn☹️)

“This is so unlike you” Damian grumbles under his breath as he lies on a bed, a green silk robe hanging off his shoulder as you tend to a deep wound on his midsection with a needle and thick thread in hand. There’s sweat dripping down his forehead. A part of you feels bad but at the same time, he decided to have you tend to all his wounds after coming home from a mission his mother or grandfather sent him on.

Some days he’ll come home with a scratch or none and other days he’ll come back with gashes and marks that’ll stay permanent on his tan skin. As the needle in your hand digs into his skin once more—it hits a nerve that has him griping your wrist tightly and hissing loudly. Despite being an assassin, despite going through every single hard training process there was, a torture process, he still feels his pain.

“I’m sorry” you watch as Damian lets out a heavy sigh, letting go of your writs and gripping a metal handle beside the bed. “Just a few more so please bear with me” Minutes had felt like hours to Damian once you finished. And with your help, he sits up straight, groaning as we do so. One last step was to wrap the now stitched-up wound with bandages. His arms are up slightly as you reach over his back with the long white strips and bring them back to his front repeating the same process a few more times.

Once done, you help with his robe, gently as ever. You pat away any dust that drapes his shoulders. There’s still anger that clouds his eyes when he looks down at you “What happened?” Your hand grazes his cheek softly before placing your cold palm up against his warm cheek.

“It’s nothing, Zawjati. Come let’s go to bed” Your heart throbs at the sudden name. His hand reaches up to your hand, the sliver hand on his finger shining brightly as you gently peel it off his face, kissing it softly before he places it back down at your side. A visible frown finds its way on your lips as he walks past you with his head down.

“It’s clearly nothing. I can see it in your eyes” It’s a mumble but Damian can hear it loud in clear. Your eyes connect for a moment before you sigh—averting your eyes away from his “Let me clean up first, I’ll head back in a bit”

Damian leaves without saying a word to you. It takes a bit longer, mostly because you take your time cleaning and sanitizing. It takes thirty minutes before you’re heading back to your shared bedroom. You expect him to be asleep after being away for so long, but he’s wide awake when you enter the room, sitting upright on the bed rob long gone and with a book in his hand waiting for you. He places it down, on the nightstand beside him.

“You should be asleep” You shake your head, making your way to your side of the king-size bed.

“I can never sleep peacefully knowing you aren’t by my side” he lifts the silk blanket from your side—waiting for you to get in the covers.

You waste zero time as you jump in, head landing on the soft pillows. A sigh of relief leaves your lips once he throws the blanket over your shoulder. He watches as you snuggle closer, eyes closing. Damian’s arm reaches for the small lamp on his nightstand. The once-dim room turns dark within an instant as he turns it off. The wound on his midsection has Damian getting under the covers carefully. The shuffling stops and the room goes quiet. Damian thinks you are fast asleep, but when he feels your fingers tracing gentle shapes on his biceps he thinks otherwise.

Goosebumps cover his body. He can’t sleep either, not because of you tracing his skin, but because his mission early has him thinking. His target threatened you, threatening to take you from his side permanently. The assassin can handle petty little threats, but when they’re about his wife, all he sees is red. His wound was just the aftermath of his outburst. They’re all dead—every single one of them.

He has nothing to worry about—so why is he still worrying about it?

How many others, how many of his enemies feel the need to target you just so they can take him and the rest of the league down?

How much more does he need to paint his hands red just to keep you safe and sound, far away from harm's way? Damian would never say it out loud, out of fear and out of his reputation, you are the most saint and innocent thing to ever happen to him in his life. Someone so innocent and pure belongs to him, someone who’s the exact opposite—someone who can paint an entire city red with his bare hands if he needed to— have you sound asleep beside him—acting like he can’t break you with just his thumb.

When he looks at you—all his worries disappear just like that. Your breathing clams him down. Why worry, when he has you safe and sound right beside him? He takes one glance at your sleeping figure beside him, so peaceful and beautiful, curled up against his arm. His other arm reaches over to brush a few strands of your hair out of your face. He lets out a small breath as he watches you snuggle closer. He moves a bit, arm sneaking its way under your neck and over your shoulders, head on top of his arm using it as a pillow.

“I promise I would never let anything happen to you, beloved. Not now nor ever” A single kiss goodnight on your forehead and he closes his eyes, the darkness following soon after.

[angelzai]

atsushi nsfw alphabet NEOW PLEASE PLEASE 🙏🏻

nsfw alphabet - atsushi nakajima . . . .ᐟ

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

wc: 2.8k

cw: switch!atsushi, gn!reader, implied ada!reader, unprotected sex, creampie, dirty talk, mentions of exhibitionism/mild voyeurism/semi-public sex, mild marking, communication, praise, mild degradation, brief mirror sex, brief edging, breeding kink if you look at it from the right angle, spanking, teasing

reid: anon, the way this was already in the works when you requested…you get me

. . . .ᐟ

a = aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

cuddly cuddly cuddlyyy

for the love of god cuddle him

even if he’s just dommed the hell out of you, pull him close and run your fingertips across his shoulders and kiss his hair and tell him how good he did

don’t worry, he will return the favor! but he just needs to hear it

if he was rough, he will reaffirm that anything mean he might’ve said was bedroom talk only and that you are wonderful and he loves you so much.

clean-up? nooo, stay with him <3

always always always verbally confirms that you’re feeling happy, loved, and safe after. communicative king

b = body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

he loves your hands. they hold him so gently, they caress him so softly, they make him cum so hard, and they’re so pretty - what else could he ask for?

if you’re not both busy elsewhere, he will hold both your hands during sex. kisses your knuckles and palms, licks and bites your fingers - he borderline-worships your hands

he likes his arms, especially since he started eating better and filling out. also impressed with his back when he’s finally in decent shape

(in all reality, the biggest selling point of these two places is probably the scratch marks you leave on them - he can’t get enough of gazing at his marked-up biceps in the morning, or twisting at the waist to see the violent red tracks you left down his back<3)

c = cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

unbelievably gorgeous while he cums

so desperate to cum in you. he doesn’t quite know whether it’s instinctual or the fact that you just feel so good around him, but he needs it and he will beg for it.

not opposed to cumming on you per say - he’ll tell you how pretty you look covered in it, but there’s nothing that gets him hard again instantly quite like watching his seed drip out of your twitching hole <3

d = dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

gets so hot at the thought of being caught fucking you

it’s a little confusing to him - he absolutely does not want to make anyone uncomfortable, especially you, and the idea of being caught by an authority figure/someone he knows isn’t super appealing to him either.

it’s less getting caught and more the looming threat that he could be caught that gets him going

with some thorough discussion and plenty of prior consent from all parties, he could definitely get down with being watched

won’t bring this up solely because he doesn’t know how to </3 he doesn’t want you to think he’s weird for it, but please, just fuck him in that single stall bathroom at the mall

e = experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

VIRGIN

basic headcanon, i know.

but listen - his pretty little head thinks up some of the dirtiest shit

you heard it here folks, atsushi nakajima is a closet freak. an absolute fucking animal disguised as an angel

you roll in your chair over to his desk. how was his morning, you ask? do you want him to tell you how he woke up with the worst hard-on and thought about you while he fucked his hand? how he pictured your watery eyes lookin’ up at him and your warm throat constricting around his cock and your soft hair knotted around his fingers? because he’ll tell you alright, in that sweet, soft voice of his, and he’ll say it with an unassuming face, just out of everyone’s earshot so that if you react you’d be the one to incriminate you both over your conversation - you’d be the one subject to dazai’s teasing and kunikida’s wrath and ranpo’s incessant questioning. and he’ll trace his fingertip over the back of your hand and blush so subtly, so innocently while he talks. don’t be fooled by his timidity, he knows exactly what he’s doing with this.

he feels so powerful when he can fluster you like this - don’t be surprised when he asks you to help him grab something from the supply closet later that day.

he might not have the physical experience, but he has enthusiasm, determination, and filthy words and fantasies to make up for it <3

f = favoite position (this goes without saying)

anything that allows you to hook your legs over his shoulders is his favorite <3

i’ve seen it called a few different things, but the praying mantis position and any variation of it - yeah he’s big on this

he’s a sucker for classic missionary so he can kiss you, hold your face, swallow your moans, pin your wrists above your head, press his forehead to yours, mark your neck, bury his face in your hair. ugh such a sweet boy

g = goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

as a rule, he’s not that goofy. he takes your pleasure seriously!

please don’t laugh at him too hard in bed if he does something unintentionally funny. he’s still a little insecure about his lack of experience

if he says something that’s just a beat off or his toby fox undertale ringtone starts blaring from his phone just brush it off

what he doesn’t mind at all is laughing and joking at the silly sounds your bodies sometimes make. it alleviates awkwardness!

h = hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

didn’t really realize that upkeep was even a thing until he was with you

he’s pretty sparse! his body hair’s only slightly darker than his silvery locks, and he doesn’t have much to begin with

does have a faint and pretty little happy trail <3

i = intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

he’s a little rough around the edges when it comes to setting the mood - he’ll probably just start kissing you and mumbling “wanna fuck you,” “‘m so horny,” “please touch me.” clumsy, but cute and effective <3

loves letting you know how perfect you are, how well you’re doing, how good you’re squeezing him…he forgets to talk so much when he’s lost in his pleasure, but he really values letting you know how you make him feel!

expects the same from you - tell him what you like, what you’re not liking, if you need him to slow down or change positions. makes for really communicative and romantic sex

again. hand holding <3

j = jack off (masturbation headcanon)

horny little fuck. jacks off so much more than you’d expect him to.

another pillow/blanket humper sighs dreamily

he kind of hates how shameful it can feel after? he still sometimes has trouble believing he deserves pleasure at all. he’d much rather just have you there to reassure him that he deserves to feel good <3

k = kink (one or more of their kinks)

at the start of your relationship, he kind of just assumes he’s a sub - that he’d like to be taken care of, let you have control and make the decisions, etc. and it’s true! he does like that!

but oh god, if you encourage him to dom you, there is truly no going back from how feral he gets.

it’s anyone’s guess on any given day whether he’ll be in the mood to dom or sub. he comes to really appreciate this versatility about himself!

doesn’t mind some mean words once you build up excellent trust with him. let’s be real, he’s a sassy lil motherfucker (cough “no wonder dazai up and left you” “you’re even more pathetic than i am” cough) - he can spew some ultra tasteful degradation <3

gradually gets off even harder on being rough with you as your relationship progresses, he gets more comfortable, and you both explore more. he grows to become big on punishments (read: bending you over his lap and spanking you red) if you’re being bratty

but at the end of the day, it’s atsushi we’re talking about. so most importantly…

PRAISE

PRAISE

PRAISE

your tigerboy needs praise so bad - doesn’t matter if you’re domming or he’s domming.

he’s sitting with his back to your chest while you stroke him and play with his nipples? whisper in his ear about how pretty he sounds, that he’s being such a good boy, his dick’s so perfect, you’re so in love with him.

on the flip side, he’s drilling into you ruthlessly after a stressful day? be extra loud for him - sob and cry about how good it feels, how he’s so big, how he fucks you so well.

l = location (favorite places to do the do)

so down bad for doing it on the bathroom counter

he’ll hoist you up to sit you on the very edge of the sink to fuck you with his arms wrapped around your middle and his face buried in your neck

(looks up into the mirror every so often to watch your ass ripple against the counter and your head loll back - can’t help the wild grin on his face as he leans back to give you a glimpse of his dark eyes and shit-eating expression. loves watching himself make you feel good almost as much as he loves making you feel good.)

m = motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

when you love on him in front of other people.

he won’t go over the top with pda, but he really enjoys the little pecks, squeezes, and touches that are only for him

you offer to go get everyone at the agency coffee from the café downstairs, but atsushi’s the only one that gets a sweet tug on the collar of his shirt and a kiss on the cheek before you go. little reminders like that let him know your love is all his, and it gets him impatient to get you home

will kind of go out of his way to make his pda appear practical. it helps him avoid embarrassment, he swears. oh no, you look cold at the train stop, he better wrap his arms around you from behind and press you to him! the fact that passersby get to know you’re his is totally just a bonus, nothing more. :)

n = no (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

as another one with a trauma-ridden past, he cannot handle degradation and humiliation taken too far. no 24/7 D/s dynamic for him please. of course he wants to be your whore, but that’s not all he wants to be! please keep it moderate and in the sexy space. always remind him how valued and loved he is immediately before and after. he truly loathes feeling worthless, it would be even worse if that feeling was coming from you :(

o = oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

receiving takes pressure off of him - i can see a lot of your first sexual encounters with him being you going down on him

your experience level here isn’t too important either - the way you look on your knees in front of him has him busting so quick

he’s not a pro at giving by any means, but god he loves doing it.

after getting over the initial fear of disappointing you with his mouth, he’s very eager to learn what makes you fall apart

all around, he loves communication, so give it to him straight. coach him through it. he’s receptive - he’ll pick up alright <3

p = pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

fucks fast and hard <3

there is so much passion and sensitivity in this boy he’s practically bursting at the seams with it

all that passion combined with his adoration for you translates into pretty intense lovemaking

q = quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

while he much prefers going at it until you’re both unable to move, he’s not opposed to quickies.

perfect time for a quickie is if he’s being sent on an assignment or mission and won’t see you for few days - did you both already have sweet, romantic goodbye sex that morning and also probably the night before? yes. will he still rail you in the agency bathroom literal minutes before he leaves? absolutely.

r = risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

he’ll experiment within his likes and boundaries! as mentioned before, he’d probably like to let a consenting third party watch him while he fucks you

not big on anything that could genuinely hurt you or get you into serious trouble like weapons or dangerous spaces

not super conscious of his own health in general - again, he will want to fuck you raw and finish inside you

s = stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

many. multiple.

he’s got a natural athleticism about him, and on top of his ability and the rigorous physical discipline his job tends to require, he can go three or four rounds on a bad day.

(is this also because he’s just that desperate for and in love with you? yes possibly)

t = toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

i just can’t see him being super into toys

if he were to give them a try, he’d probably want you to use them on him, if that’s okay with you - maybe a cock ring or a vibe strapped to his dick

he’d rather just feel you and fuck you and touch you as much as he can <3 he can’t get enough of you, why on earth would he wanna share you with a piece of silicone?

u = unfair (how much they like to tease)

he likes a moderate amount of teasing. dirty promises in your ear in public, maybe two or three instances of edging before he lets you cum

ultimately though, he wants what he wants and that’s for both of you to feel good - he definitely leans toward a soft dom. he’ll put you in your place for sure, but the main goal is always to make you cum <3

v = volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

breathy and whiney tigerboy. his sounds come from his throat as opposed to his chest

trails off into heaving sighs if he’s going slow; speeds up into rhythmic moans when he’s fucking you fast

“so needy. you gonna be good? promise?”

“you’re gonna lay there all pretty and take it f’me, yeah?”

hello who taught him how to talk like this??

“feels- hah- so good! feels s’good, ah!”

“lemme cum in you, please, please, please…!”

talkative until he’s fucked out - then it’s just unintelligible nonsense and tears

w = wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

he’s insecure! it’s part of where his praise kink comes from. building off that, do this thing when he’s feeling down where you ask him to “tell me what you are.”

it forces him to compliment himself.

let him know you expect him to say something along the lines of “good boy,” “lovely,” “perfect,” just positive self-talk - when he does, repeat it back and reward him and reaffirm it. pound that shit into his brain.

even better? do this while you’re riding him slowly <3

x = x-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

prettiest dick of them all

average and uniform girth from base to tip, pale just like the rest of him other than the blushy, leaky head, and a single prominent vein down the top side

just under six inches. literally perfect

y = yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

he’s hormonal and fucking pent up. just, from life. anytime you wanna let him hit, he’s there

kind of feels bad, actually, about how much he asks you for sex - he would never want you to get the idea that that’s all he wants!

the fact that he loves you so much is definitely a huge part of why he’s so goddamn horny

z = zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

the epitome of “i just let him nut in me, now he’s playing fortnite?”

tigerboy can bounce right back up after some routine post-sex cuddles. as stated before, he’s got stamina

at bedtime, fear not - he’ll get his energy out by hopping up for a quick glass of water, cleaning you off quietly and gently with some nice smelling wipes, or playing a game/reading a book while you drift off.

he’s not a sound sleeper, but he has to admit when he does finally fall asleep next to you after sex, it always seems to be the best sleep of his life. <3

[itsabouttimex2]

How would the platonic yandere Demon Bull Family react to a reader who, unlike Redson, did not grow up with a strong connection to the family or love for them? reader can be loyal to them but usually acts indifferently when it comes to "family love" and sometimes refuses to call Princess Iron Fan "mother" and Demon Bull King "father" but instead calling them "king" and "queen" would also be the same thing to Redson, with respect but like the others two doesn't want to call him "brother"

Fiery Reunion: Part One

(Part One) (Part Two)

“This is your father,” Princess Iron Fan says to you, her voice thick with devotion and love. “Restored to us after centuries of oblivion. How long I have waited for this moment…”

That’s right. It has been a long time, hasn’t it? For all your life, your mother and brother have had one single motivation pushing them forward- find a way to save your father.

Technically, you could say that your goal was one and the same. You’ve been helping them all throughout your life, after all. But even though you’ve shared centuries with them, fighting for the very same man…

You just can’t bring yourself to be as passionate about saving him as they are.

“This is your father,” Princess Iron Fan has to say, because you were barely beyond infancy when he rose against Sun Wukong and was struck down and buried under a mountain for his crimes.

You’re sat on the ground, staring up at him with wide eyes. After having stumbled backwards and fallen to the floor in surprise and fear at the sight of him, you now stay there, gaping at the tremendous demon before you.

Your father, the terrifying Demon Bull King casts a hard gaze to your cowering form, raising an eyebrow.

“So the youngest of my children… has grown up. I had assumed the worst when I did not see them at my prison. Tell me, my love- have they become a powerful warrior for the Bull clan?”

He’s talking like you aren’t even here. Maybe that’s to be expected, given that you were barely a toddler when he was imprisoned and sealed away for hundreds of years. It’s not like he’s ever spoken to you.

Maybe it’s fitting punishment for not remembering the man your mother and brother adore. No matter how unreasonable the feeling is, you can’t stop hating yourself for something so far beyond your control.

“My love, Y/N is a skilled alchemist… they’ve proven their worth many times over. I’ve brought them here to restore your broken horn- and the rest of your body, while they’re at it.” She turns to you, her gaze growing determined. “I will have a troop of Bull Clones assigned to your command. Use them to procure whatever you need to create-“

“That’s alright,” you say quite confidently, interrupting her. “I have all I need to restore him to full health. I’ll only need two, to help me with my cauldron.”

The irritation from being interrupted by one of her children quickly dissipates, her creased brow and frown replaced with a satisfied smirk.

“Wonderful,” she breathes out, grinning from ear to ear. “I’ll leave you to it then.”

You politely bow to her, then to your father.

“If you would follow me, my king?”

He pauses to raise an eyebrow at how you’ve addressed him, but shrugs it off and walks along after you.

(He’s your father, he wants to say. He didn’t come back after hundreds of years to be addressed so formally/coldly by his own flesh and blood. But he’ll let it slide… you just need some time to adjust, perhaps.)

———————————————————————

“A room dedicated to the alchemical arts, I see… and you’ve quite the collection of rare and valuable specimens. Then you will be able to restore me in short order, I take it?”

You reach out to reposition a small pot of glowing crimson star-shaped flowers, shifting it out of the way and leading your father deeper into your room. Two Bull Clones stand uniformly still against the back wall, ready to assist at a moments notice. Really, you only use them when you need a cauldron continuously stirred or heavy ingredients relocated. If you need petals plucked or seeds stripped, you do that delicate work with your own two hands.

“I have dedicated myself to the herbal arts. With the right supplies, there is little I cannot do, my king.”

“Good. It seems you have grown useful in my absence, little one.”

You briefly stagger at his words, unfamiliar to your ears and so, so very strange to hear.

Promptly you compose yourself and grab a well-worn ladder, leaning it against one of your many shelves. Before you can start to climb it, DBK reaches up to grab the glass canister you need. After lifting it close to his eye for examination, he holds it just out of your reach.

“What do you need lotus seed oil for? How will this restore my body to health?”

(And is it dangerous for you? He might just have to take a look through this room of your and confiscate anything you could hurt yourself with.)

“My king, the oil is merely a catalyst- it will allow my other ingredients to mix together properly without interfering with the alchemical process they’ll undergo.”

He allows you to have the canister, watching as you pour nearly a gallon of the oil into an ancient cauldron, emblazoned with glowing sigils. You keep a firm grip on the delicate glass, holding it firmly and slowly pouring the oil-

Then the door to your room opens with a slam, Red Son’s foot leaving a notable crack running through it.

You drop the canister in shock, flooding the cauldron with far more oil than any recipe would need. Grabbing a clean rag in a huff, you turn and shoot him a displeased look, just in time for to see him lunging for you.

He snags you by the shoulders and shakes you back and forth as he yells, “Have your brains taken a vacation, Y/N?! You aren’t supposed to work alone! You know that you’re not allowed to play with your little cauldron if mother or I aren’t with you!”

You push his hands away, pointing up at your father to prove that you aren’t alone in here, that you aren’t breaking any of the frankly unnecessary rules set that he and your mother have set into place for you.

He takes one look at your father, the goes right back to yelling at you for not telling him you’d be using the cauldron anyways.

(A nostalgic pang resounds in Demon Bull King’s chest as he watches the two of you squabble. Before he had been sealed away, you and your brother had been a child and young teen respectively. He had missed so much…)

When he snaps back to his senses, you are on your knees, carefully ladling the excess oil back into the now slippery glass container you had fished out of the cauldron with a rag. Red Son stands over you, frowning as you do.

“Why don’t you just get a Bull Clone to do this for you, Y/N? Even they could do it more efficiently. And you’d be able to prepare more of the elixir-“

“I hate to be disrespectful, my prin-“

“Brother,” he seethes, dark and low. “I am your brother, do you understand me?”

“Y-yes, brother.”

“Now, explain yourself… and do it clearly, little sibling. I don’t have time for any nonsense.”

“The Bull Clones don’t have the precision or gentle touch required to handle my plants and containers. Last time I tried to set them to such a task, I had to relegate them to sweeping up glass instead.”

“Tsk. I’ll make some minute adjustments on two or three of them for you. Perhaps reduce their grip strength and increase their joint dexterity… don’t do anything stupid while I’m gone, Y/N.”

Red Son turns and leaves, and to your surprise, your father goes with him, leaving you alone to finish your work.

Just barely, you hear your father’s voice from the hall, low and hushed.

“You seem… to be quite ‘adept’ with your sibling.”

Somehow, you feel that this doesn’t bode well for the future.

[mewsmagic]

Alright I did say I’d bring my infodumps and fantheying here to tumblr instead so lemme actually do this for once!!

Spoiler warning for Alrecchino’s animated short!

If you haven’t watched it yet, here’s the link!

Alright first things first! It looks like Clervie and Bulle Fruit girl were Alrecchino’s closest friends/sisters, which’s just so cute 🥺

From the visual storytelling and just how we saw Arle and Clervie together much more often than with Bulle Fruit girl, it also appears like Clervie was much much closer to Arlecchino, which’s so interesting!!

I love how Arlecchino is all about blacks, whites and occasional reds, she was always quiet and doing her own thing, and SHE HAD ACTUAL SHORT HAIR UNTIL RECENTLY ACTUALLY!!!! Gnc nation won!!!!

Anyway ahemmm LOL and Clervie was the opposite. A pink, outgoing girl, full of life and wonder for the world she lives in. Also, she was “girly” and wears dresses, while Arlecchino doesn’t seem fond of them (like me omggg)

Like, they’re literally opposites in everything, yet they were so close and so important to each other. Thinking about what comes next hurts my heart like nothing else just because of this.

Another thing I wanna bring up before we move on is: in this part, we learn that Arle’s deal with the black hand is indeed some kind of curse. And that’s probably why she was able to tell Furina’s also cursed, she had experience with one since birth after all

I LOVE THAT THEY HAD THEIR OWN PLUSHIES MADE IN THEIR IMAGE!!!! Arlecchino’s plushie is so cute!!! I wonder if she kept Clervie’s after all these years 🥺

In this part we also learn that their “mother” usually “argues” with her daughters, and for some reason Clervie has quite some injuries. From this, it’s not hard to assume she’s literally beating them up, which’s nasty.

A full grown woman beating up literal kids who cannot defend themselves? As a survivor of parental abuse, I felt this so hard, and I hate that hag so fucking much already.

This part I didn’t get at first, probably bc I didn’t pay attention to the beginning; when I watched it again, I caught it however. Their “mother” not only physically abused them but also made them battle each other to death.

Resulting in Arlecchino being the very one that killed Clervie, and potentially Bulle Fruit girl too.

Naturally, she was full of rage. I would be too, if I were in her shoes.

And that’s why I love her battle against “mother”. I didn’t take many screenshots because it’s a fast moving scene, but “mother”’s dialogue seems to hint that she’s the kind of mother that pretends to be caring and gentle but is actually cruel and ruthless in her actions. Which’s tbh the worst kind of mother probably.

Another detail that caught my eye was that Arlecchino was no match for her without her curse. But as soon as she released and embraced her curse, she not only defeated her “mother”, she blew up the entire building. Which’s epic as hell and I love that for her LOL

I find it interesting that Arlecchino was actually pretty close to becoming a criminal because of killing “mother”. Which’s so tragic when you think that she had already killed Fatui members before (Clervie and Bulle Fruit girl), but they weren’t ranked enough for it to be a big deal, like their deaths didn’t mean anything. But to Arlecchino they did… Aaaaanywayyyy.

For some reason I thought the Arlecchino title succession was much more automatic, like 1. Kill your parent 2. You’re now king. I think it’s because I’ve seen this in other shows before, but here she was taken to Snezhnaya to be judged by the Tsaritsa herself.

Luckily, the Tsaritsa not only pardoned her crimes but also promoted her to Arlecchino. Also I gotta say, her words… “My poor, mad, cursed Knave” hit me so hard. The Tsaritsa does seem to not be that cold and to empathize with her. Based of her tbh.

And at the end, we see a seemingly orphan child. At first I thought this was Freminet, but he has a more yellowish tone of eye color, so maybe this is a random kid?

Anyway, the thing that matters here is that Arlecchino says that she’ll be his strict and unfeeling “father”, which immediately stood out to me against her “mother”’s “kind and caring” approach.

Looks like she decided to be a “strict and unfeeling father” to not become like her own “mother”. This is so real of her tbh. I already knew the previous Knave was nasty, but with this animation it really hit home to me, as a survivor too.

I wanna pull her even more now LOL may all Arlecchino wanters become Arlecchino havers!!!!! I’m so excited!!!!

[nyonyen]

NSFW ALPHABET - satoru

𝕥𝕨: self-harm, yandere themes obviously

let’s treat this like he’s obsessed with you i.e. you’re on the same level as randal. otherwise, he’d be at best indifferent and at worst murderous. yandere rules, ok? ok! (also ignore the fact that dreaming of a 'true' satoru is only possible if you're in a randal-controlled dream. it just isn't convenient otherwise duhh)

AO3

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

quite doting, lays with you and plays with your hair while looking at you like you’re the only person in the world… doesn’t shut up either, even once you’re fast asleep

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

satoru loves his face! it’s been so lovingly crafted by randal’s psyche, why wouldn’t he? he loves your arms… they’re so soft and fragile. everything about you is his favorite, however

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

very into cumming as deep inside of you as he can, no matter if that’s your mouth or otherwise! it’s all about claiming :)

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

has sex with your ‘leftover data’ every time you wake up (same with randal)

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

can he truly have any experience as a dream denizen? he certainly has knowledge!

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

any position in which satoru can see ALL of you is perfect in his eyes. it’s his one requirement!

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

unintentionally goofy in his obsession and worship, but he will pull out the stereotypical anime-boy-rub-head-smile-eyes-closed move 

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

it’s completely smooth like no hair follicles even thought of existing there… makes sense

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

head over heels, truly. he loves to try and meld with your body during sex, to become one with you once and for all

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

in the same way he hurts himself, he often masturbates to see if he can feel anything. he sometimes combines the two! what a freak

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

let’s all be real with each other rn: satoru has a thing for cutting, blood, the whole nine yards. he likes knowing he can truly feel, it gives him this intense sense of exhilaration… he chases that same high with you. other than that, he’s into anything that will allow him to feel your love: biting, scratching, hitting. he doesn’t say he’s masochistic per say, but he is

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

the club room, of course!

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

simply seeing you show up in the dreamscape gets him feeling quite excited, in all ways!

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

would never say mean things to you, or hurt you without hurting himself too, you know?

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

satoru is probably the king of giving in any regard, he'd rip his own heart out for you if it meant you were happy. this absolutely translates to oral, and he does prefer it if you sit on his face/straddle his chest. definitely likes it when you go down on him too! loves it when you dig your nails into his hips and thighs to keep him grounded

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

starts off very sensual, but becomes insanely rough and fast towards his release. he can't help it, don't be mad :(

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

much prefers to take his time with you, but knows that your time with him is limited. he makes the best of it :)

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

as a creation of randal’s, it's only fair that he's in the same boat: nothing is off the table for satoru! he will do anything to please you. anything.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

ah, the benefits of being but a dream… so idealized in every way :)

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

when it comes to himself, he has to improvise toys of pleasure, since no one is having a dream to allow effective/permanent/useful creation to occur… but once you show up? he loves using the proper ones

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

i don't think teasing is in his vocabulary with how desperate he is. maybe it's not on purpose— he just relishes in the feeling of your skin too much, and it distracts him!

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

satoru is very loud, full of praises and proclamations of love

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

at first, he saw you as a threat to his eternal friendship with randal, but came to realize that he was just as, if not more, enthralled with you

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

truly, it can be whatever you desire, but it's about 6 inches

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

incredibly high, so he's roaring to go whenever you so desire. he keeps it under wraps so as to not run you off, but with the way he keeps finding excuses to hug you from behind…

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

the only way this man can properly ‘sleep’ is by offing himself, and even then, he'll show right back up when you dream… so, no sleep!

[kingofthe-egirls]

SUGAR: LUFFY x Y/N (part 2)

part 1

(cw: candy/food mention, kissing)

words: 885

****

You’re standing in the kitchen, candy tray in front of you as you pipette blue gummy bears into the silicone mold.

Luffy sneaks up behind you.

“Smells sweet,” he says, slurping up his spit like a damn dog. He reaches to touch, but you smack his hand.

“It’s too hot!” You say, turning to flick the strawhat captain in his forehead. He yelps, stumbling back with a palm smacked to his face. “You can have some when they’re cooled,” you decide, haughtily sending a glare over your shoulder. He pouts.

“When’s that gonna be?”

You shrug.

“Tonight?”

Luffy groans, slumping forward until his chin hits your shoulder. His noodley arms wrap around your waist, so you freeze. “What about something else sweet?” He whispers with his hot breath puffing at your ear. He scrapes his teeth against the shell.

“Strawhat—,”

“Hush,” Luffy whispers again, tightening his grip around your waist. “Dontcha like me, candy?”

His hands toy with the edge of your shirt, and your skin is sparking against the tinder of his fingertips.

Luffy sucks at your earlobe, before smacking sweet kisses against the edge of your jawbone. “Sweetheart, ya make such sweet treats, gotta taste some of ya, hah?”

The place between your legs is wobbly at best (clenching at worst). His hair and his eyes and his limbs and his breath are all conspiring against you.

Your legs turn jelly beneath you, and you find yourself swooning against his chest. “Ah—!”

Luffy laughs, loud and bright, before spinning you around and pressing your lower back against the counter.

“Sweet thing,” he says before he kisses you.

Sugar

y

. , sweet

*. —

,

****

The half-gasp leaving your lips is embarrassing.

****

Luffy’s lips move against yours slowly, and sensually. He groans, swiping his tongue across your bottom lip. “Sweet,” he says, panting as he parts your lips, speaking directly into the hot cavern of your waiting mouth. “S’what I thought…”

His words send thrills down your spine—spiraling into your gut.

“Mmph!”

It’s all you can moan out, as he sucks your bottom lip between his teeth. You surge into it, arms finally wrapping around his neck so your hands can bury themselves in his hair. Greedily, you suck on his bottom lip, before closing your lips around the tip of his tongue. You break apart, gasping, before swiping your slick, glossy lips against his once more. He’s delicious.

Delirious.

You grin.

He hums against your teeth, as you’re softly chewing on his lower lip, teething at his skin as you sloppily make out with your newest captain.

“Stop,” You whisper, your soft rasp barely registering even to your own ears. It’s alien: someone else. Someone far sexier than you. Is that really what you sound like, when you’re in pleasure?

Seems like it.

Luffy gasps, parting from you again. He’s staring at you, starry-eyed, his lips slick with your spit.

You’re dazzled.

Blinking, you lean against him once more, softly tracing your chapped lips against his. You feel soft, sour, all sorts of things. Chemically inclined to lose your fucking mind.

“Stop—,” You swallow, licking your lips. They taste like his saliva, all savory from meat. “If you don’t have a crush on me, then stop.”

Luffy stares at you.

His breath is low and heavy, his face flushed an ultraviolet rose. Like monarch butterfly wings. Like the crown of a king.

He blinks.

“Course I have a crush on you,” he says, scanning your face. You see the reflection of your scared, vulnerable expression in the pupils of his blown-out eyes. That’s how close you two are. “Why else would I kiss ya?”

You shake your head.

“S’not okay if you’re just teasin’,” you scrunch your face, pressing backward into the counter behind you. Luffy’s face is still mere inches from yours, his arms on the counter on either side of your waist. “Ya hafta really like me, if ya wanna kiss me…,” you trail off, embarrassed.

Luffy presses his forehead against yours. He smooches your cheek.

“Sweetheart,” he says, his breath raspy in his throat, “Just say you’re mine, and I’ll be yours. Captain’s word.”

You stare, his forehead pressed against yours. He’s breathing heavily, as you whine against his lips. “I wish—I was sexy.”

He leans back, frowning.

“Sexy doesn’t even cover it,” he rasps. His hands are stroking your sides, warm thumbs skimming over your ribcage. You shake your head.

“Sexy isn’t something someone sees, when they see me.” It’s a fact of your life, something you’ve always known.

Luffy scowls, still stroking your sides. He sighs.

“Same.”

He sits next to you on the counter, so you move the tray and sit with him.

He stares at his hands, all calloused and dry. He smiles. “Sexy isn’t something someone’s seen in me, either. So when I saw you, and you seemed so sweet, I was like—,” He swallows, “Maybe she’d see me, instead.”

You smile, flustered.

“Thanks, Strawhat.” You nudge his shoulder with your own. His skin is bare and coffee-cream. His heat is so noticeable, so soft as he leans his weight into your side. “Sexy doesn’t cover it for you, either.”

He smiles, perking up.

“See?!” He’s excited, grinning. “Sexy is something we just have to be! So we can just stop striving so hard for it. Since it’s already sexy.”

You smile, nodding.

“Okay! Let’s date,” you say, striking a match inside your ribcage. Luffy squeezes your hand.

“M’yours, sweetheart.”

You smirk.

“You better be.”

[laundrybiscuits]

(continued from this and this)

“Yeah, I just told her to give them the cold shoulder. Don’t have to be mean or anything, just ignore ‘em a little. Play it cool. Drives girls crazy, ‘cause then they have to work to get your attention.”

Eddie stares at him. 

“Holy shit, Buckley’s gonna die alone and it’s gonna be a hundred percent your fault. That is the worst fucking advice I’ve ever heard in my life.”

Steve actually looks offended, like his honor’s been impugned. “What the hell, man? I’ve picked up like a million girls that way. I’m telling you, it works.”

“Yeah, okay, now I’m seeing why my sage advice is required for this whole endeavor. That kind of thing might fly if you’re some alpha dog prom king, but lesbians are like…giant pandas or some shit, okay? The conditions have to be precisely calibrated or they’ll just hibernate in a cave by themselves eating bamboo forever.”

“That doesn’t sound right,” says Steve. 

Eddie shrugs. “Whatever, I’m not a panda scientist. The point is…okay, let’s do a thought experiment.” Oh, this is a bad, bad idea. The Munson specialty. “Say you wanted to get a guy interested in you. How would you do it?”

“I’d just—” Steve stops, frowning. “I mean, girls usually just…laugh at guys’ jokes and stuff. Or wear, like, makeup?”

“How are you so awful at this,” says Eddie. “Jesus. I swear to god I remember you doing better with girls at school. Anyway, I didn’t ask what girls do, I asked what you’d do.”

“Shit, I don’t know. Isn’t that why I’m here?” Steve’s getting a little huffy, fidgeting. “I’d just…find a way to hang out with the guy, I guess. Laugh at his dumb jokes.”

“Yeah, sure,” Eddie says patiently. “But that’s what you do with friends too, right? And when you’re walking a perilous path far from the bright streets of heterosexuality, you probably don’t want to risk being too obvious, in case you’re wrong. So you gotta just…give them an opening to let them, like, signal if they’re interested. If they’re looking for a sign, they’ll take it.”

Steve wrinkles his nose. “Ok, but what if they’re not interested yet? Like…sometimes girls take a while to warm up to you.”

“Cut your losses and move on.” Admittedly, Eddie’s still working on that part. 

“What? Man, I’m starting to think you don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Eddie scowls at the skeptical look on Steve’s face. “Jesus, the disrespect. Why am I not telling this directly to Buckley, anyway? She’s the one in need of these hard-earned pearls of gay wisdom.”

Steve lets out a big, gusty sigh and tips his head back against the couch. “Because she said if I tried to give her any more help with dating, she’d smother me in my sleep and pin it on Dustin.”

“Attagirl,” says Eddie approvingly. 

“But obviously she still needs help, so this is like—a stealth mission. For love.”

“For love,” says Eddie. “Yeah, okay.” 

———

“Hey, can you—”

Robin whirls around at the unexpected voice and promptly trips over nothing at all, arms flailing out to avoid crashing into the library returns cart.

“Oh, shit,” says the stranger, reaching out a hand like she’s going to catch Robin’s elbow, but pulling back at the last second. “Um. Sorry.”

Robin blinks down at a girl in head-to-toe black, including dusty black combat boots. “Aren’t you hot,” she says, then wants to die. “I mean—like, just, with the heat and all, it’s a billion degrees out, I think if I tried to wear that much black I’d instantly dissolve like the Wicked Witch of the West.”

The girl stares back at her for a second, then bursts out laughing. It’s a nice laugh. 

“As if. I’m from Utah, this is nothing.”

“Oh! Utah! You’re not—are you, uh, Argyle’s girlfriend?” The way Argyle’d described her, Robin had been picturing some kind of Elvira-themed ingenue in lace, maybe smoking like a 1920s flapper. This makes more sense for a real-life teenager, though: oversized t-shirt tucked into ratty black jeans, with some cheap-looking silver jewelry tied around her neck. Her eyeliner’s heavier than anything Robin’s ever seen in Hawkins, smudging messily a little in the heat that’s apparently nothing to her. It makes her look a little bit like a panda bear, but not in a bad way.

“Not anymore.” She grimaces. “Ugh, that sounds mean. We’re, y’know, still friends and everything. I’m Eden.”

“Robin,” says Robin, gesturing at herself like a loser. “Hi.”

“Hi,” says Eden, and smiles at her.

[cheesecakezyum]

How about some competition? Like there's this character Who is also courting SWK and Macaque's s/o A LOT. How much annoyed and jelous would they be? Bonus scene: They came over just when s/o speak back at the other:"Look, I appreciate your feelings, I really do. But I am already in love with someone else"

Vying For Your Endearment

It continues, it continues. I really liked this idea though! Don’t know how I did thoughh

Didn’t put too much in this because of the fact that I want to keep some info for my fic. Mischief mischief mischief.

I like to think that while the scent of a demon is super pungent to them— when it comes to non-demons its rather faint to barely recognizable actually.

Scenting headcanons are so quirky

I’ll fix anything later we’re on that grind boyssss

Enjoy!

─────────────────

─────────────────

Sun Wukong

♡- At first? It really wouldn’t trouble him too much. He feels unintimidated, especially if the two of you have been courting for quite some time. If it’s around courting season, it’s only expected.

♡- The only thing he truly worries about in the beginning is certain traditions for demons who take interest in a potential mate; worst case scenario is you being kidnapped by this demon, and no way is that happening on his watch.

♡- It’s way more rare nowadays, but that doesn’t mean it’s essentially out of the question! Definitely would keep a better eye on you and take you home more often himself.

♡- If nothing changes though, and he notices that the other suitor just won’t bug off after a week— that’s when it starts getting to him.

♡- Catches you talking to the other demon in public? Definitely the one to impede on the conversation. He’ll just slide on over there, wrapping an arm around your waist.

“Mind if I just borrow them for a bit? Yeahh, thanks!”

♡- If Wukong happens to visit and notices you with any slight smell (Stench, in his personal opinion.) related to the demon— boy are you in for it.

“Let go already! That’s enough!”

“Just 5 more minutes.”

♡- Not just to provide more overall affection but to drown their scent with his own. A threat on his part.

♡- Kind of but not kind of a property thing. He doesn’t want to own you of course! Never. But.. wants it known that you’re being courted by him and him only. Wukong’s personal smell of peaches is rather recognizable as well— so he wonders why such a lower class demon would attempt getting their hands on you. Do they not realize who they’re competing with?

♡- It's nothing but confusing to the monkey king. What do they have that he doesn’t? Why you of all people? Did they have a personal grudge against them with hopes of stealing you away? Why haven’t you just turned them down already?

♡- Don’t even get me started if you mention the demon in question in front of him. Expect a pouting menace.

The monkey king spoke under his breath, grumbling.

“I can do that.”

“What did you say?”

“Nothing!”

♡- Even after an explanation of demon courting by Wukong did you not realize this new demon was trying to compete for your affection. You considered them more of an acquaintance, really.

♡- So when you got the sudden confession of their admiration for you with bold claims of wanting to make you his mate?— yuck.

“I’m sorry. I appreciate your feelings, really! But I already love someone else.”

♡- If he caught you in the act like that, rejecting the demon attempting to steal his place by your side? Fist bumping the air. I mean— cough cough, he never doubted you! Himself too, yeah.

♡- Would act as if he never saw it, brush it off and wait until that poor, poor rejectee finally left you alone to interact.

♡- It’d probably be the first time you told him you loved him as well! I mean, not up front just yet, but still said it! Wouldn’t actually mention it until way later, when you’ve most likely forgotten. It was an in the moment thing!

“You know, I love you too.”

─────────────────

─────────────────

The Six-Eared Macaque

♡- On Macaque’s part, it’s an instant alarm when he’s noticed another demons aura around you. Wouldn’t make it immediately known, but try to pry out as much as he can without sounding desperate.

“So— how was your day? Anything new?”

♡- When it turns out his suspicions are correct, he already knows their intentions. Courting season would give it out immediately. Not just anyone would attempt going for you— but then again, he did.

♡- He’d definitely be overprotective in the aspect that you’re at risk of being kidnapped. Would try to follow you around way more than usual. Going to the market? He’s been needing something actually. Taking a walk? He could use one too!

♡- Basically anything that would keep him closer to you. He respects courting rituals and wouldn’t go against them until absolutely necessary, so he takes the competition. Macaque isn’t letting you get away that easily.

♡- Similar to Wukong, your scent is a big thing to him. If you don’t smell like yourself or even him, man would it irritate him beyond belief.

♡- So coating his scent over the other demon’s will always be the #1 priority when he has you alone. Maybe leave in gentle bite or two for good measure depending on how far into courting the two of you have been.

♡- Macaque also takes it as an opportunity to be more bold with you— overall way more flirtatious. Any opportunity the six-eared demon has? He’ll take it.

“Aren’t you a pretty little thing for me.”

“Let me get a good look at you.”

♡- Whether it be spontaneously cornering you while the two of you walked in an alley, wrapping his tail around you in public when no one else can see, WAY more eye contact. He isn’t going down that easy.

♡- He wouldn’t really be too scared to point the other suitor out to you too.

“What did they bring you today?”

“Next time, just call me.”

♡- I mean, he wants anyone else to know that you belong to him. You leaving is just, something he dreads. Let alone to a low class demon.

♡- Definitely would think it’s someone he’s wronged in the past trying to get back at him. I mean, who would be stupid enough to go for his prize?

♡- So catching you in the act utterly rejecting the poor guys feelings? He wanted to crack up right then and there, but stayed behind and watch the beautiful scene unfold before him.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t return your feelings. I love someone else,“

♡- That last part caught Macaque off guard. You’ve told him you’ve cared about him, but never said loved. Not like that. He was quick to take residence in your shadow once the demon took their leave, and waited for the perfect opportunity to speak up as you walked home.

“Yeesh. Who knew you were so cruel?”

Startled by the all too familiar voice, you jumped and turned behind you, only to see a pair of violet eyes and a cunning smile replace your shadow.

“Macaque?!”

“Really liked that last part, though.”

[another-lost-mc]

"Circumstances have forced me to accept a wager that I want no part of. It’s against the owner of The Fall. If he wins, we have to let him stay at the House of Lamentation for a month." – Lucifer (A Roll of the Dice Devilgram) Or, the AU where Lucifer loses a bet and a new resident comes to stay at the House of Lamentation.

Good Fortune | AZRA x gn!Reader 5.7k words | SFW | Canon Divergence | Developing Relationship Content warnings: Demon OC x Reader. Cursing, references to violence/illegal activities, minor threats, awkward flirting and fluff, gossiping, social anxiety. A/N: The Fall and its owner are referenced in a lot of OM events/Devilgram stories so I got a little creative with the details.

The owner of The Fall, the Devildom’s most popular club, is a powerful demon that represents the best and worst parts of upper class Devildom society. Under the Demon King’s rule, Azra used threats and violence to secure his position and achieve his ambitions. Falling into line with Diavolo’s new vision for the Devildom simply means his methods of dealing with nuisances are less deadly - and he’s more cautious if he does have to resort to bloodshed.

When he visits Devildom’s other prominent establishments, it’s about business as much as it is about pleasure. He spends money and builds connections with other influential business owners, offering gifts or gestures of goodwill to demons of strategic value so he can call on them later to return the favour. 

He’s at the casino one evening and feels especially bored, but Azra spots the Avatar of Greed playing dice at a table nearby. Usually he’s content to simply watch the money-hungry demon, who gambles like it's his last night in hell; his large bets and fast plays are a spectacle to behold whether he wins or loses. Azra approaches Mammon’s table, and when he sees the pile of chips dwindle to nothing, he decides to have a bit of fun. 

Mammon is known for making ludicrous bets when he’s out of grimm, but offering a month-long overnight stay at the House of Lamentation is too intriguing for Azra to pass up. A chance to live with the Avatars of Sin is a rare opportunity. Some of them are frequent guests at his club for special events. However, most of the Devildom only know the brothers on a superficial basis; Lucifer is protective of his siblings and he tries to shelter their personal lives from public view.

Azra accepts Mammon’s wager and he agrees to postpone their bet until another day. When he recognizes Lucifer as one of the dealers at the casino a few days later, he decides to call in Mammon’s wager. Azra watches the dice in anticipation and then he smirks, unfazed by the poorly-masked anger that ripples across Lucifer’s expression when he loses.

Once the details of the arrangement are finalized, Azra arrives at the House of Lamentation with his luggage in tow. Lucifer shows him the choice of rooms available and Azra complains about each one; they’re all grungy from years of disuse and neglect. He hoped the brothers would have at least tried to take care of some of the dust and cobwebs first. Azra almost wonders if it was an intentional oversight when Lucifer reminds him - more than once - that if the rooms aren’t to his liking, he’s welcome to leave. 

They walk down the hallway, past the kitchen and towards your room. You’re not inside but the door is open, and it catches Azra’s interest. He notices the care that’s gone into the furnishings and upkeep - and the lack of dust is appealing, too. This is the best room he’s seen by far and declares to Lucifer that this room will suit his purposes, ignoring its obvious state of occupancy.

Lucifer rejects the idea immediately and they start arguing. He refuses to displace you from your room, and Azra insists that Lucifer and his brothers should’ve thought of that before he arrived. Neither of them notice that you’re walking towards them and catch the tail-end of their heated discussion about your room being off-limits.

You don’t understand Lucifer’s hostility towards their guest. Your presence in the Devildom is still relatively new, and you don’t have many friends. You don’t want to impose on the demon brothers who have tried to help you adjust to your new life here. The last thing you want to do is make a bad first impression to other important or powerful demons in the Devildom. Besides, it’s only for a month, right?

You startle them both when you offer to switch rooms temporarily, if that would make their guest more comfortable. They stop arguing and look at you in surprise. Lucifer’s mouth twists like he’s bitten into something particularly sour, while Azra tilts his head slightly and stares at you in wonder. He forgot that living with the Avatars of Sin also means living with the Devildom’s prized human exchange student. He’s overheard other demons whisper about your lustrous, tempting soul in the dark corners of his club.

Azra changes his mind suddenly and tells a very relieved Lucifer that he won’t make his gracious co-host abandon your room to him. He smirks and takes his luggage to the closest empty guest room - across the hall from yours - instead. Dealing with the cobwebs is worth the satisfaction of seeing Lucifer’s brow crinkle in frustration before he slams the door shut in his face. Azra sets his luggage aside and takes care of the dust himself while he listens to Lucifer and his brothers arguing down the hall. He rolls his eyes when Mammon’s protests grow louder and Satan’s threats toward him become more violent.

Lucifer tries and fails to reassure them that Azra isn’t completely foolish, and even he won’t risk doing anything to harm you. You’re a guest to the Devildom under Diavolo’s protection, after all. But your soul isn’t all the demon brothers are worried about. Who knows what a scumbag demon like him might do if he had the chance to corner you alone? For all the shady, horrible things the club owner has done in the past, Lucifer doesn’t think Azra is that sort of demon to hurt you. However, he keeps those thoughts to himself - his brothers won’t be convinced otherwise.

The arguing down the hall eventually fades to silence, but Azra’s smirk remains as he continues clearing away the thick layers of dust covering the furniture in his room. The air is stale and musty and he coughs. He rips the dingy bedding away from the mattress and tosses it aside for the trash; he’s grateful he brought a new set of sheets.

When the room is slightly more hospitable, he taps the screen of his D.D.D. and sets it on speaker mode. He only has to wait a few rings before his assistant picks up the call.

“How are Lucifer and his brothers treating you?” Zekhan asks. “I told you not to expect a warm welcome.”

Azra hums. “It was what I expected, but I can deal with them,” he says casually, flicking away cobwebs stuck to the headboard of his bed. “I forgot about the human staying here, but they’re not–” Azra starts to say, but he frowns when Zekhan has the nerve to laugh, “–what the hell is so funny?”

Zekhan doesn’t bother to hide his amusement. “You never mentioned them once while we prepared for you to spend the month there. I wondered when you would remember that little detail.” His laughter trails off with a sigh. “What do you think of them so far?”

Azra thinks back to his brief meeting with you in the hallway. “I’m not sure yet.” You were so eager to compromise for his benefit, but he can’t completely dismiss you as being a total pushover either - you wouldn’t have survived this long in the Devildom if you were.

“I have a docket prepared with the information you requested, but most of it is public knowledge already - articles about the exchange program in the RAD newspaper, that sort of thing. I was able to speak to some of the students and get their first impressions too.” Zekhan pauses briefly and adds quietly, “Their confidential information is going to be more difficult to obtain, and it’ll take some time. Do you still want me to pursue it?”

Azra debated it for a moment and decided it wasn’t worth it. Your human world history and details won’t be relevant to him now, he can simply talk to you instead. “No, don’t bother. Keep track of anything else you hear, and send me what you have already, will you?”

“Very well,” his assistant replied before hanging up the call.

Azra’s D.D.D. pinged moments later with an email containing the information about you Zekhan was able to collect. There wasn’t much there - some general information about you and the other exchange students, impressions from some of the RAD faculty and classmates - nothing valuable or noteworthy. If he wants to learn more about you, the real you, he’ll have to figure that out himself - after he finishes cleaning his room.

Azra is nearly giddy with amusement when the brothers don’t attempt to hide their contempt for his presence in their home. They’re so protective of you and they do a poor job of hiding it. They find countless excuses to invite you to spend time with them anywhere else that’s not your room. When you don’t feel like going with them, they hover around your room instead. They have a bad habit of overstaying their welcome and Azra stifles his laughter when he hears you yell at them to get out so you can do your homework or go to sleep. 

The demon brothers are especially bothered by how close his room is to your own. What exactly do they think he’s going to do to you? He’s not stupid. He might be a little curious about you, sure, but since when was curiosity such a bad thing? 

In reality, Azra doesn’t have that many opportunities to spend time with you alone or with the other demons hovering like mother hens nearby. His odd work hours means he usually sleeps through breakfast and lunch, and he gets up and prepares to leave for work by the time you return home from RAD.

He’s not used to having a bedroom without an ensuite bath, and it’s one of his main complaints when he has to use the washroom at the end of the hall to shower. He enjoys his privacy and he’s not used to covering up.

One afternoon after having a shower, he's still dripping wet with only a towel hung low around his hips when he heads back to his room. He snarls with annoyance when someone bumps into him, but he realizes that someone is you. You stare at him for a moment, and your eyes widen when you glance down at his bare chest before your eyes snap up to his face. You stammer an apology as your cheeks flush, and by the time you rush back into your room and slam the door, Azra can’t stop the grin that spreads across his face.

Interesting.

It’s a rare occasion when Azra bothers to join you or the demon brothers for dinner. It got tiresome quickly when Satan insisted on reading books of hexes and curses at the table while glancing at him threateningly whenever he turned the page.

How juvenile.

Lucifer doesn’t trust Azra to cook for them - not that Azra is capable of making edible food anyway - so he’s not included in their cooking rotation either. Azra notices that you volunteer to cook more often than the others do. He assumes it’s something you like doing, and since it’s one of the few skills he lacks, he respects you for it.

If you’re on cooking duty for the family, he leaves later for the club than usual so he can spend time with you in the kitchen. Sometimes you’re completely alone with only Beelzebub occasionally trying to sneak snacks before dinner is ready. Azra makes vague offers to help you, but he’s only interested in the opportunity to talk to you. You must sense his apprehension about actually cooking something and you don’t ask him to help, but you try to have friendly conversations with him anyway.

He’s surprised that you use an odd combination of Devildom and human world ingredients, and you’ve customized recipes slightly to make them more palatable for you. It’s an easy way for him to discreetly ask you questions about yourself, and your family and where you come from. You seem happy talking about food and other things that remind you of home.

He’s not used to eating rustic, home-cooked meals. He eats what the chefs at the club prepare for him, or whatever his private chef makes for him at home on his days off. But when you hold out a spoonful of something to try, it’s difficult for him to refuse. The foods you cook aren't heavily spiced, but more often than not, he likes what you cook.

Sometimes he wonders whether you’d like the chance to cook in his kitchen, with his state of the art appliances and using whatever Devildom or human world ingredients you could ever want. 

Sentimental thoughts about you start to creep into his mind, and they grow more frequent as he gets to know you. After nearly two weeks of living together, he decides that you’re a baffling combination of shy deference and impulsive confidence. Your dry, witty sense of humor surprises him at times, and you’re brave enough to speak up when the demon brothers cause trouble or make fools of themselves. You don’t go out of your way to spend time with him, probably out of some misconception that you're a nuisance to him (which you aren't). But when he seeks you out - usually before he goes to The Fall - you don’t reject him, either. 

The whole point of his wager with Mammon was to learn more about the demon princes that might be useful for blackmail later. Hell, the thought of tormenting Lucifer was almost enough of a reward by itself. Azra refuses to admit that spending time with you is slowly becoming his prize in this arrangement.

When he comes home from the club, it’s usually around the same time you’re getting ready for school. Some mornings you offer him a bashful greeting when you step out of your room in your RAD uniform. He catches a whiff of whatever fragrance you wear, and he breathes in your scent as he watches disappear down the hall. There are some mornings when you’re running late - usually one of the brothers knocks on your door, and Azra catches a brief glimpse of your sleepy eyes and messy hair when you answer in a panic.

He loosens his tie and sits on the edge of his bed and listens for the telltale sounds of you and the demon brothers leaving for RAD. When the front door slams shut, he can finally be alone with his thoughts. More often than not these days, he thinks of you more than anything else. It doesn’t matter what you look like each morning when he passes by your room: whether you’re perfectly dressed or sleepy and rushed, he finds you charming - and he wonders how that’s possible.

There's about ten days left of his month-long visit when Azra prepares to go to the club, but he recalls the demon princes announcing various commitments they have that evening. It’s the first time since he arrived at the House of Lamentation that he is truly alone with you for any significant length of time. He thinks quickly and reaches for his D.D.D. - he might not get this chance again.

Meanwhile, you’re in your room debating whether you should start making dinner for yourself. The brothers are scattered across RAD and you have no idea what time to expect them home. It’s an annoying predicament when you’re not sure whether to cook food for everyone, or just cook for yourself, or maybe you should just order takeout?

Azra knocks on your bedroom door while you deliberate your options, and even though you’re surprised he hasn't left for work yet, you let him inside.

He makes small talk and takes his time browsing the shelves of your room. He notices an interesting mix of Devildom and human world books and movies. He glances at you from the corner of his eye when he feels your eyes on him.

“The demon princes don’t take care of you properly. It’s past dinner time - do they expect you to feed them all when they return?” he asks. He knows it’s not your turn to cook tonight, and he wonders how often they overlook your well-being. Do they make it a habit to inconvenience you with their thoughtlessness? Isn’t that what all of their posturing these past two weeks has been about - doing what they thought was best for their precious human?

He can do better.

He pretends to consider all the options for a moment and then asks, “You haven’t been to The Fall before, have you?”

“No, I’m not really the club-going type. I wasn’t back home, either.” You’ve seen Asmo’s photos of wild dance parties at The Fall; the self-conscious voice in the back of your mind reminds you that you look nothing like any of the demons that attend the famous establishment. You’d stick out like a sore thumb, and you have no interest in making a fool of yourself trying to pretend you belong there.

Azra isn’t easily deterred so he tries to entice you another way. “You might not realize this, but we also have an excellent dining room,” he says. “I would love to treat you to dinner this evening, as a gesture of appreciation for your kindness during my stay here,” he offers. “I can’t leave you alone and unfed in good conscience.”

You're tempted by his generous offer - you imagine their menu is far outside of your usual budget for take-out - and you can’t help but be curious about him and his work. Despite what the others have told her about him, he doesn’t seem that scary. He’s been kind to you, and he doesn’t ask you questions that are rude or too invasive. He seemed genuinely interested in your hobbies and interests, and he tries to inconvenience you as little as possible.

You think it would be rude to reject his offer, but you glance down at your unbuttoned RAD blazer and slightly wrinkled slacks. “I’m not sure I have anything suitable to wear,” you say. It’s a weak excuse and you both know it; you try not to squirm when he chuckles.

He’s not sure where the idea comes from, but he has a brief impulse to escort you to one of his favourite shops and select an outfit for you. He’s curious about what you might pick out for yourself if you didn’t have to worry about the cost. He thinks you would look lovely draped in the dark colours and soft fabrics he prefers, rather than the bland material of your RAD uniform and casual clothes.

He quickly shakes off the impulse and clears his throat. “As my guest, our usual dress code wouldn’t apply to you. Please wear whatever makes you feel most comfortable.” He glances at you over his shoulder before he leaves your room. “My driver is already outside, but take your time. I’ll wait for you in the front hall.”

You’re anxious about going to The Fall, but there was something so warm and genuine about his invitation that you accepted his offer anyway. You put on a simple button-down shirt and change into slightly less-wrinkled pants. You add a spritz of your favourite fragrance and feel refreshed. You examine your reflection in the mirror: you look put-together, but bland and unalluring - you hope he’s not too disappointed by your appearance.

Azra gives you an obvious once-over when you approach him in the foyer, and you smile bashfully when his lips curl into an appreciative smirk. He puts a hand on your back and leads you outside where his car is waiting. You spend most of the drive watching the Devildom pass by in a blur; Azra watches you instead.

When the car pulls up to the club’s entrance, Azra leads you past the bouncer at the door. Instead of turning right where the thrum of heavy bass is loudest, he turns left which leads to the club’s dining area. It feels romantic with its dark wood furniture and candlelight. The large room is filled with semi-private booths and small tables. The linens and dishware look luxurious and expensive; you feel woefully out of place.

He leads you to a private table near the back of the room, but the other patrons notice your arrival with interest. You think you can hear them whispering when you walk past them, and you realize that your boring attire won’t stifle the intrigue of your human heritage or why you’re having dinner with the club’s famous proprietor.

Azra pulls your chair out for you before he takes his seat across from you. He picks up his menu, but he realizes that there’s something wrong. You’re glancing around the room nervously, and he notices that the other guests are doing a poor job hiding their interest in you. He grew so used to your company that he didn’t even consider how other demons would treat you in public. He’s frustrated by his mistake, but he’s determined not to let this ruin your evening together. 

Azra knows Zekhan is probably working in his office upstairs. He sends him quick instructions before he stands from the table and comes to your side. “I’ve prepared a table for us in my private offices, if that would make you more comfortable,” he leans down and murmurs close to your ear. You nearly sigh with relief and take his hand when he helps you out of your chair. 

He leads you to a small lounge connected to his office on the second floor. It’s soundproofed so the loud club music isn't bothersome. The lounge is drastically different from the rest of the club, and you guess that it’s designed to be comfortable, more like his own home than his business. There’s a record player in the corner, and soft classical music fills the silence. There is a small candle-lit table waiting for you, and Azra suppresses the urge to purr with satisfaction when you look more relaxed now than you did downstairs.

When you're both seated, you hear a small pop. A bottle of amber liquid and two crystal goblets materialize on the table. You’re not familiar with different vintages of Demonus, but based on the ornamental bottle and Azra’s expensive taste, you can’t even imagine how rare this bottle of liquor is.

“No, I couldn’t, really–” you protest with a laugh when he offers to pour you a glass. You explain that Demonus of this quality is wasted on you; he didn’t know that humans are mostly unaffected by the demonic beverage, and you can’t tell if it’s the lighting when his cheeks darken slightly.

He clears his throat and accepts your refusal gracefully. “By all means, order whatever you’d like. I only want you to enjoy yourself.”

There’s a comfortable lull in conversation while you both study the provided menus, and you set yours down on the table with an embarrassed look. When Azra raises an eyebrow questioningly, you explain you're not familiar with the fancy names for Devildom cuisine yet. Normally you ask Beel or one of the others to help you choose which foods would best suit your tastes. You’re embarrassed to ask Azra for help doing that, but he doesn’t mock you. His eyes soften like he’s happy that you can be vulnerable with him.

He offers to order something for both of you to share. He thinks about the meals he watched you cook at the House of Lamentation; he remembers the types of dishes you liked to cook, and how you liked them seasoned. He sends a message to the staff in the kitchen with your order.

Azra sips his Demonus and listens to you talk about your experiences in the Devildom and how it compares to your life in the human world. He’s never been interested in listening to his dates - friends - talk about their mundane lives. Usually he has to feign interest, but he wants to listen to more of your stories and memories; he’s captivated by you.

When you ask him questions about his life, he tells you things he’s never told anyone. He never lets people get close to him, and normally he would never answer such personal questions. He wants to blame his loose tongue on the Demonus, but he’s not sure the reason is that simple. Your delighted laughter encourages him to tell you more and more stories about the demon brothers causing mischief and making fools of themselves.

The door opens unexpectedly and it startles you; he nearly growls at the server that interrupts with the dinner tray. 

What the hell is wrong with him?

The entree Azra ordered for you both was served on a single platter, and there’s only one plate and set of cutlery on the tray. He dodges your questioning look, but he picks up a forkful of food and holds it near your mouth expectantly. Azra looks as surprised by the gesture as you feel.

He’s not sure what inspired him suddenly, but he has the urge to feed you. It reminds him of those nights when you offered him samples of your cooking. It seems like you’re both remembering the same thing, because you bite your lip bashfully and accept the food he offers you.

Azra ignores the warmth churning deep in his belly, but his lips curl into a smile when he sees a blush bloom across your face. He’s tried to show off his wealth and power in subtle ways all evening, but he feels most satisfied - and you respond with the most genuine interest - when he does simple things that shows he cares for you.

You’re embarrassed by his rapt attention, but the way he looks at you when he offers you another forkful of food is difficult to refuse. It feels profoundly intimate, and you try not to think too hard about why he’s doing it. Nevertheless, you eat until you start to feel full, and then you protest and wave away the last bit of food he holds out to you.

He looks suspiciously at the amount of food remaining on the plate like he can’t believe you're completely satisfied yet. He hesitates to eat himself until you promise with a laugh that you've eaten enough. His mind swirls with doubtful thoughts: Are human stomachs so small? Do those damn brothers not feed you enough and this is all you're used to eating? Are you trying to be modest for his sake?

He eats a few bites when you stand up and look at some of the art on display in his lounge. He wonders what you think about him and his lavish lifestyle. He assumes you're provided some sort of allowance for necessities, but he wonders how much of that you get to spend on yourself. He recalls your bedroom and the collection of new and used furniture, the borrowed manga and video games on your shelves, and the outdated TV and computer models you use.

He feels impulsive. He imagines filling your closet with Devildom silks and furs, and replacing your scratchy cotton bedspread with something that's silky-soft against your skin. He can fill your shelves with books he thinks you would enjoy, the same Devildom novels he reads on his days off. He realizes he wants to give you things - desperately - and he doesn’t know why.

Time seems to flow differently when he’s with you. He doesn’t know what time it is, but he realizes it must be getting late. His time with you is dwindling, but he feels reluctant to end this evening so soon. He gestures to a small leather sofa where you can both sit more comfortably. Any traces of your anxiety have completely disappeared, and you seem completely relaxed at his side, humming along softly with the soft music coming from the record player.

You’re nearly pressed against his side, and he doesn’t think he’s ever been this close to you before. His hand is resting on the sofa behind you, and you’re almost tucked under his arm. It feels like a victory when you don’t move away. He glances down at the bare skin of your neck, and when he leans down, the faint traces of your fragrance tickles his senses. Something predatory stirs inside him and he can't bring himself to pull away.

His sudden closeness doesn’t scare you exactly, but the growing tension between you makes your skin prickle with nervous anticipation. You can’t help but question his intentions. You doubt someone like him would be genuinely interested in you, so why did he bother doing all this? You remind yourself that you’re so completely different, and there’s no way you can be compatible. He’s so far out of your league: physically, financially, basically every possible way possible. You shouldn't even be friends let alone more than that. 

But why does admitting that bother you so much?

You glance at him the same time he raises his head from where he’s been discreetly scenting your neck. You look into his eyes and they seem to reflect the same confused longing you feel. 

An unspoken question hangs in the air between you: What are we doing?

Instead you say, “It’s probably getting late - we should go back soon.”

You reach into your pocket for something, but you make a frustrated sound in your throat and stand up. You look around on the floor and scan the tabletop nearby. “Have you seen my D.D.D.?” you ask him.

When your back is turned, he pulls your phone out of his pocket. He slides it onto the sofa beside him. “Oh, here it is. Perhaps it fell out of your pocket earlier?”

You sigh in relief and thank him when he hands it to you. Your eyes widen when the screen flickers to life. What in the world…? You don't recall feeling it vibrate all evening, but according to your notifications, you have dozens of missed personal and group chat messages and several missed phone calls. "It seems like the others have been trying to get in touch with me for a while now. I'm still not sure how I didn't notice earlier."

“That’s unfortunate,” he murmurs with fake sincerity, “but I’m sure they’ll understand once you explain we went out and had dinner together.” 

You’re trying to respond to messages as quickly as possible, and you glance at Azra guiltily. “I know you probably have to stay and work tonight, but would it be possible to arrange a ride home for me?” 

He stands from the sofa and smooths down his suit jacket. “I would never dream of sending you home on your own,” he replies more forcefully than he intends. When you frown, he explains, “I’ll escort you home personally and then come back to the club. I'm responsible for your safety tonight, and I'll ensure you make it back safely.”

If he requests his driver take a route that has several unnecessary detours that allows him more time with you, that’s his business.

Your D.D.D. interrupts with a new message:

Lucifer: I’m waiting outside for you.

Azra smothers his annoyance, but he makes sure you have all your belongings before he escorts you from the lounge to the main floor. The club is packed now and it’s shockingly loud compared to the tranquil peace of his soundproofed office. He avoids leading you near the cramped dance floor so that you don’t feel anxious like you did earlier. He takes you through a series of employee-only hallways towards a private exit around back. He opens the door for you, and you both see the Avatar of Pride waiting nearby with a stone-faced expression.

You rush forward and apologize profusely for the inconvenience. “I’m not sure how I didn't hear my phone earlier. I’m so sorry I worried you.” You turn around and face Azra who’s watching you and Lucifer with a strange expression on his face. “Thank you again for inviting me to dinner, I had a really nice time. I guess I’ll see you tomorrow morning?”

Lucifer clears his throat and steps closer. You don’t notice that he positions himself in front of you, blocking you from Azra’s sight. The club owner notices though, and he glares at Lucifer.

“In light of recent developments, your month-long stay with us at the House of Lamentation has been concluded prematurely,” Lucifer says smugly. “You understand, of course,” he adds in a tone that will allow no argument.

You’re confused by the announcement and look at Lucifer worriedly. “Won’t it reflect poorly on us if we don’t honour the bet?” You don’t want to admit that you’re disappointed; you’re not sure you’ll ever see Azra again after this.

Azra answers before Lucifer has a chance to answer you. “I’m satisfied the terms of the bet have been fulfilled. It’s difficult to focus on the intricacies of my business when I spend too much time away from home.” You step out from behind Lucifer and meet Azra’s imploring gaze. “I’ll regret not spending more time at the House of Lamentation, but I promise that I found my visit very rewarding.”

Lucifer’s fist clenches behind you, and normally Azra would feel smug about this little power play with the demon he despises. Instead, all he cares about is the way your eyes brighten when you offer him another one of your kind smiles.

Lucifer ushers you away after you bid Azra goodnight one last time. You walk home together, and you tell him about your evening: it was a simple private dinner, and nothing more. Lucifer is suspicious and looks you over for any traces of harm or injury. He’s relieved that you seem perfectly fine, but he wonders what sort of game Azra was playing with you. However, he keeps these thoughts to himself - you seem tired but in good spirits, and he doesn’t want to ruin whatever enjoyment you had this evening.

You manage to avoid interrogation by the other demon brothers when you arrive home, and you head to your room and get ready for bed. After you're tucked in, you sort through your messages, yawning while you delete the endless notifications you missed earlier.

Your D.D.D. pings unexpectedly.

UNKNOWN NUMBER: I hope we can meet again soon.

You hesitate only for a moment before you save Azra’s contact information in your phone. You wish him goodnight and roll onto your side, and you hide your shy smile in your pillow.

[aroaceleovaldez]

It’s so disappointing that TSATS had to completely reinvent Nico and Will’s characters in the worst ways possible to shoehorn them into a plot and character arcs that don’t fit them at all, when there are perfectly reasonable alternatives sitting right in front of them.

Like, I’ve been mentioning a lot in the discord that one of the big things in TSATS that’s absolutely grinding my gears is trying to give Nico an identity crisis arc when he’s one of the characters who is actually the most assured in his identity throughout the entire series. In fact, a lot of his most iconic lines are exactly him declaring who he is and how well he knows himself and embraces his identity - Son of Hades, Ghost King. The darkness is his birthright. There’s absolutely no excuse for him to ever be in this arc. And then Will is a medic. He of all people should be plenty familiar with death, especially after having dated Nico for a whole year, apparently. How does he still struggle with his concept of who Nico is, like he didn’t know exactly what he was signing up for when they started dating?

And the book keeps trying to push this idea that Nico represents change, when Nico is one of the most consistent characters throughout all the series - which I’d argue is actually why he’s also one of the most popular characters in the series. His consistency lends to him tending to be better-written than other characters who keep getting caught in loops of changing dramatically and then reverting to previous states. Nico has literally never represented change and it’s ridiculous to try and tack that onto him thematically - and why is change the theme we’re going for here, in a book focusing so heavily on queer identity but seemingly pushing this notion of giving up an aspect of your identity if people don’t accept that part of you? Why does that seem to be the metaphor we’re pushing with Nico’s whole “darkness” identity crisis thing?

If you’re going to give Nico a theme that represents him, why not unity? Nico has always been a character that brings people together, or connects two places. Reyna hugging him at the end of BoO is literally a very direct metaphor for the camps joining. Nico was the first to bridge the gap between Camp Half-Blood and Camp Jupiter. He bridges the gap between the living and the dead. Mortals and the gods. Past and present. Here and there. And everyone is unified in death, so Nico doesn’t have to give up his symbolism of the Underworld either to keep the theme. Heck, Hades and Persephone even have mythological themes of somewhat keeping the peace or breaking up conflicts, which Nico does as well. And what a lovely theme unity is for a book focusing on queer identity? And you could lean into Will having elements of that too - healing indiscriminately on the battlefield, the sun shining down on everyone, etc etc.  The arc and symbolism they’re trying to give Nico and Will just feels so forced and unrelated to their characters. It’s dragging the entire book.

[nicofan57]

i wanted to talk about this clip so here’s my thoughts on it and the entire situation from yesterday (rest is under the cut)

(transcript:

minute: oh but why wemmbu, why, we- clown you and i were against him before, why-

clown: i didn’t like it either, okay, let me- you know why-

minute: ill tell you better- ill tell you better than anyone he’s just gonna use you and spit you out whenever it’s convenient. or whenever you’re no longer convenient for him. i know it better than anyone!

clown: i think we can handle wemmbu.

minute: he can't die!

clown: oh but he could drop- (?)

minute: he's just gonna sit tens of thousands of blocks out and wait for everyone to kill each other until he's the last one. i know this better than anyone! why didn't you talk to me?)

so first let’s dissect this clip. minute saying "i know this better than anyone" brings me back to kings s1 . they worked together to take down the other team that had the mythics and when wemmbu finally got a hold of the lifestealer (i can’t remember the exact details.. time for a rewatch) he threw minute out, saying there could only be one king. which sucks more when you think about at the start of the server, minute was open to teaming with wemmbu because he genuinely thought they were friends like he was not seeing that coming. someone warned him wemmbu is not trustworthy and he went “wemmbus my boy he wouldnt do that" (or something along those lines). and it’s like. well he did end up doing that. and minute realized he was being used all along.

fast forward to foundation when wemmbu literally said something along the lines of (again, sorry this might not be accurate) he’d team with minute because

- minute is powerful

- he has gear sets

- he would give him stuff

and most of all because he’s too kind for his own good. he wants peace even with his enemies, which we all know from the current arc right now. and wemmbu knows that all too well he knows he wouldnt refuse siding with him even considering their history on kings. anyway we all know how the abyss arc turned out for them with the orbital

so here is this clip i posted a while ago (linked here, because i cant put more than one video in a post apparently) where minute talks about how wemmbu's betrayed him a million times and how he says it hurts but he moves past it (this guy....) well clearly he’s not going to move past it now. because behind his back wemmbu has been working with zam, the person trying to break him mentally, and wemmbu’s stolen his position of power and is going to undo everything he’s worked towards. and the worst part about it is that he even convinced minutes teammates from day one to vote for him.

it’s pretty clear that wemmbu knows minute more and is able to get to him better than zam, he knows how to get into his head, he knows what actually fucks minute up, and no offense to zam because zam did end up winning… he achieved his goal by employing wemmbu! but i noticed minute isnt worried about zam that much anymore, or any of the players at all. it’s wemmbu because he knows what wemmbu can do and he knows how fucked up the server is going to be under his presidency. worst of all he knows what’s going to happen to his friends, he’s been in their shoes before, he knows they’re going to be left for dead when all is said and done, and even though they betrayed him and voted for wemmbu he still wants to save them because he knows it all too well (i think he also did say this). he still has some good left in him, even after the betrayal.

though the players are using wemmbu's presidency term to get what they want, it’s always going to end up being minute against wemmbu, it’s a cycle that ive noticed keeps repeating lately . thank you all forcoming to my ted talk

(p.s. i copied and pasted this from my twitter thread sorry if theres any weird formatting. or typos. or bad english pleabse be nice to me smiles)

[mythicalartisttm]

What’s your opinion on transgenders people? I ask as i have seen you reblog a few things and I am unsure on your stance. I mean this in no judgmental way i would just like to know your thoughts

anon this ask both excites me and fills me with caution, but! I will provide you with what you seek!

what do I think about transgender people? Here’s my answer to that, but be warned, it is lengthy!

1) they’re to be treated as people, not outcasts. Human is human, and we are supposed to treat fellow humans with love, care, and respect, even if we don’t agree with the people in question, or if it’s just plain hard.

2) I say this with gentleness: their perceptions of themselves are skewed*, and there are many reasons for this with the primary one being that we live in a broken world, which leads to everything else. But one of the absolute worst things we can do to trans people/ people who want to be trans, regardless of the reason, is to go along with the idea that they are or can be any other gender than the one they were born with. As you can probably tell, I believe in the God of the Bible, and that while human hands may have written the physical book, He speaks through the people that wrote it. So let’s let His Word do the talking.

You know the creation story, yeah? It’s ok if you don’t, let’s recap anyways:

Every day for 6 days, God made aspects of our universe, and when He declared everything finished – perfect! God’s work ain’t finished ‘till it’s perfect – He rested on the 7th day (Genesis 1 and 2). On the 6th day He made humans, male and female, and they were made in the image of God Himself (Gen. 2:26). They were also the only aspect of creation God formed with His own hands; Genesis 2:7 says God made the first man from the dust of the earth, and verses 21-22 says He took a piece of the man to make the first woman.

That might not seem huge to you, but it speaks volumes of the care God put into humanity specifically. Everything else – the sun, stars, sky, trees, dogs, almost everything you can think of – God simply spoke them into existence. But for humans; for you, anon? He got up, got His hands dirty, and shaped your head, your heart, your spirit, your body. He gave humanity a literal special touch that He gave to nothing else.

This is reinforced again by God speaking through king David’s Psalm 139, verses 13-16:

13 You made all the delicate, inner parts of my body     and knit me together in my mother’s womb. 14 Thank you for making me so wonderfully complex!     Your workmanship is marvelous—how well I know it. 15 You watched me as I was being formed in utter seclusion,     as I was woven together in the dark of the womb. 16 You saw me before I was born.     Every day of my life was recorded in your book. Every moment was laid out     before a single day had passed.

God is omnipresent, meaning that He’s everywhere all the time any time, and nothing escapes His knowledge. This includes the creation of a new human being (again: male or female, no secret 3rd option for this one). And because God Himself – who makes no mistakes – oversees and ordains the creation of every new little boy or girl, wouldn’t it make sense that God would make them as He intended to make them: perfectly, without mistake? There is then no ground for the “born in the wrong body” argument to stand on, because God made your body with you in mind; your body was made specifically for you, and there were no errors on His end.

Now, what if you just straight up don’t like your body? I think everyone has disliked their body and/or felt uncomfortable in it at some point, that includes me. If someone’s going through puberty then they are almost guaranteed to be uncomfortable in their body because that kiddo and their body both are growing up. Sometimes you’re uncomfortable in your body simply because it’s changing, but this particular change is a good thing! Going through puberty is a sign that your body is working as it should, even if it feels weird. To try and block this transition from happening, or deliberately alter it, is to actively harm your body’s natural progression.

So yes, I do think that a trans person’s view of their body – that they were made for a different body and so they should change it – is not only wrong, but harmful to themselves in the long run. Why are we affirming this; giving people of all ages the means to scar themselves to feel good in the now?

Last bit before the TL;DR: if there’s anyone out there who thinks God won’t except them for any reason that you can think of, I’m gonna stop you right there. There is grace for you. Yes, even for that; please refer to my pinned post. And also this.

My explanation doesn’t cover all bases I’m sure, but the TL;DR is that the human body is a sacred thing designed by God, with care, made differently and specifically for every individual person, and it is medical malpractice (evil) to alter it within the context of transgenderism. If you have undergone the gender transition at any time – or have done anything else, ever – God still loves you with his whole heart, and He wants you to let Him help you with whatever may have dragged you down this time. Even if it was self-inflicted.

Lastly, some stuff I didn’t know how to cleanly fit into All That

*it is worth noting that basically everyone has a skewed perception of themselves about different things and to different degrees, but in this context I mean “a skewed perception of how a trans person relates to their body”

Creation was deemed “good” before people, but after people, God declared it “very good.” Again, in Genesis 1. I literally cannot stress enough how much God wants people to come to Him for whatever the reason

Chloe Cole's discussion with Dr. Peterson + the comment section and the testimonies in it

this post