#before going back to its default form

[hyper-cryptic]

More HOC villain designs. :)!

[disneyprincemuke]

ღ this barbie’s teammate is a schumacher

notes: hello gays it is i, finally writing for barbie

she closes the car door and sighs with a small smile, looking at the building ahead of her. this will be her life until she decides otherwise. she shoves her car keys into her purse and watches curiously as another supercar pulls into the empty lot next to her.

is that who she thinks it is?

she takes a step towards her car, watching the car be parked into the slot flawlessly. she tilts her head when it comes to a stop, the driver's side opening to reveal its driver.

"oh!" she shrieks, running around the front of her car to approach the young man. "mick schumacher, right? i am such a big fan! i'm so excited to finally be working with you!"

the german takes a step back, overwhelmed by the sudden presence of the girl in pink approaching him. she has a pair of sunglasses resting on the top of her head, a fur coat on and a purse hanging off her elbow.

"oh, hi," mick smiles politely. he's not a mean person; he's just a little more introverted than the next guy. "i'm glad to be with honda this year. i'm looking forward to spending the year with you."

he was in deep thought before she came up to him. he wondered, as the way he's been doing for years, if the rumours that he'd been scouted for the second seat at the request of his boss's daughter. but who is he to complain; he's racing in f1 again. does it matter how he got back into it?

surely not.

but this girl that stands in front of him – could she be an intern? she looks fairly young, very enthusiastic, and a glimmer of hope in her eyes that he doesn't see from individuals his age often. perhaps a marketing intern.

"alright, well, i'll see you inside! i love the sweater, by the way!" she shrieks, waving at him with a wide smile. she waves at him as she walks away, cautiously crossing the parking lot as the rest of the cars for the day start to roll in. "and the car! you have to give me a tour someday!"

he waves back at her in confusion, only able to mutter a 'goodbye' to himself as she disappears into the big front doors of the building. he locks his car and follows her in the direction she left, ready to start his new year with a new team.

he spends the next 10 minutes navigating the new factory he'll be frequenting from now on. introducing himself to people, familiarising himself with the engineers he'll be working closely with, and other members of the team. it's a surprisingly bigger team than he had initially thought, so it takes him longer than he expected.

about 20 minutes introducing himself and trying to pin names with the new faces. then he ends up in a quiet office, shaking his leg in anticipation as he awaits his first face-to-face meeting with his new teammate and his boss.

he hears clicks of heels right by the door, prompting him to sit up a little straighter as he glances behind him quickly. he straightens his sweater, pulls his sleeves down and wipes his sweaty palms on his jeans. he can't screw himself over.

"i'm telling you, daddy, he's got the coolest car! i saw him in the parking lot earlier!" the door opens, revealing two figures with two familiar faces. which, shouldn't be the case, because this is the first time he's meeting his teammate.

"do you want one, honey?"

"no, that's so silly! i love my car!" she giggles, before abruptly stopping at the sight of his wide blue eyes staring at her in disbelief. "my car is perfectly fine! right, mick?"

mick blinks, swallowing the forming lump of guilt in his throat. he had no idea that the girl in the parking lot was going to be his teammate eventually.

oh god, and for him to assume that she's a marketing or pr intern? how humiliating. how would he feel if someone were to think that of his sister was a mere backend worker when she is something more?

"yes," he answers by default, not really remembering what she was asking him. he immediately pushes himself up to his feet and extends a hand to her first. "i'm sorry. i don't believe i got your name in the parking lot – i didn't know you were going to be my teammate. i'm so sorry."

"oh, don't worry about it. it happens a lot." she introduces herself before quickly walking away, running over to the empty seat next to him.

mick huffs, grinning at her father before he takes a seat. but the entire time, all he can think of is how embarrassed he is for misjudging her. "you don't care that i didn't take you for a driver at first?"

she looks off blankly, pressing her lips together before shaking her head. she turns to him again. "it's not like i told you," she grins. "anyway, do you like japanese curry? that's my favourite – i'll make you some when we meet again for pre-season."

taglist: @cashtons-wife @darleneslane @namgification @happy-nico @nikfigueiredo @localwhoore @angsthology @renarots @elliegrey2803 @cha-hot @cosmoscoffeee @fanficweasley @sugarhoneylemons @aquangxl @omgsuperstarg @strawberryubin @lovecarsgoingvroom @mangotaitai @cherry-piee @ladyladybuggg @lethalvenus @gentlyweeps-world @spilled-coffee-cup @charizznorizz @wcnorris @storminacloud @minkyungseokie @viennakarma @leilanixx @daniellef89x @fezlvr @lavisenri @xcharlottemikaelsonx @ultraviolencesam @selsbackyard @ilove-tswizzle @riddle-me-im-sirius @kindestofkings

[amalgamasreal]

SOURCE

Bit of a long video but worth a watch.

TL;DW though is that hidden in the Terms and Conditions for Google's AI Labs is a nice little poison pill that says they get access to your entire Google Drive if you opt in.

So if you're an author of some type and you keep your unpublished works in your G-Drive that means an AI will get to scrape all of it and by opting in you will have given them permission to it. The content creator goes on to predict that Google is going to let out their own streaming service where the scripts, and potentially the art if it's animated, will be almost or entirely AI generated using that scraped data as a baseline and the authors/artist's who's work was essentially stolen in its most raw form to crib from will have zero way of fighting Google on that in our current legal system.

This is of course right in the middle of the writers and actors strike where we're seeing just what lengths studios will go to in order to screw everyone but themselves.

They go on to recommend that if you keep any creative or personal works on Google Drive that you pull it off as soon as possible and delete your entire Drive. They acknowledge that of course this doesn't mean Google really deleted the data but if you do it before they start compulsory opting everyone in there's a chance your work might get overlooked. They also recommend several free editing programs that aren't run by corporations like Google with LibreOffice (the default office program of most Linux distros) being named.

Finally they go over methods of shaming Google which I feel like you just have to watch for comedies sake so I won't describe them in full.

Now this is from me: I know the majority of people don't have the ability to build and manage a big archive just for themselves, but if you're a creative NOW IS THE TIME to educate yourself on what you can do to protect your works. Cloud storage was always iffy at best, but with AI scraping entering the mix it's now downright malignant. Get a bunch of thumb drives, buy some external hard drives, if you have the money buy a pre-built NAS, and if you really want to get into learn how to build your own NAS. These are the old ways before cloud and they're coming back again, more important than ever.

[someonedefinitely]

BUNNY X READER

note: also on ao3, nsfw, gender neutral reader, established relationship, top bunny, bottom reader, didn't rlly think of dom sub dynamics writing this so bunny can be imagined as switch, taking place after 307's match, nothing but fluff ;3

The stadium was brimming with energy as the game was teetering on its closure — and as the audience witnessed the final kick of the Copa Del Rey, a symphony of noise rose up from the crowds of both teams, with your voice overshadowing them all. You watched the commentator officially announcing the win of Barcha against Chicorid — with the final score being shot by Bunny.

Unfortunately, that landed him — and you, by default — under the attention of media for intervals way longer than any of you imagined or desired, and by the time the two of you were done, you both had no energy for an elaborate dinner date.

So after a nice takeout session and a quick movie, you were quietly waiting on the bed as Bunny went to go take a shower. In your wait, you decided to have a scroll on social media, checking out posts detailing Bunny’s feat in the match.

Well, mainly the still shots of him on the field looking way too hot for his own good.

With this activity taking your entire attention, your phone almost slipped from your grasp as you startled seeing another hand taking your phone up to examine it — your heartbeat getting back in control as you spotted that it was just your boyfriend.

Only until it rose up again as you had another look at him — who was unnecessarily and very intentionally adorning nothing but a towel on his hips.

A huff escaped as you stared up at him casually invading your privacy, and you knew you couldn't even do anything about it because of how damn tall he was. Aren't bunnies supposed to be small creatures?

“I'm not sure why you'd indulge in these photos when the real thing is right here..” He glanced back at you, eyes narrowing. You were surprised at how he wasn't outright pouting at that point.

You simply extended your arm up, quietly asking for the return of your phone in the safe confines of your hands. He stayed silent, probably calculating the best possible way to irritate you even further… and actually handed the phone back.

Before pulling his arm away at the last second.

“I’ll hand it back if..” He paused at the pout on your face, trying his best to hide his forming grin, “If you give me a massage.”

You blinked at that. Then gave a nod.

You didn't pay attention to the phone again as Bunny placed it on the bedside table, moving around the bed to lie down beside you on his stomach. You watched the towel shifting just an inch, your breath hitching at the sight.

Slowly you rose from your position, moving to sit on his back. He gave a pleased hum as he felt your weight, relaxing slightly with your fingers mapping out the plane of his back.

The muscles were pretty tense but that was expected, so you knew to set your patience high as you began your work on his shoulders. You loved it anyway — how could you let a chance at hearing your partner moan into the pillows slip away?

And Bunny was certainly vocal this time around too, the attempts at muffling the sounds very amusing to you as you continued your magic down his back. Seeing him continue to shove his head into the plain white did get annoying as time went on — you had a right to hear him, after all.

One of your hands moved to pinch his arm, feeling the bicep flex underneath. Bunny tipped his head up lazily, shooting you an unamused look.

A grin began to bloom across your lips. “That's just gonna tempt me to bug you even more, y’know.”

Hearing him grumble made you laugh, the heat pooling in your abdomen getting harder to ignore each second. Your hands began pressing against any remaining stubborn knots on his back, feeling him give a slight arch.

“You good?” Your grin widened.

“Off,” Was all he replied.

You rolled off, and Bunny was over you in an instant, propping your legs up over his shoulders. His strained cock was very obvious, even through the thick towel, and as Bunny hurriedly took it off, you marveled at how hard he’d already gotten.

“Interesting foreplay,” You mumbled, eyes fixed on his hands as he gave himself a stroke. “Not that I'm complaining.”

“Take your shit off,” He replied, a hand moving to the drawer to fish out some lube. You did as he told, and it wasn't long until he was at your entrance.

Your head tipped back at the feeling of being filled, taking in deep breaths as you accommodated his length — eyes stubbornly closed to avoid seeing his shit eating grin.

You felt his face bury into your neck, nose nuzzling against your pulse point, as he whispered, “What, am I not pretty enough to look at?”

Feeling his smirk widening against your skin, you huffed, moving your hips against him. His breath stuttered against your neck and you couldn't help but feel proud of yourself, your hands travelling the expanse of his now-untense back.

Your eyes shut tight — now involuntarily — as he began moving, your hands roaming everywhere as you tried to feel every bit of him that you saw through that Barcha’s fitted shirt, memorizing every part.

Sighing at the feeling of tender kisses being placed from your ear to further down your neck, you let yourself relax as Bunny kept up the pace. Which was clearly a mistake, as a whimper escaped on feeling a bite on your throat.

“Hey..!” You whined. “Bunnies are supposed to be herbivores!”

“Doesn't mean they don't bite,” He returned smoothly, increasing the pace as the two of you really began feeling the blossoming urgency in each of your stomachs. Bunny's singing was also quite audible, making your want even more unbearable.

The desperation began to mirror in your movements, his hips continuing to meet yours at a consistent yet relentless pace. It was difficult to hold on, and as Bunny continued to nibble at your neck and collarbone, that singular hanging thread snapped.

Your back arched as you came, the pleasure being heightened as Bunny quickened — then relaxed completely on top of your body.

The weight felt nice as the two of you stayed still, listening to each other’s breaths. Your hand moved up to his hair, ruffling the fluffy locks. He looked up in a feigned pout, and you let out a laugh.

“Not funny.” He established his feelings further, emphasizing each word.

You smiled hard, tilting your head to kiss his scar, feeling his eyes flutter shut. “Get some sleep,” You mumbled, tangling your legs further.

Hearing his half committal hum was the last thing you heard before dozing off, both of you in the steady comfort of each other's arms.

[meanbossart]

Sorry if you've already answered this question before, but how did DU Drow react when Astarion was finally free from Cazador? Did he try to comfort him, or maybe they celebrated it somehow or never talked about that? Or would the Drow like to strangle Kazador with his own hands instead?

If you mean the immediate aftermath, there isn't much, if anything, that sets it apart from how it goes in-game. I do understand why people wish there were more options in how to react during Astarion's big moment, maybe they have more reactive Tavs - but DU drow would absolutely just let something like that breathe. No words of comfort, no shows of affection- he stands back, he stays quiet, and when Astarion says he wants to go, they go. He's as eager to leave as he is and to put this behind the both of them.

Thing is, that at the end of the day, there is no amount of words that could adequately explain to DU drow what his partner went through. Like, sure, he holds nothing but contempt towards Cazador and understands that what Astarion went through was horrific, but he has to filter all of it through the much, much narrower understanding that he himself has of pain, hopelessness, and most of all, time.

For him, at least in that moment, what is done is done and the important thing is that it happen anymore. It's simple and it's not worth lingering on - his feelings about Astarion's situation become more complex later, but at that point Cazador is just yet another foe whom he met and felled within the same hour, and not his two-hundred-year-spamming tormentor.

The point is, there isn't really any emotional high here besides what we see during the cemetery scene (which in their case, doesn't even end in sex) and there certainly isn't any celebration, either.

That all being said, I still think its sweet. He might be doing it with a degree of aloofness, but DU drow is still choosing to give Astarion space instead of bombarding him with love and comfort right off the bat. He has a lot of moments like these, where despite being borderline overbearing at times he recognizes when he's ill-equipped to address something.

Now, moving a little ahead:

I really like that the game gives you these dialogue options here, and they were kind of formative in DU drow's characterization, especially in regards to their relationship. Discussing Cazador's crimes and the sacrifices Astarion has had to make for his own freedom is just sad. It's uncomfortable. It's quitter talk. On the other hand, immediately setting up a new goal-post, giving Astarion something to look forward to and that certainly he can provide, on the other hand, is so much easier.

PICTURED ABOVE: Sentences that go over DU drow's head faster than you can say "bootstrapper".

And speaking of formative and tone-deafness, here's another dialogue option that truly set in stone for me the type of turbulent emotional journey this character (and Astarion by extension) was about to go through from here on out.

I love that they put that here. That your character can be be tempted with a line that is, on the surface, so sweet, but with this underlying implication that you still think of Astarion as somehow lesser or incapable by default - like he hasn't been around for so much longer and been through so much more than yourself in almost every case.

...OR you just didn't express yourself well.

But in DU drow case, that is exactly what he means. that Astarion doesn't need all that power because he has him now. He wants to be his protector. He wants for Astarion to depend on him.

In his Bhaalist plotline, this devotion takes a very ugly and possessive form. In DU Drow 1.0 storyline, on the other hand, it is just... A perception that has to be slowly and painfully broken down - that Astarion doesn't need to be handled with children's gloves, or constantly protected and provided for - that he in fact doesn't need a partner to look after him, and how that doesn't immediately translate to not wanting companionship.

I can only hope ANE has a lot of moments that get this flip of dynamic across with all its caveats and addendums. After all, this is kind of a bed Astarion has made for himself.

BUT, that comes later. Right now Astarion just has to smile-and-nod while his beloved fresh-faced twunk says some truly goofy shit.

[weirdmarioenemies]

Name: Gooigi (again)

Debut: Luigi's Mansion (3DS)

When I was playing Luigi's Mansion 3 for the first time, I was thinking, "I sure love Gooigi. I wish I could write a Weird Mario Enemies post on him, but we already have one..." but I now realize! That post was written before the release of 3! We had no idea! No idea.

Who is the Mario character with the most fleshed-out backstory? Is it Mario, with his monolithic catalogue of media appearances? No, the insight we get into his past is simplistic at most. Is it Rosalina, with her beloved storybook? She comes close, I will admit, but there is someone who comes closer! Can you guess who it is? Can you guess the character I am hyping up in the post with a big image of Gooigi at its forefront? Yes, you can! It's Gooigi.

Indeed, Gooigi has seven entire pages of lore from the official website, written from the perspective of E. Gadd himself, explaining his origins, how he does what he does, WHY he does what he does, everything! You can read it here, and I'm not going to waste time repeating what was already said. I will just paraphrase: Goo is made from coffee mixed with ghost energy. Gooigi is the result of Luigi's digital data being zapped into it for a default form. Gooigi was sent back in time to Luigi's Mansion 1 for training and research purposes, and is now stored in a canister in the Poltergust G-00.

Got it? Good. Here is Baby Gooigi. How precious! Back before he had any Luigi in him at all. This is Goo in a human-shaped mold, and you may notice the mold itself has no face. Baby Gooigi learned how to express agony all on his own! It's no wonder they took a photo of this milestone!

Now with Super Mario Bros. Wonder, we have TWO gelatinous Luigis to choose from. And why not both? Gooigi is a separate entity, so Gooigi and Wubba Luigi can coexist! But not always... when playing Luigi's Mansion 3 single player, Luigi and Gooigi must be controlled separately. Luigi is able to will his consciousness into the doppelgangreener to control its movements, and it's here that it gets extra weird! Weird to the point that this game basically has multiple possible continuities?

Gooigi is NOT scared of ghosts, at all! He is an anomaly to them! This is very much "distinct character" behavior. But how is this the case if Luigi wills his soul into Gooigi? Well, both concepts are kind of true at the same time! As we can see here, cutscenes will actually change depending on if the game is in single-player or co-op play, portraying different events! Really really weird! It's like if Schroedinger's Cat was a pair of funny green men, one with bones and organs, and one translucent. So what is the truth...? (Spoilers for Luigi's Mansion 3 ahead...)

In the ending, even in single-player mode, Gooigi is portrayed as his own sentient character! Even though this contradicts the "consciousness transfer" lore, I think this is the "true" intention for him. It's much more fun and less awkward if he can be active at the same time as Luigi! I also don’t think they care that much about minor gameplay features being lore-compliant, since Polterpup got pupils in the end of the second game, and those were removed in 3 without explanation.

Unfortunately, as the hotel crumbles after King Boo's defeat, Gooigi falls from the top floor and dies.

He even says "bye-bye" before the fall. I can't believe this. How could Nintendo allow something so upsetting? They thought it was okay to let Gooigi say "bye-bye" rather than "goo-dbye"? That has "goo" in it! It would have been perfect. (I am not actually upset by this at all and "bye-bye" is more in character)

After splattering on the pavement he reforms, because duh. He's goo. You can test this for yourself! Scoop a glob of mayonnaise out of the jar with your hand. Next, travel to the top of a skyscraper. Finally, drop the mayonnaise off of the side! When it hits the ground, it will not have died. Science Fact!

As silly it may be, I was a bit worried Gooigi might die for real, even though that wouldn't make any sense to happen. I was just thinking of modern Paper Mario, introducing new buddies only to take them away by the end. But I should have known that Luigi's Mansion is not at all like that! This is the series where they gave Luigi a dog, and that was that. We don't see Polterpup as often as we should, but it cannot be argued! Luigi has a dog. What would stop them from keeping Gooigi around? Nothing, that's what! He stays with E. Gadd, and is not going anywhere!

Just like Polterpup, I would love to see Gooigi more, though. I would love for him to be Luigi's answer to Metal Mario! Gooigi driving a kart! I don't care that he dies in water, and I don't think Nintendo would care too much either. I would like to leave you off with The Big Question. This is a new, distinct character, who is "genetically" similar to Luigi. As such.

[bareminimalii]

Meetings

Vergil x (LIR) Reader

Word count: 2396

Summary: The mysterious man you had met that day was more that meets the eye.

Contents and warnings: graphic depiction of a corpse (Extremely brief), Poetry, developing relationship, set pre DMC3, possible inaccurate depictions of the Order of the Swords beliefs, religious themes, Grief, Vergil’s amazing communication skills, OC added for plot convenience

Notes: I spent the longest time researching trying to find a concise list of what the people of Fortuna actually believed in but anything unanswered would just be defaulted back to Christian beliefs. Trying to think of William Blake from the perspective of Vergil was challenging but hopefully it’s accurate. Anyways I hope you enjoy!!!! ٩(^‿^)۶ (may make a 2nd part to this)

You rushed to the library that evening. You run through the streets of Fortuna, almost tripping over the hard cobblestone roads several times. You had to rush, of course, you couldn’t miss the meeting time you arranged with the mysterious man you met the other day.

That day, you were sitting in the Fortuna chapel way after mass had ended. You found yourself staring at the statue of the legendary knight Sparda. It stood tall in the center, looking down on the pews. You cursed it, if he was such a savior, why did he allow for such suffering? He shouldn’t be worshiped for sealing hell when demons still haunt the earth.

You clenched your fists, remembering your dear friend Lylabelle. She was smart, beautiful, and the kindest person you had ever known. She didn’t deserve the fate awarded to her. You remember seeing her dead body sprawled on the ground of the forest. You clutched the child she had pushed out of the demon’s line of attack. That act left her gored by the demon, its claws stabbed through her stomach. You could never forget the sickening sound of the demon's claws retracting before swiftly stabbing Lylabelle’s stomach again. What sickened you further, was hearing her last words pleading for Sparda to save her.

You stood in the forest, clutching the hand of your now unrecognizable friend. It was the only part of her left intact. The cries of the child were muffled through your rapid thoughts, but one repeated over and over in your head: why her?

“How can anyone have faith in you…” You muttered under your breath to the statue.

“Whom else would the people turn to if the demon world were to open? ” A voice spoke up.

You frowned, you initially assumed it was one of the more dedicated members, and he was about to lecture you about questioning your faith. You turned around, and it was a hooded man. You remember him, you saw him walking the other day, his hood was worn and dirty. You had spared him a glance before going about your day. The hood was still dirty now, but you could see his shadowed face, his piercing blue eyes standing out.

”It doesn't dull my worries, hoping for a savior. It heightens it, it makes me realize how crazy you all are. Thinking Sparda would come back and save everyone when he already doesn’t save his worshipers.” You admit to him.

The man sits next to you and grabs one of the Bibles that were left in the pew. “You believe I’m a—as you put it—crazy worshiper?” The man asked.

”I didn’t say that exactly, but yeah, tell Sanctus if you want, I don’t care.”

“I won’t, I’ve been struggling with my faith for the past couple of years as well.” The man said reassuringly, “However, I cannot deny Sparda’s existence.”

”Why’s that?”

The man never answered, instead he reached into his cloak and flipped through the book he pulled out of it, glancing at it, then looking at the statue of Sparda “For Mercy, Pity, Peace, and Love Is God, our father dear, And Mercy, Pity, Peace, and Love Is Man, his child and care.” He then turns his head to you, maintaining eye contact as he continues, “For Mercy has a human heart, pity a human face, And Love, the human form divine, And Peace, the human dress.”

“William Blake,” You blurted out. The Man nodded, “I know that poem, humanity is an embodiment of God's qualities—Sparda isn’t God.”

“You’re correct.”

“From our scripture and Santus’s preachings, I can tell why you would make the comparison.” You admit, “Mercy, Pity, Peace, while he did do that two millennia ago, it’s not enough for me.”

”I agree, it wasn’t enough.” The man looked back up at the statue, “However, it’s everything to me.”

You didn’t pry as he didn’t answer your other question. “I’m glad you can be civil instead of lecturing me. I like how literate you are, it seems like the only book anyone can talk about is scripture.” The Man closed his poetry book and handed it to you. You held it gently and brushed the well-cared-for cover, and not a single speck of dust has flown off.

“Is there a way we can talk more?” You asked, looking up at him and handing his book back. He grabbed the book and smiled, “The library, at the end of the week, I’ll be there at night-time.” He said as he tucked the book back into his cloak. “When you get there, check the poetry section.” You stared as he walked out of the chapel. As the door closes, you quickly follow him, you had to ask his name!

You rush and open the heavy doors, but when you peek outside, you notice he is gone. You stood there confused, but you knew you had to meet up with him again.

Back to the present, you approach the old library and open the doors. As you step inside you take in the emptiness of the place. The library would always be deserted, however not even the librarian was there that night. It creeped you out as you noticed how most of the sections were dark, the candles having been put out already.

The only candles on were leading to the familiar route of the poetry section. It was near the back of the library, past the many sections of books.

Your footsteps are the only sound you hear as you walk towards the back of the library. As you passed each bookshelf and got closer to the back you could hear the flipping of pages and the occasional shuffle of feet.

You approach the section and peek your head into the tall shelves. There the man stood, this time unhooded revealing his elegant blue coat and black under attire. He had pure white hair and the same blue eyes you had first stared into.

He looked focused on his book, you walked up to him and placed a hand on your shoulder. He didn’t look surprised at all, he looked back into his book before turning towards you. “When I’m dead, my dearest Sing no songs for me.”

“I know that one,” You muttered, the man had paused his recital and looked down on you, a bit annoyed at your interruption, “Sorry, continue”.

”Plant thou no roses at my head, nor shady cypress tree-”

His words drowned off in her ears. You knew this poem well, and you hated it.

“- I shall not see the shadows, I shall not feel the rain, I shall not hear the nightingale” The man had paused and looked at your scrunched up face

“You struggle with grief.” He stated. “You’ve lost someone haven’t you.”

“Haven’t we all?” You sighed, “She was my closest friend. I never knew family, but I knew her. She may not hear me now, but my heart cries for her.”

You brushed your fingers against the poem, the tips of them brushing against the words at the end of last stanza, “Haply I may remember and haply may forget.” You echoed.

“I’ve lost my mother long ago, but I realize, it made me stronger as a man.”

You looked at him confused, he closed the book, placing it back into the shelf. “It hurts at first, but once you get over the initial shock and hurt, you rebuild stronger and you feel glad. Her death is why I am like this today. I grieve no more and look towards the future.”

“That’s impossible, you just can’t…” You paused, you knew nothing about the man, what mindset you have would be different from others, “It’s your mother…I don’t understand…”

”Of course the average person couldn’t understand,” He said softly, brushing his fingers through his pale white hair.

“What’s your name?” You finally asked.

He looked around the shelves pressing his finger against the books and used the tips of them to scan through the books he paused and plucked the book out of the shelf and handed it to you.

You looked at the book, it was The Georgics.

”George…?” You questioned, smiling.

The man had sighed and held his temple before pointing to the author's name.

”Vergil”

You looked up at him and he nodded. “That’s an interesting name,” You said, “Have you read The Georgics?”

”Barely, it’s about agriculture but I enjoyed how someone could explain something so laboring and dutiful as something beautiful and rewarding.” He put the book back.

“Do you think what you’re doing will be rewarding?” You asked him, “Burrowing down your grief?”

Vergil paused and tilted his head, “You know not of what I do,” He scoffed, “You’ve barely known my name.”

He stared into your eyes, your words had clearly affected him. His eyebrows furrowed and he clutched his book towards his chest.

“You spoke a thousand words when you talked about your mother.” You stated, “You’re suppressing your emotions, and for what strength? Why does that matter to you?”

You gently rested your hand on his arm, he was tense, “Grief makes us human, it separates us from…from those wicked demons.”

”I suppose I’m in the middle.”

He grew less tense and leaned closer into your touch, “Your friend, after her death how long did you mourn?” He asked.

”I still do.” You stepped closer to him, “That’s what I was doing at the church, she loved church, more than anyone I had known. She loved Sparda, she did everything in his name.”

”You curse him for not protecting your friend?” He questioned.

“I…” You paused, “I do but, I more so get angry.”

”At Sparda?” Vergil interrupted.

“At Lylabelle!” You blurted out, “If she…if she just had more sense! More knowledge instead of those stupid preachings, she wouldn’t have been so involved with the church! If she wasn’t involved with the church we wouldn’t have been going on walks with the orphans at night! If we weren't on walks with orphans at night she wouldn’t have been massacred by those demons!”

You felt the tears well up in your eyes burning them. They slowly fall down your cheek and you wipe them with your hands hoping they’d stop but they would keep on falling.

You felt strong arms wrap around your frame pulling you in close. It wasn’t the most comforting hug, it was rough, almost forced, as if he didn’t know how to portray affection. However, it was all that you had at the moment and you really needed one.

“I understand…the anger part.” Vergil breathed as he awkwardly pulled away from the hug, “Loved ones leaving you, and you have to pick yourself back up.”

”It makes you feel as if you’re the only person in the world,” You sniffed, wiping your damp cheek again.

”I am the only person in my world.” He stated.

You didn’t ask, instead a grin was forced through your lips, “I’m right here,” You laughed.

Vergil smiled, “Do you have time for one more poem? You can choose it.”

You nodded and went to scan the shelves. You realized, maybe you didn’t have to search. You look back at Vergil, “Can I see your book?”

Vergil nodded and handed you his book. You opened it and quickly flipped through the pages, finally landing on the poem you were looking for.

You clear your throat, “ I head an Angel Singing, When the day was springing:

‘Mercy, Pity, and Peace,

Are the world’s release.’

So he sang all day

Over the new-mown hay,

Till the sun went down,

And the hay cocked looked brown.”

You’d look at Vergil, you then reached out your hand silently asking for him to grab it. Vergil looked back at you and then the poem before raising his. You took it and placed his finger tip on the page, running it along as you read each line.

”I heard a devil curse

Over the heath and the furse:

Mercy would be no more

If there were nobody poor,

And pity no more could be

If all were happy as ye:

and mutual fear brings peace,

Misery’s increase

Are mercy, pity and peace.”

You let go of Vergil's hand and finish the poem,

”At his curse the sun went down,

And the heavens grave a frown.”

Vergil contemplated the words. You spoke up, “I thought it would be a nice addition to the first poem you had recited to me, back in the church. Heavenly qualities, Mercy, Pity and Peace, cannot be achieved without suffering.”

”I always saw it differently, I saw the devil as…the smarter and more analytical half of a whole, the angel, the foolish and naive part.” He paused, “The world scorns at the Devil's truth, shunning him.”

”Poetry can never be interpreted wrong.” You added.

You closed the book, brushing over the elegant cover once before handing it back to Vergil. He gently took it and put it once again back into his coat.

”I haven’t talked to someone like this in years,” He muttered, “It was…I guess it was nice…” He scratched the back of his head.

”I supposed it’s easy telling complete strangers things like this, we may never see eachother again after this night.” You continued, “Unless you would like to talk more?”

Vergil looked shocked at first, there was an aura of doubt however, like if he was deciding if this would be a good idea.

After his quick silence he spoke up, “I wouldn’t mind.”

The candles of the library begin to dim, letting the both of you know that it’s time to go, Vergil gestures for you to walk beside him as you make the trip back to the entrance of the library. “I’ll walk you home,” He said while averting eye contact, “I wouldn’t want you to get uhm, harmed on these dark streets…” He shrugged awkwardly.

You smiled at his awkwardness, finding it adorable that a man who could speak so well about poetry and philosophical ideas finds it hard to maintain regular conversation.

You smiled and gestured towards the way back to your apartment, taking the hand of your “protector”.

“Who has seen the wind?

Neither you nor I:

But when the trees bow down their heads,

The wind is passing by.”

You whispered but Vergil didn’t seem to hear.

[writers-wrongs]

Hey, could you write some platonic yandere Btas Jonathan Crane where he sees teen reader and basically goes “yup, they’re my kid now”

*kicks down door of inactivity*

YOU BET YOUR ASS I CAN!

platonic!yandere!btas!scarecrow x teen!gn!reader

-jonathan is a very lonely man, i dont think thats really up for debate. hes felt distant from his peers his entire life, what with the obsession with fear and all. despite being so antisocial, he wants some form of companionship in his life. so when he sees a teenager showing off a snake to a group of screaming children, he kinda has to take you back to his hideout

-he just sees a lot of himself in you, yknow? and he was constantly bullied when he was your age, he understands what its like to be different. he... ok, he would wish that on his worst enemy, hes incredibly petty, but you dont deserve that kind of treatment! you understand the beauty of fear, and youre interesting to boot

-so he takes you in. or "kidnaps", as you like to scream repeatedly. you seem to be very upset, despite how calmly he explains the situation. yes, he technically abducted you, but you were unhappy in your life! no friends, uncaring family, he couldnt get you out of there fast enough, honestly. of course, you freak out even more when he explains how he got that information

-ugh. he didnt want to do this, but he supposes he'll have to dose you with fear toxin if you wont stop shouting. that should teach you to shut up- oh? youll be quiet? thats what he thought. now, would you like to work on his next batch with him?

-if you didnt have an interest in chemistry before, youre going to now. he'll have you work as his little lab assistant often, if not every time he needs to make more toxin. he makes sure youre wearing all the safety equipment he usually forgoes- you need to be careful! jonathan doesnt know what hed do if you gave yourself a chemical burn! or worse...

-if you ever accidentally get gassed with fear toxin, he gets SO concerned. anxious dadcore. he gets started on an antidote immediately (if he doesnt already have one prepped for you), and he spends most of your waking nightmare trying to reassure you. unfortunately, hes frightening even when hes not in costume, and considering that he kidnapped you pretty recently, he kinda just makes it worse. poor guy. once you accept him as your dad and stop seeing him as just "the criminal who abducted you", hes a much more comforting presence

-horror movie night every night! he prefers the classic creature features, but hes open to anything you want to watch. if you cant pick, he defaults to one of the texas chainsaw massacre movies

-if you show enough interest in his line of work and convince him youll be safe, he might just make you his sidekick! a robin to his batman, but with a terrifying costume (and in general much cooler). but the second you get hurt, youre stuck back in his hideout for the foreseeable future

-when he inevitably gets locked back in arkham, hes shouting and struggling like usual, but not with his normal "master of fear" flare. hes much more desperate, demanding to be let go so he can get back to "his kid". they have to give him the full joker treatment in terms of restraints, and heavy sedation is necessary so the other inmates can get some sleep at night. it absolutely makes his day if you come visit him, but then he just becomes more insufferable to the other inmates because of how he rambles on. "my child is the greatest, a true genius!" "they truly understand the power of fear" "hey joker did i show you this sketch of their new costume because i adore how it turned out-", that sort of thing. proudest parent of all time. and he'll tear arkham down brick by brick if he has to so he can get back to you

[aradassbadass]

neighbor!frank helps move your furniture

✧ when he heard the knock on his door his fight or flight immediately kicked in- grabbing a gun he had under his table.

✧ after seeing it was you nervously chewing on your nails through the peephole he sighed placing the weapon in his waist band before slowing opening the door. he greeted you with nothing more than a cocked eyebrow.

✧ you rambled on muttering a string of ”im sorry’s” and “i really dont mean to be a bother.” before you could finally request aid in getting your sofa up the stairs. “if not the moving company said they could id just rather not spend $50 for something thatll take all of 5 minutes and cost two times as much as the couch.” you sigh.

✧ he stood the brooding and silent (what you deemed to be his default setting) before he finally spoke. “how far is it?”

✧ to say you were surprised when he said he would not only help you get it up the stairs but pick it up from the store as well would be an understatement.

✧ he was very adamant about getting out to make sure that the workers were careful loading the old loveseat into the van whether to not damage the van or the loveseat you didnt know but you watched out of the rearview window as he stood supervising.

✧ he didnt let you even touch it once you made it back to the apartment, glaring when you tried to grab the end to help pull it out of the back. “just go open the door will ya, i got it.”

✧ “its fine here- i can manage getting it in!” you say waiting in front of your door cash in hand, “i cant thank you enough for this. here.” he rolled his eyes couch still in his hands. “how about i put it inside while you go get the cushions.”

✧ needless to say he didnt take the cash he took gratification in the form of sneaking a few protein bars from your pantry (again) and disappearing wordlessly back into his apartment.

[starvingnarcissistmusic]

I should really make a non music blog so that people who like my music don’t get bombarded by random unrelated stuff but this is like tangentially related sort of so whatever

God I just love Mal Du Pays. I am always a sucker for “the enemy is you / the enemy is a manifestation of some part of you” trope in any media but MDP has by far gotta be one of the best applications of it I’ve ever seen.

I mean even just the design of it is brilliant. Obviously inverting a characters colors to get the evil / darker version isn’t anything new for this trope, but ISAT is unique in that you have quite literally been STARING AT MDP THE WHOLE GAME, every single time you die and every single time you loop back. Turning the non diegetic game over screen into a diegetic encounter is incredibly clever and immediately gives MDP that sense of crushing pressure that makes it so memorable.

Also literally any game where the game over music is later established as the motif of a character automatically just wins me over by default. It’s such an effective tool in immediately conveying just what MDP is, even before any of the dialogue starts. It’s the end of this journey. It’s the pain of a home you’ve never known. It’s an entire universe collapsing in on you at once. It’s the end. It’s the end. It’s the end.

And I think, it’s a little Fucked Up, that Siffrin’s sadness looks identical to him. Every other sadness we see in the game is very distinctly not human in appearance, incredibly abstract and inhuman pretty much all around the board. But Mal Du Pays? The sadness of our main character? Pretty much the same. Literally a color swap. I think that’s incredibly telling. A being born of Siffrin’s grief and pain and agony, and the form it takes is his own silhouette.

Thematically, it’s very On The Nose that Siffrin’s worst enemy is simply himself, but at the same time, it’s exactly what you expect. I remember getting to MDP for the first time, seeing Siffrin walk through the void and just… knowing what would come next. Of course it would be another him. For Siffrin, his hell is himself. This nightmarish half-life, devoid of a past and with nothing but a quickly collapsing future, his worst impulses and fears and agonies and pains personified, and all it looks like is his shadow. Of course, what else could be here, at his lowest of lows, but a reflection? Of course there would be nothing here but you. It’s always only ever been you. Mal Du Pays is a mirror. A mirror that hates you like you do, that loathes you like you loathe yourself. In the worst, most monstrous way possible, it tells you exactly what you’ve been telling yourself your whole journey. And so you believe it, let it sink its words into your skin and bury you in the misery. Because maybe then, maybe when you finally give in, it won’t hurt anymore.

(A cold comfort is still, however little it may be, a comfort.)

And then you’re saved. The King is defeated, your friends came back for you, you manage to come up for air again. But it’s not enough. It’s never enough. Everything is still coming to an end. You’re still going to be all alone. And so, you sink again.

Notice how Bigfrin doesn’t have a face in this panel? This is Siffrin at their most self destructive, most desperate, lower than lower than low. And in a way, I think that by quite literally looking like the Sadness they nearly created, they’re symbolically drawing a parallel there. Siffrin fully embraces what Mal Du Pays represented, to the point that their new form looks just like it. Even if they didn’t manifest MDP, they are just as horrible. After all, the mirror goes both ways. Mal Du Pays looks just like Siffrin, but that also means that Siffrin looks just like Mal Du Pays. And maybe, in Siffrin’s head, they’re one and the same. Maybe they’ve always been.

Oh god it’s 1 in the morning. I did not mean to make this that long lmao w h o o p s

uhhhhhh in summary tldr mdp is very good isat is also very good play isat

(also if you want more MDP content, I sort of wrote a whole song about it. So listen to that if you’d like. Im goin to bed)

[illmoraineakoi]

AU where Victim discovers his Creator’s location long before AvA season 3/without Chosen getting captured, and Victim has his corporation make a machine to try to bring his Creator to the facility.

But something goes wrong; the machine is untested, it has defaults because it was rushed (due to Victim getting impatient), and it malfunctions, badly. Instead of bringing the Creator to him, it sucks Victim in and sends him hurtling to the Creator’s location.

Or, Victim thinks it would have, if the machine didn’t keep malfunctioning. The receiving end of the connection keeps snapping between different places: websites, other IP addresses, different random devices and online accounts.

So when Victim is spat out onto a desktop, he doesn’t think he’s arrived at the right place. He has no way to double-check where he is, or determine he’s in the right place.

Because Victim never really saw his Creator through the screen, all those years ago. Looking through the screen to the world of the Creators had been difficult back then, because something something old 2006 monitors sucked. His view of the outside world through the screen had been blurry/foggy, so he never saw his Creator’s visage clearly enough to memorize identifiable features. He had just been a vague looming shadow of shifting form and color.

Nor does he even know his Creator’s name. Victim never got to see a chat window or login usernames or even the computer user account name, because he never made it out of Flash. And his Creator never spoke, only snickered and laughed.

So when he suddenly finds himself on a desktop, very much not according to any of his plans and something he’s completely unprepared for, faced with five other younger sticks, a cursor, and a shockingly clear view of the being who controlled that computer…

Victim doesn’t recognize Alan.

And Alan doesn’t recognize him.

Needless to say, being on a computer again is a not a very pleasant feeling for Victim, and his first reaction, his first instinct, is to try to flee. To get off the computer, to return to the Outernet, to the safety of his facility. Being on a computer wasn’t safe, the Creator controlling the cursor could delete him at any moment, end his process, erase him, or even enslave him. He was powerless here, not in control, his cunning and resourcefulness would only aid him for so long, only delay his potential death. He had no hope of overpowering the cursor, not here. He needed to leave.

But there is no way for him to leave, because the malfunctioning machine was a one way trip and he doesn’t actually know how to get off the computer. He doesn’t know about the Wi-Fi escape route, and even if he did, he doesn’t have powers to make a portal.

So Victim is stuck on the desktop, fairly certain he’s in the wrong place, with no idea how to get back to the Outernet. Under the constant attention of the looming Creator on the other side of the screen, who can keep pace with his movements and escape attempts with frightening ease. To say nothing of the other five who manage to efficiently outmaneuver him and nearly bring him to the ground several times, clearly assisting the cursor and its operator in trying to capture him.

Victim doesn’t have time to dwell on that. He can only run and run and run and try to find a place to hide, if only the other five weren’t so fast, if only he could escape the cursor’s focus for just a moment—

He’s cornered. The other five backed him into a corner and surrounded him. He has nothing to fight with, he’s overpowered and outnumbered. He curls up, and braces for deletion.

But things don’t go as Victim expects/fears they will…

Because he isn’t attacked. He’s not captured. He’s not deleted or ended or erased.

He’s only confronted, approached, like a frightened wounded animal by one of the other sticks, their movements slow and careful and deliberate. Assuring him that he was okay, they weren’t going to hurt him, he was safe. They ask him if he’s alright. They try to calm him down.

They ask him for his name, innocently giving him their own.

He doesn’t give them his name. He gives them the name Charcoal. They can call him Charcoal. They accept this, without question.

Their naivety is a shock to Victim. He’s dumbfounded by it.

He is a stranger who just appeared on this desktop, and they’re treating him like a friend. With so much genuine and childlike kindness that Victim doesn’t know how to process it. They trust him, almost instantaneously; for no reason. He doesn’t understand. He doesn’t comprehend.

How could anyone be so trusting so quickly? Did they not know the danger of it? Did they not know how awful and unfair the world was? Did they not know how easily they could be taken advantage of, manipulated, ensnared in a web of control they had no way of escaping from? Did they not know they had to protect themselves, guard every bit of themselves, else the rest of the world would use their weaknesses against them?

How did they not see him as a threat?

Or did they not fear him because he didn’t have any powers, so they thought he was weak?

The cursor was worse. It doesn’t attack him. It doesn’t hit him. It speaks to him too. Asking him questions, like where he came from and how he got there, and offering answers and information in return to Victim’s own demands. Victim had not even realized it was possible to communicate with a Creator. Yelling and screaming had done nothing with his own.

It did not seem malicious…

He doesn’t know what to think about that.

He didn’t know what to think about the entire situation he’s found himself in. He is entirely out of his depth.

Here he was, stuck indefinitely with a seemingly benevolent Creator and five rainbow stick kids who are way too happy and upbeat for sticks who live on a computer. Five sticks who eventually start to insist on including him in their activities and adventures; teaching him how to play their games and sharing their hobbies with him. Who carve out a space on the desktop for him, adding a room onto their strange house for him.

It’s bizarre.

The Creator, too, treats him well. Lets him stay and explore the computer as much as he wants until a way to leave was discovered, so long as care was taken to prevent damage to files and data. But it also interacts with Victim, too. Includes him in the little games it plays with the others. Invites him to join it and Orange during their drawing sessions. It – he – was undeniably friendly towards him.

Victim, who had long become bitter and hateful towards the Creators ‘humans’ not just because of his own torment but also because of the horrible mistreatment he’d witnessed the aftermath of upon the refugees arriving to the city, is now faced with the uncomfortable dilemma that not all Creators ‘humans’ are vile evil beings, which challenges a fundamental part of his world view. He is forced to realize that this Creator human, this animator, Alan, was genuinely kind and loving towards the other sticks, and to Victim himself as well. That the color gang genuinely loved Alan, and were well taken care of. Victim never once sees Alan hurt them.

It’s something that Victim had never even conceived of being possible, before. Creators, human, hurt sticks. That's just how it was. Except now it wasn't...

And it’s this that finally confirms to Victim that he was definitely on the wrong computer.

Alan was not his Creator. He couldn’t be; the dissonance was too large.

And as the weeks turn into months of him still not able to figure out how to get back to the Outernet, Victim, too, begins to slowly start trusting and liking Alan. Opening up more, relaxing more. Learning things about himself that his tireless quest for power and then vengeance hadn’t allowed him the time nor opportunity to discover. Becoming genuinely fond of the Color Gang, sharp irritation and antisocialness mellowing into a soft, if exasperated, attachment. Especially Orange, who he feels the most kinship with due to a copious amount of shared interests.

(It was hard not to get attached, the kid’s cheerfulness was borderline infectious.)

Victim had never had real friends before. The closest he ever had were the copies of himself, and they were never really separate identities from him, despite the Box’s best attempts.

He started to feel like he belonged, here. Like Alan and the gang had become a sort of family he never had before. It was enjoyable. It’s nice.

…Right up until Victim finds AvA1 on Alan’s YouTube channel.

[jensthwa]

mountebank chem pt. four teaser+moodboard (JYH x reader).

this mini series is part of the love's an uncharted path universe ★.

status: wip (i still have a bit to go, sorry ya'll). chapter title: i love you, i'm sorry. word count (so far, more to go): 15.8k teaser word count: 1.2k posted: 01/26/2025 taglist: @kyunlov, @tinyelfperson, @ultrapinkvoidbouquet, @kyeomooniee, @fairylover68, @sushiinmidnight, @qveenbunni, @potatomountain, @svintsandghosts, @blue5ummer, @fancypeacepersona, @hyukssunflower, @i-love-ateez, @alsomimi, @e3ellie, @st3ft0n3s, @hotteokkay

notes: hey everyone... how ya'll doing... OKAY, SO. I've been writing like crazy these past couple of days and I explained it in a post before but I just want to let everyone know that I'm a little busy with life, finding a remote stable job (or a job at all at this point) is a little hard, especially when the only thing you do succesfully is being a writer lmao. so I've been focusing on that instead of this but!!! I'm almost done with this chapter. I do think we're getting a chapter five, a shorter one, just to kind of explain how everything goes after the end of chapter four and that's going to be cooking as soon as this chapter goes live! ANYWAY. I wanted to give you all a little teaser that covers a little of what's to come in this one. it's my favorite one so far, too, so I'm really looking forward to you reading it!

remember that I have a permanent taglist form! that way, i can tag you in all my future works <3 also, if you'e reading this on the tags, here's my main masterlist and the mbc!masterlist if you want to catch up!

thank you all for being so patient and into the teaser we go.

Making a mental list to organize and prioritize everything you need to do, you barely register footsteps echoing in the long hall. You should’ve, because it’s lunchtime and there’s no one on the floor, but you don’t. 

And so when the person you least want to see comes through the door and lets out a heavy sigh, you turn to him like he grew a second nose over the course of the twenty minutes you last saw each other. 

“I hate it here, I truly do.” 

It almost makes you want to laugh, but you remain stoic as you move through the office. You take a few boxes and you put them down on the floor until there’s some light leaking through the window and illuminating the space enough for it not to give you a headache as you work. 

Sitting on your brother's chair, barely sparing him another glance before turning on the desk computer and pulling up an empty document. You click and tap a few meaningless things: You pick the font, you mess with the font size for a second before setting it back to its default. Anything to help you look busy and not like your heart is going a million miles per second. 

“Can I help you with anything, Yunho?” 

Blurry, in the background, you can see him look around the office, probably taking the mess in. He moves too, walks until his expensive shoes are tip to tip  with a literal mannequin resting against the wall. 

You stop paying attention as you write the date and the proposal title. Something simple, something that both your father and the CEO of the dumb not-approved-by-you company that has you in this predicament can understand. You hate to say that you assume they’re not very smart if they put out such a dated and non profitable idea for their company. 

Still, you try to address Yunho like nothing’s bothering you and like you’re not nervous you two are in a room alone after everything that went down. 

“You can ask Seonghwa what that means,” you start, sighing like his friend and your brother are hopeless. Because maybe that’s what they are. “They’re not running any ideas by me even though I’m the one that spends the most time in this office, so.” 

“Hm,” he starts and you can hear him walking around, but your focus is now on the first few words of the proposal. You realize there’s really nothing you can start before speaking with marketing and so you open the notes app, to have a list of ideas to run through them at least. “Thought you worked from home.” 

“I do. I have an office three floors down, too.” It’s easy sharing information with him now, especially if it means there’s something to talk about that’s not… Well, the kiss. “I hate it, it’s in a corner and people can see into it. It’s easier to work here.” 

“And Soohyun hyung doesn’t mind?”

“Considering he’s never here, I doubt it.” 

“Cool, cool.” 

There’s something in his tone that makes you want to look up, lump in your throat growing in size enough for you to cough it away. You don’t look up, you can’t look up even if you’ve misspelled the word rebrand like four times already. 

But then the light you managed to cast onto the space disappears completely. You feel something besides you, the soft material of an expensive suit blazer grazing your arm and cheek. You see veiny, masculine hands secure themselves around the arms of the chair before he’s turning you to face him. 

You gulp. 

He’s leaning down close, closer than he should be, closer than what he’s allowed to be considering anyone can walk in on you. You’re flushing, you can feel the redness creep up your neck and heating your ears and face before you gather the courage of raising a questioning brow. Yunho stays silent, his eyes scanning your face and briefly landing on your lips before returning your stare. 

“Can I help you with anything, Yunho?” You ask him again, quieter this time, voice trembling a little. 

“Princess,” he starts, the corner of his lip raising just a little, like it’s funny he has to say what he’s about to say, “are you ghosting me?” 

Shit. 

“Why would you— Why would I—,” a nervous chuckle abandons you and then you huff, trying to seem offended at his accusation, “W-what do you mean by that?” 

Leaning into your space a tiny bit more, he repeats “Are you ghosting me?” 

Creasing your brow, you straighten in the chair but do nothing to pull him away “No.”

“Then what about the ten messages I sent you and you left on delivered?” 

Faking a surprised gasp, you move to take your phone out of the pocket of your jacket and unlock it to swipe through your messages “You did? Oh, my God, I’ve been soooo busy.” 

“You’re shit at lying to me.” 

“I’m not lying to you—” 

“Are you okay?” 

Your eyes snap from the phone to his face, genuine annoyance creasing your eyebrows this time. 

“You don’t have to ask me that everytime you see me, Jeong.” 

“But are you?” He asks as you finally find his chat and open the messages you dreaded to see the entire time that passed. There’s a few of them practically begging you to speak to him, one apologizing for the kiss and the other ones you don’t even see because Yunho is taking the phone from your hand and placing it on the desk next to you. “I mean, what happened didn’t trigger anyth—” 

You hate he’s this considerate with you, even after you clearly walked out of the situation with a poorly formulated excuse.

“What happened was a mistake.” 

Yunho physically deflates and lets the chair go, the tension on your shoulders lifting a little now that he’s not as close. 

“What?” 

“It was a mistake, we shouldn’t have done that. We’re professionally obligated to work together, fake all of this together, so it shouldn’t…” You pause and consider for a bit before doing something you never do: take the blame “I shouldn’t have. I apologize.” 

Letting out a breath, you turn the chair and delete the misspelled rebrand to write it the correct way, heart too weak to even look at his reaction. It doesn’t matter anyway, you’re never doing anything like it again. 

You hear him shuffle with the boxes at both your feet and, from the corner of your eye, you see him turning away from you and then back, hands on his hips “I don't think it was a mistake.” 

“Well, it was.” 

“I liked it.” 

That brings out a genuine, short lived laugh out of you “Thank you, I’m a great kisser.” 

You open your brother’s email and pretend there’s an urgent matter inside the contents of one of them until Yunho’s hand closes over yours, over the mouse. 

“Y/N.” 

There’s a lot of things about Jeong Yunho you hate: The swoop of his hair when there’s no gel on it, the free aspect to his nature you’re never going to get even if you try to, that one time he called you an ugly giant after wearing platforms for the first time ever. 

And the sweetness of his voice when he says your name, the plea you hear on it and the shudder it brings to your spirit. It shakes you, it moves you to look at him again, to actually take his feelings into consideration. 

He’s staring at you with so much hurt, it makes your heart sink into an abyss of guilt. 

“Hm?” 

“I think I like you.” 

Oh.

Well, well, well... If it isn't the enemy turning into a potential lover time. THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING THE TEASER. Any feedback would be greatly appreciated!

© jensthwa, 2025.

[bajibitch]

Silly me - Clark Kent

"Your name?" The receptionist’ voice pulled you out of the shock you felt being at the infamous Daily Planet. You managed to say your name but it came out a bit shaky and he let out a soft chuckle. "You'll fit in great." The space you'd be working in was small like you expected but seeing the surrounding work spaces was a bit intimidating. It was easy to get distracted picking up pieces of the stories they chatted about but the dizziness that came with it was enough to remind you to focus. Where would you start, how was it that people found stories again?

“First day?” Looking up from your desk, you met a pair of enchanting blue eyes on a beautiful face. The smile he wore didn’t make it any easier to turn away. Your face was hot from the lack of preparedness, hopefully, he didn’t think you were forming a crush, it’d be embarrassing, he’d be right but you wouldn’t admit it.

“Is it obvious?” You thought you were playing it off well given that you managed to type out an exaggerated amount of the food article with little effort. “What am I doing wrong?” Surely an employee wouldn’t interrupt your work for nothing, or so you thought.

“Nothing, you seem to have it handled.” He eyed the screen with your nearly complete work. “I’m still cramming in yesterday's story.” His laugh was going to be in your mind later. Although it was short it managed to sound so wholesome and warming in the small time it had. “It’s just, I've never seen you around before.” His arm was resting on the computer monitor, if he was anyone else it would’ve irked you but he had good intentions so you’d ignore it for now.

“I started today, used to work at a different company in Oklahoma.“

“How was it there?” You considered offering him a chair to sit in since it felt as if he planned on hearing your life story.

“Given that it was my first job in journalism it’ll always have a special place in my heart, but I wanted to be somewhere more interesting.”

“You didn’t catch any stories?”

“Nothing worth mentioning, I did an article on food and the impacts of-” Nothing worth mentioning but I’ll list every one. You put a hand to your forehead as you cursed yourself for not catching the prattling sooner.

“Why’d you stop?” He took a glance around the office and stared back at you. “Something wrong?”

“No,” you sighed and went back to typing out your work. “I just have to finish this.”

“I’ll be out your hair then. It was nice meeting you… I didn’t catch your name.”

“I didn’t get yours either.”

“Clark. Clark Kent.” You stopped your typing and locked eyes with him once again.

“Y/n.”

“Well, y/n, I’ll catch you later.”

The strange thing for you is that usually when people tell you that, they never meant it. It was more like an, I’ll see you should we meet again kinda ordeal, not a follow you out of the office kinda thing.

“What is it, Clark?” You turned to see him not too far behind. His suit seemed a tad too big for him but it added a soft look to him.

“Just checking in on you. How’d you feel about the job? It’s not too much is it?”

“You aren’t from here either, are you?” He tilted his head and his lips parted but nothing came out. “You’re nicer than plenty of the people I’ve met so far. Some of them get irritated from my smile alone.” That’s why you learned to hold a poker face, the city lost its charm rather quickly when you arrived. His shoulders dropped and his lips had its default curve that made him sweet on the eyes.

“I used to live out in the country too, but as much as they tried, they could never break my smile.” Oh, you had to admit by now that he was hard to hate, not that you ever did. His spirit was almost contagious, the smile on your face showing he already infected you, maybe a harmless work crush wouldn’t be bad after all.

“Ready to go?” The both of you turned to the woman who needed no introduction, her work spoke for itself, she was a bit of a celebrity herself. You were shocked to see him kiss her with no hesitation and looked away from the affection. It was clear he had no qualms with showing his love.

“See you, tomorrow.” Fuck my life. When you buckled yourself into the seat and began to drive away, you couldn’t help laughing at how naïve you were to think he wouldn’t be in a relationship.

[j0kers-light]

His Lighthouse: Joker’s Bunny (LedgerJoker x f!reader)

Joker’s Bunny - Oneshot

KEEP IN MIND THIS IS NOT A CHAPTER UPDATE!

Wow... I edged everybody for an year.. anyhooooo its high time I completed this oneshot. Here's the original ask.

Imagine y/n shows up to joker wearing a playboy bunny suit and ears and fluffy tail with rope in her hands.

This oneshot took so much out of me but I’m happy it did. The end of November and early December was not kind to me mentally or emotionally so this proved to be a much needed distraction. It also served as a crash course back into writing! Writers block is somethin' tough. So! If there’s mistakes: no there isn’t. 👀

Hehe.... Merry early Christmas? 🤷🏾‍♀️🤔

Thank you all so much for patiently waiting! As always, If you wish to be a part of the His Lighthouse taglist, do let me know via comment, ask, or a quick direct message! 💖✨

It was only supposed to be a nickname, an inside joke to use however (and whenever) Joker saw fit. He gave you so many names, it was hard to keep up with them all— yet this one in particular stuck. 

You were naturally curious, a timid little thing, simply overly cautious by default. 

You always weighed out the options presented to you before jumping into a situation. Joker said it as a joke all those months ago but overtime, it became something more.  

You would tilt your head and scrunch your nose, really bringing the nickname to life. One random day, you found yourself accepting the name when you used the emoji to refer to yourself. These days, you responded to it without fuss and rarely rolled your eyes whenever J did use it. 

You were without a doubt, Joker’s Bunny. He never thought you would take the title this seriously. 

Joker groaned to himself. 

Whhhhhy didn’t he stay at home with you tonight? You practically begged him to stay with those e/c eyes of yours, but he stood firm on his ‘I have to go, it's im-port-ant’ spiel. You pouted but sent him off with a kiss.  

Now Joker regretted his decision as each boring minute dragged on during this briefing. To be fair, it was important. The sad reality was—Joker was not listening. He spent his time staring off into space, daydreaming about you. 

He wondered what you cooked tonight. Was it that new recipe you’ve been dying to try, or did you play it safe and fix one of his favorites? He loved your cooking and could really go for a hearty meal after sitting through this snoozefest. 

Joker’s thoughts were plenty and quickly changed narratives in a split second. Did you take a bubble bath with that new bath bomb he got you? Joker saw it in passing and immediately thought of his Bunny after seeing the display pyramid of shimmery spheres in the store. 

They had your name written all over it. So what if he stole you a few? He’d do anything for his Bunny! Besides, it was nothing compared to the other flasher gifts he showered you with on a daily basis.  

Joker was still envisioning your gorgeous body soaking in pink tinted water when his phone chimed, startling him out of the fantasy. He fished it out of his coat pocket and arched an eyebrow when he saw your message come through. Speak of an angel, and you appear. 

you coming home? 

J smirked to himself reading the word home. 

It stirred up a flurry of emotions within him every time you used it. Joker thought he had no need for a home until you entered his life and proved him wrong. Every person needs a home; his just so happened to be in the form of you. And right now, Joker was feeling rather homesick.  

His first instinct was to rush back, but he found your message a bit odd since you knew he was overseeing a meeting tonight. Did something happen or were you just as needy as he was? He really should’ve stayed at home tonight. Joker sighed as he scanned the room. 

The team was still talking amongst themselves on how to pull off the hit without gaining the authorities’ attention. Joker drowned them out thirty minutes ago. He was only here for appearance’s sake and could care less if they succeeded or not. 

They could iron out the details without him present and that became the determining factor to answer your text. With a roll of his green eyes, J replied. 

What’s in it 4 me? 

Joker watched three tiny dots appear and fade multiple times over a course of several minutes. Whatever you wanted to say was deleted over and over until Joker finally got a vague response. 

Come and find out 🐰 

You were a sassy little thing tonight. To prove his point, just a few seconds later, Joker received an attachment pic from you. He took one glance at it and inwardly moaned. Screw this meeting. It was obvious he was needed at home.  

“Oi! Where you going, Boss?” A henchman called out. 

Joker was busy storming out the door to even notice that he scared everyone with his abrupt exit. They were waiting for Joker to voice his opinion and he just up and left. The small group began to panic and scrambled to find a way to revise the plans to meet Joker’s high expectations. 

They could all die trying to rob the bank for all he cared.  

Joker’s mind was elsewhere, solely on you in fact. His Bunny was asking for it. It was the only explanation as to why the fading sun captured your sexy silhouette oh so perfectly. When Joker got home, he was gonna ruin you. 

Joker didn’t notice Frost walking down the hall in his mad dash to the elevator. Frost noticed his boss’s urgency and promptly scoffed. “Let me guess. It’s either something the idiots said in the meeting or something B did.”  

He ignored Joker’s venomous glare. His lack of response spoke volumes. “Are you coming back after you fix her attitude?” Frost sighed softly. 

The elevator door dinged open, and Joker walked backwards inside. He locked eyes with Frost, voicing his demands. “Don’t bother us unless it’s raining uhh.. cats and dogs!”  

J wasn’t coming back, they both knew it. Frost spoke to his own reflection as the doors slid closed. “I don’t get paid enough for this.” 

There really should be a written guide to this sort of things. How To Look Sexy for Your Lover While Wearing a Ridiculous Outfit. 

Perhaps you could write one yourself; it beat psyching yourself up in the mirror until Joker came home. You planned this surprise for weeks and now the day finally came to act on it and you were having second thoughts. The last component for your outfit arrived after Joker left for the night and you just couldn’t wait another second to show him the final product. 

It was now or never. You wouldn’t have the confidence to do this after today. Just looking in the mirror you felt silly all over again. The fact that Joker left you on read after giving him a sneak peek didn’t help boost your confidence. 

It wasn’t that disappointing– nine times out of ten Joker left you on read, the problem was that he left you hanging after you sent him a risqué picture when you were expecting an instant reaction to it. 

It took you ages to get the right angle, the perfect lighting, and to eventually find a pic that you genuinely liked, before sending it to the clown, and he didn’t acknowledge any of it. 

You checked yourself out again and sighed as your heels scraped the hardwood.  

You thought you looked cute, hot even! but your opinion was irrelevant if Joker didn’t approve. Maybe he opened the message and became busy before he could respond? Or perhaps his phone died? You told yourself anything except the truth. 

He probably hated it and didn’t want to hurt your feelings. 

That seemed to be a valid explanation coming from your cold, heartless clown. Joker was unpredictable like the wind. It was hard to please his shifty moods.  

There was no sense in keeping the outfit on if nothing would result from it. You pouted as you fumbled behind your back for the zipper— until you heard keys turning in the front door. 

Joker was back in record time. It made you wonder how he got here so fast, but that was a problem for another day. J was home and your stomach was in knots.  

Why did the zipper wanna act up now of all times?! How did it get stuck anyway? There was no time to change! You grabbed Joker’s first surprise off of the dresser right as the bedroom door slammed into the wall.  

He was going to leave a permanent dent if he kept doing that. You told him numerous times to stop. You were about to scold him about it for the nth time, but the green tinted flames in his eyes took your breath away. 

Joker was a raging bull, just shy of steam blowing out his nose and his target was poor ol’ you shifting your weight from heel to heel. You hid his surprise further behind your back and of course, he noticed. His Glasgow smile slowly stretched along his face.  

“Whatcha got there, Bunny.” Joker stressed the endearment more so than usual since you were dressed the part. 

You wore your tallest pumps and donned a fresh pair of fishnets to go nicely with your patent pink bunny suit. It clung to your figure in all the best ways to go with the white cuff links you had on your wrists.  

You looked straight out of Playboy magazine in Joker’s eyes. He admired the bunny ears atop your head; one bent, the other straight and the crisp white debonair tie fastened around your neck. He loved your attention to detail; you saw to it that every element shined individually. 

And just like a bunny, you were skittish as Joker slowly stalked his way towards you.  

You couldn’t stop the smile that lit up your face as Joker tilted his head in that intimidating way of his. “I saiiiiid... whatcha goT behind your back, Bunny? Is it a uh, surprise?” 

You nodded demurely in response. So that’s how you wanted to play huh? Joker grinned. 

“Yeah? Is it…. for me?” You giggled when he tried to steal a peek, if not for you blocking his attempts at the last second. Your heels clicked loudly in the room as you darted away.  

Joker was enjoying your playful mood tonight and he growled seeing you smirk. You were matching J’s energy, although he had to stop and admire you more closely.  

He could tell you planned this for quite some time. You did your makeup so prettily, and he was over the moon seeing your plump lips shimmering in the setting sun. You wore the shade he recently stole.. ahem bought. The one that tasted like strawberries when he kissed you long enough.  

He licked his own lips, reminiscing the taste. You were a walking temptation. 

J’s green eyes roamed from your beautiful face down to your neck that begged him to nibble and mark up, to your breasts that were practically bursting out of your bunny costume. 

He wouldn’t be surprised if you bought it two sizes too small with how your curves spilled out over the leather confines. Joker wanted to lay you down, knead your soft flesh, and ruin you. 

You looked so good and Joker knew you tasted far better; he couldn’t help but objectify you. There was so much he wanted to do in such a limited time! Your sweet giggles were cute, but he was tired of playfully chasing you around the bedroom. He growled as he caught you by the waist.  

“Gotcha! Now… let’s uh, seeeeee what my sweet girl is, oh..” Joker audibly swallowed as you bit your lip, looking away.  

Joker stared at the bundle of rope in your hands—and for once in his life, he was at a loss for words.  

The soft hue would look heavenly against your complexion, and the possibilities of what tonight could bring made blood rush to his cock. Joker had been wanting to tie you up for months now and he wasn’t shy about introducing the idea in small doses. He took you by surprise one night by binding your hands with one of his ties. 

He saw how your breath hitched, the way your eyes widened in intrigue, or how you bit your lip as you answered his check-in with a lustful, ‘I-I like it.’  

The feeling of being helpless, at the mercy of a man like Joker, it excited you and drove him feral. Yes, you were his sweet girl so precious and silly, but taking things a step further and being an actual Bunny in bed? He wasn’t so sure if you could handle that darker side of him just yet, but this rope was a sign that you were.  

He had to make sure you were 100% okay with this before going forward. 

Joker toyed with the rope as he met your gaze. Both were soft and pliable, so easy to destroy.. “Y/n… are ya sure?” he asked.  

He was asking for a lot. If you said yes, you would surrender yourself completely to Joker. It was scary, Joker was scary.  

You would be fool to turn a blind eye to his true nature. He enjoyed severe power imbalances, and he reveled in torturing others. Joker was a man to fear and yet here you are, virtually begging him to have his way with you.  

It was like making a deal with the devil. However, you trusted Joker not to get too carried away.  

You nodded and leaned up (even with high heels on, J towered over you) and kissed his scarred cheek but Joker required a verbal agreement. It was a firm rule he enforced for serious moments like this.  

“Aht aht, I need to hear you say it, Bunny.”  

You nodded again but Joker grabbed your throat, clearly not in the mood for your antics. “Use. Your. Words. Y/n.” His eyes narrowed, “I won’t re-peaT myself.” 

Your eyes fluttered closed hearing Joker’s assertive tone. This was The Joker that Gotham City feared. He oozed dominance and demanded order, if only to destroy it the second he got it.  

You felt compelled to obey his commands. “B-Bunnies don’t t-talk.” You rasped as you broke free to sashay over to the bed.  

With Joker eyeing your every move, you bent at the waist and wiggled your buns so the fake cotton tail on the outfit could move enticingly.  

His breath was shaky as he unraveled the colored rope in his hands. A mocking tsk tsk fell from his lips. “What a naughty, naughty girl I have. She neverrrrrr listens to my rules.”  

Ugh rules... how could you think about rigid rules at a time like this?! Just hearing Joker’s voice gave you insight to your fate. You definitely weren’t walking tomorrow morning.  

Your heart was pounding as Joker stopped short behind you. You could feel the heat radiating from his body and when his hand traced your skin—searching for a way to take your costume off, you moaned. He loved how pent up you were. It solidified your desire for this. You wanted him.  

Joker hummed once he found the pesky zipper and he dragged it down inch by inch, teasing the both of you. “I need ya to tell me, Y/n. Are you gonna be my rope bunny for the night?” J said when the zipper reached your lower back. Of course it worked just fine for him. 

God, you loved this psychotic clown. You could hear just how much Joker was holding himself back and yet he took the time to make sure you were okay with this.  

He’d jump your bones once he got consent. Your safety always came first.  

He was thinking of the best knots to restrict you with when you broke character. Joker’s eyes caught yours melting in the setting sun as you turned toward him. “Yes, please I want this. I’ll be good J, I promise.” you whispered. 

A single kiss to the center of your back sealed your fate. “I know ya will, Princess. Arch ya back for me.”  

You whimpered but leaned forward so your head rested gently on the pillows with your bottom in the air. There was no turning back now. Once Joker fully removed your costume, he would see just how devoted you were to your nickname. 

The tight costume highlighted all of your so-called imperfections and Joker took great care to rub your skin where indents formed due to the stiff leather. Just as he expected, you did purchase it a size smaller than your norm. How cute.  

Joker kissed his way down your spine as he helped you escape the material. You knew he found his final surprise when a sharp crackle was heard inside the room, followed by a blooming sting on your backside.  

“Y/n. Are ya try-ing to kill me?” Joker genuinely sounded in pain as he kneaded your flesh while admiring your cotton tail.** “My sweet, sweet Bunny girl.. just whaT am I ta do with ya?”  

Joker flung the costume somewhere in the bedroom as he took up the rope.  

He wanted to take his time tonight; to create intricate patterns against your skin, to make lasting memories that would fade days later.... but now his twisted mind was spiraling. Was it too much, too soon to suspend you from the ceiling? It could bear your weight.. right?  

No. No. Baby steps. There was always a chance for extremes next time.  

IF you survived tonight that is. You were still lying on the bed waiting for Joker’s instructions that would never come.  

You yelped when Joker yanked your hands behind your back to bind your arms to your waist via a series of knots and loops. And he didn’t stop there. Somehow he secured your ankles to your plushy thighs, effectively hogtying you face down on the mattress. You were made vulnerable before you could even muster up the thought of backing out.  

The cold air in the room hit your cunt and you knew Joker enjoyed the view of your walls clenching around nothing in want. “Such a needy little Bunny! Don’t worry. If ya bee~haaaave, you’ll get what you want." 

In defiance, you tried to move but the fibers of the rope restricted your mobility a little too well. Panic alarms went off in your head and Joker instantly noticed the change in your body language.  

He was right there by your ear to calm you down. “Wiggle your fingers. That’s it.”  

You gasped after finding you could move your fingers as well as your toes—just nothing else. A temporary freedom to pacify the reality you signed up for.  

Joker kissed your ankle, chuckling, “See? You can move, Bun. Tell that err, silly brain of yours I won’t hurt ya.” 

J didn’t warn you in the slightest when he gathered up the slick dripping from your folds with two thick fingers and began to scissor your pussy with them.  

You screamed from the stretch, yet J didn’t pay you any mind. “Shhhh, Bunny. Alll ya gotta do is feel.” Joker knew that was absolute torture for you.  

Funny, how you desired to be restrained when physical touch was your love language. You loved holding onto J in some form of capacity. He could tell you were going through it with how your tiny fists kept clenching on your lower back.  

It was so exhilarating to see you squirm as he worked you to your peak in record time. It was cruel but since when was Joker nice? 

He curled his fingers upward in a come-hither motion to stroke the spongy spot in your pussy that drive you wild and it was a success judging by your squeals. You were listening to his instructions well, as much as your moans sounded awfully like the first syllables of his name. You didn’t break character to speak; maybe you deserved a reward.  

You didn’t see it that way when Joker bent down to start eating you out.  

He was a man starved using that devilish tongue of his to good use. You felt every lick and subsequent suck as Joker made out with your pussy.  

Every lap had your hips backing up onto his tongue till you were practically grinding onto his face. Not like Joker minded, being suffocated by your cunt was a great way to go. However his hands weren’t idle as you sought out your pleasure.  

He kept you spread wide open with his thumb that every now and then, rubbed maddening shapes on your clit. There was so much stimuli, your brain could not keep up.  

You buried your face into the sheets and cried out as your orgasm flooded your senses.  

Joker hummed his approval and didn’t let up his feast.  

So what if your thighs shook as another orgasm hit you or was it simply a continuation of the first? The logistics didn’t matter.  

He knew it felt good given the whimpers not even your fancy pillow thread count could stifle. Joker was enjoying himself too although he couldn’t ignore the reason for your oversensitivity. It was right in front of his face after all.  

He couldn’t believe you were this serious about your nickname.  

Something about seeing your cotton tail swaying in sync with your pleasure stirred his own. He tore himself away from your pussy to speak on it.  

“How long have ya waited for this, hm?”  

He eased a third finger into your pussy as his tongue honed in on your clit. He wished for a way to bottle your high-pitched whines for a later use. It sure would come in handy for those long, lonely nights at the hideout when he ached for his pretty girl.  

He wondered how long you had been horny. Judging by the never ending slick coating your thighs, it had to be hours.  

That meant you were needy well before he left. Granted it was his idea to leave you all alone tonight to attend that dumb briefing, you still lured him back home with your gorgeous body and coy attitude.  

Interrupting him at work was a big no no. That had to be a good enough reason to punish you right? It was in Joker’s mind.  

His hand landed on your skin like a crackle of thunder. “Sendin’ pretty pictures knowing I’m busy. How loooong did ya wait Bunny? Answer me!” he struck your behind more and more as your silence filled the air.  

Wet sobs collected in your throat with the strain of keeping quiet but you couldn’t endure this delicious torture for long.  

Finally, you caved in and your head shot up on command, “I-I waited—!” 

Joker shoved his wet fingers down your throat, sighing like a disapproving parent. “Ya really fell for that huh? Whaddya say earlier? That bunnies uhh, Don’t. Talk? Suck em clean… there ya go.” 

He tested your gag reflex with each pump of his fingers. You did as you were told and sucked your juices just like you would off his dick. Maybe if you did well enough, J would take pity on you and let you have it. Your cunt was aching with the overstimulation Joker assaulted it with. You craved him like no other.  

Unfortunately Joker knew exactly what you were up to when you started bobbing your head. He yanked his fingers away and pushed your head back down. “Bunny.. I thoughT I told ya to behave?”  

You heard the sound of his belt buckle coming undone and knew that you messed up.  

You couldn’t plead or squirm away from the inevitable. Joker had you right where he wanted you.  

The first impact from his belt startled you and leave it to J to not give you any breathing room. He gladly spanked you until more of your juices squirted onto the bed.  

“Haha, my sick little Bunny. I knew ya like this!” he mocked. Your body trembled with a mix of satisfaction and embarrassment. You were so adorable fighting with your emotions.  

He cooed at the heat from your skin turning it colors. He took to kneading your flesh to work the sting out. Although there were other ways of doing that.. 

J grinned when his fingers took a detour and toyed with your sloppy wet pussy. You definitely enjoyed a little pain with your pleasure. The evidence coated his wrists. 

You were the perfect Bunny. The best girl. How did he get so lucky to have you? 

Joker sighed to himself as he edged you again with his fingers. “I can do annnny~thing to ya and you’d let me, would ya sweet thing? Aht. Aht. Nod, no talkin.” 

You rocked your hips to Joker’s fingers—wanting nothing more than his cock. Your cunt was begging to be filled, to finally get a taste of your favorite drug. But you knew disobeying J would ruin your chances so you weakly nodded instead of pleading with words.  

You doubted you could string up a coherent sentence with your current brain cells anyway.  

Joker must’ve noticed and took pity on you. He saw the wrecked state you were in and wanted to ruin you further. You brought this upon yourself dressing up like a slut. He glared at your tail as he undid his pants.  

F__k, he was hard.  

There was no time to remove pesky clothes or anything else for that matter. Joker would die if he didn’t sink his cock deep into your gummy walls so he didn’t waste any more time.   

His leaking tip brushed your clit almost as an apology before all the air in your lungs got pushed out.  

He felt bigger than ever. Why did you agree to this? Both of your holes were stuffed full and with your limbs tied up and useless, it was only fair that your mind followed suit. Your jaw hung open in a silent moan the deeper Joker sank into your guts.  

“So f__king tight!! Awww Bunny. Ya still with me?” He asked when you got too quiet. J finally bottomed out with a demonic growl that ended in an equally sinister laugh. “I honestly don’t care. You’re. All. Mine.”  

He pulled back with a hiss, only to shove his dick right back in with teeth rattling force. Joker made deep, meticulous thrusts to really get a feel of your depth, as if this were the first time he explored your pussy. As he didn’t carve out the shape of his dick into your cunt ages ago. The loud wet squelches she made would’ve made you blush on a normal day.  

Tonight, your only objective was to keep breathing.  

Joker grabbed your bound arms and used them as leverage for his brutal pace in and out of your pussy.  

He spanked, he clawed, he kissed every inch of your skin at his disposal. You were a mere fleshlight for Joker to use and he loved every minute of it.  

Your pathetic moans in between gasps for air spurred him on.  

“Yes! Yes yes yes yes atta girl, take it Bunny. Arch it for me, c’mon.” Another hard slap to your buns echoed off the walls, a signal to correct your posture. “So good!” he groaned.  

At one point you felt J lay down on top of you. His lustful groans rang in your ears but his cock and his heavy thrusts, shook your soul. Joker set all of his weight on you, prone boning you deeper into the mattress.  

His teeth scraped your ear, “You’re so goood for meee.” Joker’s praise washed over you as his thrusts slowed down to reflect the change in the air. A mere moment’s reprieve you quickly took advantage of.  

You turned your head, catching his lips in a tangle of teeth and tongue.  

Joker drank in your airy moans as well as your features plagued by pleasure. Your mascara ran down your face and your blissful smile made Joker’s cock throb. There was not a single thought to be found behind your pretty eyes.  

You were so far gone that nothing else mattered but him. Joker uttered your name like a curse as he pulled out. You snapped out of your fog to whine but Joker was leagues ahead of you.  

“Shhh, calm down Bunny. It’s uh only for a… fuuuuu.. for a moment.” Joker gasped as he rolled you over onto your side. He wanted to see your face when he spilled himself inside of you.  

He just wasn’t expecting your pussy to squeeze him like a vice when he slid back inside. You were sucking him in and pushing him out and the conflicting sensations made Joker fall onto his knees straddling you.  

“Ya killin’ me doll.” Joker panted.  

He kept his balance on his hands to resume pounding into you. He fixed your bunny ears back straight and brushed a curl out of your face mid thrusts.  

He wanted a clear view when your eyes rolled back in ecstasy. You were almost there given the cute hiccups you were making.  

All this time you managed to keep quiet, somehow. He wanted this final orgasm to be catastrophic. He wanted you die and come back to life in ecstasy.  

You locked eyes with Joker right as white hot static started to creep up your spine. The room got hot and your nose tingled as the pressure that built up ever since J walked into the room, reached its precipice.  

You had nothing to hold onto. There was no slack to try escaping the intense pleasure Joker subjected you to. All you could do was lie back and cry out J’s name.  

The rope bit into your skin as you twitched and moaned wantonly. Joker steadied you the best he could while still ramming into your pussy. The world could end and he would not stop.  

You were the prettiest when you came and he would have been a fool to not follow you over the edge. 

Joker gasped as your cunt clamped down and wrangled his dick with each passing wave of pleasure. He wanted to wait, to drag out this moment until forever, yet he was a slave to your will.  

He buried his face in your chest and groaned as his dick pumped once, twice, and finally spilled rope after rope of cum into your womb. It was agony to let go. There was always more to experience; more to take. If there was a way to fuse himself with your body, he’d give it a try just to savor this moment with you for eternity.  

Joker didn’t know he was talking aloud until he heard your bumbling attempts to reply.  

“You’re never gonna be better than this my sweet girl. Accept. It. Thisss is who you are.” His hips bucked forward—still craving the warmth only you could provide, but pain had crept in ruining the night.  

You tried your best to utter a single word but Joker silenced it with a smoldering kiss. He pulled away holding your gaze intently.  

“I mean it. You’ll always be my pretty Bunny, mkay? Ohhh, look at you!! Was I too rough?” Joker teased when you winced in pain. Your shoulder was at an odd angle ever since he rolled you over. In the throes of passion, it didn’t register but now.. 

Joker tossed you a look, “You can talk now, doll.”  

He sat up and with great regret, pulled out of your pussy. She mourned the loss as J’s cum began to leak out onto the sheets.  

You’d have to do laundry again but Joker seemed preoccupied at the moment to notice your annoyed pout. He was busy undoing the sturdy knots he made around your limbs.  

One by one, you felt the pressure release… and then came the pain. “Ow..” you mumbled.  

Joker snorted but did his best to massage the blood flow back into your arms and legs. He eyed the rope burn on your skin (why did that rouse his dick back to life?) and sighed. “M’sorry Y/n. I uh.. tied it too tighT hehe.”  

He freed you so he could gather you up in his arms. The both of you fell back onto the pillows a pile of giggles and pleased sighs.  

Joker caressed your back as he stared up at the ceiling. Once you got comfortable on his chest, you tucked your head under his chin, fully prepared to be doted on. J was the best at post sex cuddles even if he denied it up and down.  

He looked so.. normal afterwards with his green hair all askew and his clown makeup smudged to high heaven. Only you got to see a Joker laid bare and relaxed.  

He did so much to look after you before, during, and now after; it became your responsibility to reassure him that you were okay.  

“It’s okay… um I.. I l-liked it so..” You paused tracing hearts onto this chest. “Um, J?” He hummed, knowing something was on your mind based on your stutter. “Yeah Bun?” 

Oh this was embarrassing. How were you gonna tell him? 

“I um.. m-my tail..” you wiggled on top of him now you could feel that dull ache growing. You wondered how he missed it.. 

Or maybe he didn’t. Joker snorted softly. “What about it?” He cracked an eye open to watch the realization hit you. “You ahh, better get used to it. You’re my Bunny now, re-mem-ber?”  

Joker kissed you before adding, “Get some rest. Ya miiiiight need it in a few.” 

Then he shut his eyes automatically dozing off—leaving you staring at him in horror. This was only supposed to be a nickname, an inside joke at best. Now you opened a door that you couldn’t escape from.  

You were Joker’s Bunny whether you liked it or not.

[elainsgirl]

I dont know who needs to hear this…actually I do. Its Gwynriels,

You cannot claim Gwyn as having a straight sexuality completely. She hs shown no romantic interest in any men aside from the one instance of her blushing around Rhys and that too it was more out of his position then anything else.

Just because YOU have deluded yourself to thinking Gwyn is straight and crushing on Azriel does not make it true nor compliant with Canon. She has every equal chance of being straight, bi, lesbian etc. YOU cannnot dictate her sexuality or shame others for not shipping a straight couple aka shipping Gwyn with someone she has canonically shown 0 romantic interest in.

The valkryies are not blood sisters. Their bond and friendship is like that of sisters - equates to the batboys seeing each other as brothers yet despite this we know they’ve had their fair share of fun times. Sjm uses family relationships to show how deep a bond is between characters.

Gwyn and Emerie is just as valid as Gwynriel. It has every chance of happening as Gwynriel does. To not ship Gwyn x Emerie isn’t homophobic but the way gwynriels look at this ship, mock it or even get offended that Gwyn is being shipped with another character that isnt Az - who reminds her of savangh btw - is questionable to say the least. Commenting “sisters” on a clear WlW fanart,

is harmful and disgusting behavior you cannot justify and the finger does in fact point to Gwynriels because they’re everywhere hating on this ship which again…raises a few eyebrows.

also fyi, this was the fanart: Comm by the lovely Cateyesreads on Instagram and Art by Zolyna_

Its no wonder elriel is lost on them. Gwynriels cant see something that’s clearly romantic even if its in their face and in the most simplest form. Whats worse is commenter 1 *cough* played dumb and acted innocent in her apology and commenter 2 didnt have the shame to even apologise. Before lecturing others, dear Gwynriels, sort out the mess that is your own side first. Call out those in your own circles for being homophobic before preaching to others about finger pointing and name calling.

“It feels incestous to ship Emerie and Gwyn!” Just say you’re the type of person to make things weird and go. They’re not blood related and if you feel that way, maybe Sjm isnt the author for you. Its the same people that hate the idea of 3 (unrelated) brothers and 3 sister. Grow tf up. Broaden your tastes. Expand your knowledge on how fantasy and tropes work.

“Oh but I’m shipping Emerie with Mor an actual Lgbtq+ character!” Sit tf back down and check what you’re saying. Because again - GWYN has EVERY EQUAL chance of having a different sexuality then the one you THINK she has. Calling Gwyn straight is not canon, its not backed by canon and Its not in canon. If you believe the default setting for every character whose sexuality is never confirmed to be…“straight”…yikes, some self reflection is definitely needed.

“You cant call Gwynriels homophobic” yes, we can. Act homophobic, you will get called out rightfully so about it. You wouldn’t be offended if it didnt apply to you, lets be real here. Also, Im a firm believer in your mutuals and friends are a reflection of yourself too so…take that how you want.

[osleeplessflowero]

Previous Part🍪 First Part 🎃 💜Oneshot Masterpost💙

[*Notes!] - Context from the previous 3 parts is heavily recommended. Please go check those out! - Reader is gender neutral, They/Them pronouns are used by default. - CONTAINS: Swearing, Typical Haunted House Violence, Mutual Pining - ❕New Tagging Section! If you would like to be tagged when I update this or any other of my series, please let me know in the comments/reblog tags! I'm always happy to.

@xcryptk33p3rx

Fire crackles in the fireplace near the TV, keeping the living room warm against the cold November air outside. You furrow your brows in your sleep before fluttering your eyes open, glancing around in confusion before remembering you'd fallen asleep the night before. Briefly glancing upwards, you freeze when you spot Sans' sleeping face, feeling your own burn as heat rises to it.

Shit, you fell asleep on him! ..Well, he fell asleep too.. For a skeleton, his body's surprisingly pretty warm..cushioned, too. Perhaps it's some kind of magic? It's comforting, in any case. You lean on him a bit, not quite ready to get up yet.

Slowly but surely, Sans' eyesockets open. His single eyelight rests on you, and he feels his skull burn as a mix of red and blue spreads across it. Your gaze meets his, and your face burns a little more. His expression of shock soon shifts into a smile as he looks down at you, catching you off guard.

"..comfortable?" He grins, earning a playful shove from you as you sit up. He chuckles at that, sitting up a bit himself. Such a change in demeanor..you might not be the only one who's gotten more comfortable. And you're not too sure whether that's a good thing, or a bad thing..for your heart's sake.

"You're like a big ol' cushion over there. You're a skeleton, how can you be so soft? And warm? Aren't bones supposed to be cold?" You tilt your head as you wonder aloud, earning a shrug from the skeleton next to you.

"it's just magic. makes our bodies more fleshed out than they actually are. if i appeared as just regular ol' bones, my clothes would be a lot closer to 'em. want an example?" He raises a browbone, and you match his expression. It wouldn't hurt to find out..

"Yeah, sure, show me." You offer, resting your arms in your lap. He adjusts his jacket a bit, before pulling up his shirt. Sure enough, there's a faintly visible magical outline there, a mixture of two colors of magic making a typical stomach. The view flickers in and out, transparent. You can see his actual bones beneath them, still fairly large but not as much as the magic makes him. Huh, makes sense. A few seconds pass before you realize you've been staring for far too long, and you quickly avert your eyes.

"Oh.. so that's how. Cool." You smile sheepishly as he pulls his shirt back down, pausing for a moment when you feel heat rise back to your face. "Oh, uh, by the way.. I'm sorry for falling asleep on you like that. I didn't mean to overstay my welcome, and..y'know.." You rub the back of your neck, avoiding eye contact until you hear him chuckle.

"hey, don't worry about it. i don't mind. you're..welcome anytime." He averts his single eyelight, a hint of color making its way across his skull again before you both hear who is presumably Papyrus coming back downstairs. Once his tall, slender form makes it down, you give him a wave.

"Good Morning, You Two! Have A Good Rest?" He grins slyly, causing you both to flush even further before Sans waves him off as he enters the kitchen; leaving the door open so he can still hear you both.

"yeah yeah, it was good. mornin', paps." Sans coughs into his sleeve before getting up. "i've gotta get ready for work soon, so you two talk."

"Wait, where do you work? I mean, I know you had that haunted house on Halloween, but like..where do you work normally?" You rest your arms in your lap, genuinely curious.

"..i'm still a scare actor, i just move around. i do it full time." He looks back at you, raising a browbone amusedly at your surprised reaction.

"Oh, really? I didn't think you'd wanna do that full time. I was thinking like...I dunno..you worked at a pet shelter or something." You shrug, standing up to go get your coat and tie it around your waist since it's too warm to wear yet.

He lets out a laugh at that. "and let all of those traumatized dogs bark at me in fear or gnaw on my bones? yeah, i think i'll pass on that. not for me. i don't mind dogs though. they're fun little guys."

"When They're Not Stealing Your Attacks From Under Your Skeletal Equivalent Of A Nose, That Is!" Papyrus calls out from the kitchen, earning a confused look from you as you glance towards his brother for context.

"underground, there was this little white dog who would keep showing up to steal the bones paps would use in combat, so he'd have to chase it down. ever since he's been super..wary, around dogs, i guess. it's pretty funny. i wonder what happened to that little guy.." He mutters that last part to himself as he goes upstairs to get changed.

You stand still for a moment, thinking over that last statement. ..There are a lot of aspects about Sans that you don't fully know or understand yet. What happened Underground to mess monsterkind up so badly? Considering the state a lot of them were in when they came up..it must have been pretty damn bad. A part of you wonders how Sans and the others are taking being surfaced, after everything they'd gone through. Maybe someday when you're close enough, you can talk to him about it..learn some things.

Papyrus slowly slides his skull into the room from the doorway, raising a browbone at you as he observes how you're longingly staring up the stairs waiting for Sans to come back down. Once he clears his nonexistent throat, you tense in place before slowly turning and walking over to the kitchen to help him with breakfast. It's the least you could do for being allowed to stay over so late.

"I Fear I May Be Out Of Those Delightful Cookies You Baked By The End Of This Week, Would You Be Willing To Come Over To Visit Again Anytime Soon?" He glances over at you while mixing pancake batter quickly, a hopeful glint in his eyesockets. You huff amusedly, giving his shoulder a nudge.

"Of course, Paps. I'd be happy to come back anytime. Beats hanging out alone at my place." At Papyrus' hum of acknowledgement, you stare at the bowl while he's mixing it in anticipation for the pancakes he's going to make. "..What will you be up to today?"

"I'll Be Going On A Class Trip With Our Friend Aliza! You Might Know Of Her As The Monster Ambassador. We Became Well Acquainted Underground! ..Well, After A Few..Traumatic Experiences, But- What's A Few Traumatic Encounters Between Friends, Hmm?" He laughs awkwardly, continuing to stir before pouring the batter into a pan.

You raise a brow at that, before shrugging. Well, if she's willing to go on a trip with him, surely they must be on pretty good terms now. That's what matters.

Sans shortly comes down a bit later, wearing clothes smudged in fake blood and a few other practical effects minus the mask he'd been wearing when you met him. Papyrus shoos you both away to the table, where you sit patiently while waiting for him to finish.

"..So, uh..hooow would you feel if I tagged along to see you in action? I've only gotten to see you at work once, and that experience was kinda..well, y'know." You offer, earning a nod in reply.

"i don't mind. it's just one of your run-of-the-mill haunted houses. animatronics, actors, practical effects, the works. i doubt you'd be the type to get scared by too much anyway.." He rests his arms on the table. "wantin' to spend some extra time with me, huh?"

Your face flushes at his sly grin, and you wave him off.

"Well, yeah- I like your company, so.." You cross your arms. He blanks at that, a bit surprised that you didn't deny his attempt at teasing you. Heat rises to his skull, a mixture of red and blue giving his feelings away before quickly dying back down as Papyrus returns with the food.

You both don't say much while you eat unless Papyrus prompts you to, and eventually you're both on your way outside, waving goodbye to him.

"m'kay, just hold on. you might feel a little dizzy once we get there. do not let go of me until we're on solid ground." He warns you ominously, a serious look in his eyesockets as you quickly walk over to grab his arm. Within a few seconds, the world seems to flicker.

You glance around a dark, empty void, the two of you being the only signs of life within it. It's cold..eerily silent. You could only hear your own breathing and the faint hum of Sans' magic within the space. A chill goes down your spine, and your grip on him tightens a bit before you finally land on solid ground.

"..And you just..look at that every day?" You blink, before staggering a bit. He quickly loops an arm around your waist to keep you up so you won't fall. You feel your face flush a little again as you look over it..he has really strong arms. Big, too. He could practically engulf you in them.

"yep. careful now, don't want you falling." He smiles a bit, before helping you stand up straight and entering the decorated building. You quickly follow behind him, before stopping at the entrance.

"Hmm..wouldn't hurt to get the intended experience-" You mutter, before letting him go further in and paying a small admission fee, entering when instructed. This'll be fun! You're sure this'll be a breeze to get through.

As a sound effect plays to signal that it's time to enter, you walk in alone. You can't help but feel a sense of familiarity as you do, thinking back to the first time you met Sans in one of these. Only then you had your shitty ex boyfriend ruining your experience, now you can enjoy your time by yourself.

A few actors jump out here and there, earning light yelps and a laugh from you as you make your way past them. You don't seem to realize it as you're doing it, but..your eyes dart around in the hopes of finding a tall silhouette you've grown accustomed to, waiting somewhere in the darkness. You're sure he's around here somewhere, based on the screams you just heard up ahead.

You pick up your pace a bit before entering a room off to the side, jolting once you hear the door lock behind you. Ah, an escape room. Of course. Okay..time to find a way out of here. First thing's first..gotta check your surroundings.

With a sigh, Sans tugs on the mask over his skull while watching over a set of cameras. It's a normal procedure he has to go through to know when his cue to go out is, he usually doesn't linger for too long and waits for one of the other actors to give him a cue. But this time, well..this time was a little different.

You were here, so he couldn't help but watch you work your way around the escape room with a determined smile. The way you light up when you find a puzzle solution, rushing over to solve it and moving to the next swiftly. The way you hesitate to reach into a box of fake guts they made out of random solutions and slime, before your Bravery overtakes you and you grab another puzzle piece. He can't help but find it charming, leaning a bit on the desk beneath all the screens as he watches you move.

Then he pauses a second. Reflecting. Those feelings that had been eating away at him the day before resurface. ..Fondness, appreciation..admiration. Maybe something more, something he hasn't grasped just yet. He puts a hand where his teeth are, feeling his skull burn. His magic forms that familiar mixture of blue and red across his skull, hot enough to cause his mask to emit a faint glow before he calms himself down. He can't get distracted like this, he's working.

A sound cue plays since the others are out acting at the moment, and he moves to get in position behind a bookcase. He closes his eyesockets, listening to the sound of your heartbeat. A hunting skill he'd learned down Underground when hunting down prey that had carried over into his life on the surface. ..He doesn't typically use it for much anymore, aside from to tell how scared the people he's acting for are. It can be pretty amusing to him, listening to their heartbeats speeding up at the mere sight of him. And that's BEFORE he takes out the prop hatchet.

You lift a small note that hints to go to the bookcase to retrieve the key, rushing over and moving one of the books to grab it. As you do, the case begins to rumble before moving off to the side. There he stands, looming over you and covered in fake blood. A wide grin stretches across your face, and Sans can hear your heart rate pick up once you recognize him. ..It's..not from fear, though. You're smiling way too wide for that..

"..Hey." You point finger guns at him. It takes everything in him not to smile, stepping out from his space in the bookcase. "Come here often?"

"are you seriously hitting on a masked murderer right now?"

"It's totally a fear response, I swear-" You let out a little laugh as he scoffs, before raising up his prop hatchet into the air. Your smile dies down almost immediately.

"regardless.. i'm still on the clock. so i suggest you start running." A grin stretches across his skull beneath his mask as you book it out of the room, quickly unlocking the door with him chasing you out and down the following hallway.

A tension in the air picks up as you run, hearing his booming footsteps behind you in the darkness. Adrenaline rushes through you and you can't help but smile, letting out a few laughs as you make daring escapes. You're..doing the complete opposite of what one would expect in here. Sans finds that a bit more charming.

A few other actors jump out at you as you run before sliding into a room, Sans still right behind you. The door closes behind you both as you rush over to the other door to try and open it.

"..Wait, is this another escape room?-" You're cut off by Sans making his way over. As you turn to face him, you lean against the door a bit as he corners you. You both take heavy breaths from how much running you'd been doing, taking the opportunity to stare at each other. Is it getting hot in here?

He moves his prop hatchet over, lifting up your chin with the fake blade so you look at him. His mask had come a bit loose, allowing you to see his shining red eyelight just barely illuminating his face. ..And then he grins.

"caught ya."

A shiver goes down your spine, and you feel your face burn. Any response that comes out is incoherent, earning a chuckle from the skeleton before you as he moves the hatchet away. You move your hand up to where the blade had been pressed absentmindedly, staring for a second.

"..the key's on the table there. looks like you made it." You glance over, spotting the key to the door. Internally, you facepalm. Why didn't you see it when you rushed in here? Taking it in your hand, you unlock it as a sound effect plays to indicate you'd made it out.

"That was fun. Nice work, Sans." You smile up at the skeleton, who huffs amusedly in reply. "I'll have to see how it is behind the scenes next time."

"can't wait." He gives you a pat on the back as you start to make your way out. Glancing over, you notice a bit of color crossing his skull as he pulls his mask back down. Seems he's a bit flushed, too.