#and you three - this is a no response needed situation!!!

[lancermylove]

Dark Side of Dating Him 2 (Scenarios)

Fandom: Obey Me

Pairing: Demons x gn!Reader

Warning: Detailed warnings before each scenario, but the scenarios are dark.

Requested by: Anon

Prompt: I would love to see the even darker / more situational stuff for the demons 😳 or at least some of the bros

A/N: If you get sad easily, proceed with caution. If you like to feel the burn, enjoy. 😂

Series: [1]

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Warning: Angst, manipulation.

Barbatos had constantly been by Diavolo's side for the past three weeks. Despite being married, he hadn't spent a single night with you. You watched him from afar, missing his presence, yet a strange sense of calm kept you from feeling truly upset. Why were you not sad that your husband wasn't spending time with you? Though you couldn't answer that question, a series of unsettling déjà vu moments had been haunting you.

Standing near the throne room window, you observed Barbatos and Diavolo's meeting. Your husband's expression was unreadable - a mask of perfect composure as he listened attentively. But something about his demeanor struck you as off. The light that usually danced in his eyes when he looked at you was absent, replaced by a cold, distant gaze that sent chills down your spine. You couldn't shake the feeling that the man you saw before you was different from the one you knew intimately.

Who was the real Barbatos? Was it the devoted husband who showered you with affection or the inscrutable butler standing in the throne room? The more you pondered this, the more uncomfortable you became. Moreover, Barbatos had the ability to alter timelines and outcomes. The déjà vu moments - were they a result of him changing past events to create a more favorable reality? Had he altered your shared moments, erasing any friction or discontent to maintain a perfect image of your relationship? Had your husband used those powers against you?

You wanted to trust him, to believe in the sincerity of his love and the authenticity of your marriage. But the longer you thought about it, the harder it became to fight the doubts. The thought that he might have been manipulating your reality filled you with a sense of betrayal and heartbreak. What had he altered? What had happened in the past? You knew you needed to confront him to clear the shadows that clouded your thoughts, but would he allow you to find out the truth? All he had to do was use his powers to find a new reality and make you forget everything except your love for him.

Warning: Angst, degrading, depression.

Being a human in the Devildom was never easy, especially as the future spouse of Prince Diavolo. The demons of Devildom scrutinized you relentlessly, picking apart your appearance, your humanity, and your weak strength. They mocked your way of dressing, which they deemed unfit for royalty. Every aspect of your body was criticized, and your manner of speaking and laughing was a constant source of ridicule. Even the smallest mistake was subjected to their harsh judgment.

One evening, feeling utterly defeated, you decided to confide in Diavolo. He was your rock, and you hoped he would understand the toll this relentless criticism was taking on you. However, when you told him about the demons' harsh words, he simply brushed it off. "Do not pay attention to them," he said with a dismissive wave. "Their opinions do not matter."

His response stung, but you tried to push through. As the day passed, Diavolo became busier, consumed by his princely duties. Whenever you wanted a moment to talk, he would hand you one of his tasks and ask for your assistance. It felt as though your relationship had shifted from intimate to professional and cold. Just when you thought it couldn't get worse, the council members proved you wrong.

You stood by Diavolo's side as the council members openly criticized you. Their words were like daggers targeting your already fragile self-esteem. You looked to Diavolo for support, hoping he would defend you, but he sat silently on his throne. His eyes held a distant gaze as if the criticisms directed at you didn't matter.

"Endure it," he had once told you. "You need to learn resilience if you wish to rule the Devildom with me."

His expectation for you to bear their harsh words in silence and patience felt like a betrayal. You realized that, to Diavolo, your value as his future spouse was linked to your ability to endure, not your happiness or well-being.

Warning: Angst.

Being Lucifer's significant other came with its own set of challenges. The responsibility of his younger brothers often fell on your shoulders. Whether it was cleaning up after their latest mishap, calming them down from their frequent outbursts, or dealing with the consequences of their chaotic antics, it was an endless cycle of stress and exhaustion.

One evening, after another taxing day of managing the chaos, you were at your breaking point. Seeking some solace, you approached Lucifer in the hope that he would understand and offer some support.

"Lucifer, today was just too much," you began, your voice tinged with weariness. "Dealing with your brothers and all their chaos is overwhelming. I feel like I'm about to break."

He paused in his tracks, his expression stern. The Avatar of Pride didn't say anything for a moment but then broke the silence in a cold vice. "Cease your complaints. You need to learn to be resilient. You are excessively sensitive."

Your heart sank at his dismissive tone. "But Lucifer, you don't understand how hard it is. I'm trying my best, but it's too much."

His eyes narrowed slightly, and a hint of impatience flashed in his crimson orbs. "You have developed a propensity for complaining and relying on me for every issue. You must learn to handle matters independently."

The words cut deep, and you felt a lump in your throat. "Why can't you just understand how I'm feeling?"

Lucifer sighed in irritation. "You need to be mature and learn to manage your own affairs. I cannot resolve your matters for you."

As if the conversation wasn't already painful enough, he glanced at your disheveled appearance. "And attend to your appearance. You look unkempt."

With that, he entered his bedroom and closed the door as if he didn't want you to follow him inside. The weight of his words pressed heavily on you, amplifying your already overwhelming stress. Tears welled up in your eyes as you tried to process what had happened. You had hoped for comfort and understanding from the one person who meant the most to you, but instead, you were met with criticism and dismissal.

Warning: Angst.

The memory of the two witches in the human realm haunted you. Their threatening presence, the malevolent glint in their eyes, and mocking laughter had reduced you to tears. They called you pathetic, and in that moment, you felt utterly powerless. Mammon owned them money, but the witches targeted you instead since they couldn't get to him. When you finally returned to the Devildom, you immediately sought the comfort of your most treasured possession—your grandmother's necklace.

But as you searched through your belongings, panic set in. The necklace was nowhere to be found. Frantic, you rushed to Mammon's room, hoping he might have seen it. "Mammon, have you seen my grandmother's necklace?"

He shifted uncomfortably, avoiding your gaze. "Uh, 'bout that..."

Your pulse quickened as you studied his expression. "Mammon, where is it?"

He hesitated before finally coming clean, "I sold it. I needed the money."

"You what?" you shouted, disbelief and anger flooding you. "That necklace is irreplaceable! It was my grandmother's! How could you do this to me?"

Mammon looked defensive and quickly raised his hands. "It's just a necklace, y'know. I didn't think it was that big of a deal!"

Your anger flared more at his dismissive words. "Just a necklace? It meant everything to me! How could you be so thoughtless?"

Instead of offering comfort or an apology, Mammon stepped back, his face a mask of guilt and fear. Then, without another word, he turned and ran. You sank to the floor, tears streaming down your face. The betrayal cut deep, and the loss of your grandmother's necklace felt like a piece of your heart had been ripped away. Mammon's actions and his cowardly retreat further added to your pain and made you feel abandoned. You had trusted him, believed in him, and he had shattered that trust for something as fleeting as money.

Warning: Yandere-like behavior.

The celebration was in full swing, and everyone was ecstatic about your recent achievement. But in the corner, Levi stood apart, his expression distant and melancholy. It wasn't that he wasn't happy for you — Levi truly was — but the pang of jealousy and self-doubt gnawed at him. Why couldn't he achieve something worth celebrating? Why did he always feel like a useless demon?

Over the next few days, he avoided you, refusing to even meet your eyes or speak to you. He wouldn't even allow you to enter his room or answer your calls or texts. When he finally talked to you, his voice was filled with desperation and vulnerability. "Do you love me?" he asked, his eyes searching yours for reassurance.

"Of course, Levi," you replied without hesitation, but you didn't fully understand why he was asking you this question.

Following that conversation, Levi's behavior changed drastically. He became increasingly possessive and would not let you talk to anyone else, not even his brothers. His jealousy flared and led to arguments if he saw you talking with them. You tried to understand and accommodate his feelings, but his possessiveness became suffocating.

The more you pushed for space and independence, the more Levi spiraled into darkness. He clung to you with an obsessive intensity, convinced you were his and only his. The fear of losing you consumed him, driving him to extreme measures to keep you close. You were at your wit's end.

"Levi, you can't keep doing this! You can't control who I talk to. This isn't healthy for either of us."

His eyes darkened with a mix of hurt and anger. "You're mine, (y/n). I won't let anyone take you from me. If I can't have you, no one else can."

His chilling words sent a shiver down your spine. The Levi you once knew was nowhere in sight and was replaced by someone consumed by possessiveness and insecurity.

Warning: Angst, Violence.

The memory of the chair flying towards you was still fresh in your mind, just another reminder of Satan's uncontrollable rage. Though Satan had done it accidentally, the thought of the chair hitting you at high speed made you shiver. Lucifer had been furious when he found out and dragged Satan into his office for a severe lecture and punishment.

Later that day, your boyfriend appeared at your door, his expression calm. "I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I didn't mean to throw the chair at you. It was an accident."

You nodded, accepting his apology. "It's okay, Satan. Just try to control your anger next time."

The second he heard your words, he sighed in relief. However, Satan's expression darkened the next moment, and he began to badmouth Lucifer. "That pompous tyrant doesn't understand anything. Always lecturing, always punishing. He's the worst!"

"Lucifer isn't wrong, Satan. You can't just lose control like that. It's dangerous," you sighed.

His eyes flashed with anger at your words. "So you're taking his side now?" he spat, his voice rising. "You think he's right and I'm wrong?"

You stood your ground and firmly nodded. "Yes, Satan, you were in the wrong. What you did was dangerous."

That was all it took. Satan's anger erupted, and in an instant, he transformed into his demon form. His eyes glowed with fury as he grabbed you and slammed you against the wall, his grip so tight you thought your bones would shatter. Tears welled up in your eyes as you struggled to breathe, and the pain got overwhelming.

"Satan, please stop," you begged, your voice trembling. "You're hurting me."

But your pleas fell on deaf ears as his blind rage had completely consumed him. The pressure intensified, and you cried out in pain, feeling helpless and terrified. Fortunately for you, Beel stormed into the room. "Satan, let go of (y/n)!"

With a great effort, Beel managed to restrain Satan and pull him away from you. The two brothers struggled, their powerful forms clashing, but Beel finally managed to drag Satan out of the room. The noise and chaos terrified you, but all you could do was curl up in the corner, sobbing uncontrollably. You had always known about his temper, but this was the first time it had been directed at you so violently. Did this mean that if he got angry enough, he could take your life?

Warning: Angst, cheating, suggestive, depression.

You had always known that Asmo was a flirt. His charm and compliments were part of his nature, and you had tried your best to brush it off. After all, he was a friendly demon who loved to make others feel special. But for the past few weeks, you had noticed him disappearing at night, and a sinking feeling began to settle in your chest. You tried to deny it, convincing yourself that it was harmless fun. Yet, deep down, you knew what he was doing.

One day, you returned to the House of Lamentation earlier than planned. Without knocking, you entered his bedroom, and your heart stopped at the sight. Asmo was in bed with two other demons, and none of them had anything on. Your boyfriend lay in the middle, his arms wrapped around their perfect bodies. When his eyes met yours, he gave a playful smile without a hint of shame on his flushed face.

"(Y/n)," he said in a seductive voice. "Why don't you join us? The more the merrier!"

The reality of the situation hit you like a punch to the gut. The "Avatar of Lust" wasn't just a title - it was the bitter truth. Your heart shattered, and you fled from the room, tears blurring your vision. That incident plunged you into a deep depression. The pain and betrayal you felt were overwhelming, and you found it impossible to care about anything, least of all yourself. You stopped your self-care routines and paid no attention to your appearance. The vibrant person you once were faded into a shadow.

At first, Asmo tried to comfort you. He brought you small gifts and tried to cheer you up with his usual charm, but every attempt he made only led to arguments. You were too hurt to accept his gestures, and he was too proud to understand the depth of your pain. Eventually, the strain became too much. One day, after another argument, Asmo looked at you with a coldness that sent chills down your spine.

"You know, (y/n)," he said, his voice devoid of the warmth it once held, "You've let yourself go. I'm not attracted to you anymore."

The severity of his tone left no room for doubt - Asmo was breaking up with you. The man who had once made you feel like the most beautiful person in the world was now telling you that you were no longer worth his time. You stood there, numb, as he walked away. The realization settled heavily within you: Asmo had never truly seen you. To him, you were just another conquest, another fleeting pleasure.

Warning: Angst.

You checked your wallet and sighed. Feeding Beel and keeping him happy had drained every cent from your wallet. It felt like the only reason you earned money was to feed your boyfriend's unsatiable appetite. As you slumped on Beel's bed, you heard Belphie enter the room with a loud yawn.

"What's wrong?" He sleepily asked.

"I'm broke," you whispered. "I spent all my money on food for Beel."

Belphie scoffed and plopped on his bed. “You should have been prepared. The House of Lamentation is broke most of the time because of Beel’s appetite. But you do know that he can’t control himself, right?”

Frustration bubbled up inside you, and you snapped at him. “Then why don’t you use your money to feed your twin?”

Your words started an argument; your voices echoed through the halls, but you were too caught up in the heat of the moment to notice Beel entering the bedroom.

"What's going on?" Beel asked, worried.

Belphie wasted no time and replied, "(Y/n) was complaining about how they were broke because of your need to eat. They want me to use my money to feed you, so they don't need to feed you anymore."

The older twin's eyes were saddened as he glanced at you. "Is that true, (y/n)?"

You wanted to explain yourself clearly, but your words came out jumbled and defensive. “I just...I didn’t mean it like that, Beel. It’s just been hard...”

Belphie cut in, his voice mocking. “See, Beel? They can’t handle it. Maybe they’re not worth your time.”

“Shut up, Belphie!” you snapped.

For a moment, Beel's eyes widened in shock, but the next, they hardened. "Don't talk to him like that again, (y/n). Leave!"

The weight of his words hit you like a punch to the gut. “Beel, please, I didn’t mean-”

“Just go,” Beel interrupted, his voice breaking slightly.

Belphie smirked in satisfaction. "You heard him. You're not worth his time, and he deserves better."

Tears blurred your vision as you turned and fled to your bedroom, your heart heavy with regret and confusion. You collapsed onto your bed, the tears flowing freely now. The pain of the breakup and the argument weighed heavily on you, and you cried yourself to sleep.

Warning: Angst, spoiler from OG.

You sat on the edge of the bed, pouring your heart out to Belphie. Your voice cracked with each word as you recounted the emotional turmoil you had recently in the past. It was something deeply personal that you had never shared with anyone else. When you finally turned your head to look at him with tear-filled eyes, hoping he would understand, you saw him fast asleep. Frustration boiled inside you. How could he fall asleep when you were sharing something so important? Tears rolled down your cheeks as you shook his shoulder, but he remained oblivious, lost in his dreams.

The following week was supposed to be special—a date you had planned with Belphie for your first anniversary. You had looked forward to it all week, imagining how wonderful it would be to spend time with him. But the hours passed, and the meeting time came and went. Belphie didn't answer your message or pick up your calls.

Somewhere in your heart, you worried something had happened to him, but your mind already knew why. A quick check of his room confirmed your worst fears: he was still asleep. The carefully planned date ended in disappointment, leaving you feeling neglected and unimportant. Later, when he finally woke up, he muttered a half-hearted apology for missing the date. His words lacked sincerity, and he clearly didn’t understand how much it meant to you.

A few weeks later, you found yourself in front of an enraged demon who hated that a human was in Devildom - a hater of Diavolo. Panic surged through your veins as you fled and desperately dialed your boyfriend's number. The phone rang endlessly, but he never picked up. Your heart pounded in your chest, fear gripping you tighter with each passing second. With no other options, you called the older brothers.

They arrived in time to help you before the demon could hurt you more or kill you. Exhausted and shaken, you returned to the House of Lamentation, your body aching from the ordeal. You headed straight to Belphie's room, your emotions a tumultuous mix of fear, anger, and betrayal. As expected, he lay in bed, barely awake. Even after he noticed your tear-streaked face, disheveled hair, and minor cuts on your skin, he remained lying down.

"What's wrong?" he asked calmly, his voice lacking genuine concern.

That was the final note. Your emotions broke, and you yelled at him in a cracking voice. "I almost died today because you wouldn't answer your phone! I was in danger, and you were just sleeping!"

"Sorry."

A weak apology was all he could offer, and the next instant, his eyes shut again. He was asleep once more. You stood there, stunned and heartbroken, staring at his sleeping form. Did he not care that you had nearly died? The memory of your past death at his hands flashed before your eyes, reminding you of the cruel reality. What else were you expecting from someone who had once killed you? The weight of your disillusionment settled heavily in your heart as you turned away, feeling more alone than ever before.

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➣ Obey Me Masterlist: [1][2][3] ➣ Main Masterlist

[rottenpumpkin13]

A spell goes terribly wrong and Sephiroth is reverted to a toddler. What goes down and how do AGZC react? (Thank you for all your headcannons btw, they are wonderful!! ♥)

Accidental Toddler Sephiroth Acquisition

• Zack heads over to the materia room on the 49th floor to drop off some naturally formed materia he had found on a mission he just got back from. He sits around waiting for one of the scientists to assist him.

• He spots a basket of bright green materia orbs, mindlessly picks one up and starts playing with it. Then he's informed by one of the techs that the scientist responsible will only be in the office tomorrow. Zack forgets the materia isn't his and pocket it as he thanks the tech and leaves.

• Zack heads over to Sephiroth's office because he's bored and wants to see his buddy. He opens Sephiroth's office door. He is greeted by Sephiroth. Uh oh the materia is burning in his pocket. UH OH IT'S BURNING IN HIS POCKET.

• He takes the materia out and panic-drops it on the ground. He watches Sephiroth stand up and walk over to the materia to see if he can deescalate the situation.

• The materia explodes.

• And suddenly he's standing before three-year-old Sephiroth who looks very scared and confused.

• Cloud comes to Sephiroth's office after Zack had called him freaking out. Zack called Cloud first because Cloud is notoriously level-headed and won't yell at Zack for his mistake.

Zack: Thank god you're here! I don't know—

Cloud: WHY WOULD TURN SEPHIROTH INTO A TODDLER?

Zack: I MADE A MISTAKE.

Cloud: NO, MRS. FAIR MADE A MISTAKE WHEN SHE GAVE BIRTH TO YOU.

Zack: .......

*The yelling upsets Sephiroth, who buries his head in his hands and starts crying*

Cloud: Oh no! I didn't mean to scare you. Come here—*Cloud picks him up, immediately Sephiroth buries his head in Cloud's neck as he consoles him by bouncing him up and down*

Cloud: Wow so he really reverted back into a toddler.

Zack: Yup! And the worst part is *Zack picks up the broken materia* I have NO idea how to fix this!

*Sephiroth stops crying and gazes up curiously at Cloud's hair*

Cloud: Why don't you go back to the materia room and get help?

*Sephiroth reaches up and touches Cloud's hair*

Zack: Are you kidding me? I'd be in so much trouble! The best thing to to right now is find Genesis and Angeal. Genesis will know how to turn him back and Angeal will know how to care for him in the meanwhile.

Cloud: That sounds like a good idea. Are you up for it, Sephiroth?

Sephiroth: A chocobo!

Cloud: .........

• Zack and Cloud run into the elevator en route to Angeal's apartment (where hopefully Genesis will also be). Unfortunately they run into Director Lazard.

Lazard: .......

Zack (to Cloud): Maybe if we don't mention the child he won't ask about the child.

Lazard: I'm inquiring about the child.

Cloud: There's a perfectly good explanation for this. Right, Zack?

*Zack wraps an arm around Cloud's back*

Zack: We got married and this is our child.

Cloud: WHAT?

Lazard: Why does the child look like Sephiroth?

Cloud: There's a perfectly good explanation for that. Right, Zack?

Zack: Sephiroth was our sperm donor.

• Zack, Cloud and Sephiroth stand there awkwardly as Lazard retrieves a small pill bottle from his breast pocket and downs it with a liquor flask.

*Zack and Cloud bang on Angeal's door until it opens and Genesis greets them*

Genesis: How wonderful. You have a child!

Zack: We can explain—

Genesis: There's no need. I already know what this is.

Cloud: You do?

Genesis: Of course. You two had been in love all along, and then you went ahead, tied the knot, and thought it was a brilliant idea to ask Sephiroth to spare his sperm to create a child that looks exactly like him.

Cloud: Am I the only reasonable person around here??

Genesis: Either that or Zack accidentally turned Sephiroth into a toddler by misuse of materia.

Zack: Yes.

Genesis: Oh sweet goddess we're all going to be arrested.

• After explaining the whole thing thoroughly to Genesis and Angeal—who spends a good 10 minutes after yelling at him (while Genesis pulls Sephiroth's hair into a french braid), they inspect the broken materia.

• According to Genesis the spell can't be permanent, which means they should wait out Sephiroth's transformation until further notice.

*Cloud turns to Zack*

Cloud: You know what this means, right?

Zack: Yeah, it means we gotta take care of Sephiroth and make sure Hojo doesn't find out about his transformation.

Cloud: No, you asshole, it means that we just became parents and you never even asked me out for a date, much less put a ring on my finger.

Zack:

Genesis, with Miniroth in his lap, who's playing with his earring: Now hang on, Angeal and I are older, and he's to stay in Angeal's apartment while he waits out the spell. This clearly means that Angeal and I are his parents.

Angeal: You don't even like children!

Genesis: How wrong you are. I rather enjoy the presence of certain—ow ow ow ow ow ow ow ow ow take him take him TAKE HIM.

*Sephiroth is pulling on Genesis' earring*

*Zack grabs Sephiroth back*

Zack: How dare you?? Me and Cloud are his parents! You and Angeal can be his uncles.

Cloud: If anything Angeal is the mom friend, so he can be the mother.

Angeal: Don't be ridiculous.

*Sephiroth perks up at the mention of mother and looks at Angeal*

Sephiroth: Mama?

*Angeal breaks down crying, takes Sephiroth and runs off*

• They're all giving Miniroth a bath. Sephiroth initially protests, but Angeal's soothing voice and gentle demeanor quickly put him at ease. Zack and Genesis are using plastic cups as a makeshift boats, and battling each other's ships with overexaggerated noises to make Sephiroth laugh.

• Cloud distracts Sephiroth by blowing bath bubbles and popping them. This makes Sephiroth giggle uncontrollably and attempt to make bubbles too.

• This results in Sephiroth splashing water at all of them and making a mess. No one can be mad because he looks so happy, and it's doubtful he was ever allowed to merge bath time and playtime in the labs under Hojo's "care"

• Then they feed him, another joint-effort as everyone thinks they know what's good for Sephiroth. Genesis cuts up Banora White apples into small, manageable pieces. He erupts in praises and cheer when Sephiroth manages to eat half the apple.

• Zack feeds him chips, but is a bad influence, and teaches Miniroth to blow the chip bag up and pop it. This of course results in chips flying everywhere and now Zack is stuck with a broom, cleaning it all up.

• Cloud offers him some milk (fun silly-straw included). Sephiroth accidentally knocks the cup over and spills it all over the table. He starts crying and apologizing, expecting them to scold him for the mistake.

• They absolutely don't do that. Angeal picks him up and console him while Zack and Cloud wipe up the mess. Sephiroth tearfully explains in his broken toddler speech that Professor Hojo always gets very mad and punishes him when he makes a mistake.

They have to physically hold Genesis down because he's all but ready to go down to the labs and kill Hojo, which is tempting, yes, but it would alert R&D of Sephiroth's transformation.

• They move on to playtime next in hopes it'll tire Sephiroth out enough to be put down for a nap. Imagine they're shock once they realize little Sephiroth doesn't have a lot of experience when it comes to playing with toys.

• He doesn't know what to do with the lego pieces Zack provided him with (which is good, in Angeal's opinion, because a three-year-old could definitely choke on them)

• Genesis coaxes Sephiroth into playing with a toy sword. It both amuses and pains him to realize how comfortable toddler Sephiroth feels with a weapon, as he's now play fighting with him and Cloud.

• Angeal finds a coloring book and crayons. He finds it very unnatural how Sephiroth tries his best to color inside the lines and doesn't make any mistakes. He chalks it up as another product of Hojo's ruthless "parenting" and encourages Sephiroth to scribble.

• Sephiroth learns that he loves to scribble.

• Sephiroth now wants to scribble everything in sight.

• Sephiroth spots Genesis' copy of Loveless.

• Genesis will have an unpleasant surprise later.

• They finally put Sephiroth down for bed. Zack had ran all the way back to his place in search of every stuffed animal he could find—which just so happened to be 4 stuffed chocobos.

*Sephiroth looks at the stuffed chocobo*

Cloud:

*Sephiroth looks at Cloud*

Cloud:

*Sephiroth looks at the stuffed chocobo*

Cloud:

*Sephiroth looks at Cloud*

Cloud: AlriGHT I GET IT.

• Sephiroth falls asleep in Angeal's bed under a heap of blankets as Genesis reads him a bedtime story. As everyone else files out of the room, Zack decides to stay back and watch over him in case he wakes up.

• Everyone's perspective shifts after this incident.

Genesis: He had always nursed an unspoken envy for Sephiroth, but it wasn't until he saw a child denied their innocence and so not used to being carefree, all in the relentless pursuit of an untouchable hero status, that he truly understood the depth of Sephiroth's troubled childhood. Genesis vows to both show more understanding and affection towards his best friend, and maim Hojo.

Angeal: Seeing Sephiroth's vulnerability as a child tugs at Angeal's heartstrings, not because he's clearly traumatized, but because he can identify traces of child Sephiroth in adult Sephiroth, remnants of a childhood he never had. He sees this realization as an opportunity to make up for lost time and provide the love and support Sephiroth never received when he was a toddler.

Zack & Cloud: They had long idolized Sephiroth as a hero, but now, having gained a deeper understanding into the struggles he endured to become that hero, they develop a newfound respect and empathy for him.

*Lazard corners Zack and Cloud on the SOLDIER floor*

Lazard: I finally understand what happened. That child wasn't yours, it was Sephiroth who turned into a toddler after you undoubtedly cast a spell on him.

Zack: Argh! You got us. But you're wrong about one thing, though.

Lazard: What?

Cloud: The child, was in fact, ours. But we officially handed custody over to Angeal and Genesis this morning.

*Just then Angeal and Genesis walk by. Angeal is carrying fully grown and back to normal Sephiroth in his arms, while Genesis trails behind them, feeding Sephiroth apple sauce*

Sephiroth: For the last time, there's no need for this. While I understand that you needed to care for my toddler form to ensure my safety, I'm fully capable of taking care of myself now.

Genesis: Here comes the airplane! Say 'ah'

Sephiroth: Ahhh

[joeyalohadream]

i loveeee soft vulnerable gale and how you’ve been writing him in ur fic about his rough landing + when he’s sick in the stalag. could i request a little drabble on the heels of one of those situations where he needs bucky’s help to take a shower and it’s hard for him to accept it? i just think that’s so sweet and intimate but no worries if not!

Thanks for this prompt (soft, vulnerable Gale is my jam!)! I really enjoyed writing it! Continuation of my story, 'Another First' on AO3 (now a prequel to Part 2: their trip to London) Hope you enjoy reading it!

Also, I mentioned how I can't really write drabbles because I need more words... well...

Word Count: 2,157

Bucky dropped his bike outside the barracks door. He’d come back and secure it later after his excitement waned to a more manageable level and he’d shared the good news with Gale.

Three days in London. No missions, no responsibilities to a greater cause, no sneaking around, no sleeping sharing space with ten other men snoring away into the night. No, his only responsibility would be making sure Gale had the best time, whatever he chose for that to mean, whatever he was or wasn’t ready for. The only sound he’d fall asleep to after tonight for the next two would be Gale’s soft breaths, quiet even in slumber, sharing the same damn bed for the first time since they’d started this wonderful thing between them.

He smiled to himself as he pushed the door open slowly, trying to avoid the squeaky hinge he knew always echoed through their sleeping quarters just in case Gale had decided to take his advice and get some sleep after he’d eaten.

He huffed in fond annoyance when he fully entered the bay and saw Gale sitting up on his cot, still in the same clothes he’d had on for the mission. Blue eyes met his and he watched a small smile break out on the other man’s face when he noticed him. Bucky couldn’t help but smile back, especially when he saw his sheepskin draped over Gale’s lap like a blanket and his hands were folded under it.

They seemed to have the barracks to themselves, most of the men had been showering and getting dressed for an evening at the Officer’s Club when Bucky had left Gale with some hot food and the promise of returning with passes to their weekend getaway.

“Hey you,” Bucky greeted as took a seat on his own rack, directly across from Gale’s. Close enough that their knees touched in the space between.

“You secure us a victory Major?” Gale asked him, amusement clear in his eyes. Hope too, Bucky noticed.

“Sure did Buck!” He couldn’t contain his grin, not in the mood to tease or delay the good news. “Told you I would, didn’t I? Harding was three whiskeys deep when I caught up to him, and he accused me of riding the coattails of your aviation skills, but he agreed. You and me, three days in London. We can catch the first bus tomorrow morning at 0800!”

Gale just stares at him for a moment and Bucky watches as his words sink and a full smile, pearly white teeth on display and his favorite little dimple appearing on his cheek at the news.

“That’s great Bucky,” he tells him sincerely. “You did good.”

Bucky feels his face heat at the praise. He reaches his hand forward and covers Gale’s knee with his palm, gives it a squeeze.

“You and me Buck,” he tells him. “We’re gonna do it all right.”

Gale blushes, but the smile stays on his face, and he nods. “Sounds perfect, John.”

Bucky can’t stop smiling, anticipation a heavy feeling in his gut. He takes a moment to give Gale a once over and feels his smile slip a bit. He’s sitting rigid, holding himself still and Bucky doesn’t think he’s seen him move at all since he entered the barracks. The lines around his eyes are tense, despite his smile. When Bucky looks closer, he can see fine tremors wracking his slight frame and his smile drops completely.

“Hey now,” Bucky says. Gale’s smile has faded as well at the noticed change in Bucky’s expression. “Thought you said you’d tell me first thing if you started feeling worse Buck?”

Gale furrows his brows. He’s adorable, Bucky thinks.

“My heads fine Bucky, I promise,” Gale sounds genuine, but somethings wrong, Bucky can tell. “I ate every bite you brought me and I’m not nauseous. Ain’t dizzy either, so don’t even mention going back to that damn doctor.”

“Alright feisty,” Bucky laughs. “Cool your engines tough guy, I’m not planning on taking you anywhere except London.”

The sigh that Gale released was one of relief, but Bucky wasn’t done with him yet.

“Your head might be alright, but what about the rest of ya,” he squeezed Gale’s knee and ducked his head to catch the blue eyes. “You’re sitting real tense and I ain’t gonna lie Buck, it’s making me feel a little tense myself just lookin’ at ya.”

Gale looked back at him, an expression on his face that Bucky had seen many times before. It was a look that meant Gale was searching for something, trying to convince himself of something that he wanted to be true. Bucky hadn’t figured out all of the details of it yet, but he made sure whenever it was directed at him, he kept his expression open and let the adoration he felt for the other man shine in his eyes. It usually worked in his favor, and this was no exception.

“Feel dirty,” Gale admitted, his eyes slid away, gazing now at where Bucky’s hand was still covering his knee. “Smell like my fort.”

Bucky nodded but he knew his confusion was showing on his face.

“Okay,” he spoke softly, trying to be encouraging but missing the connection. Gale looked like he was in pain and that’s what Bucky had been trying to assess. Hygiene doesn’t seem like the most important topic when he’d just left the infirmary a couple hours ago.

Gale huffed, sounding frustrated. “I just want to go to sleep Bucky, forget about today. I’m tired John.” He tried to hunch over, but the action pulled a wince across his features and Bucky leaned forward.  

Bucky knew he was exhausted; he could see that. He was tired too; missions always drain them. But he’d seen the exhaustion in Gale’s face while he was laid up in medical and it had looked bone deep.

“Buck, help me out a little here,” Bucky pleaded. “What do you need?”

If he was exhausted, why wasn’t he taking a nap like Bucky had suggested early? He wanted to ask but he didn’t want it to come out patronizing and sometimes talking with Buck when he was like this was like walking a tight rope. One way and he’d open up, like he had earlier in the day, but another and he’d close in on himself.

Some days he reminded Bucky of an old dog that would curl up and hide under the porch when he felt sick. Waiting for it to be over rather than asking for help to get better.

“My back,” Gale breathed out, “and my shoulders. It all tightened up. Can’t even get my damn shirt off.”

“I can help with that Buck,” Bucky assured him, not seeing the problem. Gale had helped Bucky with his clothes, his boots, all of it on numerous occasions. Sometime because of the whiskey, but a few times because of exhaustion and illness. “You don’t even gotta ask.”

Gale looked up at him and Bucky wanted to reach out and shake him for a moment because he looked ashamed. Bucky knows he’s going to have to confess to Gale that he’s head-over-heels in love with him sooner rather than later, to hell with waiting for the perfect moment. It’s time for Gale to know, without a doubt that he’s loved and there’s no condition to it, nothing Bucky wouldn’t do for him.

“Bucky,” Gale’s voice was soft, laced with pain and discomfort and Bucky just wanted to hold him. “It hurts to move too much right now.”

Bucky’s heart squeezed but he kept his gaze on Gale’s face and Gale kept looking back, searching for something again.

“Can you help me clean up?” He practically whispered. “Can’t wash my hair like this and you know how much…” He trailed off, looking thoroughly embarrassed and Bucky couldn’t help the smirk that tugged at his lips.

“How much you love your luscious locks?” Bucky teased but gentled his tone immediately. “Don’t worry, I love em too.” He added with a smile that made Gale duck his face.

Bucky reached over and tapped his chin, forcing his eyes back up and waited till he had his full attention.

“Of course I’ll help you Buck,” he told the younger man, smiling but serious. “I’d do anything for ya.” He tried not to be offended by the surprise that flashed through those blue eyes for a moment before he smiled at Bucky and nodded.

“Thanks Bucky.”

“Come on, let’s do this,” Bucky stood and reached down to help Gale stand, steadying him when he tensed all over at the motion. “I’ll grab your stuff, you just stand there real still and look pretty.” He winked at him and moved to gather his towel and his toiletries, ignoring the quietly huffed, “shut up Bucky,” from behind him.

----

In the stall that was furthest from the door in the large washroom, Bucky gripped the back of the metal chair Gale was seated in and pulled it back so that the spray was hitting the youngers man chest now that his hair was thoroughly soaked.

It had been a hard battle to fight, to convince the injured man to use a chair at all, but with some gentle coaxing and a soft yet exasperated, “You’re kind of shit at taking care of yourself so just let me do it for a while,” Bucky had won.

Bucky squeezed a generous amount of Gale’s rather expensive shampoo into his hands and made a lather before placing his hands in the soft blonde hair and starting to scrub. He kept his motion gentle, tried his best to swipe his hand in the direction that kept the suds from getting into the cuts that littered that beautiful face. As he scratched his finger into Gale’s scalp, he heard a low moan escape and he couldn’t keep the smile off his face.

He absolutely hated that Gale was hurting, hated that he was in enough pain he couldn’t complete such a simple task on his own, but he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t enjoying himself. Taking care of Gale was one his favorite things to do and being able to do it in such a physical, tangible way that clearly made Gale feel good, made his heart swell.

I wish I could wash his hair every day, the ridiculous thought came to his mind.

Gale groaned again as Bucky scratched his fingers through the shorter hair at the back of his neck. Bucky was sure that if the heat from the water hadn’t already turned Gale red, he’d see a blush painting his cheeks.

“Sorry,” Gale mumbled. “Feels good.”

“Don’t apologize,” Bucky scolded gently. “Feels good for me too.”

Gale scoffed, voice low, “Washing my hair makes you feel good?”

“Making you feel good makes me feel good, ya doofus.” Bucky chuckled softly. Gale seemed to melt under his hands and Bucky tried his best to keep his eyes on the top of Gale’s head but he was only human, so he let himself watch as Gale began to drag the bar of soap he’d been holding over his chest and stomach.

Gale moved the soap lower, and Bucky refocused his gaze on his favorite head of hair and thought, London, London, London.

Gale seemed to have finished because he let the soap fall from his grasp and he let his hands rest on the tops of his thighs, water running down his body rinsing away the suds, leaving clean, pink skin. Bucky took a deep breath and tried not to be jealous of the water.

“I don’t know what I did to deserve you,” Gale’s quiet voice broke the silence. “But I’m so damn glad you’re mine Bucky.”

Bucky’s breath hitched and he felt his eyes sting. He let his hands slide down to Gale’s shoulders and gave them a squeeze, already adding a massage to the list of things that were happening in London as he felt how stiff the muscles under his hands were.

“You deserve the whole damn world Buck,” he explained, keeping his voice low, enjoying the peace from the water and the steam. “And you just watch, I’m going to find a way to give it to you some day.”

A wet hand reached up and grabbed his own where it still lay on Gale’s shoulder.

“You already did give it to me,” Gale squeezed his fingers. “You are my whole world, John.”

“Damn you Gale,” Bucky laughed, but it came out closer to a sob. He couldn’t help himself, so he bent over, angled his head and placed a sloppy kiss to Gale’s wet cheek. “You’re gonna make a grown man blush, sweet talkin’ him like that.”

Gale laughed, “You’re one to talk. You make me blush fifty times a day.”

“My goal’s a hundred,” Bucky teased. “Now cover your eyes, I’m pushing you back under the spray.”

[everlastingspring143]

Heartbeat

Pairing: Lee Know x reader Genre: angst/comfort A/n: THIS IS SAUR EMBARASSING TO POST WAAHH (>///<) But I hope that if you do decide to read it, you'll enjoy it. I'm trying to improve my writing skills, so feedback would be greatly appreciated hehe~

The cool summer night breeze messes up your hair, playfully teasing you, but you can't find it in yourself to care. You're lost in your thoughts, feet wandering on their own with no destination.

The streets are quiet. It's no surprise - most people are asleep by now. 2AM is not the time to be wandering around the sleeping neighborhood, with dangers lurking at every corner.

But falling asleep seemed impossible - your thoughts were too loud - keeping you tossing and turning, not letting your body to get some much needed rest. Your room became suffocating. So you decided to take a walk outside. Maybe the thoughts will take up a physical form and stay in your house, like a lost ring or key.

But you can't run away from your own mind. As much as you try to calm the chaos happening inside you, it only seems to get worse. You need to cry, but not a single tear forms. It's like you've lost the ability to cry - an action that's so simple, yet seems impossible to do.

It's strange. Babies are born crying, that's the first thing they do when they enter this world. So why can't you? Crying is a part of being human. Does that mean you're broken?

You pull out your phone, taking a picture of the shimmering stars in the sky. Your finger hovers over the send button before you press it. Maybe a distraction will help...

Three dots pop up not even a minute later.

"What are you doing up so late? Where are you?" Not the message you expected.

"I just went out on a walk, I'm near the ice cream shop. But aren't the stars so beautiful tonight? ^ ^" Your fingers type fast. The phone battery shows 3%. You curse under your breath.

"Of course they're beautiful, but you shouldn't be out so late. It's not safe" A sigh leaves your lips.

Your phone dies right when you were typing out a response. A sardonic laugh escapes your lips at the ironic situation. It seems like the world itself wants to make you drown in your own mind.

You walk up to the ice cream shop. It's abandoned now. Three years ago a tragedy happened to it's owner and the shop had to be closed. What was once a place filled with joyful laughter of kids and the heartwarming presence of people is now just an empty building with broken windows.

You sit down on the pavement, pressing your back to the cold exterior wall of the building. Isn't it funny how a building resembles you so much? What once was such a happy child, turned out to be an empty broken adult. Where did it all go wrong?

It's getting cold. Your thin T-shirt does little to warm you up. You close your eyes, giving in to the darkness of your mind.

"Y/N!" A loud voice startles you, but before you can register it's owner, a sudden warmth envelops you. "You idiot! Why didn't you answer my messages?! I was worried!!"

Wrapping his arms around you is none other than Minho. His hair is a mess and he's out of breath.

He stiffens up a bit and pulls away from the embrace to look at you. Something shifts in his gaze. You notice his eyes glisten like the stars.

"Is... Is everything okay?" His voice becomes soft and quiet, a soothing whisper like the warm summer breeze. He treats you like a fragile vase. Unfortunately for him, you are already broken. The tears that spill out at his simple question prove you right.

You clutch onto Minho, his hoodie catching your tears. You feel his hands gently rubbing your back as he lets you cry.

"Shh... Everything's going to be alright. I'm here for you..." His hushed whispering feels like a band aid to your bruised heart.

And then you hear it. The beating of Minho's heart. It's consistent.

You sniffle as his hand gently pats your head.

In the silence that surrounds you, another sound reaches your ears - your own heart's steady rhythm, echoing in sync with Minho's.

Your heart is beating, and a sudden realisation dawns on you.

You're not broken. You may be tired, or bruised, hurt, lost... But you're not broken.

You're alive.

[theoneandonlypjofanatic]

"Nico?"

He almost cleaved the poor boy in two. The whole situation reminded him of the time he disturbed an older boy in the Lotus Casino, one who was so focused on his video game that, in surprise, hit Nico with the controller. He had thought Bianca would be mad at him, but the only one she lashed out at was that teenager.

He felt a pang of sadness at the thought of her. Not now, he thought. Not right after Will.

"Gods, Harley," he said, pulling him into a hug and ruffling his hair affectionately. "Don't sneak up on me like that. You'll end up like one of the practice dummies in the arena."

Harley giggled. Nico couldn't remember the last time he'd laughed like that.

"Why aren't you smiling?" He asked. Nico realized he'd been staring off into the distance like he was waiting for someone. "Didn't feel like it."

It was Harley's turn to make a face. "You can't not feel like smiling. That's not possible." He squirmed out of Nico's arms. "Something happened, right? So tell me."

His brain went through a thousand responses, from denial to avoiding the question to shadow traveling to Italy to start a new life. "It's..."

William Andrew Solace broke up with him. The person he went to literal Tartarus with, the one who knew all his secrets, the one... the one.

His one and only.

His mouth settled on an answer. "It's complicated."

...

An hour later, after skirting the topic of blonde hair and freckles and sun-kissed skin, he was at the door to Sally Jackson's apartment.

"Oh, Nico!" She said when the door opened. "I haven't seen you in so long! Come in!"

He smiled, just so she wouldn’t he worried. “Thanks, ma'am. Is Percy around? I just wanted to talk.”

Her face brightened even more at the mention of her son. “He’s out running some errands, but he should be back in a couple minutes. In the meantime, how about you try…”

He felt bad for zoning out, but he couldn’t focus the moment he saw the framed pictures of Percy on the table. There was one on his graduation day, one with a car (Paul’s Prius, he assumed), and one with the two of them. Percy and Nico.

Percy would never think of him the way Nico thought of Percy. To Percy, Nico was just a little brother, someone to look out for and eat ice cream with.

To Nico? There weren’t words to describe it. He didn’t need words, anyway, since it was completely hopeless.

Besides, he’d only been without Will for a month and a half. Maybe this was just him longing for someone to hold, someone to know, or maybe just someone.

The door flew open, the sounds of laughter and conversation filling the apartment.

“Nico!” Percy said, uneven smile on his face. “Dude, I haven’t seen you in forever! What’s up?”

He smiled, for real this time. “Nothing much. You?”

…

Three hours after that, after some talking and crying and wondering where things went wrong, they were at the beach. Specifically, the one at Camp Half-Blood.

He'd never really been a fan of beaches, since he couldn't swim, and sitting by the water wasn't any fun. He'd rather teach a bunch of little kids sword fighting than sit still for more than a couple minutes. But Percy promised that he'd show Nico some new surfing moves, and when Percy asked something, Nico could never say no.

So there he was, sitting under an umbrella on a checkered blanket, watching the son of Poseidon ride the waves like it was nobody's business.

Percy was only wearing blue swim trunks and his necklace. Nico couldn't even recall a time where Percy hadn't been wearing some sort of blue, no matter how small. Nico also couldn't explain why he loved it so much.

It was the little things about Percy that made Nico so fond of him. The Camp Half-Blood necklace, the obsession with all things blue, that uneven, troublemaker’s smile… gods, what was he thinking? Loving Perseus Jackson was a mistake. He’d already learned that, hadn’t he?

“Nico? Are you ok?”

He turned to find himself staring right at Percy’s abs.

“Yeah.” He could feel his face getting hot. Gods, he was such an idiot. Especially when it came to Jackson.

Percy chuckled. “You’ve literally been in the shade this entire time, and you’ve still got a sunburn.”

Nico touched his face. A sunburn? “Must be all that time in the Underworld.”

Percy laughed, and Nico committed the sound to memory. “Seriously, man, you need to wear sunscreen. You look like a tomato.”

“Hey!” Nico flicked his arm playfully, and they both collapsed into a pile of giggles.

…

Six years later, they were in New Rome, walking and talking and reminiscing in some garden Nico couldn’t remember the name of.

Six years after Percy saw Nico’s blush and thought it was a sunburn, he proposed to Nico.

And a year after that, the same story was told at the wedding.

…

@neo-kid-funk ITS DONE!!!!!!!!

[dangerous-advantage]

(Image description below 'read more' line.)

[Image ID: A four-by-four alignment chart on a white background with text descriptions to the left and to the top of the squares.

The top left description reads, "seems like they'd be good at parenting." The top right description reads, "seems like they'd be bad at parenting."

Then, from the top down, to the left of the squares, the other set of descriptions reads: "excellent child rearing instincts," and "never trust them with a child in your life."

Each of the four squares contains an image of a different character. At the top left is an image of Lan Wangji of the Mo Dao Zu Shi donghua. He sits between the descriptors "seems like they'd be good at parenting," and "excellent child rearing instincts."

In the top right square sits an image of Wei Wuxian, also of the Mo Dao Zu Shi donghua. He sits between the junction of "seems like they'd be bad at parenting" and "excellent child rearing instincts."

In the bottom left square is an image of Xie Lian from the Tian Guan Ci Fu manhua. He occupies the square with the captions, "seems like they'd be good at parenting" and "never trust them with a child in your life."

Finally, in the bottom left square, sits an image of Hua Cheng from the Tian Guan Ci Fu manhua. He occupies the junction between "seems like they'd be bad at parenting" and "never trust them with a child in your life". /End ID]

[prototypelq]

I needed some self-therapy this month, and my chosen method has been a monster-hunter genre game, cause I've been severely missing it for the last two years at the very least. This time, I've decided to bite the bullet and give Monster Hunter World a try, despite my very picky and allergic reaction to most of eastern titles, cause I had the feeling I could stomach some of my frustrations with the incentive of monster-hunting, and I was not wrong. (though some things still greatly frustrate me)

Here be my impressions of the first 10 or so, hours into the game (strictly solo experience for Reasons):

The weapon variety is honestly overwhelming for a newcomer to the series, but the katana, bow and insect glaive have definitely caught my attention. Their movesets are a joy to fight with, the glaive especially, plus you get a bug buddy))) and insane mobility options, what's not to love about it. From experience, I can guess that the chargeblade would also bring me much joy to fight with, but that is a weapon for more skilled players, I can see myself trying to check it out later.

(I think this gameplay is mh rise and not world, but all of these moves for the glaive still exist in world)

I can finally see why the fans were talking so much about ecology. Just watching videos is not enough to really show it, but you feel all the little things when you play the actual game. Before playing, I was thinking that 'dino-dragons that breathe fire do not exactly fit your standard ecology', that people just didn't know much of actual ecology to speak like that and at best, they meant that the monster design was influenced by irl animals. However, I understood what those fans meant when I saw that Anjanath, whoose pink and bald skin greatly resemble a vulture, mostly just patrols around and steals food from other monsters.

(watch me hang on for my life when he came around xD)

Pukei, the horrible trashchild that I grew to adore, is quite nimble and agile to fit through the dense forest canopy, which it HAS to do, as there are bits of the jungle where the hunters have to force themselves through tight vines, a dragon of larger size has to be flexible. The chameleon and gecko inspiration is very strong in this little bastard, and it fits perfectly into the jungle, where it resides. Also, the game doesn't have to explain to you that this guy changes the colour of his feathers when aggressive, and it works not just on a gamedesign level, but on the creature-design level too.

Barroth (?I think?) lead me to a large mud pit, in the lowest part of the map, down the riverbed, which, is, y'know, Logical, as water flows down the slopes. It fits so perfectly into that zone, it was clearly the monster's lair or favourite spot, as that monster has a few mud-related attacks and an armour buff.

These little things really ground the weird dino/dragon whacky designs and make the whole world really vibrant and come together wonderfully, they also make the that ecology aspect really shine. You don't normally see this attention to ecological detail in games, and it is clear that a lot of care went into making them.

(btw the binoculars are great, they also work as intended, because the colours of this game, while muted a bit, still are very distinct and bright, unlike otheR games that haD binoculaRs in them)

So yeah, I've been enjoying exploration and the world of this game a lot. On that note,

look at this toad. he is perfect. he deserves the world. I am very happy you can keep little guys in your tent (it's also the only reason to visit said tent)

I also really love that you can make your cat into a literal little gremlin. I adore him now, he too is perfect.

Now for the things that frustrated me.

Controls. The inability to remap inputs and clutch claw controls are atrocious. Apparently the game has walrunning, but I have no idea how to distinguish which surfaces it works on and which it doesn't. No manual jumping is very confusing at times, there are a few very specific places that I'm sure I should be able to climb, but the jump is automated and it didn't work, which just leaves me shrugging. That said, vine swinging is cool.

There are far too many menus with very overwhelming rpg stats, it's very hard to make sense or reason of any of them.

For the amount of tutorials the game just keeps Bombarding you with, which is annoying as hell, the weapon&armour upgrade and progression system is not explained at all. The upgrades seem to unlock at finding specific materials, but not All of them. This makes me feel like some weapons have better viability for new players, because they can be upgraded with materials from early monsters, and my go-to weapons apparently don't fit into that category, though I can't be certain of this. There are no perk explanations, so I gotta guess which perks are more useful and which aren't, though I'm not that far into the building anyway, so for a beginner it's not a big problem.

These are just inconveniences the new player has to deal with, but they are not gamebreaking in any way. The ten hours I've spent with the game have been very enjoyable, and I'd love to play more of it.

[pepprs]

june 27th give it up for june 27th

[ehlnofay]

I find that my favourite thing about writing each of my characters varies greatly but with torr my favourite thing is ABSOLUTELY how easily and logically their actions fall into line when viewed through the lens of their priorities and worldview. of all my characters they are the most principled. even in my old shit writing they never do a fucking thing - whether intentional or not on my part - that doesn’t follow this scaffolding that underpins his character. I’ve been trying to figure out for a while how to articulate even to myself how and why he is able to choke a man to death in his sleep from the same headspace and with the same internal logic as he, say, scolds his sister for stealing a letter-opener or incurs a debt to acquire someone else’s medicine, and I think in the end it comes down to this:

torr’s most fundamental trait is their loyalty. there is nothing they would not sacrifice for the people he chooses to commit himself to. and what this means is that the world in his eyes is made up of two groups: those they care about - those they must go to every extent to ensure the safety, security and happiness of - and collateral. every action torr takes is for the preservation and betterment of quality of life for the people they’ve chosen (up to and including joining the brotherhood, before he adopted them into that group as well) and this is an Ultimate Good, the north point of their ethical compass. any and all damage to anyone and anything else in the pursuit of this is not only justifiable, it’s irrelevant. sad, of course - sucks that a random stranger had to die so that the people who matter might live - but simply not torr’s problem. they look after their own, and nothing will ever get in the way of that

[ride-a-dromedary]

The pure toxicity of Moclus' culture has put so many individuals in terrible pain that they were ultimately forced to swallow for so long, it turned into an irreversible poison for some of them. It festered and turned into trauma, physically, emotionally and mentally. 

What the Moclans choose to do with this trauma, how they choose to work through it (or not work through it), that is what needs to be paid attention to. 

[slutdge]

🐞

[feminist-space]

Cat in the Hat:

"The German Health Minister gave an important update on the Covid situation yesterday.

I’ve written up the section of his speech from the video below for easy reading.

It’s immensely refreshing to see a government minister warning of the harms of Covid in such a transparent way."

https://x.com/_catinthehat/status/1732092683508678954

Prof. Karl Lauterbach

Health Minister, Germany

4 December 2023

"This second (long Covid) round table was very interesting, lasting three and a half hours. It serves as a unique forum for dialogue among scientists, researchers and those affected by long Covid, facilitating the exchange of ideas.

There are many new findings about long Covid. Not all of them are good news. One piece of not-so-good news concerns the fact that long Covid is actually still a problem for those who are newly infected. One estimate that has been put forward is that the risk of contracting long Covid now, even after vaccination, is around 3%. Now you may say, "that's not such a big risk" , but there are tens of thousands of people who are repeatedly affected in a short period of time. And so, the long Covid problem has not yet been solved.

We have also established that there really are many subgroups of long Covid and that we do not yet have a cure. And it was clearly pointed out that we are also dealing with problems here that will challenge society as a whole, because vascular diseases often occur after long Covid. Throughout Europe, we are currently seeing an increased incidence of cardiovascular disease in the middle-age group - from 25 to 50. This is associated with the consequences of Covid infections.

We also very often find cognitive impairment in older people. And one participant pointed out that it may well be like the Spanish flu, where 20 years after the Spanish flu there was a significant increase in Parkinson's disease and probably also dementia.

This is something we must pay attention to, as the past infection afiects how the immune system in the brain functions, as well as the brain's blood vessels, potentially increasing the long-term risk of these major neurodegenerative diseases. This is why we need to conduct very intensive research. This research has played a major role.

What is the overall assessment of the situation now?

We have to be careful. Long Covid is not curable at the moment. We also know that over 40% of those who have several manifestations of long Covid, for example, five or more, still have symptoms after 2 years, so it doesn't seem to heal spontaneously. We also know that those whose symptoms are more pronounced at the beginning are less likely to heal.

So some of what we know from the demographics of long Covid has been confirmed, and we now know more precisely which mechanisms in the brain, but also in the blood vessels and the immune system, are responsible for this. Professor Scheibenbogan will explain this briefly later.

At this point, I can only say the following - this is particularly important to me:

First of all, long Covid is a disease that stays with us and that we cannot yet cure. And we are seeing an increasing number of cases as the waves of infection continue to affect us.

Secondly, Covid is not a cold - with a cold, you don't usually see any long-term effects. You don't see any changes in the blood vessels. You don't usually see an autoimmune disease developing. You also don't usually see neurological inflammation - these are all things that we see with long Covid. Therefore, one should not assume that Covid infection is just a common cold. It can affect brain tissue and the vascular system, and we still lack an effective treatment, making these studies crucial.

Significantly, we know that the risk of long Covid decreases when you're infected but have been vaccinated. That's why it's concerning that only 3 million people have been vaccinated with the new, adapted vaccine. That is a very bad result.

Please protect yourself from severe infections.

Please protect yourself from long Covid.

Currently, the danger posed by Covid is indeed being underestimated. Nothing is worse than infecting someone at Christmas who then becomes seriously ill and may not fully recover."

Alt text is included in all images of this post.

[tobiasdrake]

*deep breath* Okay. Here we go.

I don't think the Netflix Avatar show likes women very much. It's a great show for fans of Aang, Sokka, Zuko, and Iroh specifically. All four of those characters get a ton of great material. In fact, it's super great for Sokka stans, because the show takes him ultra-seriously and can't go five minutes without one character or another (usually a woman) praising him.

But the way it handles its female cast is troublesome.

Katara

So, all three of the main trio got some changes made to their stories. They changed Aang's story so that he wasn't running away from his responsibilities; He was just clearing his head and somehow accidentallied himself into a tsunami. Whoopsy-dooodle. Aang did nothing wrong.

They changed Sokka's story so that him being a leader of his people and a great guardian warrior is treated with complete seriousness. Multiple times, characters stop to talk about how brave and noble Sokka is for taking on such an intense responsibility, and tell him to his face what a great warrior and a wonderful leader he is. Also his misogyny is erased.

And they changed Katara's story so that she directly got her mom killed because she sucks at waterbending.

Katara tries to waterbend to attack the Fire Nation soldier but couldn't manage it, provoking the soldier to start actively searching for her and forcing her mom to fake a waterbending attack and draw his fire. They changed Katara's story so that her bad decision making fucking got her mom killed.

This is treated with the same level of severity as "Sokka was bullied by mean kids and also his dad doesn't think he's good enough to be a leader."

"I hoped Sokka would do better but not everyone is meant to have people's lives in their hands," Sokka's dad says of him.

Yeah, you're right, that's totally comparable to watching your mom get barbecued because you tried to waterbend in a situation you shouldn't have and then failed.

In fact, they give Sokka's greatest trauma more weight because it gets examined again with Yue next episode, while Katara actively getting her mom killed isn't brought up again at all. We get traumatized glimpses of it throughout the season leading up to the reveal, but after this scene in episode 5, it never comes up again.

But to be fair, Katara was a child. An event this significant would surely have motivated her, driving her to become the great waterbender she is now, right?

No! Katara sucks at waterbending and needs men who aren't even waterbenders to teach her how to waterbend. She requires instruction from Aang in episode 1 to learn how to waterbend, then from Jet in episode 3 to learn how to waterbend better.

And unlike the show, her relationship with Aang isn't a give-and-take; Katara doesn't teach Aang a single goddamn thing. He never learns to waterbend. She is a strictly a pupil throughout the whole season. Though she at least gets officially labeled a master in episode 8, so there's that.

In any case, the whole traumatic memory thing isn't even the only time she's directly compared with Sokka. Episodes 3 and 4 see Katara and Sokka bicker over whose morally dubious side character is better. Sokka likes the Mechanist and Katara likes Jet.

Ultimately, Katara is forced to eat crow when Jet turns out to be the worst, while Sokka is vindicated when the Mechanist sees the error of his ways and reforms. But not before two separate arguments where Sokka calls Katara childish and accuses her of acting like a little girl.

Arguments ultimately resolved when Katara apologizes to Sokka for not adequately respecting his very serious and ultra important role as village protector and leader. Gives him a whole speech about how great and glorious he is. And Sokka... appreciates Katara learning to respect him properly, I guess, because he never offers any similar sentiments back to her.

The show just... They need you to know how important Sokka is, okay? It's very important that you respect Sokka.

Suki

Suki suffers tremendously from that whole "Sokka's misogyny was removed" thing. Y'know, because they need something else to do with that episode. The show is deeply aware that Suki is Sokka's love interest, so they just do that right off the bat. Suki falls madly in love with him from the moment they meet, and spends the entire episode making goo-goo eyes and trying to get him to Notice Me Senpai.

They still do the "Suki Trains Sokka" stuff. But Sokka is a serious, dignified manly man worthy of the deepest respect now, so of course they don't make him wear the Kyoshi uniform. Instead, the main purpose of his training is to allow them to flirt some more. It's less martial arts training and more an excuse to grope each other and near-kiss.

Suki's just a waifu now. She still fights real good, but all of the stuff that made her relationship with Sokka interesting has been erased.

Yue

Yue, similarly, leaps straight to shipping from the word go. They write out her fiance, Hahn, by having Yue briefly meet Sokka earlier in the season. She spends one minute talking to him in the Spirit World about Spirit World lore; In that time, she falls so desperately, madly, unfathomably in love with him that she breaks off her marriage to Hahn and devotes herself to waiting for him to one day come to her.

"Never have I known such joys as that time you let me explain the spirit bear Hei Bei to you. Truly, we are destined to be together for life."

Like with Suki, they go out of their way to have Yue and Sokka already be a ship from the word 'go' so they don't have to spend time developing any kind of meaningful attraction.

They just. They really want you to know that Sokka is the manliest and most desirable man ever to walk this earth. It is very important that you understand how great he is. Women hurl themselves into his arms with zero effort whatsoever, because he's just so goddamn irresistible.

Fortunately, Hahn is super okay with this turn of events. He's the most chill guy ever, he gets along perfectly well with Sokka, and he completely supports Yue's right to dump him! In the famously misogynistic Northern Water Tribe, no less! What a swell guy. Aren't men swell?

June

June gets hit with that "rewritten as hollow waifu" stick too, but her eyes are set on Iroh. They rewrote June to be super attracted and flirty towards the man who was her unwanted sexual harasser in the source material. So that's fun.

Also, she barely does anything. Zuko hires her to find Aang, she succeeds, and then she fucks right off out of the show - But she manages to find time to express how unbelievably sexy Iroh is twice during that time.

She seriously just dropped into the show to flirt with Iroh and leave. She is unbelievably inconsequential.

Kyoshi

And then there's Kyoshi. They really want you to hate Kyoshi. She's constantly shot from below, as if looking down on Aang and the audience. Her voice takes on a demonic echoing reverb at one point as she's screaming at Aang that "THE AVATAR MUST BE A MERCILESS WARRIOR!!!"

She despises Aang, calling him a coward for running away from his responsibilities - Which, I remind you, is no longer a plot point because they unwrote that flaw from his character. So she's just a complete and utter asshole, shot from the asshole angle, yelling violently at him with asshole sound effects. They want you to despise this woman.

Azula

Awkwardly, they do not seem to want you to despise Azula.

There's a lot to be said for how Ozai treats Azula in the original show. The way the favoritism he shows her is every bit as cruel and manipulative as the unfavoritism that he shows Zuko. Ozai does not love Azula. He loves the reflection of himself he sees in her eyes, and his encouragement urges her to polish herself to ensure his reflection always shines through.

This is not that. The show instead erases the favoritism entirely. Ozai doesn't really care one way or another about either of his kids. He plays them against each other, bragging openly to Azula about how great Zuko is and unpleasably writing Azula off as weak and useless.

They've rewritten the dynamic between abusive father and his two abused kids in order to take Azula's pride away. Reimagining her from a gifted prodigy who excels at imitating the toxic behaviors of a father who doesn't truly care for her, to a put-upon overachiever tearing herself in knots to live up to the standards of her unpleasable father.

This results in a truly wild portrayal of Azula as insecure and jealous of Ozai's seemingly love for Zuko. Here, she is simply a browbeaten child constantly complaining to her friends about how mean her father is and conspiring to get one up over Daddy's Golden Child Zuko.

Which she fails at, because she backs Zhao. Zuko deftly defeats her without even realizing they're in competition.

Conclusion

The season ends well for some of these women. It ends promising that maybe we'll see Katara teaching Aang some day. It ends with Zhao bragging that Ozai just used Zuko to train Azula so maybe we'll see the more confident and misguidedly proud Azula some day. Yue becomes the moon like she's supposed to. June's still out there so maybe she'll get to do something again some day.

Katara gets to fight Pakku and lose, but she looks pretty cool. She gets to fight Zuko and lose, but she looks pretty cool. Azula learns to lightningbend because she's just so mad about Ozai's contempt for her and favoritism for Zuko, which isn't how you lightningbend.

But promises of future content fall flat when the content that exists is so underwhelming. This season made its feelings on these characters pretty evident, and it's unwise to expect better material from creators who've disappointed you with the material they already made.

The women of Netflix Avatar simply do not get to shine, outside of superficial moments like the "Women of Northern Water Tribe demand the right to fight and then fuck off and don't do anything for the entire rest of the episode" bit.

"In the midst of battle, we demand that you stop being sexist and give us permission to fight! This is a way better idea than convincing you to teach us to fight before the battle begins."

The characters of this show feel as if they've been reimagined to glorify the boys at the expense of the girls. The boys are treated with a great amount of care. They're dignified and made important movers of the plot, with their rough edges sanded off. While the girls are molded around them.

[ohproserpine]

v. deer dolly

see all chapters here tags: fem! reader, reader is a performer in a speakeasy, heavy warning for violence and bloof, graphic descriptions of injuries, manipulation, allusion to death, grey morality, references to alcoholism, twisted view of love, gorey descriptions of love, murder

"THAT SLAG!"

Velvette's piercing scream echoed through the meeting room, slicing through the air. Vox and Valentino jolted, turning their gazes toward the source of the disturbance.

"Good-for-nothing piece of shit twat assistant!" Velvette paced the room, her movements agitated and frantic as she angrily tapped away on her phone.

In a sudden surge of anger, she flung her device across the room, sending it flying above Valentino's head. A crash punctuated the air as it collided with a window, the impact shattering the glass into shards that rained down onto the floor.

"Velvette, darling," Vox raised an eyebrow, his voice calm as always, "What's got you so worked up?"

He took a sip of his coffee, the rich aroma wafting up from the steaming cup as he idly scrolled through his laptop. "Is it that showgirl situation again?"

"Oh, bloody hell!" Velvette rolled her eyes. "Of course, it is, you git! It's been literally the ONLY thing I've been banging on about this week!"

Valentino's sigh cut through the conversation as he adjusted his sunglasses. Holding his glittering firearm up to his face, he pressed rhinestones on it with tacky glue, unfazed by Velvette's anger.

"It's just some performer, babydoll. We can find a replacement."

"Are you out of your mind?!" Velvette seethed as she stormed toward them, her heels clicking loudly with each step. With a forceful slam of her hands against the table, it shifted forward, jolting the items on its surface. With a hiss of pain, Vox recoiled, his hand jerking back from the scalding coffee he had spilled on himself.

"The boutique opening is in three days! How on earth am I supposed to find a girl who's got the looks and a set of pipes in time?!" she exclaimed.

Valentino looked up from his bedazzling, a raised eyebrow visible above the rim of his sunglasses. "Have you tried one of my models? I got a lot of pretty little chicas who can charm the socks off anyone. No need to stress yourself out."

"Your models? Do you have any idea how much time and effort it's going to take for me to wrangle those little amateurs into something remotely resembling a professional performance?" Velvette scoffed, rolling her eyes. "Sod off!"

Valentino snarled in response but turned away with a huff, muttering under his breath, "Have it your way."

"If I may," Vox spoke, wiping his hand with a grumble, the sting of the burn still lingering. He tilted his head slightly, raising a single brow. "Have you tried scouting?"

"Have I tried scouting?" Velvette mocked, her hands waving around in frustration. "Of course I have! All I've come across are bloody singers around here, and they all look like they've been dragged through the dirt backwards!"

"Well, have you tried the back district?" he offered, tapping his claws on the long glass table. He watched as Velvette pulled out a pocket mirror from her purse, visibly cringing at his suggestion.

"Why in bloody hell would I go there?" Velvette grimaced as she re-applied her dark lipstick. "I'm not about to waste my time scouring the back district for some dime-a-dozen talent. I need someone who's got class, not gutter scraps."

"Well, there's this performer," Vox insisted, snapping his fingers. A screen materialized with a whiz, displaying a video of a figure in a sparkly silver dress singing and dancing. As the video drew to a close, the camera zoomed in, capturing a close-up of the woman's face. Her features were radiant, a smile gracing her lips as she gazed out at the audience.

Velvette snapped her mirror shut with a flick of her wrist, interest sparking in her eyes. She leaned in closer, studying the performer's features.

"Who's this?" she quipped.

"Dolly, at least that's what they call her," Vox hummed, sliding the screen over to Velvette. "She works at Mimzy's Lounge."

Velvette's expression darkened, strands of hair falling over her eyes as she took the screen in her hands, leaning down to view the image again. The glow of the projection illuminated her face, casting shadows that danced across her steely expression.

"Mimzy?" she uttered the name slowly, her lips dripping with venom. "That's the cunt who tore up my best showgirl!"

"Drama," Valentino chuckled, spinning his bedazzled gun around his fingers.

"Well, this Dolly girl is her biggest star, and she's been making quite a name for herself there," Vox drawled, gesturing toward the screen. With a tap of his claw on the screen, he zoomed in closer. "She's got the looks, the voice, and the stage presence you're looking for."

"And she's managed to shine even in the shadow of that cesspool," he added with a sardonic grin as he sipped from his coffee.

A flicker ignited in Velvette's eyes as she straightened. "Then it's settled. I'll pay her a visit."

"Sounds like you've got a plan brewing, my dear. Care for some company?" Vox spoke with a smirk playing on his lips.

Velvette shot him a knowing glance before a grin tugged at the corner of her lips. "Why not? I could use some of your charm."

.

"Cher? Dearest? It's time to get up," the radio atop your bedside table rumbled, your husband's voice crackling through the air.

Grunting in protest, you burrowed deeper into the warmth of your blankets, seeking refuge from the harsh bite of the morning. But Alastor's persistent calls refused to be ignored.

"Mon cœur? Cher? W̷A̴K̶E̴ ̶U̸P̷!̶" it blared, the words amplified by hissing static, demanding attention like a toddler throwing a tantrum.

With a heavy sigh, you reluctantly peeled yourself away from the cocoon of comfort that had enveloped you. Sitting up, you felt the blanket slip from your shoulders, pooling around your hips. Memories of last night flooded in, and the remnants of Alastor's romantic gesture still adorned your room. The bouquet sat atop your dresser, with scattered white roses delicately strewn across your bed like whispers of affection.

Despite the tender atmosphere, a throbbing headache reminded you of an unwelcome guest that accompanied you into the morning—the hangover.

Dragging yourself to the side, you swung your legs over the edge of the bed and sat for a moment, rubbing your temples in a futile attempt to ease the discomfort. Then, pushing yourself to your feet, you padded across the room, the cool floorboards sending a shiver through your bare skin. You picked up the radio, its incessant blare akin to an annoying alarm clock, with Alastor's voice still grating on your nerves.

"Alright. Alright. I'm up, love," you grumbled, rubbing at your eyes which still felt thick with sleep.

The radio rumbled with delight at your response.

"Hellish morning to you, my dear!" Alastor's voice boomed through the speakers, his jovial tone slicing through the early morning gloom. Despite your grogginess, a small smile tugged at the corners of your lips at the sound of his voice.

"Hellish morning to you too, darling," you returned, laced with affection.

"I trust you had a restful sleep?" Alastor questioned.

"As restful as one can get with a noisy radio blaring in their ear," you sighed, already feeling the weight of the day bearing down on you.

"Hah!" Alastor laughed, the sound making you roll your eyes. "But where ever would you be without my dulcet tones to serenade you awake?"

"Probably catching a few more precious minutes of sleep," you muttered, already regretting the start of another day. “You are insufferable, you know that?”

"Ah, but that's why you love me."

Back in his hotel room, Alastor chuckled to himself as he shrugged on his suit jacket. From his microphone, he caught the rustling of your clothes, followed by the gentle rush of running water.

With a flick of his wrist, Alastor summoned a gramophone, its boxy form materializing atop his dresser with a soft thud. Soon enough, the needle gently descended onto the spinning vinyl record, releasing a soft, nostalgic melody that filled the room.

I'll never smile again Until I smile at you I'll never laugh again What good would it do?

As Alastor began to sing along, his smooth voice seeping through the rusting speakers of the radio, you paused in the middle of washing your hair, caught off guard by the unexpected serenade.

"Stupid, stupid man," you muttered under your breath with a shake of your head. And yet, despite yourself, a smile tugged at the corners of your lips, warmth creeping into your heart.

For tears would fill my eyes My heart would realize That our romance is through

Exiting the bath, you toweled yourself off and approached your wardrobe, humming softly as you selected your attire for the day. After scanning through the hangers, you settled on a vibrant red hooverette dress. With matching stockings and white heels, you completed the look, the final touch being a few roses plucked from the bouquet Alastor had given you, tucked behind your ear.

I'll never love again I'm so in love with you I'll never thrill again To somebody new

Dressed and ready to face the day, you returned to the radio, the soft strains of music and Alastor's voice still lingering in the air. As the final notes faded into silence, you stood for a moment, savoring the fleeting illusion of domestic bliss for a moment longer.

With a pang of sadness, you glanced at the clock, realizing that it was time to go.

"I have to head out now, darling," you spoke into the radio, feeling a tug at your heartstrings. "My shift starts in a while."

"Ah, until we meet again, mon cher," Alastor's voice replied warmly. "Do take care of yourself."

In response, you leaned down to press a kiss against the speakers, a gesture of your affection. The soft sound of the kiss was barely audible, but Alastor's ears perked up and caught the gentle touch against the metal surface. He chuckled softly, then, with a soft click, the radio fell silent.

As you slipped your purse over your shoulder, a thought crossed your mind—should you bring the radio along? The temptation to have Alastor's voice with you throughout the day was strong, but the risk of further damaging the precious device gave you pause. With a sigh, you decided against it, opting to leave it safely in your room, where it would patiently await your return.

Heading out of your room, the lounge was already buzzing with the hustle and bustle of customers and staff. Although no singer graced the stage yet, the speakers blasted with the familiar tunes of Hell’s Top 10 Hits.

"There you are!" Mimzy's voice cut through the lively atmosphere, her smile failing to reach her eyes as she bounded towards you.

"Mimzy," you greeted flatly, acknowledging her with a nod.

"How are ya doin', doll? Just the person I was looking for," she purred with a bat of her eyes. "Alright, listen, I've got a marvelous idea for a performance."

You sighed inwardly, bracing yourself for whatever scheme she had cooked up this time. Mimzy's requests were as extravagant as they were challenging, always pushing the boundaries to maintain her club's "reputation" and squeeze every last dime from these sinners' wallets.

"Let's hear it," you replied, mustering a polite smile.

"So, I was thinking," Mimzy began, tapping her finger along her chin, "how about a duet? A throwback to the good ole days, sharing the spotlight. It's bound to be a performance these wayward fools are going to talk about for ages!"

You raised an eyebrow, surprised by the relatively tame suggestion. The blonde wasn't exactly known for her subtlety or restraint when it came to showmanship. At most, a duet with Mimzy was sure to be a spectacle, for better or for worse.

"And when is this going to be held?" you grinned tensely, hands at your hips. There was bound to be a switch somewhere.

"When else? Prime time tonight!" Mimzy giggled as she threw up her hands with a flourish.

And there it was.

"Tonight?" Your eyes widened, shoulders squaring in shock. "Miss Ma'am, that's cutting it a bit close, don't you think?"

"Bushwa! We'll make it work," Mimzy replied dismissively, waving off your concerns with a flick of her hand. "And I've already got the perfect song in mind. It'll be a real humdinger, mark my words."

"Alright," you sighed, hoping for the best but bracing yourself for the chaos that was sure to follow. "Tonight it is."

"That's the spirit! Hell, why don't you take the morning off?" Mimzy grinned as she hurried off down the hallway to make preparations. "I'll see you tonight! Make sure to be here by sunset!"

Standing by the stairs as stiff as a pole, you watched her skip off with an unusually chipper air. It struck you as odd, but you pushed the thought aside, eager to have the morning to yourself. As you turned away, however, your head throbbed once more, the reminder of your hangover cutting through the moment.

"Looks like a ciggy is in order," you muttered to yourself, rubbing at your throbbing temples. Making your way outside, hoping to smoke away the edge of discomfort.

Trudging along the filthy backstreets, you did your best to avoid the muck and other questionable liquids that lined the roadside. The stench of decay hung heavy in the air, assaulting your senses with each step you took.

No one spared you a glance as you passed; the citizens of hell were absorbed in their own pursuits or concerns, and you blended into the backdrop of the grim landscape. 

Finally reaching a clearer stretch of street, you took a seat on one of the benches, the worn wood groaning under your weight. The city bustled around you, a mix of sounds and movements that seemed to blur together.

With a weary sigh, you reached into your bag in search of company—nicotine.

Fingers fumbling through the contents of your purse, you felt the familiar shape of the roll, and with a hum, pulled it out. However, as you continued to rummage through your belongings, a sinking realization settled in.

Your matchbox wasn't there.

Dropping your head into your hands with a scowl, you could feel the stress mounting within you, bubbling up like a simmering pot ready to boil over.

Wallowing in your misfortune, you failed to notice someone approaching you from behind. A sudden tap on your shoulder jolted you, and as you turned, you found yourself face to face with a tall and slender spider-like demon. His frame was practically drowning in a plush white fur coat, the color almost blending into his skin. It contrasted sharply with the sleekness of the black bodycon dress clinging onto his curves underneath.

"Need a light?" he asked casually as he held up a pink-colored lighter.

You eyed him skeptically for a moment.

In hell, kindness often came with a price. Whether it was a favor owed, a debt to be repaid, or simply a hidden agenda waiting to be revealed, nothing came for free. However, when your head throbbed again, you sighed and relented with a nod, accepting the offer despite your reservations.

Angel Dust ignited the lighter, the flame pirouetting gracefully and flickering in the wind. Drawing closer, you leaned in, offering the tip of your cigarette to the flame. With a gentle hiss, the tobacco caught fire, wisps of smoke curling into the air like ethereal dancers. As you took a deep, shaky inhale, the saccharine poison of the smoke flooded your lungs, leaving a bittersweet taste lingering on your tongue. Shutting your eyes, a sense of calm washed over you as you leaned back, letting yourself be carried away by the fleeting tranquility of the moment.

Remembering you had company, you grounded yourself and opened your eyes. "Thank you ever so much, dear. Can I have your name?" you asked, tilting your head up at him. The stranger moved to sit down next to you, the worn wood of the bench creaking under his weight.

"Angel Dust," he said, and your eyes shot wide open, lips forming an 'O' shape.

"The porn star?" you blurted out before you could stop yourself.

"Didn't take you as the type to watch my shit, toots," Angel laughed heartily as his grin widened from ear to ear in response, his golden tooth gleaming at you like a wink.

"Well, I may not be your typical fan, but your name does tend to make its rounds in conversation," you chuckled, shaking your head in amusement. Taking a drag from your cigarette, you gestured with it casually. "I saw you in my husb—erm, the Radio Demon's commercial. Hazbin Hotel, was it?"

"Yeah, and don't worry, I know. Dolly, was it?" Angel Dust replied smoothly, his demeanor surprisingly nonchalant given the situation. Extending his hand for you to shake, he continued, "Nice to finally put a face to the name."

His confession caught you off guard, but you shook his hand firmly nonetheless. "How did you—did Alastor tell you about me? You two must be close."

Angel Dust hesitated, a grimace crossing his features. His crimson eyes darted away briefly, as if weighing his words carefully.

"Let's just say... word gets around in our circles," he replied vaguely, tugging his coat closer around himself.

"I don't know him that well, though," Angel Dust admitted with a shrug, his gaze drifting off momentarily. "Sometimes he can be a bit..."

"A pompous dick with a sadistic streak?" you suggested, exhaling smoke as you raised an eyebrow at Angel Dust, testing the waters.

Angel Dust laughed genuinely, throwing his head back. "Something along those lines, toots," he grinned, taking another drag of his cigarette.

"Well, it's good to know I'm not the only one who sees it," you remarked, a wry smile playing on your lips.

"Believe me, ya ain't alone in that," he agreed. "So, ah—What brings ya out here? Aside from the obvious need for a blow."

"Just needed some fresh air," you admitted with a shrug. "Plus, I may have indulged a bit too much last night and woke up feeling like death warmed over."

"I hear ya," Angel Dust replied, nodding sympathetically as he raked his eyes over your worn-out form, noting the slump of your body and the dark circles under your eyes. You looked so different from the sparkly performer he had seen on stage days ago.

"Hey, I actually caught one of ya shows the other night," he piped up, attempting to shift the conversation to a lighter topic.

"Did you?" you cooed, surprise evident in your voice.

"Yeah," Angel nodded, stretching out on the bench, spreading both his arms across the back of the wood. "Gotta say, ya put on quite the show up there. I mean—ya had the crowd eating out of the palm of ya hand."

A faint smile crept onto your cheeks at his praise, a swell of pride rising within you.

"Well, thank you," you bowed your head in gratitude, momentarily forgetting your fatigue in the warmth of his words. "It means a lot coming from someone like you."

Angel Dust waved off your thanks with a casual flick of his hand, lips jutting out in a playful pout.

"Ah, c'mon. I call it like I see it," he grinned with a shrug. "N'trust me, I've seen my fair share of performances."

Lost in the easy flow of conversation, you surrendered to the comfort of the moment, finding solace in the presence of your spider companion. Hours passed, and before you knew it, the sun dipped below the horizon,  painting the park in hues of golden warmth.

A jarring ringtone shattered the moment, causing Angel Dust to glance down at his phone with a whistle. His brows furrowed as he scrolled through a flurry of notifications, irritation flashing across his features.

"As much as I'm enjoying our little chat, duty calls," he sighed, flicking away ash from his cigarette. "Can't keep the boss waiting."

You nodded in understanding, offering a wave as he rose from the bench. "No worries, Angel. Catch you later."

"Looking forward to it, dollface," he replied with a wink before sauntering off into the city streets, leaving you to enjoy the peace alone. After a few minutes of watching the sunset, you decided it was time to go. You stubbed out your cigarette and rose from the bench, making your way out.

As you approached the streets leading to the lounge, the neon lights of the city burst into life, casting vibrant reflections on the pavement. Climbing the stairs to the entrance, you were enveloped by the familiar sights and sounds of the establishment. The air was thick with the scent of perfume and cigarette smoke, mingling with the pulsating rhythm of the music from within.

Mimzy was nowhere to be seen, which came as a welcome relief. And with a last scan to ensure she wasn't lurking anywhere nearby, you made a beeline straight to your dressing room, eager to ready yourself for tonight's performance in peace without a certain blonde talking your ear off.

Taking a seat at the vanity, you began to prepare for the evening ahead, carefully applying your makeup and fixing your hair into place.

A sudden knock broke your routine, prompting you to rise from your seat and stride over to the door. With a quick twist of the knob, you swung it open, revealing an imp demon. White blotches adorned his skin, and he sported sunglasses perched high up on his nose. In his hands, he held up a box, his expression expectant as he waited for your reaction.

"May I help you?" you murmured, tilting your head at him, curiosity coloring your tone.

"Yeah. Are you Dolly?" the imp asked, his tone curt and impatient.

"Yes?" you replied, a brow raised.

"Great. This is for you, lady," he said, thrusting the box of jewelry toward you. "If you could just sign here so I can get the hell out of this shithole, that'd be great."

You accepted the box from the imp demon's outstretched hand, eyeing him warily as he thrust a pen and clipboard in your direction. With a resigned sigh, you reluctantly took the pen and scrawled your signature on the dotted line, handing the clipboard back to him with a curt nod.

"Thanks," he muttered, barely sparing you a glance as he turned on his heel and hurried away, disappearing into the crowded hallway of the club.

Interest piqued, you turned your attention back to the box in your hands. With a gentle touch, you ran your fingers along the surface and lifted the lid of the box. Nestled amidst folds of satin lay a pearl necklace, the orbs gleaming as if moonlight itself was captured and trapped within. At its heart, a rose pendant bloomed, its petals of silver. 

Taken aback, you reached for the small card tucked within the box. Gently retrieving, you turned it around to see the words "From Al" penned gracefully in elegant script.

"Oh, you cheese…"

With a soft smile pulling at the corners of your lips, you delicately lifted the necklace from its satin-lined cocoon, feeling the cool weight of the pearls in your palm. As you draped it around your neck, the pendant nestled against your collarbone.

Feeling as giddy as a teenager in love, you turned away from the vanity, your heart fluttering with excitement. With a skip in your step, you crossed the room to the wardrobe, fingers dancing over the array of neatly hung dresses.

Before your fingers could grasp onto a dress, a sudden deafening explosion tore through the air. The sound was thunderous, shaking the walls and causing the ground beneath your feet to tremble violently. The shockwave slammed into you with palpable force, knocking you off balance and sending you crashing to the floor amidst a cloud of dust and debris.

Alarm flashed across your features as your heart pounded in your chest, the adrenaline coursing through your veins like a raging river. With trembling hands, you pushed yourself up from the ground.

What in hell was that?

Staggering to your feet, you ran out into the lounge. As the dust settled, you could see the entrance of the lounge now reduced to a gaping maw, the doors blown open by the force of the explosion. The familiar sights and sounds of the club were replaced by a scene of utter devastation, with debris strewn haphazardly across the floor and smoke billowing out into the night air.

Two ominous figures cast dark shadows amidst the panicked frenzy of staff and customers.

Struggling to discern the figures amidst the chaos, you squinted, trying to make out the details. One of them was a slender demon, dressed immaculately, with cedar-brown skin and long, fiery red curls tied into neat pigtails.

A sinking feeling settled in your chest as you recognized her as one of Hell's infamous overlords. Your heart plummeted further as you caught sight of Mimzy, ensnared in Velvette's vice-like grip, fear twisting her features as she struggled against her captor.

But it was the presence of the figure behind Velvette that truly sent a shiver down your spine.

The TV Demon, Vox.

His gaze swept over the room with a detached coldness, as if the pandemonium were of little consequence. Suddenly, his icy eyes locked onto yours, freezing you in place.

"Mimzy, dear," Vox's voice buzzed with deceptive sweetness as he addressed the shaking blonde. "Why don't you go and have a little chat with your esteemed employee about our... conditions?"

Wide-eyed with fear, Mimzy frantically nodded, her breaths coming in short, ragged gasps.

"Make it quick," Velvette scoffed, releasing her grip on Mimzy's throat. The blonde stumbled toward you, her movements shaky and unsteady.

"What is—" you started, but Mimzy cut you off, panic evident as she began to drag you backstage. Without a moment's hesitation, she pushed you into your dressing room, swiftly locking the door behind you.

"Mimzy, what in hell is going on out there?" you demanded, leaning down to her height and shaking her by the arms.

Mimzy's breaths came in ragged gasps as she leaned against the door, her eyes wide with terror. She struggled to find her words, her entire figure trembling as she tried to compose herself.

"It's Velvette," she finally managed to choke out.

"Why is she here? What does she want from us?" you pressed, urgency creeping into your tone as you searched Mimzy's face for answers. But her response only added to your unease.

"You need to go with them," Mimzy decided abruptly.

"Go with who? What are you talking about?" you asked, your voice turning breathless with disbelief.

"She's out for payback, see? And she won't stop until she gets it," Mimzy explained, her tone grave yet determined, like she had some ace up her sleeve. "I gotta level the playing field, doll. She wants a replacement, and she's chosen you."

"I can't just go along with this!" your voice rose to a shout as you began to shake her again, nails digging into the chiffon of her glove. "My contract with you ends in a year. If I go with them, I'll be their pawn for all of eternity!"

"I can't just risk Velvette destroying everything I've built!" Mimzy defended herself, her tone devoid of remorse. "Do you have any idea how much work it took for me to get this place running?!"

Anger surged within you, fueled by betrayal and fear. "What about me? What about Alastor?"

"Oh, him again!" Mimzy shook her arms away from your grip and pushed herself off the door. "You've been so obsessed with that radio fool, you've forgotten who's been with you since the very start! Ever since you got hitched to him, you stopped caring about a damn thing!"

"I cared! And I still bloody well care, Mimzy!" you shot back, your voice rising with anger. Your eyes blazed with fire, cracks beginning to form on your face as your demon form threatened to break free. "But you were an empty, hollow shell of a woman with naught in her head but money! You'd sell out anyone, even me, to get what you want!"

Mimzy recoiled slightly, her façade momentarily cracked by your words. "You-You think you're any better? Running off with your precious Alastor, pretending like he's the savior of your life. But I know you've heard his broadcasts. I know you've seen the news. He's no better than me, playing you like a puppet while hiding behind his façade of being a good man!"

Enraged, you lunged forward, tackling her against the wall. As fury consumed you, your form contorted and twisted, taking on a monstrous semblance. Your features morphed, sharpening into angular lines, while cracks spiderwebbed across your skin like shattered porcelain. Limbs stretched and warped, turning jagged and broken, resembling the joints of a marionette. Teeth elongated into razor-sharp fangs, and as you bared them in a snarl, your lips curled back in a grotesque mockery of a mouth. "Say that again! I fucking dare you!"

"I'll say it as many times as I damn well please!" Mimzy spat, her voice trembling as she locked eyes with your hollow gaze. "Until you get it through your fucking thick, cracked skull!"

The blonde's hand darted to a nearby object, seizing hold of a picture frame within reach. With sudden, fierce motion, she swung it, the weighty wood and glass connecting with your transformed flesh in a sickening thud.

"Mph—!" Biting your lip to stifle a scream, you staggered backward. Thick blood dripped from the wound, pooling on the floor and mingling with the cracks in your porcelain-like skin.

"You've got some nerve!" Mimzy's voice thundered as she stood over you, her pale face flushing crimson with anger. "You wanted that fame, and I made it happen. Now you don't?! Fuck! Some ungrateful brat you are! Willing to throw it all away for some man! Do you really think what he feels for you is love?!"

As Mimzy's tirade continued, her words cutting through the haze of pain and anger, a sense of disorientation washed over you. Her words struck a nerve, stirring up memories that you had long tried to suppress.

.

Rain poured down, drenching your hunched form. The world around you blurred into a chaotic whirlwind of colors and shapes, disorienting and suffocating. 

Beneath the fabric of your dress, your knees throbbed painfully, raw from the harsh scrape against unforgiving concrete. Your hands desperately fumbled in the darkness, searching for something to anchor yourself to. Then, finally, your fingertips brushed against the familiar texture of rusting metal.

With a ragged sigh of relief, you realized you had found the gate of your house. Summoning all your remaining strength, you clasped both hands around the cold, wet metal bars and attempted to pull yourself up.

Through the haze, you felt rough hands sneak around your waist, and as your vision cleared slightly, your husband's face emerged from the blur. His once impeccable suit now clung to him like a second skin, soaked through by the downpour. Strands of his usually neat hair stuck to his forehead, dampened and dripping onto his glasses. Cursing like a sailor under his breath, he scooped you up into his arms, expression turning tense as he felt the icy chill of your body against his own.

If you weren't moving he would have thought you a corpse.

"Cher?" Alastor's voice cut through the fog in your mind, but your response was sluggish, your gaze glassy and dilated. "Merde. Did you drag yourself here all alone?"

Without waiting for an answer, he moved, cradling you in his arms as he hurried back toward your house. Once inside, he wasted no time in laying you down on the sofa.

"Al," you finally spoke, whimpering softly as you raised a shaky hand towards him. Alastor immediately moved towards you, hushing your cries as he pressed a deep kiss on your lips.

Your husband moved to cradle your face in his rough hands, and what he saw shattered whatever fragments of his heart were still intact. Bruises and dried blood stained your body, your skin clammy and pale. Streaks of mascara carved paths down your tear-stained face, and your limbs twitched involuntarily. The taste of whiskey still lingered on your lips, and the fearful haze in your eyes mirrored the terror of a rabbit cornered by a wolf.

"Who did this to you?" he growled, his pupils dilating with anger as he knelt before you, gently slipping your torn stockings and muddy heels off your feet.

"Mimzy," you sobbed out, curling into yourself, the weight of it all feeling too heavy on your shoulders.

"I tried to quit. She didn't let me. The bar. She gave me a drink. More and more. I couldn't stop. I was just so upset." Your words were fragmented, broken by the wrenching sobs that shook your fragile form, vulnerability laid bare before him.

"Mon cœur," Alastor hushed, rubbing circles into your ankle with his thumb. "Calm down. Take your time."

You made an effort, though the first few attempts were shallow and rushed. Eventually, you managed to draw in a deep breath, releasing it in a rush before taking another. And another.

"That's it, my dear. Now, what happened?"

Summoning all your strength, you opened your mouth and began to recount the harrowing events of the night.

Earlier this evening, you had mustered up enough courage to hand in your resignation letter to Mimzy. However, her reaction was far from pleasant. An argument erupted, filled with less than savory words being thrown around like daggers.

Before you knew it, Mimzy's rage boiled over, and she tackled you, raining blows upon you with a fury that bordered on madness, beating you with an inch of your life. And then, just as suddenly as it had begun, it stopped.

Her demeanor shifted drastically, morphing from a raging storm into a gentle breeze. With a sickening sweetness, she offered you a hand up, as if nothing had happened. Weak and disoriented, you allowed her to lead you to her private bar, where she poured drink after drink, urging you to indulge.

As per habit, you found yourself consuming the alcohol with reckless abandon, the burning liquid dulling the pain and blurring the edges of reality

Alastor's heart clenched at the anguish in your voice, his expression darkening with a mixture of concern and simmering anger. Slowly, he rose from his seat and lifted you onto his lap, cradling you gently in his arms.

Taking your hand in his, he leaned in close, his voice a soft murmur.

"Let me take care of everything, doll," he whispered, his breath warm against your ear. "She won't ever bother you again."

The tenderness in his voice caused your breath to hitch, and for a moment, you allowed yourself to fall into the reassurance of his presence. It offered a fleeting sense of security amidst everything surrounding you. Yet, slowly as the puzzles fell into pieces, a gnawing sense of dread clawed at your insides.

"Alastor, no," you whimpered, withdrawing your hands and pressing them against his chest, pushing him away with trembling fingers. "Please don't tell me it means what I think it does."

Your gaze pleaded with him, searching his eyes for any sign of reassurance, any glimmer of hope that what you feared was not true. However, your husband's smile remained unchanged—comforting yet chilling—as he pressed another kiss to the corner of your lips.

"I would kill for you," Alastor murmured against your skin, his thumb tracing the contours of your wedding ring. Bending down, he pressed a tender kiss against the golden band, sealing his vow with the promise of bloodshed, lips lingering against the cool metal. As he drew back, you found yourself ensnared by the intensity of his gaze, pools of brown reflecting a manic fervor.

"Please let me kill for you."

Tears blurred your vision as you bowed your head, the weight of his words sinking deep into your soul. You knew Alastor's devotion knew no bounds. Whether it meant causing pain, shedding blood, or delving into the darkest corners of his being, he would do it for you without a moment's hesitation.

A warmth trickled down your cheeks with each blink, tracing a path along your skin. Your eyes burned fiercely, tears cascading down your flushed cheeks and silently dripping from your chin like dewdrops. As you attempted to draw deep breaths, your body shook with a desperation to escape, though you couldn't quite grasp what it was you were fleeing from.

A ragged sound echoed through the room, grating against your senses. It took you a moment to register that the noise came from your own lungs, your breaths torn and jagged as they struggled to find a rhythm.

"Okay," you whispered, the weight of that single word heavy with the burden of guilt and a future tinged with blood.

There was a soft chuckle, accompanied by the gentle touch of a hand moving to caress your cheeks. "Good girl."

.

Snapping back to the present, you found yourself staring at Mimzy as she raged around the room, her fury unleashed on the surroundings, wrecking anything and everything in her path.

A man who kills for you. A man who dirties his hands for you. Is that not love?

A kick from her sent your vanity toppling over, causing bottles of your perfume and whiskey to crash from its surface. The glass shattered upon impact, releasing splintering sounds that pierced your ears. As the bottles broke, the air filled with the pungent scent of flora, mingling with the rich aroma of spilled whiskey.

It must be love.

With a hand trembling from adrenaline, you ran your fingers through your hair, the sticky feeling of blood staining your palm. Rising unsteadily to your feet, you turned to face Mimzy, strands of damp, bloodied hair falling over your cracked porcelain face.

"You ornery washed-up bitch," you rasped out in a laugh, voice breathless and laced with venom. "I should have left you to rot in that forest."

Mimzy froze, her wide eyes locked on you.

"What did you say to me?" she seethed, her voice trembling with anger as she extended her hand toward the shattered liquor glass and the spilled liquid, her fingers curling into fists.

With a flick of her wrist, the whiskey began to swirl and solidify, forming chains that snaked around your limbs, binding you in place. Your muscles tensed against the restraints as Mimzy manipulated you like a puppeteer. Slowly, you reverted back to your regular form, forced to your knees before her.

The blonde bent down, her grip firm on your face, nails digging deep into your skin as she pulled your head up to face her. "You're here because of me! Everything you've ever achieved was because of me! I made you a star, and this is how you repay me?!"

You recognized the anger in her tone, but beneath it lurked a deeper pain and desperation. The poor gal was fighting to reclaim control over a situation slipping through her grasp.

A sudden knock at the door startled Mimzy, causing her to tense. The door creaked open to reveal the imposing figure of Vox filling the doorway. As he entered the room, a wave of static filled the air, crackling and sending goosebumps cascading over your skin. His gaze swept over the scene, taking note of your restraints and bloodied head before settling on Mimzy.

"What is the meaning of this?" 

Under Vox's gaze, Mimzy's confident demeanor faltered, replaced by a nervous tremor in her voice. "I-I was just… settling some unfinished business, mistah," she stammered, attempting to regain her composure.

"You've just damaged the merchandise, sweetheart," Vox stated matter-of-factly, gesturing to you with a wave of his hand. "And we can't have that, now can we?"

With a casual snap of his fingers, the wires from the stage lights above writhed and twisted, tearing free from the ceiling with a deafening creak. They snaked through the air like serpents, wrapping around Mimzy's torso and dragging her away from you with a forceful yank.

With Mimzy taken care of, Vox then turned his attention to you.

"Dolly, was it?" he smiled, voice disarming. "I've got to say, I have always wanted to see you up close."

"You've seen me," you replied with a cold edge to your voice, slowly backing away and pressing yourself against the wall. "I'm here."

"Charmed," Vox smiled, his gaze heating as he drank you in, every detail of you like candy to his eyes. As Vox strode towards you, you instinctively curled into yourself, shrinking back deeper against the wall. He chuckled softly, noticing your reaction, and halted his advances. Instead, he took a seat on the cushion by your toppled vanity, glowing eyes locked onto you.

Pretty Dolly Heart.

Your lips were painted a vivid red, pouting slightly in a frown. Damp, glossy curls framed your face, shimmering in the light and tempting him to reach out and run his fingers through them. Rivulets of blood marred your temple, staining the delicate white flowers nestled into your hair.

The TV Demon was interested in you, and he wouldn't let go until he went home with you tonight, that much was clear.

"I have a deal in mind," Vox turned to Mimzy with a look in his eyes that screamed trouble. "Are you willing to trade your soul for hers?"

Your blood ran cold with fear.

"As Velvette and I are business partners, our souls contracts are intertwined. I'm sure there would be no issue if you signed the deal with me instead," he added with a chuckle, his eyes swirling with a dangerous allure.

Panic clawed at your insides, urging you to flee from the impending doom that loomed before you. But rooted to the spot by fear, you found yourself unable to move.

"Yes! A-Absolutely!" Mimzy's words shattered the heavy silence, her voice trembling with desperation as she nodded frantically. Her eyes remained nervously glued to the crackling electricity of the torn wires still wrapped around her, the fear in her gaze mirroring your own.

With a clap of his hands, Vox conjured a new contract and a strong burst of wind swept through the room, ruffling curtains and causing objects to tremble on their surfaces. Blue light flooded the walls, casting eerie shadows and filling the room with an ominous glow. The atmosphere crackled with electricity, every hair on your body standing on end as if charged with static energy.

A tablet materialized and floated before you, its screen pulsing with a faint, golden glow.

"Make her sign here, and it'll be done," Vox instructed, his voice carrying an air of finality as he handed Mimzy a stylus, tapping his clawed finger along the screen of his tablet.

With a trembling hand, Mimzy took the stylus and held it out for you, the strings of her magic wrapping around your limbs once again. You attempted to shout out, but Mimzy's magic stitched your lips shut, leaving you unable to utter a sound.

Helpless, you watched as your hand was forced to reach out and take the pen into your grasp, your fingers moving against your will as Mimzy guided them to sign the contract. With each stroke of the pen, a wave of despair washed over you, a muffled sob bubbling from your throat as your name appeared on the screen, sealing your fate.

Vox's grin widened, a glint of triumph dancing in his eyes as he held up your old paper contract with Mimzy, the words now rendered meaningless. With a swift motion, he tore it to shreds, the sound of paper ripping echoing through the tense silence of the room.

"Welcome to VoxTek, Dolly."

[zentraex]

Summary: You made a lot mistakes in your new job, but do you regret them? Nope, not a bit. But who can blame you for it? If you wouldn't have done them, you never would have met this pretty boy.

Remember: German Grammar is a lot different then English grammar. I apologize for any mistakes.

Pairing: Francis Mosses (doppelganger) x gn! Reader

(A/N): I usually write for mha, but this men dominates my fyp on TikTok and I can't stop grinning like an idiot about all this fanarts. My men is just too attractive for his own good. Nevertheless, Tumblr has too few fanfictions for him, so I had to do it myself. Still, I am not that proud about how it turned out. It certainly sounded better in my head, but I don't care. One shitty fanficion is better than none.

Art by @asteriscks on TikTok

This game is not mine, but Ignacio Alvarado. I also used phrases from the game.

Mistakes? Yes, but no regrets.

It's been a week since you started working for D.D.D as a doorman. 

You can remember your first day so well, it could have been yesterday. 

Well... probably because your life is constantly at stake. 

_

It started with a mistake that you ended up here. It was completely unexpected since you always made sure, that you sent your rent to the right account. 

Surely no one can blame you for a small typo, right?

Well, your landlord, who kept pounding on your door until you woke up, surely did.

"What?" you asked, annoyed, as you opened the door.

"When do you plan to finally pay your bill? The date has already been overdue for two weeks!" he complains. 

What?

"Sorry, but I've already transferred my money to you."

"Well, I didn't get anything. Do you still have the receipt for the transfer?"

"No..."

You already knew what that meant: double payment.

"Look, today, I'll transfer it to your account again, okay? If it doesn't work this time, it's not my fault."

You were about to close the door, but your landlord had other plans when he held the door open with his foot.

 "No no no. You will give me the money now. I don’t trust you. Why would you transfer it to me today, when it should have happened two weeks ago. You will give it to me now."

Your eyes widened. 

Now?

"But I don't have that much money in my hand? Who's got that?"

"Then I'll have to kick you out for now. But don't worry, no one is going to buy an apartment here anytime soon, so you can move right back in as soon as you give me the money."

Staring stunned at his smiling face you could have sworn you were about to hit him. 

"The keys?" 

With watery eyes, you grabbed your keys, placed them in his outstretched hand, and frowned.

What kind of person had such sharp fingernails as he does?  

You were sure that he could definitely have stabbed someone with them.

Thank God, I didn't hit him. 

"When do you plan to give me the money? I've heard that all banks closed today. Some kind of holiday among them, I've heard."

What!?

How were you going to get through the day today? You intentionally left everything in your apartment since you were so sure that you could have given the money to your landlord in a matter of minutes. 

"You’re telling me this now!?"

"If you had paid, you wouldn’t need to know." 

That filthy bastard.

No matter how angry you were at that moment, your panic was overweighting.  

What were you going to do now? 

Shit.

"Man, I really wouldn't want to be in your situation...", the landlord murmured.

Fuck the nails- This guy deserves a punch.

Just as you raised your fist, he speaks again.

"But maybe we can agree on something.

Then you stopped. 

"The D.D.D., which is responsible for the safety of all residents in this area, is looking for doormans. Ours has recently...quitted, which is why we are urgently looking for one. They pay three times the amount of your rent in a week. If you take the job, I can overlook your sloppiness this time."

Three times your rent? In a week? And for what? To sit there and check a few documents. You'd be crazy not to take the offer! 

"Okay. I'll do it. Where can I apply?"

"Don't worry, I'll sort it out for you. Tomorrow, you can start”

_

Looking back, it should have been clear to you that something was wrong. Starting with the sudden his sudden threat, the fingernails and this stupid story about the holiday of the banks. 

Maybe it was just because you were too panicked at that moment to think rationally.

But let’s be true here: when are you thinking rationally? If you did, you would certainly have quitted after your first day.

_

"Welcome and congratulations on your new job."

After watching the short video, a man in the yellow suit came to your window. You are so shocked that you can’t even answer.

I'm going to die today!

After all, you know it yourself: you're too gullible for the job. There's no chance you'll unmask a doppelganger who copies someone well.

“As you could see on the introductory film, your job is to verify the entry of the neighbors of your building. Each day there will be a list of individuals who will request entry to the building. It is possible that there are individuals who request entry and aren’t on the list. In which case you will mark on the checklist that they are not on the list and proceed to question the individual. Also, you must verify that the ID and the entry reqest are correct and have the respective D.D.D. logo. Don’t forget to also check the expiration on the IDs. Remember it’s Febuary 1955."

Your gaze wanders to the note that was stuck to the wall. 

Arnold Schmicht F02 – 01

Anastacha Mikaelys F02 – 04

Robertsky Peachman F01 – 02

Steven Rudboys F03 – 03 

Mia Stone F03 – 01

Rafttellyn Cappuccin F03 – 04

Admittedly, you don't know any of your neighbors, neither by character nor really by sight. You were never the type to care about your neighbors. 

"I wish you good luck."

C’mon Reader, be like Henry…

But better.

The first inhabitant was Mia Stone and you already started to sweat.

"Good evening."

Was she real? Was she a doppelganger? 

With shaky hands, you reached for her ID and entry pass, only to find that everything was fine. She was also on today's list and her appearance doesn't show any deviations either, right?

Just to be sure, you looked into the folder that described her appearance: 

Long hair

Small round nose

She has freckles

...

...

...

Freckles?

Your eyes wandered again to the woman in front of you, who was waiting patiently behind the window. 

You narrowed your eyes a little and leaned forward to get a better view of her.

No matter how long you stared at her, you didn't see them, her freckles. 

"You look different...", you murmur after a while.

"What's wrong with my appearance? I think everything is fine with my appearance."

Her photo on her ID and Entry Pass both have no freckles. 

Perhaps a mistake on the part of the D.D.D.? 

You're about to press the green button, but then you see her grinning slightly out of the corner of your eye. 

Shit. 

She almost had you. You're really not made for this job.

Your hand slammed hard against the red button, causing the siren to blare and the metal window to crash down. 

"3312," you murmur to yourself.

"You have contacted the D.D.D.. A group of agents has been sent to your building. Please wait for the cleaning protocol to run."

Cleaning protocol? 

What happens to those who were cleaned? They certainly won't be killed, will they? 

What if they will?

What if your judgment was wrong?

What if...

Your thoughts were interrupted as the siren fell silent and the metal window went up, only to reveal the yellow man.

"Cleaning protocol completed. You can continue your job."

It took a while until someone finally came again. 

This time, your heart was pounding faster. Significantly faster. And this time, you can't even say for sure that it's all out of fear. 

Milkman...

You definitely can't deny it: he's probably one of the most attractive men you've ever seen. 

You don't even have to look at today's checklist to tell he's not on it – a face like his would have caught your eye right away. 

"Francis Mosses, huh?" you murmured to yourself as you looked at his ID. "You're not on today's list."

"I’m not on today’s list because I had to leave due to an emergency."

Long nose

Thin chin

Tired eyes

Short hair

Wears a hat

It all fit. The only thing left now was a call. 

Just as you began to spin the wheel of the phone, he said, "You're new here, aren't you? I've never seen you here before."

"Yes, today is my first day."

"Must be hard, huh? I've heard that more and more doppelgangers are appearing and they are becoming more and more error-free. It would be a shame if such a pretty face as yours were to disappear forever."

Your cheeks turn red and suddenly you feel shyer than you actually are.

"B-But your job has to be hard as well. I didn't think that being a milkman would rob you so much sleep."

Francis smiles a little. So little that you almost didn't see it at all.

"It's not. I just stay up for a very long time. If you like, I can bring you some milk sometime. It's refreshing, calms the nerves."

You bite your lip slightly when you have to refrain from a question.

What milk do you mean exactly?

My God, why were you just such a sucker for handsome men?

"I'd be delighted, Francis."

You talked to him for a while and you quickly forgot that you were actually going to call someone. 

"I'd like to talk to you more, but I don't want to stop you from your work. I'll see you tomorrow, right, Reader?"

And you quickly forgot that you never told him your name. 

You pressed the green button.

_

"Shh," whispered the voice of Francis next to your ear. 

It was your third day, your third time to change shift.

Well, it usually would have been.

Your vision and mouth were blocked by the bloody hands of the doppelganger who claimed to be Francis.

He had killed the doorman, that should have taken over your shift.

You had to admit, that you were more than inconsiderate. After all, you didn't ask for his entry pass, nor the reason why he wasn't on today's list.  

"I'll let you go now, yeah? No wrong move, okay?"

He laughed softly as he released his hands from you and turned your chair, so you were facing him. 

"We don't want to hurt you, do we, Reader?"

The sentence shouldn't have given you hope, because after all, you were more than sure that you were going to die one way or another.

Maybe you should have shown a little resistance. For your honor, but....

Oh?

He is so close to you that you can practically feel his body heat. Or was it your own? Your face, despite your situation, was burning. 

Even though he said he was letting you go, his hands ran over your body and you couldn't deny that it did something to you. 

Were you so shameful?

"Actually, I wanted to wait, but I couldn't take it anymore.  I've been patient long enough, haven't I? It was so much work for me, to let you get this job."

You didn't know what to say. Honestly, you didn't know if you would even be able to answer him. 

His breath touched your throat as he spoke, "I think I deserve this, don't I? What do you say, Reader? Do I deserve my reward?”

If you were going to die anyway, why not enjoy the last few minutes?

Regardless of whether he was a doppelganger, he had lived up to his title as "Mlikman" that night.

_

"You killed the real Francis Mosses?" you asked the next day. 

Francis grins, almost so much so that his real form was threatening to show itself.

"Yes, of course. What would have happened if he had come before me? You would have sent the D.D.D. after me."

Well, he had a point, huh?

No matter how wrong it was, you were glad it didn't come to that. 

You didn't know the real Francis Mosses. That's probably why his death was so insignificant to you.

"Have you killed more people?"

"Just more doppelgangers you let through."

Your eyes widened. 

You were so sure you caught them all. The false success was the reason why you didn't quit…well, it was one of the reasons.

"How many have I let through?"

Francis just continues to wear his smirk as he gives you a kiss on the forehead.

"Don't rack your pretty head over it, okay?"

You just nod, smiling.

"Are you going to kill others...?

You don't know why you added your next question. Probably because you wanted to feel special. 

"Would you kill for me?"

"Hooooonn"

When you turn your gaze to his face, two white pupils stared at you and his grin is inhumanly wide and black. 

You don't know if it's joyful or sadistic, but it definitely made you feel special.

_

Looking back, you made more than a few mistakes. 

But honestly? 

You don't regret a single one of them. After all, all of them have led to an all-too-familiar knock on your window.

When you look up, he waves, the milkman. 

[deadsetobsessions]

DCXDP Prompt:

If you told Tim Drake three weeks ago that he’d be stuck in a wine barrel, floating in a random river in the Midwest, alongside an unconscious boy that could’ve been a long lost brother… he probably would’ve believed it. Things like this happened depressingly often to him. Ra’s al Ghul tendencies to clone him definitely helped.

And yet, he still found himself befuddled as that exact situation happened.

“Uh. Danny?”

No response.

Tim sighed. The guy he had just met on an undercover mission saved his life but got knocked unconscious with a green laser. What even was Tim’s life at this point?

He peered over the barrel, scanning for any sudden drops he should be concerned about. None. They were just bobbing along. Great. He didn’t even have his gear on him, or else this would’ve been solved with one single shot from his grappling hook.

Love that for him.

“Ugh. Go touch grass, Tim. You need nature, Tim.” He mocked his friends. “Fuck outa here. Yeah, I should’ve just stayed in Gotham.”

The guy stirred. Tim sighed and slapped his civilian cover on.