#anon im killing you with bricks

[fuckmarrykillpolls]

[werecreature-addicted]

to the anon asking about the large amount of sex-trafficking/rape prompts/stories/blurbs, im going to try and give you a real answer

one major factor, is shame

it's a largely subconscious thing, the fact people's sexual fantasies lean toward this aggressive often dehumanizing scenarios.

but its something that has been observed in people raised with very strict social expectations regarding sexuality often having rape fantasies, because it is a way to indulge in their sexual feelings without having to admit to them, in a way.

i, personally, am fat and queer. and while never stated outright to my face, the fact that small children have on several occasions began crying while looking at me in the supermarket line, I would also have to assume im not that much of a looker either

any show of desires for intimacy, physical or emotional, has been laughed at. people asked me out as a joke when i was in school, my father's side of the family openly lamented my appearance since I was a child because my only real value to them was continuing the family line, and that's not going to happen if I'm unattractive and fat

the fact is I have been told my entire life that me being wanted was impossible, if anybody desired me they would keep it a secret out of fear of ridicule, and anybody who would be open about it must have a specific fetish or be using me

I want to be wanted, hell there are times I'm desperate to get catcalled, because that proves somebody finds me attractive enough to express that. (even if the reality of it is objectifying and rude) the basis of these sorts of fantasies are often rooted in being seen as so desirable, so wanted, that any and all restraint goes out of the window. (you know that romance trope line that's like, "are you sure? because once we start i don't know if i can stop." same idea) the tendency towards trafficking and sexual slavery are also rooted in this, but with the added bit of "see, somebody wants me so bad they will spend money on me, to own me. they will fuck me in a crowded room without shame because their desire for me isn't something they're ashamed about, i am a prize, and the fact they get to fuck me is something they will gloat about."

one of the major appeal of monsters is that they wouldn't be bogged down by our social expectations, or they would have ones of their own. there is no fear regarding being wanted despite my looks, because the things about myself I have been told make me unattractive, are things that they openly and voraciously desire. Also, for the fat folks in the chat, wanting to be picked up and tossed around by your partner is largely something we can't have, (BMI is bullshit but mine is nearly double what it "should" be) you don't have to worry about that if your partner is an 8+ foot tall creature that can suplex a sedan

so while in reality, me being stocky and fat is seen as something that makes me unattractive, a werewolf would look at me and go "ah, yes, broad as a brick wall and twice as thicc, he can take it in a tumble."

can you see where the overlap occurs?

obviously there are some generalizations and assumptions based on my own biases here, and everybody's got their peculiarities, but these are themes I have seen throughout my many years too many online

I also just think monster fucker spaces are a little more open to taboo kinks. like wanting to fuck a werewolf who could kill you at any second is already weirder than most people want to go. thank you for sharing your perspective anon.

[nightlyrequiem]

alrighty sooohhh this might be worded oddly since im used to requesting certain writers who use certain words to describe 'y/n', so, like, forgive me if it sounds confusing or like, out-of-place 😭

could u do a Valeria oneshot with reader, her partner, whos also a big, hardened criminal, -- who runs another cartel, -- not a rivaling one, just a different one, which was forced to alliance themselves with Valerias cartel, after her and reader made themselves official

They're both big, mean cartel mamis, who have killed people, without second thought, not even a blink of an eye -- two women, making old men cry and piss themselves on the regular, -- yet, when reader and Val are together, they're just two appreciative softies

Total power couple in public btw. They're both covered in tattoos, wearing expensive clothes, earning more and more respect from more and more people as their empires grow,

when in private? Thats a completely different story. You got the jist, though.

Again, i apologize if this is worded wrongly/strangely, ive adapted my writing style to certain people, and physically cannot write in any other way without feeling weird about it .. aha. Giggle, giggle.

much love, traveling anon, aka, girlscout

-🐾🍪🏕

Don't worry, this was worded very nicely! This was pretty fun to write. I do enjoy some violence. Especially when it's being done by women. One dangerous woman is great, but two? Oh, I'm certainly swooning. This is one of my few works to have two drafts. I hated the first one and scrapped it. Much more pleased with the final product ^-^

Tags/Warnings: Violence, Some Gore

The Snake's Nest

Valeria slams her fist into the side of a man's head. He roughly hits the brick wall of the alley and crumples to the ground, clutching his face. His cheekbone no doubt shattered. You watch impassively as Valeria aggressively grabs ahold of his shirt and hair, hauling him away from the wall. She forces his face into the concrete. You kneel down gracefully.

"Why are you crying?" You ask softly. He did this to himself, yet he dares to cry. Your head tilts. He looks up at you, the whites of his eyes are pink with agitated blood vessels, either from the number of drinks he's had, the crying, or from the beating he's taking.

"Please!" He cries out. Begging for your mercy. Incorrectly assuming that you're the more merciful of the two. That you'll call of your guard dog, unaware that you are far worse. He's lucky that it's Valeria and not you.

You stand back to your full height. The man continues to squirm and incoherently sob out pleas. Valeria lifts one strong leg and brings it down on his head hard. You don't flinch at the violent cracking that occurs. His scream is cut off and distorted. She brings down her foot again and again until he goes silent. You turn your head and make eye contact with his friend. forced to crouch in the corner and watch. His face is haunted by what he's just witnessed. He will be left alone. Forced to pick up his friend's pieces and attempt to put them back together. You look back at the man on the ground with Valeria standing over him like an angel of death. You don't think there's strong enough glue to fix him now.

You take ahold of her soft hand. Brushing your thumb over her bruised knuckles. You two walk out of the alley. Your shadows split and morph together under the yellow streetlights. Valeria owns these streets, but you run them. With your combined forces you exert total control over everything. Eyes and ears are everywhere whispering their secrets to you. You and Valeria are separate but one in the same.

You were carefully nurturing the seedlings of your own cartel when Valeria was taking over hers and striking fear into the heart of Las Almas. She had what you wanted. Power, respect, and fear. You planted a few red herrings in her territory to give her a mystery to solve while you expanded your organization. You did whatever was necessary to succeed. Who it harmed didn't matter to you. You grew and grew. You got big enough that the small red herrings didn't matter to Valeria. She sent her men to sniff around your territory and routes. Not a show of outright aggression but a subtle threat from her to you.

For months you danced around each other. Trespassing but nothing more. There was a fragile peace between the two of you, one you intended to shatter. You quietly built-up strength in preparation to take over Las Almas and eliminate her and her cartel. The DEA was an unpredictable variable though. They began cracking down on the drug market. An infestation of them nested in Las Almas and its surrounding areas. Posing a genuine threat to the both of you. Your plans were put on hold, and you took the initiative to approach her with an offer of allegiance. Tempting her with territory and more firepower.

You two met on a burning Tuesday morning. You were to meet with El Sin Nombre at a local cafe. Instead, at your designated spot sat a woman. It took you five minutes to approach her. At first you were irritated that El Sin Nombre didn't respect you enough to meet you himself, but you swiftly figured out he was a concept and not a person. That she was The Nameless.

You intended to use Valeria as a way to take down the DEA without drawing too much attention to yourself. However, overtime you began to respect her. She was cold and calculating. She wasn't the type to waste her breath with meaningless threats. If you failed to be useful, she didn't waste her time in getting rid of you. Overtime she slowly dug her way through the ice around your heart and wormed her way inside like a little parasite. The sun had risen and finally set on the DEA. There was no reason to cradle the connection between the two cartels any longer but neither you nor Valeria made the first move to cut contact.

Your strictly business relationship flowered into something more. Something personal. The same hands that pulled teeth and put bullets between eyes lovingly traced the edges of her tattoos. Whispered sweet nothings into her ear at night, your legs coiled together like snakes after coitus. No one had ever treated you gently. Never kissed your hand or made you soup when you were sick. Those things were reserved for girls who were soft like velvet. Pure and kind. Not violent women with serpentine tattoos. Who sunk their teeth into the throats of others. Not until Valeria. Who bared her throat to you and bit back.

She clasped heavy gold chains around your neck with as much tenderness that one might do with a daintier piece of jewelry. You slid expensive rings onto her fingers with unspoken promises. 

The night isn't over, and neither is the need for violence. Not that either of you have any issue with that. Normal couples have date nights at the movies. Maybe a nice restaurant. You and Valeria strengthen your bond by inflicting pain and terror on lower life forms. In a warehouse eyes glitter from the shadows. A combination of hers and your own men. Valeria typically takes care of the interrogation and punishment. You have no issue with blood or violence. You take enjoyment it. But the sight of her lips pulled back into a feral snarl, her vicious efficiency, it makes you fall in love with her all over again.

This time however, you take the lead. A tall man, standing at an impressive six-foot-four stares you down in the centre of the room. He was a friend, once upon a time. Your second hand. The only person apart from Valeria you genuine cared about. The only other person you'd be willing to set yourself aside for. You were heartbroken to find out he was taking bribes from a smaller gang and trading your secrets for money. This is personal.

He's doing his best to seem unafraid, but you can see the fear in his eyes. Smell it in the acrid stench of his sweat.

"I'm not going to grovel for your forgiveness." He grumbles.

"I wasn't going to give you the chance to." You reply calmly. He's expecting more words. Maybe a monologue about how angry or hurt you are. You stare at him for a long time, letting the tension build. Higher and higher and higher. Until too many stagnant minutes have passed and with them his moment of understanding. Only then do you act. 

Quick as a scorpion's strike you stick him like a pig in the gut. he hisses in pain and tries to grab you but you're too quick for him. You kick out his knee and dart behind him, ripping your blade from his stomach. He howls like a dog while you hold him by the throat with your bicep. You place the tip of your knife in the squishy bit just under his ribs, in the middle of his abdomen. You struggle to keep the placement as he writhes but you get it right and push in, feeling muscle and skin tear under the steel. His screams echo back at him mockingly as you drag the knife down, tearing him open.

He slumps to the ground in a pool of his own blood. One last pained whine leaving his throat. You stare up at everyone watching. A public lesson. Though you can see that they're more entertained by the show then worried.

Back home you carefully strip out of your blood-soaked clothes. Setting them down in the laundry hamper. You crawl into bed and watch Valeria do the same. Admiring the smooth tan expanse of her back. Of the muscles shifting under her skin. You want to trace the ridges of her spine. She joins you under the covers and rests her face into the crook of your neck. Breathing in your scent. 

[chaos-grimlin]

Hi author, this is a rather strange request , but still. Can you please do Stu macher and Billy Loomis with a female reader. Billy decides to take a break from the relationship, Stu agrees with him saying they need to cool down a bit. The reader was upset, but after a while she realized that she was much better off without them . About a week later, Billy and Stu are invited to a party where y/n was. They see her with a new boyfriend who turns out to be her best friend. She tells them that she wasn't happy in her relationship with them, the relationship was killing her, but from the beginning she didn't realize it, but after this pause she realized that she was not happy, but happy with the new boyfriend and asks them not to spoil anything. I apologize for the errors in the text, English is not my native language.

Ah! Hi anon!! Sorry it took forever to get to this BUT here it is!! I hope you like it!!! Also you didnt clarify if it was another friend other then in the friend group, but you didnt So ima make us get with someone in the friend group❤❤

Not how it was suppost to go (Billy loomis and Stu macher x female reader )

^^^3rd person P.O.V^^^

At first, everything between the three seemed fine. Their relationship seemed picture perfect, but, behind closed doors, it was just sex.

Every other day if one of the boys were horny they'd have their way with her till her legs were weak, so that was all she knew.

She thought that they loved her and this was their weird way of showing it.

At first it was more then sex, but Billy and Stu got bored of her. Her beauty never made their hearts flutter anymore.

"Hey Stu come here" Billy hissed out as he leaned agaisnt the door frame of Stus house.

Stu looked up at Billy and nodded. "Ill be backkkk" Stu said to Y/n in a sing song voice.

Y/n let out a forced giggle as Stu pulled himself from her hands and walked off, leaving her alone in the cold living room.

A sigh escaped her lips as her hands gripped onto the soft fabric of the couch. Her eyes scanning over every inch of his fancy living room, the same living room that they had fucked her in not to long ago.

"Stu.." Billu said in a hushed tone as he pulled Stu away and into the kitchen.

"Hm?" Stu hummed out as he snatched an apple from his counter and bit into it.

"I think we should leave Y/n" Billy said, crossing his arms with a stone cold look plastered onto his face.

Stu stopped chewing on his Apple and looked at Billy as if he was stupid.

"Why?" Stu huffed out with a mouth full. "Its nothing but sex and heh im damn sure not attracted to her personality. Shes got a fine body but I'm not interested in her anymore."

Stus brows knitted togeather, forming a wrinkle between his brows then he swallowed the bite of apple he had chewed.

"Yeah your right... We might need to cool down for a bit" he said with a shrug.

"Well lets go break the news" Billy huffed out, rubbing his temple.

Stu let a sigh out and threw his almost uneaten apple away and wiped the juice off of his hand. "This will be fun" he said as he followed Billy into the living room.

^^^y/n P.O.V^^^

I rubbed the inside of my sore thigh as i felt brusies form on it.

"Hey Y/n honey, me and Stu need to talk to you" Billy said as he sat on my left and Stu sat on my right. "Talk away" i said, feeling a forced smile tug at my lips.

"Me and Stu think that we.. Should take a break from our relation ship"

I felt my heart crack slightly. "What?" I whispered, barley finding my voice.

"We should split up" Stu said blankly.

I left my bottom lip start to quiver as i looked between the two.

"This...is this a joke?" I said, feelings tears build up in my eyes as i saw them shake their heads no.

My heart sank to my feet and o felt my throat close to the point I could barley breath.

Out of reaction i stormed to my feet and sped to the door. Ny hands fumbled with the knob before i quickly pulled it open and ran out.

The cold night air hit me like a brick as i slammed stus door shut.

I stood on the steps of his house as tears pooled from my eyes.

I couldn't stand to stay there...

I rushed off his steps, almost tripping over my own two feet.

My breathing was unsteady and was all i heard as i walked.

I thought everything was perfect... But...maybe i was wrong...

~~~1 week later~~~

^^^3rd person P.O.V^^^

Y/n sat next to Randy on her couch, leaning her head onto his shoulder as she drunk the cheap beer thst Randy got.

"So, they just left you?" He asked.

"Yup... After i cut everyone off...and they just left me.. They didnt seem sorry" She muttered, recalling the night she ran home crying and ended up calling him.

"Thats a shitty move" he said "hell if you were my girl i wouldn't even dream of leaving you" he muttered under his breath as he turned the beer bottle up.

"What did you say?" Y/n asked, taking her head off of his shoulder and looking into his eyes.

"Nothing" he said. Knowing she'd never feel the same about him.

"Randy what did you say?" Y/n asked, fully sitting up and locking eyes with him.

Randy's eyes traveled from her eyes to her lips as he looked at her.

"If you were my girl id never even dream of leaving you"he sajd as he reached his hand up and tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear.

Y/n went silent, her eyes looking into Randy's as if searching for what his feelings were.

Randy set his beer bottle down on the table next him and looked back at her, seeinf her face full of confusion.

Randy took in a deep breath before letting it all spill out "what im trying to say is i like you" Randy said.

Y/n felt shock travel through her body. She would have never guessed that Randy meeks, liked her.

Randy shifted uncomfortably in his seat as he waited for her to answer.

Y/n couldn't find her voice, the words seems stuck in her throat, so all she did was grab Randy's and press her lips onto his softly, starting their relationship...

~~~2 weeks later~~~

^^^3rd person P.O.V^^^

"Come on in Loomis and Macherrr!!" a drunk boy said as he slung the door open for the two.

Billy and Stu walked in, eyeing the flood of people, looking, looking for her.

"Didn't see tell someone she'd be here?" Stu whispered to Billy. Billy nodded as he clenched his fist.

Billy quickly made his way to the living room...

^^^y/n P.O.v^^^

Randy twirled me around slowly as a string of giggles left my throat.

Randy pulled me to his chest and kissed my forehead. "I love you" he whispered to me "i love you too!" I said back.

Getting with Randy made me realize how unhappy I was with Stu and Billy.

Once i had opened up to Randy hs told me that they were only using me for sex, and i realized he was right. I had loved them 100% of the time and they didn't even love me back. But now... I finally found the one...the one that treats me right and loves me more then words.

I saw Randy look to his left at the Tv, but then i saw his eyes harden. "Whats wrong?" I whispered running my hand along his chest.

"Your ex's are here" he hissed out.

I turned to follow his gase and sure enough... There they stood...

I gripped onto Randy's shirt tightly once i saw Billy's hand pulled into a fist.

Soon... The two boys stormed up to us, and billy was ready to punch the hell out of Randy.

"What the fuck is going on?!" Billy screamed.

"Her getting into a better relation ship thats what" Randy said, trying not to raise his voice.

"Nothing can be good when its you you goddamn geek!" Billy yelled, pushing Randy.

"Billy fucking stop it! Leave us alone!" I said, getting infront of Randy.

"Why?!" He said, getting closer to me

"You guys broke up with me i found someone that im actually happy with!" I said, crossing my arms.

"So please don't ruine it" i said. By now, everyone was watching us.

Billy and i locked eyes before he stormed off and dragged Stu with him.

I looked back at Randy and quickly hugged him.

I wasnt going to let some lowlifes ruine something i love so much

[ohdeerfully]

hii! i just read everything you've posted and am obsessed. can you possibly write an alastor x fallen angel!reader? i would just love to see the interactions! -🐈‍⬛ anon

HIII 🐈‍⬛ im sorry this took one hundred thousand days to write. but at least its fairly long!!!!!! 4k words

honestly i cant imagine alastor warming up to an angel very quickly, like he would probably haaate reader for a long time before being like "actually u know what <3"

though that being said this can definitely be read as a platonic story since theres no romance (though maybe ill write a romantic fallen!reader someday)

anyway hope u enjoy!! mwah!

Welcome to Hell

alastor x reader TW: heavy descriptions of gore WITH the reader, reader is heavily wounded, alastors a dick, cursing obviously, thats it i think join my discord!

PLS READ: im putting the story immediately under a read more because it jumps really quickly into gore, so if ur uncomfy with that please dont read on!

◈ ══════════ ◈ ══════════ ◈ ══════════ ◈

“Hey, bitch,” A dangerously whispered voice spoke in your ear after you shooed away a small demon, sending all the warning bells in your body ringing. You stood and braced yourself to run, but—

The sensation of bone and arteries being savagely torn from your shoulder blades sent flaming, white hot pain through your body, setting every nerve ablaze and prompting a scream of agony through your lips. Your throat quickly became sore with the intensity of your cries as you crumpled over yourself, tightening your arms around yourself in a useless attempt at comforting the pain away.

Knife-like sensations rolled through your body, leaving you struggling to catch your breath and see through tears. You lifted your gaze from your trembling, bloody-gold hand onto the two who stood above you, one looking down with a twisted smirk and the other a disgusted sneer. The man still held your ripped wings between his claws. You could barely hear the ambience of terrified screaming that surrounded you through the heartbeat in your ears.

“Angels like you sicken me,” Lute said, chin tilted up in superiority. “You don’t even deserve that title.” She brought a foot up and then down onto your shoulder, shoving you onto your chest. The movement made you scream as another flash of pain ignited in your back. You balled your hands into fists, pulling them against your chest as you pressed your forehead against the hot ground, trying to catch your breath once again.

You sat, hunched, for what felt like hours. Maybe it was hours, as when you finally came to your senses the atmosphere was eerily silent. Adam and Lute were long gone. You only heard the faint noise of cannibalistic demons tearing apart bodies, and the occasional rustle of trash or paper being thrown in the wind across a deserted street. The recognition made you sit up—oh, shit, too fast. Your vision practically vanished as your head became light. You tried to catch yourself with your hands before you fell backwards, but considering the nature of your wound; ripped flesh directly over your shoulder blades… your elbows buckled at the intense sting.

I’m so fucking stupid, you cursed yourself as you contemplated your situation, deciding that it would be better to not try to stand up and walk around right now. Honestly, you’d be surprised if bloodloss didn’t kill you, considering the glistening puddle that had formed around you. You had managed to slowly scoot into a somewhat secluded corner and rested your head against the brick wall. Uncomfortable, but all things considered… it might as well be a five star hotel bed to you. Your eyes shut.

“Come on—...never know-”

“If you think— unpredictable—”

The two things you noticed when you came to were a broken conversation and an uncomfortable prickling sensation on your skin. You struggled to crack open your eyes, dried blood nearly pasting your left eye together. When you finally managed, you still had trouble focusing.

Two blurry, tall demons stood in front of you. Despite the fact they were demons, it felt considerably less imposing than the two that were in front of you earlier that day—was it still the same day? Still, you were on high alert and grabbed for where you thought you had left your weapon. You palmed at empty concrete. You cursed both at the lack of your tool for self defense and at the fact the two noticed you were now conscious.

“I do hope you don’t mind,” An amused bark of laughter erupted from the taller of the two, which forced your gaze back towards them. “We confiscated your little prong for our safety.” You blinked rapidly, squinting slightly till you could finally focus your eyes and actually get a good look at them. Surely enough, your trusty spear was held tightly between red claws.

To your right was an oddly friendly looking girl with blond hair and the reddest cheeks you had ever seen, who stood with a slight bend at the hip and hands on her knees as she peered down at you. Her brows were turned up and furrowed with what you guessed was worry, although the thought was shocking considering… the circumstances, you mused gravely when another rush of throbbing pain coursed through your body, reminding you of the giant wound on your back. You hadn’t noticed yourself wince, but the woman in front of you did, what with the way her hand shot forward as if wanting to help you. She paused, unsure.

You turned your head to the voice, taking in the demon next to her. He was just a bit taller, and incredibly… red. Red coat, red hair, red eyes… a little excessive, maybe—though, it didn’t really matter what you thought of his fashion choices, because the overwhelming and ominous feeling of dread ensnared your thoughts. He bent at the hip in a similar manner to the girl next to him, though the movement seemed somehow much less natural. The ever-present radio noise in the air increased in volume as his face inched closer. Meeting his gaze seemed to cause your mind to fill with a buzzing emptiness, prickling your entire being and causing your skin to tickle with goosebumps. Although you’ve never met him before, you knew by aura alone the power he held, especially over you in this situation. It was frankly obvious that he knew, too, for he stood with practiced leisure, leaning his weight onto his cane with one hand as he fidgeted curiously with your spear in the other. You immediately switched your gaze towards the friendlier of the two, who still seemed to be fighting a mental war, her still outstretched hand twitching as she considered her next move.

With a brief, sideways look towards her companion, she smiled gently and outstretched her hand in your direction. You eyed it suspiciously, gaze flicking between her and her hand. She had to have ulterior motives, right? Maybe she was just leading you somewhere where you could be finished off. Or something. Adam always insisted that the demons were far to “fucking stupid” to know how to hurt, let alone kill an angel, but that doesn’t mean they wouldn’t resort to various strange experiments and tests. They were demons, after all. In Hell.

Though, you had to admit to yourself with a sigh, at this point, I’m not any different than them. You figured “fallen angel” could even be a worse title than demon, because how horrible of a being do you have to be to fall from holy stature? Was saving the life of a demon, a child, at that, so evil?

It wasn’t worth thinking about, you decided. You were here. In Hell. Fuck.

You raised an embarrassingly trembling hand and cautiously received her own, and fought yourself to keep from ripping away as her slender fingers wrapped over yours. You were watching her movements sharply, nearly flinching when her black manicured nails glinted as they caught a light. Even still, her expression regarded you with so much undeserved compassion, a softness in the subtle curve of her eye, that you let your shoulders relax. She pulled you gingerly to your feet, and caught you against her steady shoulder when you nearly fell.

“I’m Charlie, by the way,” She said. Although she seemed hesitant earlier, every minute that passed seemed to confirm some unknown idea in her head as she slowly grew more vibrant and excited. Even still, she remained otherwise calm and gentle, her body holding strong to support nearly your full weight. She shot a look at the other demon.

“Oh! I apologize for my manners,” You weren’t even lookin at him—his voice alone sent a weird feeling down your back. You turned to look. “Alastor! A pleasure to meet you my dear, quite a pleasure!”

You finally turned to look, and noticed he didn’t hold his hand out, but rather the blunt end of your spear. When you reached to grab it, maybe to yank it away from him—not that you had any intention of fighting back at this point—you found that he still held a vice-like grip to it. When your fingers closed around the stick, he merely shook it, as if the weapon was an extension of his own hand. You weren’t really sure whether or not to take it as an insult.

Charlie seemed indifferent to Alastor’s antics, and you started a bit when she seemed unable to control herself any longer, and began blabbering about some hotel and some plan she had. She spoke with such a furious speed that you wondered if anybody could decode her words. She paused, suddenly, to take in a long breath, but the other demon interrupted her before she could begin again.

“Charlie, while I love watching you try so desperately, I’m not sure beings of their ilk are fit for your idea.”

Ilk? Sure, you understood him holding caution to your presence, considering you were an angel, but come on! Circumstances have changed for you! You opened your mouth, planning to make some retort (that you had not yet planned out) but Charlie quickly beat you to it.

“No! Alastor, come on, I know they’re… was one of them, but that gives them all the more reason to want to follow my plan… right..?” She looked down at you, where you still leaned heavily on her shoulder as the three of you slowly walked down the street. You honestly weren’t sure what they were talking about—you barely managed to catch a single word she rattled about earlier. You gave a weak shrug and a nod, just to be agreeable.

Alastor only gave a dismissive ‘hmm’ in return, and picked up his pace to walk in front of Charlie and you. In fact, he kept his pace and just continued walking away, down the sidewalk, around a corner, and gone. Personally, you didn’t mind. The air was noticeably lighter without his presence.

Charlie sighed in defeat, but didn’t mention it. She seemed accustomed to his behavior. You silently expressed your sorrows for her; even if he was nicer than he appeared, which you doubted heavily, he was likely still an exhausting guy to be around. 

The walk was long and unbearably painful for you, each labored step sending pulses of sore pain through your body, and your back occasionally exploding in needles that would halt you in your tracks. Charlie was incredibly patient, and you couldn’t even begin to word how thankful you were for her. Being one of two demons you had encountered since falling, you began wondering what else was in store for you down here for what you assumed may be the rest of your eternity.

You didn’t have long to ponder, as it seemed enough time passed since the extermination for demons to start their usual routines. And man, what routines they had. If you weren’t in imminent danger, you would find the scene almost comically chaotic. There were projectiles smashing through windows, sending shards everywhere, and fires erupting from said windows. Your eye caught the glinting of weapons in the hands of various demons, which some were… actively using to stab another demon. And, of course, when bodies fell there were at least two pit-eyed cannibalistic creatures that would descend on the corpse like starved dogs. You clung close to Charlie, who seemed unnervingly calm in the situation. Surprisingly, even with the lack of a weapon or any means of self-defense, nothing came at you.

Seeming to sense your unease, she looked at you with a calming smile. “Charming, huh?” She joked lightly. She grimaced slightly at the sound of a scream being cut short by a loud bang. “It’s not usually… this bad. They’re just worked up after extermination. That’s when the crazies hit.”

Yeah, you silently mocked. Yeah, starting fires and murdering people is being ‘worked up.’ Cool. You only nodded in response, not really finding anything nice to say. And, honestly, anything you said would probably seem hypocritical given the fact you were an exterminator mere hours ago. Luckily for you, she seemed content enough at that. She started to talk again about where she was taking you, a bit slower this time, obviously half focused on keeping you supported.

“So, my Hotel kind of just started, and Alastor is in the process of making a commercial to get some attention. I think he said it would be done today.”

You nodded wordlessly. Part of you felt a little guilty, not having much to say despite Charlie’s efforts to welcome you and take care of you, especially compared to her constant rambling. She didn’t seem to notice, though.

She re-explained her whole idea, undeniably proud of her plan. Sinners working on themselves to get redeemed? To leave Hell and climb those glittering steps to Heaven?

Absolutely unheard of.

Maybe it was your internal biases talking, but you could not imagine the possibility. If it was possible, why hadn’t somebody showed up at the gates from Hell before? You held back a roll of your eyes, feigning support and interest to the best of your ability.

After an achingly long journey, you finally reached the stone path that led to a rather plain, but tall building. It looked sleek and well built, but you couldn’t help but notice the tacky blinking lightbulbs that formed arrow shapes towards the entrance and the huge, spelled out name of the hotel. 

Hazbin Hotel.

You stifled a laugh as you looked up at the signage.

“Well! We’re here!” Charlie announced, brandishing her arm forward and sweeping it in a ‘viola’ motion. Your eyes traveled over the expanse of the property, noticing how many windows lined every wall. Were there that many demons here?

You were answered nearly immediately when Charlie opened the door to the hotel and you found yourself in a nearly empty lobby. It was kind of sad, honestly. There was a cat-like bartender and a long-limbed pink demon splayed across the couch, but other than that…

The demon next to you scratched the back of her head, and gave you a light smile. She jerked her head towards the door as if inviting you, but to be fair you didn’t really have any choice but to go wherever she led you.

“Ooh, fresh meat,” The pink-ish demon with a striped top shot upright, eyeing you wryly with a cocked brow. He stood and took long strides forward, one pair of arms on his hips and the other crossed under his rather… voluptuous chest. 

“Eyes up here, toots,” He snapped a finger, but when you met his eyes you could tell he was all jokes. You gave him a tight smile in response.

You heard the sound of quick steps and an already aggravated looking face appeared from the upper level, quickly descending the steps. You felt an ice-cold feeling of familiarity when you saw a gray-skinned, white haired angel—or, well, fallen angel at this point—stop in front of you. She apparently felt a similar feeling, though her response was much more rapidly aggressive. With a narrowed eye and tense shoulders, she manifested an angelic spear and held it at the ready. You tried to remove yourself from Charlie’s hold, desperate to be able to defend yourself even in your sorry state, but her protective grip held you fast against herself. You struggled only for a moment, but the exhaustion coursing through every vein stopped you. Man was she strong.

“What is someone like them doing here,” The other questioned in a hiss, her lips curled in a sneer. She eyed you up and down suspiciously, likely analyzing your capacity of harming anybody in the room. Admittedly you couldn’t blame her caution. 

When your lips parted, planning to shoot an accusatory in retort, the tip of her spear shot to your lips, effectively shutting you up. There was a look in her eye, behind the rage and caution, that you somehow recognized as a silent plea. A plea for what? To stay quiet? Not state the obvious recognition you two shared? Did the others somehow not know she was an angel? Whatever it was, you obliged and swallowed a lump in your throat.

“Vaggie, please,” Charlie spoke in a tumble, rushing her free hand to press the point of ‘Vaggie’s weapon away from your face. “She’s practically one of us now. Don’t go threatening my new guests every time they walk through the door! We can’t scare them away…”

“Angels aren’t guests Charlie,” Vaggie’s voice seemed strained as she held pinched fingers on the bridge of her nose. “We literally just had an extermination.”

“I know,” Charlie pressed, the tone of her voice conveying some sort of desperate ‘just go with it and calm down.’ “But… obviously she was an outcast, unwanted by Heaven. Just like us, right?” 

You furrowed your brows and looked at her through the corner of your eye, but decided not to fight for your dignity. She wasn’t even wrong.

Vaggie seemed easily defeated by Charlie’s words, yielding quickly to her words and putting her spear away. You briefly wondered where your own was. Charlie gave Vaggie a thankful smile, a light kiss on the cheek—to which the angel blushed—and led you carefully into a nearby room. 

It seemed to be some type of medical room, and Charlie quickly got to work dragging a warm rag over the dried blood that left streaks down your skin. You grabbed her wrist, and she looked up at you, a little confused.

“I can wash myself, I’m not that useless,” You argued, using your other hand to pull at the rag.

“But, you can barely—” 

“Charlie,” You said, more stern than you meant to, which you immediately regretted after the taken aback expression on her face. Considering you barely spoke a word since meeting her, it was no wonder she seemed surprised at your sudden brash tone. You tried to speak more gently. “Please, just let me wash myself off. I’ll need your help dressing my wounds, anyway, it’s the least I could do.”

She pondered for a moment, but nodded, smiled, and left you to it. She left the room with a quick ‘call me when you’re’ done, closing the door with a gentle click. You sighed, finally enjoying a moment of privacy. You looked at yourself in the mirror, a sick feeling churning in your stomach.

It was still you, staring back, but it somehow at the same time wasn’t. Golden streaks tainted your gray skin, crusts of blood still grabbing at the corners of your eye and matting your hair. You briefly brushed a hand through the strands, but promptly gave up after your fingers caught on multiple knots. You’d have to wash it out.

For now you focused on just wiping the blood and grime off of your skin, especially around the wounds. You were incredibly tender when you reached your back, elbow bent awkwardly over your face as you tried to reach the marred flesh. You tried positioning your arm under your armpit, hoping for a better angle, but it was still no use. Even when you managed to get close to the wound, every touch sent stinging pain down your back. On top of all that, you could barely see where you were dragging the damp cloth, neck struggling to crane enough to look in the mirror.

The door opened suddenly, and with it a sense of impending doom and static sensations encased you. You froze, eyes darting towards the entrance. Even though you knew exactly who would stand there, you still couldn’t help the sick surprise that twisted your gut.

Alastor stood in the entrance, eyes half open and brows raised as he examined you bent in so many awkward ways. 

“How’s our new vulture doing,” He asked suddenly, eyes lighting up in an overly cheerful manner. He entered the room without much invitation, circling you. You felt like prey being stalked and toyed with by a wolf. Your eyes diligently followed until he took up a spot behind you. “Charlie got caught up in something, so she asked me to help you.”

You watched him in the mirror as he looked down at the torn flesh of your back, his long, clawed finger tapping at his chin while his other hand thrummed against the head of his cane.

“A ghastly sight you are,” He commented, meeting your gaze in the mirror. His hand pointed down at your back. “That wound of yours is rather unpleasant, too.”

You frowned and opened your mouth to shoot something back, though you didn’t know if you wanted to throw curses or insults back at him. Any words you may have said died on your tongue as the look in his eyes darkened, and his smile curled impossibly higher, more sinister. 

He leaned down, positioning his head just next to yours, still meeting your eyes in the mirror. Every inch of proximity caused the prickling on your skin to increase, and the static in your ears to grow louder.

“Let’s patch you up, then!” He straightened himself out, walking towards a cabinet and quickly grabbing various tools from different shelves. “While I’m not in the business of playing doctor to someone like you, I can’t deny the Princess.” His voice seemed all too cheery for the rude words he spoke, and that smile on his face never faltered. You briefly thought about him referring to Charlie as “princess,” but quickly dismissed it. You’d think about it later—right now, you had to be ready to make a run for it in case that feeling of doom that loomed over you came to fruition.

Alastor approached you again with a small tray of medical supplies, and pulled thin gloves over his hands with a brief snap, saying something about the importance of being sanitary, but part of you wondered if he was just making more jabs at you regarding his disdain for angels.

Surprisingly he seemed to know what he was doing, working quickly with different types of wipes and stitches and gauze. He was being rougher than likely necessary, pretending to accidentally poke a claw into your open wound and pressing his tools far too firm against your sore skin. You bore it with gritted teeth and narrowed eyes, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of putting you through a miserably painful half hour. 

After it was finally over you drew out a long sigh and watched as he discarded the gloves and washed his hands. And washed his hands. And washed his hands. And… still he’s washing his hands. You began to wish you counted the seconds.

He turned to you after finally finishing up, shaking water off his hands. He didn’t seem to recognize that he was flicking droplets directly on you. If you weren’t in such a weak state and absolutely terrified of him, you probably would’ve made some effort to stop him, but now… you opted to let him get away with it. For now.

“Now, if that’s all…” He turned, waving a hand at you dismissively. “I’d prefer you keep out of my business from here on.”

No fucking problem, you agreed to yourself. He didn’t even have to ask. You couldn’t imagine bearing to be around him unless absolutely necessary. Though, in an effort to maintain pleasantries…

“Thanks, though,” You called, not trying to hide the hint of dislike in your tone. Your words made him stop, hand just barely hovering over the knob to the door. After a brief moment, his head turned slightly, just enough for him to look at you out of the corner of his eye.

Although it was brief, you saw a glint of what you assumed was malice in his eye as his lips twitched and curled, momentarily revealing the black of his gums. His face quickly returned to his regular facade of cheer. He opened the door, not saying anything in return, and quickly took his leave, slamming the door behind him.

You drug your hands down your eyes, looking at yourself once again in the mirror. Cleaner now, but still rough. You thought deeply about what your future here would be like, especially around Alastor. If he was truly Charlie’s right-hand-man, you doubted avoiding him would be easy, despite how desperately you wanted to.

Yeah. This is Hell.

[hazshit-hotel-hater]

I’ve been spending the past like hour looking at your page I love it sm! I have some questions :3 1. Does Rosie have a design in your au yet? I’d love to see her being actually super scary- 2. Do velvette and vox know how Val treats angel? 3. Where is angel’s brother. Just what is he doing in hell.

Just for you anon I have drawn Rosie incredibly quickly and she kind of looks like garbage but ive never drawn her before im so sorry

For any issues in this (a few I can already spot) I will be fixing when I work on her full body design 🙏 I like her original smile and hollow eyes but honestly sunken in eyes that are barely visible are a lot scarier to be so she gets that. Ive also considered making her blind but we’ll see if I go through with that (I would love to design her a really fancy white cane though… something with that umbrella it does things to me..)

As for Vox and Velvette, I don’t think Velvette is anywhere near as aware as Vox is. The majority of her knowledge is some horrible things have probably happened but she’s never seen it or explicitly gotten any confirmation her suspicions are true so she refrains from prying into it because it’s “not her problem” and finding out would make things more complicated for her image and work, though she absolutely does hat Valentino and is 100% okay with killing him and has discussed kicking him out with Vox multiple times, however they have yet to settle on this.

Vox is definitely aware of what Valentino does but doesn’t actively engage himself in it aside from very sparse talks with Angel on set that usually involves Angel becoming irritable or jittery in Vox’s presence. Vox does detest Valentino’s behaviour and treatment of Angel and will frequently roll his eyes at the mention of Angel since in his mind “its always something with him” and by now any complaints Valentino has about Angel get filtered out after so many years of hearing the most mundane things Valentino is upset about. (ie. Angel moving even though he didn’t live with Valentino to begin with) Even though he heavily disapproves of what Valentino does he still turns a blind eye to it and leaves Angel with little to no help, only ever giving him a few words of advice or a brief warning if Valentino is in a bad mood that day.

Velvette is also unaware of Vox and Valentino’s actual situation as well as basically everyone else. On the surface they come off as “friends with benefits” however Vox is in a (very loosely) similar situation to Angel. Valentino will make similar threats and statements to Vox as he does Angel and currently, Vox doesn’t realise that Valentino is exploiting him. As of now, he hasn’t processed “I don’t actually want to be doing this” or “I am uncomfortable in this situation”. He is still suffering the effects of an abusive work relationship since Valentino does still hit and yell at him, he just hasn’t processed the sexual aspect of what they do was pushed onto him unnaturally rather than him consenting to it openly. Hopefully this makes sense? If it doesn’t feel free to DM me about it or send in another ask and I can clarify more

Angel’s brother currently is still in the mafia and is mingling with crime as usual, however a decent few years ago he ended up gambling away +65% of the families earnings at Husk’s casino back when he was an overlord and ended getting himself stripped of all respect and ranking and is currently attempting to repay his family and work his way back up while trying not to get killed. He is also vaguely homophobic still but has become more tolerant of it after being around and meeting more people. He definitely doesn’t think its “natural” but he knows when to keep his mouth shut and will probably understand more about it someday. Not anytime soon though. He also hasn’t seen Angel for around 8-10 years now and by seen I really just mean yelled at him from across the street and then got a brick thrown at him probably

[sorrowsofsilence]

Burning Out • Teaser

I was lost, but now I'm found Under the lights and in the sounds So let us sing and sing it loud That we're not perfect, but we're proud of who we are

Noah Sebastian is lost. His crime-filled lifestyle is anything but perfect; but everything changes once he meets you.

Noah Sebastian x Fem!Reader

General Warnings: explicit content, smut 18+, mentions of drugs, alcohol, murder, other forms of crime, violence.

Authors note: hiiii. This story was requested by an anon a while back and I have decided to try and give it a shot (Prompt given was: Noah and the boys have a tough life and steal to make it by, and live in a motel room together. Meets reader and ends up breaking into her house unknowing.) I hope this vibes with what you wanted! <3 I have no idea how many chapters this will be, im just kinda gonna go with the flow!

Here’s the beginning of the chapter, just to see if anyone’s interested :3

NOAH

The world was always in a state of grey, the life of the concrete jungle persistently sucking out the souls of its inhabitants with every passing second. Destruction. Crime. Greed. A shattering abyss of capitalism and corruption.

Yet, I don’t think I was meant to be the good guy in this lifetime.

Maybe someday, in another universe, there would be a possibility for me.

But for now, the only thing I could think about was how my heart pounded as the gun sat between my fingers, threatening the innocent ahead.

Destruction, Crime, Greed.

“Noah, let’s go,” Ruffilo desperately pulled at my wrist in an attempt to drag me away. My arm remained still, held in its position, resisting his force.

The woman’s eyes watched me in horror, tears brimming as her back hit the brick wall behind her, arms wrapping protectively around her body in defeat.

My heart raced, yet I couldn’t move.

“I won’t say anything I swear,” She pleaded, lips trembling, saliva foaming from her mouth as she was too afraid to swallow.

I don’t want to do this, but I fucked up.

“Noah,” Ruffilo said through gritted teeth, “We need to go,” he placed a hand on top of my gloved one, in another attempt to have me lower the bad decision.

I closed my eyes, squeezing them shut in contemplation as my chest heaved, the voice of rationality fighting against the voice of destruction.

You’ve never been able to kill anyone before you moron, why do you think this time will be any different?

My eyes snapped open, leathered finger dancing along the trigger as I stared at her. My teeth barred through chapped lips, a snarl of frustration crawling from my throat as the woman's eyes turned away in fear; as if watching her demise would kill her.

Seeing her in complete terror left me broken. Is this who I am?

The next thirty seconds passed as though I was walking through molasses, my thoughts battling contradictions before I audibly screamed in frustration, shoving the gun back into my pocket as Nicholas and I ran towards the van.

“Fuck!” I yelled, slamming the car door as forceful as possible. The tires squealed in place, burning out as Jolly’s foot pounded onto the gas pedal.

I ripped off my ski mask, throwing it angrily onto the floor of the vehicle.

“You should’ve just left her Noah. Now if they find us we could be charged with assault with a weapon.” The deep Swedish accent was the last thing I wanted to hear. He eyed me sternly in the rearview mirror, and I lingered on his gaze for a moment before turning my head towards the window.

“Oh Fuck off Jolly,” I sighed angrily, closing my eyes as my breathing quickened, the anxiety beginning to set in. The pounding of my heart began to vibrate along my entire chest, and my leg bounced in anticipation, waiting for the panic to subside.

I kept justifying to myself that we’re all dead anyway, so what’s the difference between a God and a loaded gun?

The van sped through the city's veins, a blur of neon and shadows. I felt Ruffilo's eyes digging into me, a mix of disappointment and concern as he watched my tapping fingers against the plastic of the car door. Another fuck up added to the list.

The silence in the vehicle was deafening, broken only by the occasional honk of a distant car or the screech of tires against wet asphalt.

"We need to lay low for a while," Jolly's voice cut through the tension. "I know a place on the outskirts we can hang out at ‘till everything cools down. It’s not pretty, but it'll do."

I nodded absent-mindedly, my thoughts still with the woman we'd left behind. Her terrified eyes haunted me, a stark reminder of the monster I was becoming. Or perhaps had always been.

As we drove further from the city center, the buildings grew more dilapidated, the streets emptier. The grey world outside mirrored the turmoil that had taken over my thoughts, reminding me of the emptiness that seemed to follow me everywhere.

+++++

Chapter One: The Apparition

I'll leave the prompt given below.

“BUT what about a Noah fic where him and the boys grew up with a hard life, but they always stuck together. Growing up they got into a lot of trouble, and they are still struggling. So they all live in a little motel room together. Then one day Noah runs into reader, and she’s new to LA and she also grew up with a bad background but she got away from it and worked her ass off to get a nice little house in LA. So they talk for a bit and get along with each other, they swap numbers and stuff. Then one night it’s noah get money for him and the boys. So he decides to break into a house and just steal some stuff so he can sell it for money. BUT he ends up breaking into readers house by accident, and she catches him. She hurt and scared at first, but then she starts kind of sympathizing for him. He is apologizing profusely to her telling her he didn’t know it was her house, and basically they have a conversation about Noah’s life with the boys, and why he does what he does. And basically they end up falling for each other, and after a while reader realizes how lonely she is living in her house alone in LA with no friends. So she tells noah that him and the boys should move in with her, and she would help them find jobs and stuff. Eventually they agree, and then after they move in she notices how much they love music and that the two nicks both have old acoustic guitars that they occasionally play while Noah songs along. She works at a bar and then ends up getting them a gig at her work, and then after they play there a few times they start blowing up on the internet and getting popular, then eventually they get huge and go on tour. When they become famous they all convince reader to go on tour with them so they can start taking care of her like she did them when they needed it the most.”

[jesterwriting]

Hi jesteeer! Congrats on the 100 followers dear!! Surely a thing to celebrate /gen

Today I come with an idea, I don't know if you are familiar with dangerously yours(its an old radio show? idk how to explain in english my badd ://) but there is one dialogue that always destroys me from the inside, and I just put crocodile's face on it, it goes like

Crocodile: [Name], I offer you the three things most dear to me: My heart, my country and my dream.

What if this is part of Crocy confession, when he pops the question if they want to marry him? I just really love him as a tottaly devoted and head over heels w reader, almost like Gomez, ya feel me? Anyway, sorry for the ramble, if this inspires you, please take my offering🤲🤲🤲💞💞

♠️-Anon.

pairing: crocodile x gn!reader

contents: angst, breakups, hurt no comfort, still crocodile is absolutely smitten with you

word count: 1.2k words

note: hiiiiiii. okay. listen. this went in a completely opposite direction than i intended because i was trying to think of a scenario where crocodile would say those words, but i dont think he would offer to give up his dream if he thought he could have both his lover and his dream. it’d have to be a one or the other situation. i had to put him in a Situation. thus came the angst train. i fully intended for something sweet and sappy, i really did :( HOWEVER! i do have ideas for a part two that has a happy ending hehe. sorry this is kind of painful, i hope you enjoy all the same <33 if you dont like this, you can send the request in again and ill do something actually sweet, i promise! again im really sorry for the direction this took, inspiration hit me like a brick

playlist: kingdom’s edge - christopher larkin

Through tears, you stuffed your suitcase full of whatever you could get your hands on, purposely leaving out anything he gave you. Not that beautiful necklace he gently clasped around your neck, not those clothes he had tailor made to fit you, and certainly not the rings he slipped onto your fingers when he wanted to spoil you. You wanted nothing to do with him— nothing to do with Crocodile again. Not for the rest of your life, not ever.

Your breathing hitched when a photo of you fluttered from the breast pocket of Crocodile’s dress shirt you tore from the hanger and threw to the ground. It was the size of your palm, an image of you smiling warmly at the camera. You remembered when it was taken: a year ago when you first came to Alabasta. Everything felt so new then. It was your first time on the Grand Line, ecstatic for the promise of adventure that waited around every corner. At first you planned on leaving as soon as you came, but Alabasta enamored you, with its sprawling cities and beautiful sands. Yes, it had its issues, but what country didn’t? You decided that, despite everything, you would make it your home.

If there was one thing you loved more than Crocodile, it was this country, and he was killing it.

Right under your nose. The “hero” of Alabasta was destroying everything right under your fucking nose. The thought made you sick. You were under no illusions that Crocodile was a good man. You knew what happened to the handsy men who bothered you in the casino, or to those who attempted to scam you under your boyfriend’s watchful gaze. He was possessive and cruel, but still, you loved him. All of his rough edges seemed to disappear when it came to you. The way he touched you, gentle and reverent in the night, to his rare smiles only you got to see. When you loved, it was with everything you had, and you thought you could handle Crocodile at his worst; that you could carry his burdens alongside him.

But not this. Never this.

You slammed your suitcase shut. It was hard to see through your tears, sniffling sporadically as you wrestled to zip the bag closed. So caught up in your desperation, you didn’t hear the door close until it was too late.

“You’re leaving.” It wasn’t a question, it was a statement. The scent of Crocodile’s cigar filled the room, and you fought to keep from basking in its familiarity.

Everything hurt. You wanted this to all be a bad dream so you could bury your face in Crocodile’s chest and let him hold you until you fell asleep. You wanted everything to go back to normal, and some traitorous part of you wished, deep down, you never found out what exactly Baroque Works was.

Worst of all, you wanted to forgive him. It pulled at your heart, tugged at your tongue, made fat tears roll down your cheeks, and you hated it.

“Yeah. I’m leaving.” You hastily wiped away your face clean before you faced him — though you were sure your eyes were still red — and hefted your suitcase off the ground. It was heavy. You let the weight ground you.

Crocodile didn’t move from in front of the door. “It’s amusing how you think I’d let you.”

“Well, you can’t fucking keep me here. I’d make your life a living hell, I promise you.” With your back on one arm, you stomped past him and towards the door. Crocodile didn’t move an inch, staring down at you like you were no more than a petulant child.

“Stop being a brat and unpack.”

You glared up at him. “I’m serious. I’m leaving, and you can’t stop me. Now move.”

Of course, Crocodile didn’t move. You both knew he wouldn’t, but you weren’t staying here a second longer either. Letting out a heavy sigh, you stormed around him and threw open the door. To your surprise, he made no moves to grab you, remaining still as a statue as you marched to the elevator that would take you out of his goddamned penthouse.

You pressed the button, and still, Crocodile stayed in place. Unable to see his expression, you couldn’t begin to read him, nor did you want to. It was over. Whatever you had with him was done. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you choked on a m sob as the elevator dinged and the doors slid open.

“I’ll give it up.”

You froze. “What?”

“I’ll give it up. Everything. As long as you stay.”

When you turned, he was right behind you, expression the same as always. Hard and unforgiving. The only sign of any emotional lapse was the way his Adam’s apple bobbed when he swallowed, waiting for you to make your decision. When you didn’t respond, Crocodile spoke again. You tried not to think about the slight waver that interrupted his smooth words.

“I offer you the three things most dear to me: my heart, my country, and my dream. I’ll give up everything if it means you’ll stay by my side. Stay, Y/N.”

You dropped your bag and took his hand in yours. Crocodile’s fingers played with your own as you ran your thumb over each of his rings. “I can’t ask you to do that.”

Crocodile furrowed his brow. “Don’t make me ask again.”

That was the closest you would ever get to hearing the warlord beg. You let his hand drop.

“It would be better for everyone for you to give up your dream, but how could I ever ask you to do that? I love you. I’ve known you're not a good person for a long time, and I thought I was okay with that. But to ask you to give everything up, change the very foundations of who you are just so I can stay? I can’t. Even at the expense of everyone else, I can’t.” Picking up your suitcase, you turned your back to him. “You’ve made me a worse person.”

As you walked through the elevator doors and pressed the button for the lobby, all you were met with was silence. Your last glimpse of Crocodile’s face broke your heart. Instead of the stony façade he had managed to keep the entire night, he looked completely and utterly lost.

You left Alabasta that night.

It wasn’t until three weeks later, when you read that Crocodile had been arrested, did you realize that horrible pit in your gut was regret.

[the-good-neighbors]

What made you want to make your own Batman comic?

Similar answer to the previous anon

But certainly nobody will care if i elaborate MORE

I grew up with the 1960's batman and Batman the Animated Series (the latter of which will forever be near and dear to my heart) but i didn't really LOVE batman until 12th grade with my Batman-obsessed English prof

At first it started as just a 1920s au and i wasn't planning to do much of anything with it other than make a zine about character design and fashion history

And then insperation hit me like a brick . . . . . .

I can't remember exactly when it hit

I believe i had bits and pieces of what I wanted to happen, but i didn't really want to commit to anything UNTIL I watched this one very specific episode of BTAS:

Season one, episode 26, titled "Perchance to Dream"

Im not going to summarize the whole episode bc that would be really wordy, and I highly encourage people to watch it for themselves instead.

But near the end of the episode (spoiler warning), Bruce jumps off the top of a building in an attempt to kill himself so he can wake up from a dream. This was a dream, so obviously, he didn't actually die, but as someone who has struggled with suicidal thoughts in the past, it was a scene that has never left my head sense.

They never brought it up afterward, and I really felt like it was a shame.

Likewise, with The Dark Knight trilogy, they occasionally made remarks about Bruce saying he "didn't care" if he died. Again, they never elaborated on that.

And that made me want to write my own Batman comic. It's very important to talk about suicidal depression especially in a way that doesn't demonize people who experience it.

Taking a character who people admire and using them as a tool to talk about difficult topics can be very powerful, and im a bit disappointed to see that this hasn't been done in canon.

The batman story is about a man who chooses to make the world better despite his trauma even BECAUSE of his trauma, and if that isn't thematically on brand, I don't know what is.

Gotham in a Bottle is about post WW1 America, particularly "shell shock," or what's now called PTSD, victims. Gotham in a Bottle is about mental health.

I want to write a batman comic because I have a story that I care a lot about.

[vampire-sugar]

Again not at all related to QOTD but related to stuff i see under the tags that’s been bothering me a lot. I was originally gonna send this as an ask but it might potentially not get answered so just gonna post. It’s in relation to this answered ask which i sent and just wanted to be more clear in what i meant. https://www.tumblr.com/nalyra-dreaming/742009291203035136/hey-i-originally-sent-this-ask-to-virginia-bc-a

@nalyra-dreaming Thanks for answering, and I’m gonna come off anon bc I think it’s more transparent that way, only was on anon bc didnt want to be potentially blocked and not see a response. Just wanna clear some things up. I did not read all the books, just the first couple and working my way up, but im aware of what happens bc idc ab spoilers etc. Also I like Loustat, i like jam I listen to the podcasts read the interviews etc etc so im aware of the things u might think that I’m not aware of. I know the characters are still the same, I know we’re gonna get revisits and personally I’m excited for them I love shows/movies where there’s a shift in perspective I think it’s so fun. However I do think they gotta be careful when doing the revisits bc some things would be problematic/racist, and I have read your rant which is why I say that you agree w this. You also agree with this in your response. What I’m confused about thooo is the contradiction in both your rant and your response to me where you say that “ if I‘m going to see anyone scream “bad writing“ or “Louis being made a liar or the memories revisited/changed is racism“ when the changes will hit I‘m just gonna block you.” And then say that it has nothing to do with the problematic directions the show could take to the revisits “because there are many traps there to consider because of the racial change”. And then say “but it’s not bad writing, or racism, if and when these things happen”. I don’t understand, what is it then? Or maybe we disagree about what would actually be a problematic way to revisit ep5? Would something have to be super explicitly racist for it to be considered problematic or bad?

As for listening to the Black cast and creators, I do and I agree with them as well? Jacob says Louis lies and I didn’t need him to say that for me to see it already in s1 like Louis’ lies ab tbe extent in which Claudia resented him, how much he loved Lestat to the point of not being able to kill him etc. I’m literally saying if he lies ab the ABUSE it would be badddd which is why I don’t think they’ll go that way, even if Louis lying ab things is canon (+++ how are things being canon suddenly an argument for why they wouldn’t be bad if adapted in the show??).

And then the other anon saying “why would it be bad if Lily was shady anyone of any race can be a villain” bruhh like what evils could she have committed to deserve death? (stealing and killing from her clients like the prostitutes in the book who lestat feels justified in killing? she’s a Black sex worker in 1910 New Orleans the show opens with Bricks literally being assaulted by a client if she had killed him I would have cheered so idk what would make lily evil enough to have deserved death that’s what i mean by thatt which is also another example of something being canon still being bad)

Also I realize the way I phrased my ask made it seem like I think the making fun of wanting jassad is weird bc it’s mean or something, which is not at all why I think it’s weird. Ppl specifically making fun of wanting to see two poc who are an important pairing in the show be paired in promos as well, that’s the weird part.

And I did not say at all that I think they’re gonna be wholesome bc they are POC, the fuck? Why did you have to do all that when discussing the jassad part of my comment? That’s also very weird. Like I know who Armand is and what he does, that doesn’t mean that I will stop being excited that the ppl playing the part are POC and no longer want to see them on my screen or do promos together…. I’m excited to see all that stuff play outtttttttt….. y am i supposed to only be excited for loustat…..?

As for the comments you got on your fic, I personally did not read your fic but I’m sure you write v well and I’m assuming the comments are super hurtful and unnecessary and things like “kys”, which I find the casual use of in online spaces in general very weird so I’m genuinely sorry that you received that in your inbox. However I’m talking about how even getting just a “hey that’s racist” would also be not a great thing to receive like no one wants to be called that. Getting anything negative at all in the inbox is not great so getting even wilder stuff is very hurtful, I get that, which is why I’m trying hard not to come off in any type of way that would suggest that. People saying I’m tired of this discourse, plz know this is in response to your rant as well as a lot of the asks ab the jassad pairing, not just for discourse’s sake. Personally, I think it’s important and interesting to discuss how changes in certain characters’ races could affect the story moving forward, and I like that you talk ab your theories for how they will adapt s2 that stuff is fun and very fandom like behavior. But when ppl point out that some things won’t work bc of the race (which again u agree w in ur rant + ur response) u talk ab how some fans who say this pair it w hurtful language and then by dismissing the hurtful language you dismiss the notion that the suggestion would be racist or problematic in the first place which is very contradictory. But I guess since I have not read all of Anne Rice’s work my opinion ain’t shit.

[bugtypeskilledandthenrevivedme]

im a person that is real (no lies here)

i dont really have a name. if you really need to buggy is fine. i know internet safety. it/its. if you use they/them for me then i will actually just kill you.

where i live: none of your buisness and barely even mine.

where i came from: your left nut.

my pokemon: okay finally a good question (i was starting to get a little impatient)

i have a Firoke (named Baby Man) (commonly just refrred to as Lord Babilicous Esquire Esquire The Third of His name: House of Man) (also just Baby) that i love with all of my heart even though he is dumb as bricks. I will link an image of him cuz Firoke dont really live in other regions.

i also have an Purugly named Kenneth. she has the demeanor of a sixty year old man who lost both his legs in bicycle incident. shes also mostly blind so unfamiliar people = scary = threat. her dad was also a nidorino so shes got a horn. is evil.

and a falinks. its just around. their name is command.

caught a heracross. her name is sixteen-crunching-leaves-stuck-elytra. tried to get her to agree on anything shorter but it wasnt happening

my biology? fucked. ive got mandibles, bug wings, compound eyes. the whole shebang

now also adding glitter and shit to your mass produced pokeballs. so they dont look lifeless and mass produced. pay what you want, send me an ask about and ill work on it.

buggy: firoke hybrid (magically induced). level 32. moves: overheat, incinerate, x-scissor and sunny day.

Baby man: firoke. level 42. type: fire/bug moves: incinerate, bug bite, sunny day and nightshade.

Kenneth: purugly/nidorino hybrid (12 percent nidorino. 88 percent purugly. 100 percent shithead). type: normal/poison. level 40. moves: dig, poison jab, retaliate and fake out.

Command: falinks. type: fighting. level 29. moves: reversal, protect, headbutt and bulk up.

Sixteen-Crunching-Leaves-Stuck-Elytra: heracross. type: fighting/bug. level 58. moves? she does what she want

// hi there. finally made that other blog huh. and at an ungodly hour.

// magic anons are off until i say so. because thats the way the world works. TERFs, intolerant people and the like can honestly just walk into an imdustrial freezer and go to sleep. forever. sentient pokemon are welcome, this fucker has seen weirder shit.

// pelipper mail is on. please send this fucker pipebombs god knows they need them. also no replies. i keep forgetting to turn that off

// also i will be counting some fakemon as real, the entire pokemon uranium dex is canon because buggy is from tandor.

[jamisonwritestf2trash]

hey guy, was just thinking

it would be really fun to write smth about scout exploding internally and I just realized it because I can project onto him I dont know why exactly im telling you other than I think you're cool its why im an anon lol. uh anyway I think it would be fun to kill scout with fire, incredibly killable. Affectionately. idk I guess I just see myself in a cringey fail guy who in his 20s and dumb as bricks. he also reminds me of my youngest brother. he can be so many things to me its un real. Basically he gives me "struggles to connect with others in a painfully familiar way" kinda vibe. I like to head cannon him as absolutely riddled with adhd and I like to think hes both extremely aware and completely oblivious to other people. scout tf2 makes me feel raw and like im going to rip my throat out.. which is a bit embarrassing and melodramatic that I feel so strongly about a fictional Twink. I guess I just imprinted on him and now I'll die mad about it. sorry this turned into me rambling about scout tf2 in your ask box 💀💀💀💀💀💀

Anon I assure you that feeling the urge to rip your throat out isn't embarrassing or melodramatic, I feel that way about all of the mercs. Call that shit hyperfixation. I also feel this way about Scout, but in a different way that I can't vocalize.

Also, no need to apologize, I love when people talk to me about the things they love and go rabid for.

[pinchan]

On that post that said “girls when the media they're obsessed with is never going to be as good as they wish it could be” you said jujutsu kaisen and I’m just curious what you would do to make it better :)

hi anon ^_^ this is getting less coherent each paragraph bear with me

i don't think i have anything new to offer. first thing i would change is the involvement of international armies since it felt like it threw a brick in the whole story jjk was setting up and the worldbuilding (not to mention it's showing gege's views that are looking kinda cringe)

so in the thousands of years sorcerers have existed no countries besides of japan have heard of them? none of the sorcerers in other countries have figured out something like tengen's barriers to optimize CE? its just really hard to believe that japan is this super special country in the whole entire earth. if we kept the scope to the small sphere of japanese sorcerers none of these problem would even be a thing in the first place. not to mention we don't need anymore major threats besides kenjaku and sukuna; they're a problem big enough that the cast is yet to solve for 200 chapters, and i'm sure they could last 200 more. i get that tsukumo's foreshadowed it in one of her lines, but the whole thing falls apart if you think about it for more than 5 minutes

if they had to be involved though, since i expect/hope that they won't really be a major threat but as another ingredient kenny needs for the chaos soup of their one thousand years science fair plan, i'd have the storytelling between the international negotiation and the higher-up slaughter be swapped. so for the big 200 i'd show them slaughtering the higher-ups that ordered for yuji's execution instead, and have kenny handwave the negotiations. the former was a pretty significant thing that happened and gege just... have kenny tell it to us? instead of showing it? considering how much the higher-ups have been an underlying threat throughout the story, the way gege handwaved it is as "oh yeah that happened" is just...?

going a step back, i'd have the culling game arc include more of the preexisting characters. gege had proved himself to be able to create fights that aren't only exciting but also offer glimpses of the characters' personality and struggles, so it'd be the perfect arc to let some of these characters shine. especially miwa that he'd teased but still hasn't returned. gege. gege did you forget about her. be honest.

i'd also have the new characters provide something into the worldbuilding or plot instead of them just being some randos with a gimmick. uro was the perfect character for it and of course she was sidelined for a boring ass man that adds nothing to either. i will forever complain about this. change kashimo's motive as well. they're a very fun character, but their motive isn't very interesting, and is pretty weird considering how they're putting everything they have to fight sukuna. i'd have their motive be a grudge, they had a humiliating defeat in sukuna's hands in their first life and now they want to get back at him

then of course there's the high-but-not-really stakes of culling game but my brain is fried at this point. sorry. im sure u understand. id kill yuta to keep the stake high. he already has his character and story arc completed anyway, much like nanami

then, have the next arc focuses on tsukumo, she's talkative and blunt so it wouldnt be unnatural if we get more insight on the world she seeks through her own words. as well as the situation on the college ever since shibuya and everything the higher-ups pulled to stomp down anyone that they felt was a threat for them. particularly yaga's execution. gege if you kill gakuganji before we see yaga's curse for him i will be. very mad

[blimbo-buddy]

❓️ but you're not allowed to say a kittypet (challenging)

❓️ : fav total background character (im not talking minor characters like say. whitewing or moonlight, i mean cats with like…3 lines tops)

Anon you will kill me. Brick and Claw and Chicken Bone (The rogue who gave Tiny the chicken leg. I named her that)

(Ask game here)

[mirakurutaimu]

do yhou do dead by dayliht rp i will be dwigt (anon caus im shy)

i will kill you with a brick

[locked-into-eternity]

–Home.–

{Can you two back up for me?}

–Heart and Mind both give Soul a look, but they do so. Or at least, Mind tries to. He quickly learns that an anon tied his shoes together, and falls over.–

(Pff-)

[Shut up.]

–He fixes his shoes, and backs away.–

{A little more, please?}

[What are you even doing?]

{I’m trying to make a house.}

[Oh.]

–They both back up more.–

[Why don’t you say when there’s enough space?]

{Good idea.}

–They continue to back up.–

{A little more…}

–They continue to back up.–

{Alright, that should be good.}

–He slams his trident against the ground, and a house starts to build itself in the middle of the void, although it’s leaning more into Soul’s area. The bricks seem to materialize out of nowhere, placing themselves on top of each other. Heart and Mind watch, with the former seemingly mesmerized.–

(Cool…)

–The latter just seems confused as to how this is possible, mumbling about how “You can’t make matter out of nothing.”–

–Once the house is finished, Soul collapses, falling to the ground.–

(Oh shit-)

–The two rush over to it.–

[Are you alright?]

(What’s wrong?)

{I’m fine… that just took a lot out of me…}

–They both help him up, with Heart on his left, and Mind on his right, and carry him over to the house.–

–The house itself is rather small, and only one story. There are three bedrooms, one bathroom, a living room, a utility room*, and a kitchen with a table.–

–The bedrooms are all along the back of the house, with them each being in their area of the void. They’re rather plain, each one only having a bed, a dresser, an empty bookshelf, and a desk.–

–They take Soul to its room, and it flops into bed.–

{I’m gonna take a nap… don’t kill each other…}

–And with that, he passes out.–

«*two things to say here: 1. utility rooms are a common thing in america, and they are also sometimes called laundry rooms. theyre a room where you keep your washer and dryer. they apparently arent really a thing in some other countries, but im american, and im not having these fuckers wash their clothes in the kitchen. 2. “a utility room” is grammatically correct bcus a/an is based on pronunciation, and utility begins with a y sound, like you»