#but I'm probably the only one who finds this funny so

[rixsjwb]

smokey geto, university au

at around 2 p.m., you wake up to the smell of smoke, specifically from a cigarette.

as you feel the sleepiness in your eyes seemingly never going away. You don't fully register what's going on until you eventually sat up. to find yourself sleeping on sugurus bed, while he sat right next to you while satoru played video games with shoko. sukuna and toji scrolling on their phones occasionally showing each other funny videos.

it was weird seeing them not throwing insults at each other and wanting to commit mass murder on one another, as you laid flat on your side, you used your arms too supporting you upright, you couldn't even full take in where to place your hands and you just put it anywhere you could, while doing so your hand lands on something solid and you hear a groan emit from the object.

it was suguru.

your hand had landed on his lower abdomen when trying to sit yourself up, "m'sorry." You say muffled tiredness still lingering in your voice. Your eyes start to see the hazey looking air, thinking your eyes are playing tricks on you, you waft the air in front of you while rubbing your eyes.

you feel yourself come crashing down when the energy you had left, left your body. your head coming in contact with the soft mattress, but you could see suguru in your view of looking up at the ceiling. you could feel his hand running in between the strands of your hair, almost lulling you back to sleep.

but the smoke in the air that starts to go down your lungs caused a violent cough to erupt out of you, drawing most of your friends to check up on you.

"You okay?" satoru asked, the cigarette limply slaying out of his mouth now, gone, as he held it between his index and middle finger. you mumble something that was intelligible, dragging the warm blanket with you too the living room to get more sleep, as the room was pretty much a widefire once the flames were put out, so much smoke.

you never liked when your friends did smoked. not only for their heath but yours too, obviously you don't want to force them too stop, I mean, shokos have been smoking since freshman year, do you really think they'll stop smoking on your request? probably not. Who knows?

as you snuggled up on the couch, the silent aura carried around the living room. You hear the soft click of a door opening and soft footsteps coming closer to you.

you grab the blanket and throw it over your entire face so not a limb is outside of the blanket, but when you feel a hand rest just above you, the blanket acting like a barrier, you start to tug and shove the person throwing their weight on you. you chuckle at their attempt to rip the blanket off you. but eventually, you remove it from your face to see who exactly it is.

"What are you doing here?" You ask tone muffled and quiet even with nothing covering your mouth, "m'wanted peace n' quiet." his baritone voice rumbles as he spoke, sounding a little more raspy than usual, probably from the smoke.

"hey ghetto, how come you always smoke?" you ask a genuine question, you wonder. you watch as he makes a face at the name you jokingly give him, but you both bath In the solitude of eachother.

silence.

"m'dont know, just do, I guess. don't like the smell of the smoke?" he said, you feel hesitant to nod your head, you don't wanna upset him because you don't like the choices he makes, but again it's his body so he can do whatever he'd like.

"yea, aren't you afraid of the lung diseases coming to get you?" You say it's a serious saying, But you can't help but chuckle a little. "You're too young and handsome to spend your days in a hospital." You say, hand stretching out to play with the ends of his long, straight, healthy looking hair. it had gotten longer than you'd remembered.

suguru stays quiet almost in Ponder about what your saying,"and plus not only are you killing you but your killing me cause I have to breath that shit whenever I'm around you, we'll be leukemia twins." Your chuckle sets a vibration in your chest.

you start to play with his hands in the silences, you start to think your words may have come off alittle aggressive and rude, but before you could say anything he beat you too it.

"Don't worry, yr'pretty mind, I promise I'll stop from now on." it takes you by surprise by how quickly it took for him to consider your words.

"You sur-" "Yes, I am. don't want you breathin' in these harmful chemicals."

you decide to joke around with him abit "can I try?" You point to the cigarette in between his fingers, " no silly, it's bad for you." You laugh at the irony of the situation

you watch as he smothers the ciggar into an ashtray, and you can already see the smoke clearing up. he opens the windows to seemingly air out the house before he makes his way back too you, laying his body weight on top of you.

"Get your sleep." he says Ina low tone, his hands drawing soft repetitive shapes on your skin, and he snuggles into your stomach enough to lul you back to sleep.

[gatorbites-imagines]

I'm back wayy too early, Just as promised!👍🏻

How are you?

Would you like to explain, in the Reader of your choice that "Flaxans' king is kinda..", mister?🤨📸

Aaand that's It for now, drink some water mr. Allig-author, I'll do the same.

See you in the close future! ~💙🌺✨

Flaxan Leader x antihero male reader

Headcanons

straight up cant find any flaxan gifs

What do you mean 🤨📸 I said what I said 🗣️

Reader is kinda based on Deadpool, but with some tweaks. Insert also flaxan headcanons, cuz I thought it was funny.

Working with teen team had never really been something you planned to do. You were more of an antihero than an outright hero. Majority of the public didn’t even know about your existence, since most of your dirty work was done in the shadows.

But seeing as the guardians of the globe weren’t responsive, and you had been in this business for a long time, Cecil called in a favor you owed him, which lead to you fighting alongside this group of young heroes.

To you it felt like being a caretaker or kindergarten teacher, since you were older than all of them with a lot more knowledge and experience. Your lack of care about spilling blood and killing seemed to unnerve a few of them, invincible being one of them.

Your regeneration seemed to shock the flaxans you fought, as they’d blow your head off with their blasters, or would slice your limbs off, only for them to regrow in seconds as your damaged body kept on fighting.

Invincible may have scarred his face, but you were the one the one who would become the flaxan leader fought head on. You may not have super strength like some of the others, but your expertise made you even more of a bother to fight.

Since we know nothing about flaxans, let’s say that they flirt through sparring or fighting, so you being your joking usual Deadpool self could be seen as advances of some kind. The kiss you blow him as they flee the first time doesn’t help your case.

After the first invasion, I can already imagine the likes of invincible freaking out a little or a lot about how easily you kill and how you make a joke out of everything. It results in you having to give these young heroes a reality check, that being a hero isn’t easy, and that they’ll probably end up killing more people than they save. That’s your feelings about it anyways.

The second invasion has you involved again, since your extreme healing factor also means you barely need to sleep, eat or drink, as your body keeps itself going without issue. And once again you end up fighting the flaxan leader, whose now got a different look.

The first words that leave your mouth is ooing and awing, purring that you like em a little grey so you are happy to see him. All the talking you did during your first battle also meant that the flaxans, or maybe rather the leader, has a much better understanding of human speech.

The second invasion ends like the first, except the leader is too busy fighting with you to focus on invincible and atom eve, so Robot ends up finding their weakness on his own. Sometime during the fight your mask also ends up getting ripped off, letting you plant a big kiss on the flaxan leader’s forehead before they flee.

When members of the teen team ask why the hell you did that, you just shrug and make some comment about how you two “have a connection”. Its clearly a joke, because you take nothing seriously, but the flaxan leader seems to see it as legit.

The third invasion goes differently from the show, since the leaders risen up to rule all of his people, and instead of wanting to invade earth this time he comes through to court you, much to everyone’s surprise, both you, the teen team, and the media that’s been watching the entire time.

Imagine your surprise when the flaxan leader, now a good deal older and in a powersuit, rocking up to you with flowers native to his planet and what looks like a bracelet made out of similar material to his armor.

It takes some translation and some help from Cecil and his people to figure out what its all about, and honestly you feel a little chuffed at this big guy pretty much proposing to you after two fights. It seems completely out of the norm for humanity, but apparently its normal in flaxan culture.

In the end it helps create more of an allyship with the flaxans than them getting eradicated by omni-man. And you end up scoring a hot older guy who doesn’t seem to mind your many many scars. Its not everyone who can say their husband developed technology strictly to be able to exist in your world, is it? you definitely brag online about it, “if he wanted too, he would” and all that.

[bluestarjay]

It's kind of shocking how Hinata is so commonly characterized as someone who is perfect at making friends and is a 100% extrovert-- which yes, he is, but I think people are forgetting how much anxiety he has and how much of a people pleaser he is. I'm rewatching Haikyuu rn and I'm on S1 E5, and the way Daichi came up to Hinata and his immediate response was "I'll block, I'll set, I'll do whatever you need me to!!" And the way he makes promises he can't keep because he wants people to like him is kind of sad. I doubt he had many friends growing up other than Izumi and Kouji, and was probably bullied for being loud, obnoxious, and a weirdo for playing volleyball with the girls or being so into volleyball. So now he makes promises he can't keep and tries to go above and beyond for the team because he doesn't want them to get rid of him or not take him seriously. Yes, he's good at making friends, but I doubt he knows how or why. He's clearly worried that people are only friends with him out of convenience and his jumping skills; that since they play together, they /have/ to be friends. He just wants to finally be of use to someone; for someone to take him seriously; someone who won't ignore him around other people bc they don't want to be seen with him (silly funny little hc of mine 🥰🥰) . But that's also why Karasuno is so great, because they really are a family. They love Hinata and are friends with him, and they like him because he's a good person, not because they have to be since they play together, or just because he's skilled and they want to take that from him. And maybe at first, Hinata didn't realize that, since after being ignored and bullied and mocked, he thought the only way someone would possibly want him around was because he could help them win. And since he's so short, of course, taller, older, buffer players would intimidate him because they could easily take advantage of the height difference, so all of his bathroom encounters are NOT helping his anxiety 😭😭😭 and the puking??? When hinata threw up on Tanaka?? Everybody is always so focused on Yamaguchi's anxiety that they don't look at or even realize Hinata's anxiety. LITERALLY, THE ENTIRETY OF EP5 IS ABOUT HINATA'S ANXIETY AND PEOPLE PLEASING BEHAVIOR,,, WHY DOES NOBODY TALK ABOUT IT???? THE KEY SCENE LIKE 20 MINUTES IN??? (For ref, Daichi, Suga, and Kageyama are talking about Hinatas behavior, and Daichi imagines a scene: He hands Hinata the club room keys, Hinata says he'll take it, Daichi says, "I never told you where to keep it, so I brought it", and Hinata bows repeatedly saying he's sorry (about 6 times)) THAT IS NOT NORMAL!!! And then he's so worried about not doing well because he feels like he needs to make up for everything (his height, his lack of skill, his lack of experience on a team, the incident with Kageyama, etc), AHH HE LITERALLY SAYS, "This isn't like junior high...because I can be replaced! I don't want that. I don't want to be replaced. " BUT NOBODY CARES?? NOT ONE PERSON IN THIS FANDOM (THAT I HAVE SEEN) TALKS ABOUT ANY OF THIS!!! All I ever see is how Hinata has tons of friends and is so popular and is a people magnet, but does anybody ever think that he's probably anxious because those friends might get bored of him and find new friends?? That since Kenma has known Kuroo a lot longer and already doesn't really like people, he might just decide to stop talking to him?? Or that Kageyama might get bored of Hinata and stop hanging out with him outside of volleyball?? Or that Daichi and/or Coach Ukai will one day realize that he isn't really that special, and anyone can jump or run fast, so he gets replaced??? Literally I bet his WORST FEAR is being replaced and forgotten.

[cressthebest]

Crimson Rivers thoughts pt. 21

chapter 36:

1. “It's been so long. Oh, there you are, here you are, hi,” *deep breath* AHHHHHHHHH

2. 😭😭😭 “Remus keeps a firm grip on him and turns around to promptly leave, which is probably a little rude, considering that the others are here and may wish to greet him, but he honestly can't bring himself to care about that right now” i would expect nothing less

3. WOLFSTAR REUNION!!!! I AM IN SHAMBLES!

4. “On the way, James glances back with a grin, internally wishing Sirius all the good things, because no one deserves them more.”

oh. wow. that’s such a soft line. it’s literally making me melt

5. “Remus could not be more in love if he tried.” shit shit shit shit sobbing. wolfstar deserves the world

6. “He does love Sirius, though. Loves him dearly, with every defiant bone in his body. This man, who doesn't even realize the importance of what he's just done by giving Remus an unopened envelope. Remus, who owns nothing. Remus, who has nothing. Remus, who is not granted privacy or freedom for anything like this, for anything at all.”

i am on PUBLIC TRANSPORTATION and i am BAWLING my eyes out as silently as i possibly can. y’all don’t understand the restraint i have right now to not loudly sob

7. the LETTER has me CRYING

8. THE SECRET MESSAGE

9. oh, okay. remus killed an auror/greyback. it’s honestly not as bad as i thought it would be. also, i love the lily and remus duo. they’re so iconic

10. i LOVE LOVE LOVE that zar made a point for sirius to have the discussion that his demisexuality is NOT because of trauma and he’s always been that way. it’s beautiful <3

11. “”You can ask Regulus and James; I walked around for a solid month making everyone call me Mr. Sirius Macdonald."” STOP PLSS THATS SO FUNNY

12. SIRIUS JUST TOLD REMUS HE LOVED HIM!!! this is literally so sweet

13. andjskjdksksjsms the authors note:

“sirius, internally: a guillotine could not sever the head im about to give this man. good for them 😌”

chapter 37:

1. i’m starting a gofundme to get regulus a balcony

2. "”Sirius doesn't let me drink," James replies flatly.

"Well, don't say it like that, James. You make it sound like I'm a strict parent, or a controlling spouse," Sirius grumbles. "And I do let you drink, in moderation, when you're in a safe environment and in a good mental state. Don't forget to mention that you only let me drink within those same rules."”

i bet james is upset with the rules he made for sirius so long ago. came back to bite him in the ass

3. describing sirius as “ruffled like an offended bird” has done wonders for my mental health

4. james, remus, and sirius are all hanging out and i am beyond angry that peter doesn’t get to share this moment

5. pandora is such an angel and doesn’t deserve this pain

6. pandora and reg friendship >>>>>>>>>

7. their outfits for the night!! every last one of them is slaying so hard

8. “There's a tense moment where a group of murderers all stare around at each other, not opposed to adding a few more names to their lists. Oh, and Pandora is there, too, startlingly calm despite this.”

yaxley needs to shut his fucking mouth and stop implying that sirius will fuck his way through issues

9. “"You know what they'll assume we're doing."

"Running away," Regulus mutters.

James sighs in exasperation and fond amusement. "No, Reg. Fucking. They'll assume we've snuck off to find a corner to go fuck in."”

😭😭😭😭😭 i love reg. he’s so ready to leave

10. jegulus is getting their shit together and improving. i’m so glad

11. “James swallows. "They're—they destroy things now, when they never did before. They're rough sometimes. Bloody."

"Warm," Regulus counters, pressing another kiss to James' shaking fingers. "Steady. Strong. These hands hold the people you love. These hands care for them. They're gentle. Tender."”

this is love. what they have is love. it’s messy and broken and so difficult, but they’re trying and it’s love

12. and once again we have wolfstar my true loves ☺️☺️

i feel like nows a good time to add to respect bizzarestars’ wishes to not have the fic reposted or reuploaded a different site. i can’t remember his wishes about bookbinding, but respect those as well.

thank you, lovely people

[saulgoodman369]

I just wanna clear this up because I've seen a lot of people get old Alastor lore mixed up (especially on twitter). Again, I only tagged these posts for Charlastors because they're a community I find welcoming within the fandom and I know a lot have genuine interest in his romantic side/ability to have relationships.

I used to follow Zoophobia and remember some tidbits, but since it was so long ago it's understandable a lot of stuff is probably lost! So I hope this will serve as a post for anyone unfamiliar. Feel free to add if you remember/have screenshots of anything.

Basically, before Hazbin Hotel, Viv had a webcomic called Zoophobia. Alastor was later taken from this series and added to the demon crew, who would later be used for Hazbin.

During the Zoophobia era, Alastor was kind of a little shota lmao

He was a cannibal deer who had an obsession with this other deer character called Autumn

Generally he was obsessed with ALL magical deer, but Autumn was hilarious to get a reaction out of so Alastor found it funny to torment his obsession, as all psycho killers do.

However, he had somewhat human qualities such as his relationship with Mimzy as most people know about. I believe it was mostly on Mimzy's part rather than Alastor's.

Before Alastor was removed to be added to Hazbin, he was written to have a big crush on another character!

KayCee was a chaos spirit who Alastor fell in love with. I have some theories that she possibly could be a character recycled for an upcoming villain in Hazbin, but we'll see about that... (yes, it could be Roo).

I think it's interesting seeing this side to him. I do believe his character has hardly changed since this development, but I'm sure he has been given much more depth.

KayCee was also one of Viv's faves.

[wyvernquill]

Today I offer you the following headcanon/scenario: Hob dislikes Shakespeare and criticises him, but not because he's jealous of Dream walking off with him in 1589... no, it's because he genuinely thinks the man was a talentless hack.

Let me elaborate.

Hob does like Shakespeare's plays, and grudgingly admits they're the work of a "half-decent playwright", judging from the 1789 scene. He does appreciate the craftsmanship.

The only trouble: Hob is of the opinion that it's not technically Will's work at all. It's His Stranger who had... well, some hand, at least, in the creation of those masterpieces, and Hob hates that Shakespeare gets the sole credit.

(Now, to be clear, I do think that all Dream did was lend Shakespeare support and inspiration and the power to put his own dreams and imaginations into words. It's absolutely still William Shakespeare's work at the core, and Dream's involvement is hardly much more than in any other story ever written - but Hob doesn't know exactly how this works, does he?)

Imagine his frustration. Imagine people praising Shakespeare as a genius in front of him, and Hob bursting to say "actually, he was total shite until he sold his soul or something to the maybe-devil in exchange for talent". He thinks he's the only human in the world who knows The Truth About Will Shaxberd, and it drives him mad that any attempt to explain it would make him sound like some conspiracy nut.

It's the sort of thing that could drive a man to irrationally hate a playwright and his ill-gotten gains, it really could.

(Which is highly hypocritical of him, seeing as he himself enjoys the boon of that very same maybe-devil - well, his sister’s, actually, not that Hob knows that - but it's aBOUT THE PRINCIPLE OF THE THING-)

And that's how Hob ends up as his university's #1 Shakespeare Hater.

.

And perhaps, Dream eventually explains to him who he is and how his boons work, and Hob suddenly realises he has to revise his entire spiteful opinion of William Shakespeare, who may have had a certain spark of talent of his own, after all...

And then, groping desperately for some reason to cling on to his increasingly irrational dislike of the man, Hob recalls how Will stole his date back in 1589, and breathes a sigh of relief at the realisation that he can carry on hating Shakespeare just as much as before, only now for a different reason.

(Not that saying "I hate Shakespeare because he stole my boyfriend" will make him sound any less like a nutter than insisting his talent came from magical intervention... but, well, it's a step in the right direction, isn’t it.)

[lepakonpaska]

caution, gay joy and rambling in the tags ⚠️

[moe-broey]

Screaming crying throwing up curled up on yhe floor sobbing weeping ect ect I miss them SO much (PNGs with voice lines that live in my phone that I can look at any time)

[thelightofthingshopedfor]

a coworker recently complimented me by saying I’m calm under pressure, which

a) thanks, but also b) lol. lmao, even

[bluehairperson]

hi,, Valerius for the character bingo, pls?

(you're one of my favorite artists btw!!)

Aw, THANK YOU 😭💙💙

MY BOY 😭💙 I love him dearly.

[palepinkycat]

🍻 for Lenka &/or anyone else you’d like to share for? c:

Thanks so much for the ask @mimabeann ^^ I've already answered this for Lenka so I'm gonna go with the Cold Stare & Sharp Cheekbones family

🍻: What's your OC's favourite comfort ritual? How do they calm themselves down after a rough day?

Oktavian

I only have those silly expression meme art of them sorry :")

He really needs some self care tips 🙃 He gets bonus points for trying but he hardly ever has time to focus solely on himself. He likes to lay on his bed (or the floor when he's really desperate lol) and watch the city lights flicker - or a candle flame in Dragon Age AU - but he's not really used to peaceful moments like this and the silence often makes him feel homesick. Sometimes he'll write letters to his siblings, even though Titus is the only one who writes back or share a glass of wine with Aedan. He usually goes for the second option, they'll have a deep conversation or just sit around, talk about nothing. He's Oktavian's best friend and the only person around which he can truly be himself - he can talk about his worries and emotions without feeling guilty about burdening him with his problems. Aside from all this, Oktavian and Veronica love taking long rides out of town, singing along to the radio, though they don't really do that often anymore. They usually listen to Queen, it's Oktavians favourite band.

Titus

He and Veronica used to train ballet as children and while Vera hated every moment of it, Titus fell in love with dancing at the very first sight. He doesn't have time for ballet classes anymore, his mother made sure of that, but he still loves dancing, it helps him relieve stress. If he's had a really bad day, he'll read the letters he got from Oktavian or write some extremely honest/emotional letters himself though he usually ends up burning them, he doesn't want to worry his brother needlessly.

Veronica

Bold of you to assume she can simply calm down. She'll most likely act as if nothing happened and lock up in her room/chamber though she's not very good at hiding her emotions so sooner or later someone will notice it.

If it's Aedan, he'll probably give her some time and space to sort it out herself but there's 50% chance he'll stay, they'll share a cigarette and have a conversation. They'll vent about Villem and Tevinter politics, talk about the past, Vera will tell Aedan he should quit smoking, he'll laugh it off, probably crack some depressing jokes about how miserable the two of them are. They'll stay on Veronica's balcony to watch the stars in silence. They might hold hands

If it's Oktavian, he won't leave her alone until she tells him what upset her. He usually suspects what happened but he'd prefer to know it from her than act on false assumptions. He'll stay with her for as long as she needs, he'll bring some food and read her a book if she feels like it. He's done that ever since they were kids, he has a very soothing voice and Vera loves listening to it. He'll also try to cheer her up with his dad/big brother jokes.

And if it's Titus, he'll burst into Veronica's room without asking, bring tons of snacks and watch Sabrina the Teenage Witch with her (it's her favourite show but shh). Indigo and Nunno will probably join them. When it comes to DA AU they'll most likely play cards until Titus one of them falls asleep on Vera's bed.

[nymfaia]

more timeline fun, ft. My Ship + their bb. ft. @nossumusmanus since this ship + the ship's respective verse is fairly intertwined w/ quintus living at this point, lol

alta gets pregnant around the time of Pagl'than. either before or after. she is barely a few weeks along when Endwalker happens, and is Very Thoroughly Ill in Garlemald - something she thinks is a result of the corpses and the sheer horror of what has been done to Varis and the Tempered soldiers. It's early spring by the end of MSQ, and the snow is melting, exposing corpses that had not been able to rot in the cold, the sickened aether from the Tower making her feel nauseous and ill to her bones.

It is after their first excursion into the Tower that it truly rears it's head, and she is caught outside of camp kicking snow over the rations she failed to stomach. Jullus finds her crying and upset at herself for not keeping things together. After some encouragement, she bundles her uncertainty and despair back in, knowing she had a world to save.

(she's also sick in Thavnair, but - as she was sick from using the Aetheryte to travel there - she assumes it's just that, along with exhaustion and nerves.)

After the end of the main MSQ, Alta is quarantined in Sharlay for multiple, multiple weeks. She's still sick and she needs physical therapy and time to heal from her wounds. I think someone in Sharlay probably tried to tell her what state she was in, but she was convinced her injuries and her light aether corruption from Shadowbringers would cause the pregnancy to be a fluke. Out of fear of being known and having been cooped up for too long, she swiftly left after that to go aid the realm. By the time she leaves, she's just shy of three months along.

She visits Thavnair first, subsisting almost exclusively on mint lassi to keep her from getting too sick on the palace's tiles. Vrtra pegs her and her coalescing aether almost immediately and does his best to respect her hostility, and Alta flees to the undersea vault with her former Scion allies before the greatwyrm can truly guilt her about it. (Unfortunately for her, Y'shtola's aether sight knows it just as well. Fortunately for her, she says little and less beyond a veiled tease that the Warrior of Light entirely does not get.)

As soon as she ties up that loose end, Alta returns back to Garlemald. Her illness has gotten better, but is still off and on depending on what she's doing. A few days into the stay, she learns about Quintus' lover and their state, and both her and Jullus make an attempt to gather supplies from a deserted medical clinic. They bring back a mobile ultrasound machine, medicines, and vitamins, stopping by Tertium for a rest. They find a retired nurse there who is able to show Alta that she was still with child - and closer now to four than three months along. With Jullus, she traverses back to Camp Broken Glass to retrieve Quintus and Nerva and returns back to Terncliff that same evening.

Alta is in Terncliff for less than one moon. She dances around telling him the truth, and finally does one evening when she thinks he's fallen asleep beside her, whispering the news in his ears as if testing words on for size. By the time he fully awakens in the late morning, she's already long gone - but he knows what he heard was not a mere dream.

She doesn't return to Garlemald, but Thavnair. The tear betwixt realms is explored, the first two of the Fiends felled, and Zero returned to the Source upon their collapse. Still desperate to avoid Gaius and what response he may give her, she travels back to Ilsebard.

She teams up with Jullus and Quintus to go through the tower for supplies, and the three of them run into Nerva Galvus - or nearly do. Removing Quintus from the palace was like pulling teeth, but both her and Jullus finally were able to convince him it wouldn't end well if they stayed. They resolve to return after sharing the news with the Alliance - and, after some needling and reminders of you swore, Alta admits she's about in the same boat as Nerva (and sheepishly apologies for being a bit spicy in Endwalker and beyond.)

Alta has gone from begrudgingly eating rations and a half to starving even after two, and feels guilty that she's sapping resources from Garlemald and it's people. Using magic has become a drain on her she hadn't expected, and her stamina for traveling has lessened. After they enter the palace for a final confrontation, putting what was left of Varis to rest in a funeral pyre, she returns to Terncliff. Her state is becoming obvious to those who knew her previously. (Tataru would be happy to see Alta gaining weight again, after how thin she had become during her trip to the First. Alta firmly does not tell the receptionist-turned-tailor. Half the realm would know by sunset, and she is stubborn in keeping those who know to a bare minimum. She is nigh five months and beginning to get quite tired of people asking questions.)

It's the first time she's fully explained what all went on in Garlemald in her visits. She couldn't stomach telling Gaius the truth before, but now she feels as if it's unavoidable. He knew things had been dire, but had no idea that Zenos had treated his father so similarly to Varro and his children.

He was not there for his children. He was not there to protect Varis. There had to be something he could do to repent to his homeland, if only to close that chapter wholly and soundly behind him. Gaius decides he needs to return, if only to visit the grave of his homeland one time before it begins anew.

So he and Severa take off, leaving Allie in Alta's care and Alta in Valdeaulin's. A week of feeling bored and thoroughly harassing Valdeaulin later, Alta takes Allie on a small trip abroad, just the two of them. Allie learns of her present state: Alta, going without her facepaint, flies mostly under the radar as the two act as tourists in Kugane. They return to Terncliff about ten days later and Alta has a linkpearl call almost as soon as the airship lands; the disbanded Scions prepared to go into the Thirteenth, but were informed of issues in Garlemald with voidsent.

Alta leaves Allie in Valdeaulin's care and returns to Garlemald once more. Alongside Gaius once again, the pieces begin to fall into place for those she is affiliated with - her closeness to him as they move about the camp, his challenging gaze when she volunteers overmuch, the meals they share side-by-side - it is painfully obvious what they had gotten themselves into. Alta travels into Lapis Manalis alongside three Scions and Zero, acting as a sub-healer. The third Fiend is eradicated, and they return to the Camp with many, many liters of ceruleum.

(She is instructed to stay in the vehicle and stay warm as they load their loot, and her absolute silence on the ride back has Alisaie being a little sassy about 'the savior of the world, pouting over not being allowed to help'. She is about six months along, and, despite her apology to Quintus for being uncouth and short-tempered, she is still both of those things. It has been years since she has been disallowed to act - doing so now feels like a curse instead of a nicety.)

Alta is taken back to Terncliff with Gaius, who is still in disbelief that she's still forging ahead despite not being able to button her coat any longer. She lurks about the town for nigh on a full moon, tending to the flower field her and Valdeaulin have been growing since her first visit to Terncliff after the end of the world; and, for a moment, she's enjoying the break... before the Scions call on her once more.

The fourth fiend is in need of being dispatched. So she does as they ask, as she always has, and isn't given a reprieve to return home before they make further progress: they've figured out how to get to the Thirteenth's moon, and she's needed.

First to aid in the Aetherfont, and then to travel betwixt the stars.

While she is tired and irritable at the beginning of their adventure to the island of Haam, the surplus of positive aether is a boon after months of feeling drained. Her spells are cast with ease, her mana well feels as if it is bottomless, and for the first time since visiting Elpis, she feels as if she is hale and whole. She carries the energy through to the Thirteenth's moon, and, while relying on her shards from beyond the rift, she is able to take down the Knight in Black.

After a short stint in Thavnair to rest, she does return, one final time, to Terncliff. Despite the small town's slow pace of living and it's lack of true adventure, Alta finally decides she needs a rest. She calls the Scions and their affiliates to inform them of her hiatus and then clicks off her linkpearl for the longest, quietest stretch of relaxation she has had in over five years. She is seven moons and a handful of suns, having traversed two realms and taken down more enemies than the 'disbandment' of the Scions had promised her. She loves them all dearly, but she is tired.

Gaius still has his own linkpearl connection with Estinien open, and is kept abreast of their machinations as Alta stays willfully ignorant. He knows the biggest battle is yet to reach them - to tear down the last bastion of evil in the Thirteenth - and he hopes it is at bay for long enough for the Warrior of Light to have a peaceful last few weeks.

When they come to be, it is to her surprise - not his - that Moogle mail carriers are inundated with gifts and well wishing cards. She thought she had been quiet about it. She thought no one had found out, outside of Jullus, and Quintus, and Nerva, and Alisaie, and Y'shtola and Vrtra and - ....

[maniculum]

Medieval Scorpions Effortpost

So yesterday I reblogged this post featuring an 11th-century depiction of the Apocalypse Locusts from Revelations, noting the following incongruity as another medieval scorpion issue:

The artist, as you can see, has interpreted "tails like scorpions" as meaning "glue cheerful-looking snakes to their butts".

Anyway, it occurred to me that the medieval scorpion thing might not be as widely known as I think it is, and that Tumblr would probably enjoy knowing about it if it isn't known already. So, finding myself unable to focus on the research I'm supposed to be doing, I decided to write about this instead. I'll just go ahead and put a cut here.

As we can see in the image above, at least one artist out there thought a "scorpion" was a type of snake. Which makes it difficult to draw "tails like scorpions", because a snake's tail is not that distinctive or menacing (maybe rattlesnakes, but they don't have those outside the Americas). So they interpreted "tails like scorpions" as "the tail looks like a whole snake complete with head".

Let me tell you. This is not a problem unique to this illustration.

See, people throughout medieval Europe were aware of scorpions. As just alluded to, they are mentioned in the Bible, and if the people producing manuscripts in medieval Europe knew one thing, it was Stuff In Bible. They're also in the Zodiac, which medieval Europe had inherited through classical sources. However, let's take a look at this map:

That's Wikipedia's map of the native range of the Scorpiones order, i.e., all scorpion species. You may notice something -- the range just stops at a certain northern latitude. Pretty much all of northern Europe is scorpion-free. If you lived in the north half of Europe, odds were good you had never seen a scorpion in your life. But if you were literate or educated at all, or you knew they were a thing, because you'd almost certainly run across them being mentioned in texts from farther south. And those texts wouldn't bother to explain what a scorpion was, of course -- everyone knows scorpions, right? When was the last time you stopped to explain What Is Spiders?

So medieval writers and artists in northern Europe were kind of stuck. There was all this scorpion imagery and metaphor in the texts they liked to work from, but they didn't really know what a scorpion was. Writers could kind of work around it (there's a lot of "oh, it's a venomous creature, moving on"), but sometimes they felt the need to break it down better. For this, of course, they'd have to refer to a bestiary -- but due to Bestiary Telephone and the persistent need of bestiary authors to turn animals into allegories, one of the only visual details you got on scorpions was that they... had a beautiful face, which they used to distract people in order to sting them.

And look. I'm not here to yuck anyone's yum, but I would say that a scorpion's face has significant aesthetic appeal only for a fairly small segment of the population. I'm sure you could get an entomologist to rhapsodize about it a bit, but your average person on the street will not be entranced by the face of a scorpion. So this did not help the medieval Europeans in figuring out how to depict scorpions. There was also some semantic confusion -- see, in some languages (such as Old and Middle English), "worm" could be a general term for very small animals of any kind. But it also could mean "serpent".* So there were some, like our artist at the top of the post, who were pretty sure a scorpion was a snake. This was probably helped along by the fact that "venomous" was one of the only things everyone knew about them, and hey, snakes are venomous. Also, Pliny the Elder had floated the idea that there were scorpions in Africa that could fly, and at least one author (13th-century monk Bartholomaeus Anglicus) therefore suggested that they had feathers. I don't see that last one coming up much, I just share it because it's funny to me.

*English eventually resolved this by borrowing the Latin vermin for very small animals, using the specialized spelling wyrm for big impressive mythical-type serpents, and sticking with the more specific snake for normal serpents.

Some authors, like the anonymous author of the Ancrene Wisse, therefore suggested that a scorpion was a snake with a woman's face and a stinging tail. (Everyone seemed to be on the same page with regards to the fact that the sting was in the tail, which is in fact probably the most recognizable aspect of scorpions, so good job there.) However, while authors could avoid this problem, visual artists could not. And if you were illustrating a bestiary or a calendar, including a scorpion was not optional. So they had to take a shot at what this thing looked like.

And so, after this way-too-long explanation, the thing you're probably here for: inaccurate medieval drawings of scorpions. (There are of course accurate medieval drawings of scorpions, from artists who lived in the southern part of Europe and/or visited places where scorpions lived; I'm just not showing you those.) And if you find yourself wondering, "how sure are you that that's meant to be a scorpion?" -- all of these are either from bestiaries or from calendars that include zodiac illustrations.

11th-century England, MS Arundel 60. (Be honest, without the rest of this post, if I had asked you to guess what animal this was supposed to be, would you have ever guessed “scorpion”?)

12th-century Germany, "Psalter of Henry the Lion". (Looks a bit undercooked. Kind of fetal.)

12th-century France, Peter Lombard's Sententiae. (Very colorful, itsy bitsy claws, what is happening with that tail?)

12th-century England, "The Shaftesbury Psalter". (So a scorpion is some sort of wyvern with a face like a duck, correct?)

13th-century France, Thomas de Cantimpré's Liber de natura rerum. (I’d give them credit for the silhouette not being that far off, but there’s a certain bestiary style where all the animals kind of look like that. Also note how few of these have claws.)

13th-century England, "The Bodley Bestiary". (Mischievous flying squirrel impales local man’s hand, local man fails to notice.)

13th-century England, Harley MS 3244. (A scorpion is definitely either a mouse or a fish. Either way it has six legs.)

13th-century England, Harley MS 3244. (Wait, no, it’s a baby theropod, and it has two legs. (Yes, this is the same manuscript, that’s not an error, this artist did four scorpions and no two are the same.))

13th-century England, Harley MS 3244. (Actually it’s a lizard with tiny ears and it has four legs.)

13th-century England, Harley MS 3244. (Now that we’re at the big fancy illustration, I think I’ve got it — it’s like that last one, but two legs, longer ears, and a less goofy face. Also I’ve decided it’s not pink anymore, I think that was the main problem.)

13th-century England, MS Kk.4.25. (A scorpion is a flat crocodile with a bear’s head.)

13th-century England, "The Huth Psalter". (Wyvern but baby! Does not seem to be enjoying biting its own tail.)

13th-century England, MS Royal 1 D X. (This triangular-headed gentlecreature gets the award for “closest guess at correct limb configuration”. If two of those were claws, I might actually believe this artist had seen a scorpion before, or at least a picture of one.)

13th-century England, "The Westminster Psalter". (A scorpion is the offspring of a wyvern and a fawn.)

13th-century England, "The Rutland Psalter". (Too many legs! Pull back! Pull back!)

13th or 14th-century France, Bestiaire d'amour rimé. (This is very similar to the fawn-wyvern, but putting it in an actual Scene makes it even more obvious that you’re just guessing.)

14th-century Netherlands, Jacob van Maerlant's Der Naturen Bloeme. (More top-down six-legged guys that look too furry to be arthropods.)

14th-century Germany, MS Additional 22413. (That is clearly a turtle.)

14th-century France, Matfres Eymengau de Beziers's Breviari d'amor. (Who came up with that head shape and what was their deal?)

15th-century England, "Bestiary of Ann Walsh". (Screw it, a scorpion is a big lizard that glares at you for trying to make me draw things I don’t know about.)

I've spent way too much time on this now. End of post, thank you to anyone who got all the way down here.

[gojorgeous]

"sure thing"

pairing: target!gojo x assassin!fem!reader summary: you've been hired to kill the satoru gojo. how will you pull it off... and what will you do when he figures it out? content: MDNI (18+ only), nsfw, darkish content (all is well in the end), no established relationship, assassins/organized crime, blackmail, mention of a “suicide mission”, attempted murder (uhhhh), hidden identity, intended use of sex as a means to an end, mating press, unprotected sex, p->v, creampie, oral (fem!receiving), praise, pet names (gorgeous/sweetheart/baby), slight aftercare. a/n: me 🤝 describing gojo as having dimples welcome to my second 1k followers event fic! At this rate tho i’m going to hit 2k before i finish the 1k event LMAO. not that i'm complaining hehe. thank you for being patient and for all the support on my recent works! i really appreciate every ask, comment, follow, reblog, everything. they mean the world to me. check out the rest of my 1k event here. enjoy and remember that ALL AGELESS BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED! creds: twitter template by @cafekitsune wc: 7.8k

“Who?!” 

No fucking way. There’s no way he just said what you think he said. 

“You heard me,” he scowls. He glares at you from across the desk. His seat is one of those cushy little office chairs, of course. Yours is plastic– cold and hard.

“Are you fucking insane?” you hiss. There’s no other explanation for what he’s asking you to do. He’s lost his fucking mind. 

“We have a client willing to pay big money for this. Big money for just an attempt,” he answers. 

You laugh, but there’s absolutely nothing funny about this conversation. “Oh, I’m sure you do. Probably because he’s practically invincible. I’ll never even lay a hand on him.” 

Your “boss”, for lack of a better term, only scowls harder, the wrinkles forming near his eyes etching deeper in his skin. “Well, you’d best find a way to make it work. You’re taking this job. That’s final.” You scoff. Maybe you should recommend he see someone… “No. There’s no way. I’m not doing this.” You stand, grabbing your bag and slinging it over your shoulder. “Get someone else to go on your suicide mission.” You take a couple strides toward the door before two very large men move to block your path. 

“Not so fast,” your boss calls. You pause, eyeing up your competition. You could definitely take them if you needed to. You sense only a very faint amount of cursed energy coming from each of them– not even enough to make you blink– but something in your boss’s tone makes you turn back. 

“Yes?” You cross your arms over your chest, fingering a blade hidden in your breast pocket. 

He fiddles around in his pocket, pulling out a cigarette and lighting up right there in his office. You don’t try to hide the way your nose scrunches up. “You want to do this job.” 

Your eyes narrow. Something tells you you’re not going to like what comes next. “And why’s that?” 

He takes a long puff, letting the smoke flowing out of his lungs with a slow exhale. “Because otherwise that little brother of yours is gonna be…” he pauses to give you a smile that makes your stomach churn. “Hmm… a lot smaller, shall we say? Maybe in several limb sized pieces?”

You think your heart stops. Time halts as ice runs through your veins. Nobody knows about your brother. At least, they didn’t. 

Your boss’s smile grows even wider. In all your time as an assassin, you’ve never wanted to kill someone more. But you know you can’t. Just an attempt on his life will end your brother’s. 

“Don’t worry. He’s all tucked away and safe at home where you left him.” Just a tiny piece of your heart thaws with relief. “But try to run with him, or run yourself, and he won’t be safe much longer.” Your pulse pounds so viciously you’re sure everyone can hear. A bead of sweat rolls down your neck. “Now, will you accept the assignment?” 

Your jaw clenches. He got you. In all these years of working for him you’ve been careful, meticulous about hiding every piece of your personal life to avoid situations just like this. But he still got you. He got you. 

“Yes,” you breathe. You have no choice. You will either kill Satoru Gojo or you will die trying. 

“Good,” is all he says, and then you’re being escorted out of the office wondering where the hell you went wrong. 

~

It’s been three weeks since that fateful meeting with your boss. True to his word, your brother has remained unharmed, but you see his lackeys lurking around every corner. Neither you nor your brother are truly safe and you never will be again unless you can pull this off and then put together some plan to escape your boss’s clutches. 

You’ll fail. You know you will. The thought eats you up inside with every waking moment. 

You’ve done your best to learn every possible piece of information about Satoru Gojo in the past two weeks. You know you can’t tail him closely– he’d pick up on your cursed energy and notice your incessant presence, so you’ve had to study from a distance with only minimal moments of proximity. You know where he works, who he works with, what restaurants, bars, and clubs he frequents and what days of the week he tends to visit. You know what his order is at his favorite ramen restaurant, where he lives, what time he wakes up. Hell, you know what fucking brand of dish soap he uses. He lives a surprisingly… predictable lifestyle. He makes no attempt to switch up his schedule or cover his tracks. In any other situation he’d be every assassin’s dream, but this is Satoru Gojo and Satoru Gojo doesn’t need to worry about assassins– assassins need to worry about him.

It took you the first week to come up with a plan. You had no clue how you were going to get close to him, much less kill him, and his infinity technique was going to prove particularly problematic. How were you supposed to kill him when you couldn’t even touch him? You had to get him in a situation in which he would willingly let his guard down for you. 

You’d been on the subway when it hit you. Sex. You’d get him to have sex with you. If you could get him to take you home, he’d have to turn infinity off for at least a short time. That would be your time to strike. 

You’d spent the next two weeks primping yourself. You’d bought the most expensive dress you’d ever owned, got a mani-pedi, whitened your teeth, and spent a small fortune on makeup. Considering your circumstances, you thought your plan was quite a good one. You knew when he’d go out to the bar with his friends, which bar he’d go to, how long he’d stay, how he’d get a taxi home. You also knew when you’d arrive, how long you’d stay, and how you’d get a taxi with him– everything planned perfectly to best catch his attention. But for all your planning, there was still one thing you didn’t know. What kind of woman did Satoru Gojo go for? Someone submissive? Teasing? Aggressive? Playful? In all your time tracking him you’d never seen him take somebody home. It struck you as… odd. He was Satoru Gojo, renowned for his power, wealth, and good looks– surely he had women falling at his feet. Maybe he was just a little more… selective. If that was the case you’d have to be even quicker on your feet when you finally met him. And that time is now. 

You’re in your bathroom, checking your makeup one last time before heading out the door. Your brother sleeps soundly in the room down the hall, safe for the time being. You’ve contacted a friend, one who is at least willing to try to get him out if– when– you fail. You doubt it will be enough.

You make your way to his room. A quick peek inside reveals he’s snuggled up with a plushie elephant that he carries around like they’re attached at the hip. You creep inside, a sad smile on your lips. This may very well be the last time you see him. You brush a stray lock of hair from his eyes and press a kiss to the crown of his head. With one last whispered ‘I love you’, you’re out the door. If you linger, you won’t be able to go– and you have to. For him. 

The streets of Tokyo are cold tonight, like the weather knows what you’re about to attempt, like it’s preparing for death, for failure. For your failure.

The club you arrive at is upscale, and one where you’ve already tipped off the bouncer to let you bypass the line. You hear a few groans from the people behind you as you saunter straight inside. 

You’re conscious of every little move from the second you step inside. At any moment, he could see you and it could make or break your entire plan.

You press your shoulders back. You have a plan– stick to it. 

You make your way over to the bar, weaving your way between groups of people who are somewhere between giggling a little too loudly and tripping over their own feet. 

You find a free space at the bar and lean up onto your elbows, your eyes screening the bartenders. You smile when you see a familiar face. 

“Hey, Dean,” you call.

He turns and the sight of his friendly green eyes sets you a little more at ease. 

“Oh, shit. Hey!” He slings a towel over his shoulder and comes to stand across from you. “You’re back,” he says. You nod and smile softly. Ever since you’d determined this would be the place you’d been coming periodically, chatting up the bartenders. The last thing you needed was to stand around in a corner alone with seemingly no friends. That wouldn’t attract anyone, much less Satoru Gojo. 

Out of all the bartenders, Dean was your favorite– and you’d been oh so happy to learn that his schedule put him on every Friday night. 

“Yeah. Long day at work.” 

A smile pulls at his lips, but there’s a hint of sympathy in his eyes. “The usual, then?” 

You nod solemnly. “That’d be great. Thanks.” 

You watch him prepare the drink for you, feeling a little bad that it’s all a lie. There’s no bad day at work, you didn’t just happen to come in here one day and strike up a conversation with him. All of this is premeditated, planned, and it feels… lonely. It feels lonely to know that on what is probably your last night on earth you are surrounded by people who only think they know you. 

“So, anything new happening?” Dean drops your drink in front of you and you have a feeling it’s filled with a little more vodka than he’s supposed to put in there. 

Your eyes shift around the bar as subtly as you can manage. As much as you want to seem like you fit in, you also need to find Gojo. It’s a fine balance. 

You shrug. “Yeah, I guess I just feel like a lot of things are going to be changing for me pretty soon.” 

His brows pull together and the look he gives you is one of genuine interest and concern. It makes your heart wrench. “How so?” 

You swallow. “Dunno. Just… everything.”

There’s a moment of silence and then the tapping of a finger on your glass. “Damn, girl. Drink up. You need it.” 

You can’t help but smile. You have a feeling that Dean would have been a good friend of yours in another life. 

You take his advice, though, and bring your drink to your lips and force a smile. You can’t be moping– not tonight. 

The next twenty minutes are spent with Dean. Even when he’s making other drinks he’s still chatting with you, still being a good… friend. You dread leaving your little haven at the bar. The time is coming when you’ll have to seek out your target.

You’re shocked when it’s the other way around. 

“Hey, gorgeous.” There’s a light brush on your shoulder and you turn. It takes all you have to keep your features schooled and calm. Satoru fucking Gojo just tapped your shoulder. 

Nothing prepared you for how handsome he is up close. All those days of research, of tracking and tailing– none of it does the real thing justice. Even with those stupid sunglasses inside… he’s fucking beautiful. “I’ll pay for all of your drinks tonight if you let me skip this hideous line,” he whines. 

You give yourself no more than a second to recover. You school your features into a smirk. You glance at Dean with an ‘is this okay?’ look. He just smiles and shrugs. 

You turn back to Gojo, bracing yourself this time for the beauty you’re about to face. You meet his gaze and know you could get lost in it. “Be my guest.” 

His smile nearly blinds you and his dimples nearly make you pass out. Still, you keep your cool. 

“Yesssss!” He looks like a puppy just offered a bone. 

He spills his drink order to Dean and it’s far more than could possibly be just for him. He’s here with his friends, then. Probably the blonde man who always looks too tired to be here and the girl with the brown hair who always seems like she’s just along for the ride. 

You bite your lip to hide a laugh when he orders himself two strawberry daiquiris. Somehow you still catch his attention. 

“What?” he pouts. You can’t help but feel a small stirring of surprise in your gut. He’s far more… relaxed than you’d expected him to be. He’s almost… childish? 

You press your lips together and shake your head. You’ve reached the point where your research can’t take you any further. From this point on, it’s up to you to discover what Satoru Gojo likes in a woman. 

You debate how to answer. Play coy? Tease him? Stay silent? Any option could be as correct as the next. You didn’t know where to start… so maybe you’d just start by being yourself. 

“Just, um… not the order I was expecting,” you laugh. It’s halfway genuine. With the way he’s acting, it’s hard to remember that he’s the most powerful man alive. 

His pout only intensifies. “Well, what’s your order?” 

His question is answered when Dean sets another cosmopolitan in front of you. You laugh. “Never said I was judging, just that it wasn’t what I expected.” 

Another smile tugs at his lips and something stirs in your gut that you try your very hardest to ignore. This was a job. There was no room for actually enjoying it. This man was probably going to kill you later, in a matter of hours. 

There’s a beat of silence, and then a slight shift in his demeanor. He leans closer and you see a twitch of his lips. Your heart jumps. 

“You’re a sorcerer,” he says. 

You hold back an exhale of relief. You thought he might be onto you. If he is, he’s choosing not to reveal it yet. 

You nod and take what you hope is a casual sip of your drink. “And you’re Satoru Gojo.” 

A brow arches high enough for you to see it over his sunglasses. “You know who I am?” 

You force a chuckle, smirking despite the pounding of your heart. “Who doesn’t?” 

You’d decided long ago to tell him that you knew exactly who he was. It would seem more suspicious for a fellow sorcerer to have no idea what the Satoru Gojo looked like. 

He flashes you a smile full of white and stupidly fucking perfect teeth. “That’s true, heh.” You press your lips together to avoid a smile. Not too humble, then… 

“So, what’s your technique” 

You shoot him a glance that questions his sanity. Asking a sorcerer what their technique is… is personal. It’s not information you give out to a rando at the bar– even if it is Satoru Gojo.

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” You take another sip of your drink, trying your hardest to remain somewhere on the border or interested and casual. 

“Bet I could find out.” 

That makes you turn fully, angling your body toward his. “Oh yeah? You challenging me to a fight?” You smirk and shake your head. “I’ll pass.” 

He pouts again, but you see a hint of a smile peeking through. “Aw, come on. That’s no fun…” 

You chuckle and take another sip of your drink. You’re not sure you’re sipping just for appearances anymore. You think you probably just need a little liquid courage to see this thing through. “Sorry. I value my life.” 

You watch as he slides his sunglasses down the bridge of his nose, just enough for you to get a glimpse of what’s behind. You nearly choke again and this time you don’t manage to hide your nervous swallow when he smirks. 

“You’re so sure you’d lose?” His voice is teasing now and you hate that it’s actually having an effect on you. Job, job, job, just a job… 

You clear your throat. “I like to think I’m not stupid enough to think that I could win.” 

His eyes are blue– so fucking blue– and you feel like he’s seeing straight into your soul. Can he see? Can he see your filthy intentions? Your plotting? The rottenness of what you’re going to do? “What if I promise to take it real easy on you?” 

Your drink is forgotten now. You’re lost in what he’s saying– in him. “No thanks.” Your voice is growing lower and you feel like there’s some magnet forcing you to lean into him, to seek his warmth. 

“So you like it rough, then.” The trance is broken and your blood runs hot. Holy shit. This man is flirting with you and you hardly even had to try. He's trying to take you home. Little does he know, you’re a sure thing. 

You watch as he throws back the rest of his strawberry daiquiri with a pleased “ahhh” at the end. When he turns back to you his eyes have a certain spark in them that makes your thighs press together. “You wanna dance with me?” 

Fuck. This is going too well to be real. But you’re not about to pass up a good deal. 

“What about your friends?” you ask and eye the several untouched drinks still left on the bar. It’s risky– giving him an out, but you can’t seem too eager.

He follows your gaze only to bounce his eyes straight back to you. “I’m sure they’ll get a look at ya and understand.” 

The smirk he’s giving you is making electricity shoot straight between your legs. Damn. You really wish you didn’t have to kill him– or at least try to. 

When he extends his hand you only hesitate for a second. Your heart leaps when you feel his skin on yours, knowing he’s let infinity down. He pulls you onto the dancefloor and it’s not long before he’s running his hands all over you– groping your ass, pinching your thighs, nipping at your neck. Pretty soon the dancefloor evolves to a dark corner of the club with his lips on yours and goddamn he’s a good kisser. You’ve got your fingers in his hair and his hand way too close to your boobs when he whispers those fateful words– “let’s get out of here.”

You can only hide your swallow and nod before he’s pulling you through the crowd, leaving the club behind. He hauls you both into the backseat of a taxi and the door’s barely closed before he’s all over you again. You think you hear the taxi driver mutter something about ‘staining the seats’ but you’re too far gone to give a shit. 

Fuck, he feels good. He’s kisses you like he’s starved and your lips are the fountain of fucking life, like he’s never felt something so good and now he can’t get enough. And, god, he’s handsy. You’re forever grateful to your past self for discreetly hiding your blade in your bra– he would have felt a holster on your thigh at least ten times over by now. 

He groans when you arrive at what you know is his apartment building, though you don’t let on that you recognize the place in the slightest. The look on his face makes you think he’s feeling actual physical pain at the prospect of having to peel away from you for even a second. Nonetheless, he tosses a wad of cash at the taxi driver and pulls you straight inside.

He can’t even wait for the elevator to come, groping your waist right there in the lobby and then when the elevator finally does come, shoving you up against the metal wall a licking stripe across your collarbone. 

You can’t deny how nice it feels to be so desperately… wanted. Never once has a man made you feel this way– so consumed by him, him, him. Once again you curse the universe that you’re here with a mission other than getting laid. 

You find yourself giggling when he pulls you out of the elevator and presses his palm to a fucking scanner to get into his apartment. You try to pull yourself together, but when he laughs with you, you can’t help but melt into him a little more.

As soon as the door clicks shut behind you, he’s got you up against another wall with your legs wrapped around his waist and his face buried in your neck. His sunglasses are long gone and you pull at his shirt, popping the buttons straight off the fabric until you slide the shirt down his shoulders and onto the floor.

“That was Versace,” he whines. 

You plaster your lips to his. “I don’t care.” All he does is chuckle. 

“So gorgeous…” he breathes and your head slumps back against the wall, giving him better access to the soft skin of your neck. Any minute now. Any minute he’s going to start stripping your clothes off and you’re going to have to let this charade crumble. You don’t want to. He’s practically worshiping you. It’s perfect, it’s amazing, and you don’t want it to end. 

His fingers dig into the flesh of your ass and suddenly you’re moving again– moving, moving, moving until your back is bouncing against the softness of a mattress and you’re fucking giggling again like a lovesick idiot. Maybe you’d had a few too many sips of those cosmopolitans. 

He’s smiling as he crawls over you and the sight makes your heart flutter with both lust and terror. Lust because he’s so fucking beautiful and terror because you know that any moment now you’re going to attempt to end that beauty forever. 

A lump forms in your throat and you try unsuccessfully to swallow it. You have to do this, have to try. There’s no other way, no other option. Not for you.

Your thoughts must not have been as perfectly concealed as you’d thought because he quirks a brow. “Something goin’ on up here?” His lips slide across your temple in a touch that feels far too tender for a hookup. “Don’t worry, baby. It’ll fit.” He snickers at his own joke before burying himself in your neck. His hand slides down your side, pressing you up into him until you can feel every curve and cut of his muscles. 

You bite your lip. You’ve already slipped enough for him to notice your nerves– you can’t let it happen again. You have to do it soon. Now. As soon as you see an opportunity you have to strike. You have to. 

You arch up into him, scratching your fingers down his back, trying to seem as invested in the moment as you can. He gets greedier, leaving open-mouthed kiss down your neck, across your collarbone. You nearly freeze up when he kisses low into the valley of your breasts– as low as your dress allows. Then he moves over your clothes, kissing down your stomach as his hands rub your thighs. 

Now. Now, while he’s not looking.

You slide a hand into his hair and another up to your chest, trying to play it off like you’re touching yourself. You sneak your fingers into your bra, feeling the cool metal of your blade glide across your thumb. Now. 

You fist your fingers in his hair, holding his head down as best you can while you arc the blade toward his neck. Just one good hit, please… 

You think you’re going to strike true– you’re so close– and then a firm hand wraps around your wrist, stalling your attack just as it was about to land. 

Fuck. 

He doesn’t look up right away, but you hear him sigh, feel his hot breath fanning over your thighs and stomach. When he finally does look up it’s with the eyes of a teacher who’s disappointed his student didn’t do their homework. 

“Come on now, baby. I was really hoping you’d forget about all this and we could just have a good night together…” He’s pouting, whining, like a child who’s been told he can’t have dessert before dinner. Your shock stills you long enough that he easily maneuvers the blade from your hand, throwing it with a thwack into the wall to his right. It lands perfectly. 

This is it. You’re going to die now. But not without a fight. 

You spring up from the bed, kicking him a couple times in the process. You’ve missed your only chance. Now, if there’s even the slightest chance of escape, you have to take it. 

You bare feet hit the carpet. No time to find your shoes. You dart for the door and hear him groan behind you. For a second you think you might actually make it, but you should know better. 

He appears in front of you, straight out of fucking thin air, and his pout has transformed into something a little more sinister. “Come on, gorgeous. Let’s talk it out, yeah?” 

You take a shaky step back, but you know it’s no use. He’s got you. It’s over. 

You swallow and lift your chin– you at least want to die with a little dignity. “Just make it quick. Please.” 

He sighs again and slides his hands in his fucking pockets, like this is just a stroll down the street. He stalks toward you, forcing you back until you’re pressed up against another wall. This motherfucker really likes walls. 

His pout shifts to a smirk that borders far too closely on a grin. “Oh, no. I’ve always had a thing for taking it slow.” 

You nearly snort. He certainly hadn’t had a thing for taking it slow just a minute ago. His arms cage you and your world grows infinitely smaller until it’s just him and those blue-ass eyes staring you down. Some distant part of you thinks you might not mind if it’s the last thing you ever see. 

“Damn, I really thought you might give it up and just let me fuck you,” his pout returns. “So disappointing…” he sighs. 

Your lips part. “You knew?” 

That lights his face up like a Christmas tree. “Sensed you tailing me these past few weeks. Started on theeeee– 21st, no?” 

Fuck. You’d been so careful. You’d only tailed him in public spaces, where your energy would be more diluted by the crowds. You’d stayed far enough away that he should only have caught mere glimpses of you, even suppressed your energy. He should not have been able to sense you. But he was Satoru Gojo– things people were not supposed to be able to do came easily to him. 

But you have one thing on him. 

“The 18th,” you whisper. “Started on the 18th.”

There’s a beat of silence and then his smile is growing wider, wider, wider, until it’s practically blinding you. “Well, shit,” he laughs. “You’re pretty good.” 

You let a tiny smile slip through your terror. “I try.” 

His eyes travel up and down your body, his pout slipping away to a frown. “What to do with you… hmm…” You lift your chin, taking shallow little breaths through your nose. You’re looking death in the face, but you’d never thought it would be so beautiful. He sighs. “I guess I could let you go.” 

You freeze. He notices. 

He quirks a brow, another smirk sliding across his lips. “What? Didn’t think that was an option?” You stay silent. No way he’ll let you go. It’s a bluff. A cruel trick. “It’s not like you could try again, gorgeous. I know your energy now and what you look like. Sorry, but your chance is gone.” That was fine by you. Your breaths come a little heavier, hope pulsing in your veins. “But–” shit. “Letting you go is so… boring. Especially after where we left off, yeah?” 

Your jaw drops. “You cannot seriously be suggesting that we–” 

He cuts you off with a kiss, one that makes your toes curl in the carpet and your stomach clench in anticipation. 

“Oh, yes I am,” he chuckles. You feel his hand sliding down your hip, cool and calculating. “I know you weren’t faking the whole thing, gorgeous. Nobody makes out like that when they’re faking it.” You feel your cheeks heat. “And nobody gets this wet-” his fingers snake beneath your skirt, pressing to the wet patch on your panties. “When they’re faking it.” You gasp and reach out, hands clasping onto his shoulders for support. He only chuckles. “No worries, gorgeous. No need for any more faking tonight. I’ll make sure it’s all real.” 

Somehow you’ve got your legs wrapped around his waist again and you’re headed to the bedroom– again. It’s like a replay– a redo. 

“Let’s keep it less killy this time, yeah?” 

Your back hits the mattress, your body bouncing lightly on its softness before he’s crawling after you. It’s simultaneously the best and worst deja vu you’ve ever experienced. 

His hands slide down your body again, fingertips hooking beneath the hem of your skirt and shimmying it up your thighs until your panties are on full display. 

“Shit,” you breathe. He’s moving so fast, like he’s desperate to go further, to get his greedy hands all over your bare skin. 

You can’t say you blame him. You feel the same.

His thumbs hook under the fabric of your panties and you know it’s over for you. You can feel his warm breath skating across your thighs, feel the calluses on his hands scraping against your skin. You reach a hand down, tangling it in his hair, and you nearly faint when he smirks and looks up at you with those blue fucking eyes. 

“I think I’ve seen this film before, sweetheart.” He tilts his head, resting his cheek on the plush of your thigh. “No more knives hiding anywhere, yeah?” 

You clench your jaw, trying to control your pounding heart. You can’t believe you’re doing this. Why are you doing this? You wish you had a better answer than he’s beautiful and sexy and just a glance at him makes you want to rip his clothes off and climb him like a tree. 

“Silent, hm? Guess I’ll just have to check myself…” 

He’s pressing up the hem up your skirt, more, more, more, until he’s pulling your dress straight up over your arms and running his hands down your bare sides. 

“None there…” His fingers cup your breast and you gasp, unable to contain your shock and the jolt that just rushed through you. He traces the outline of your bra. “You had the last one in here, no?” Your chest heaves under his touch, pressing the flesh of your breast up into his fingers. He smirks. “Best check again.” You feel an arm slide beneath you back and then your bra loosens before it’s completely gone. 

There’s a beat of silence, of admiration. He gazes down on you and you see his snark falter for just a moment, replaced by a sparkle in his eyes. It makes your skin heat. His fingers brush the swell of your breasts, thumb trailing down over a nipple. You arch and gasp again. 

“Fuck. Quit teasing so much.” 

He chuckles and the sound washes over you until it settles in your bones. “Sush. I’m not done checking for weapons yet.” 

You scowl but before you can even move to open your mouth he’s sliding your panties down your legs, hooking them around your ankles and tossing them somewhere on the floor.

His tongue darts out to wet his lips and you watch him settle himself down between your thighs, eyes never once leaving your center. “Don’t see any knives here, either, but maybe I should double-check…” he breathes. 

He hooks your legs over his shoulders and you shudder, your breaths shaky. Fuck. You were supposed to kill him tonight but if he keeps going like this you’ll be the one deceased. 

He meets your eyes when he takes the first long lick along your folds. You swear he’s smirking.

Your head rolls back and a pathetic sounding groan slips past your lips. You hadn’t realized how much he’d worked you up. Just the slightest touch feels like heaven.

His tongue nudges at your clits and your legs clench, tightening around his head. He laughs into your cunt and his warm breath skates up and over your tummy. Your fingernails scrape his scalp.

“I think you like this, gorgeous.” 

Each word sends little puffs of air against your folds. It’s driving you crazy. You stare down at him, letting a smirk pull at your lips. Your eyes dart over his mouth, wet with your slick, and you don’t fail to notice the way he’s struggling to hold your gaze, eyes flickering back down to your cunt every second. Your smirk grows. “I think you’re liking this, too.” 

He licks another stripe, from you pulsing hole to your throbbing clit, and this time he’s the one groaning. “Damn right I am.”

He eats you out like he kisses you– like a starved man, like he’ll die if he stops for just one second, like he can’t live without your juices on his tongue. 

You whine and bury both hands in his hair, tugging desperately when his lips wrap around you clit and suck. It’s so much, too much, and yet it’s just right. 

Your hips buck and squirm, but he’s got his fingers pressed deep into your flesh, holding you down to take whatever he gives. You think you see heaven when he slides two fingers into your walls, curling them into that gummy spot that has an unbearable heat building deep inside you. 

“S-Satoru-” you stutter and you hear him moan and mutter into your cunt like he’s unwilling to leave it for even a second.

“Fuck, yes. Say my name, sweetheart.” Who are you to deny him? You whisper, whine, and whimper his name with every thrust of his fingers, every lick of his tongue. It’s delicious. Every so often he swaps his mouth and hand, thrusting his tongue as deep inside you as he can while his fingers rub dangerous little circles on your clit. Whenever things get a little too filthy he laps his tongue across your entire cunt and along your inner thighs, cleaning up every stray drop. You don’t know how much longer you can last under such a complete and total assault. 

“S-Satoru, ‘m gonna-” He licks a thick stripe through your folds that makes your sentence end in a whine, his lips settling to suckle on your clit again.

God, it’s messy. It’s fucking disgusting. His whole chin is covered in spit and slick– and you love it. “Cum for me, baby,” he breathes. 

You don’t need to hear much more. You let the heat inside you release with a whine, thighs trembling on his shoulders. Your walls pulse and throb around his fingers, sucking him in and never wanting him to leave. His tongue continues to rub lazy circles around your clit, working you through your high and making it last so long you think you might pass out.

Warmth spreads from the top of your head to the tips of your toes and your muscles tense and clench with each pulsing throb. You swear to god you see fucking stars.

It seems to go on forever, leaving you limp and shaking when the last waves finally slip away. 

He presses a final kiss to your clit, one that makes your hips jolt from the overstimulation before he’s lifting himself up. “Wow. That looked like a big one,” he chuckles. He runs a soothing hand along your thigh and you don’t even have the energy to give him some sort of snarky reply. There’s hardly even a pause before something shifts in his eyes. “Let’s see if we can get one that’s even bigger, yeah?” 

Before you can even process what he’s said you feel strong hands slide under your thighs, pressing them tightly to your chest as he settles himself close to you

You grasp at the sheets, hearing the clinking of a belt buckle and then the familiar pitch of a zipper being undone. 

“Fuck,” you mutter. He’s big. Long and pretty and with a perfectly flushed tip. Your eyes are rolling back just thinking about having him inside you.

A strong hand smooths along your thighs, folding you in a way that feels more vulnerable and exposing than anything you’ve ever done before. He pauses for a beat, just staring down at you silently.

“Gorgeous,” he finally mutters, and something in your heart squeezes. His hand grips your hip firmly, holding you in place and you gasp when you feel him prodding at your entrance. It’s pathetic. You’re pathetic. Big bad assassin turned simpering little bitch over some good Gojo dick. 

“Just relaxxxxx, baby.” His hand rubs soothing little circles into your side and it’s so divinely distracting that it catches you by surprise when he starts pushing into you. You gasp and he only chuckles. Asshole. 

He’s big– really big – and the stretch is somehow both painful and perfect. You groan into the air, struggling to take him. Every inch feels like it must be the last, but then there’s more. Your walls clench around him on instinct, trying to force him out. 

“Fuck, baby. What did I say about relaxing?” You hiss when his hand skates down your tummy to rub messy circles on your clit. The relief is instant and you moan when you feel him slide in a little further. “There we go. Good girl.” 

He continues feeding his dick into you, inch by inch, until his hips finally press to yours and you think you can feel him in your fucking throat. You hear him exhale, like it’s a relief to finally be fully inside you, like he’s been waiting for ages. 

You expect him to not hold back, to let himself go and pound into you relentlessly, but he doesn’t. He only leans down closer to you, settling in when he starts a pace of slow, sensual thrusts. His brows pinch, his eyes hardened in concentration.

“Ah, fuck. You’re so tight.” 

You want to shoot something back at him, but you’re hardly remembering to breathe with how deep he’s sliding into you. Instead, you just end up holding him tighter, your eyes fluttering shut. 

Lips dust across your cheeks, just below your lashes. “Keep your eyes open, gorgeous. Wanna see you.” 

You blink, thinking that it’s a notion that feels a little too intimate for a hookup. Regardless, you do as he wants, opening your eyes and holding his gaze.

A smile splits his lips and he presses his forehead to yours, picking up the pace of his thrusts. It’s not long before the sound of skin on skin fills the room and you’re both panting. His breath skates across your skin, hot and heavy, hitching with the groans and whines that spill from his chest. You can’t help but pull him closer, raking your nails down his back hard enough to leave marks. The action makes him emit a noise you can only describe as a desperate whimper. “Fuck, baby. Yes.” 

His lips press to yours in a kiss that’s all desperation and teeth and tongue. You kiss him back with equal intensity, your body rocking with each heavy thrust. He’s pounding into you now, frantic for more, more, more of you. You want him to take it, take all of you. 

A familiar heat pinches in your stomach and you know it won’t be long before he’s pushing you to another release. His dick drags in and out of you, prodding at the gummy spot inside you with every thrust and brushing so deliciously against your cervix that you can’t stop the moans spilling from your lips. It has you seeing stars again, has you clawing at him and panting into his mouth. 

“Satoru… harder,” you breathe. You need more– more of everything, of him. 

He groans. “You got it, gorgeous.” 

His hips slam into you and it’s so perfect that you can’t help but whimper beneath him. It only gets worse when you feel his fingers on your clit again, hand pressed between your bodies. “Cum on my dick, baby.” Your eyes roll back, that coil inside you rolling tighter. You feel his muscles tensing and shaking above you and you know he’s close, too. “Where do you want it?” he asks, and from the pinched look on his face you can tell exactly where he wants it. You know you’re an idiot for feeling the same. 

“Inside,” you breathe. He groans so loudly it rattles in your ears.

“That’s my girl,” he says, but it’s nearly a whisper with how strained it is. His hand continues at your clit, rubbing perfect little circles that make your legs tremble where they’re pressed against your chest. Your jaw hangs open, but you don’t dare close your eyes. Satoru is still holding your gaze intently, desperately, like he needs to see you. The thought throws you over the edge.

You cry his name, clawing at his shoulder and shaking like a leaf as you feel yourself gush and pulse all over his dick. For the second time that evening you feel the heat inside you swell and burst, washing through you in waves that nearly consume you whole. It’s a struggle to hold his eyes, to not let them roll back into your skull and give into the pure ecstasy of your high– especially when he’s cumming, too. You can hear him moaning in your ear, feel him twitching inside you, feel his hot cum coating your walls and there’s just so fucking much of it. You swear he cums for a minute straight before he slumps down onto you, burying his face in your neck as you pant. 

You’re shaking and so is he, breaths heaving in and out. Reality slowly starts to seep back in, even with his dick still softening inside you and his cum leaking down your thighs. 

You tried to kill him. You failed. You had sex. Now what? Would he really let you go like he’d said he would? You wanted to believe it, but life hadn’t taught you to be that trusting. You should move, untangle yourself from him and escape before he has time to change his mind. 

“You assassins are always thinking so hard,” He mumbles into the curve of your neck. “Maybe you should try to relax for once.”

You swallow when you feel him pressing his lips to your throat, trailing up to your jaw. It’s… tender, gentle, and it feels so nice. You can’t help the way you melt into the touch a bit. You feel him smile into your skin. “There we go.”

His hand settles on your waist, rubbing soothing little circles that send a jolt of urgency up your spine. No. You’re enjoying this– being close to him, laying here with him, breathing him in. That’s not what this is supposed to be. 

You tense again, shifting to get away from him, but he only sighs and presses his weight onto you. 

“Come on, gorgeous. No need to leave so soon. Just stay for a bit, yeah?” He nibbles at your jaw, but it doesn’t work this time. You have to go. You’ve failed your mission. You don’t know what that means for your brother. You’d never thought this would have an ending besides your death. 

“I have to go,” you mutter, pushing at his chest. 

He chuckles, but you don’t miss the strain and… hurt? “Got something more important than trying to kill me?” 

You clench your teeth, trying once again to shove him away. “Yes, actually.” 

He finally pulls back to meet your gaze, brows slightly pinched. “Like what?” 

You push in earnest now, anger and panic rising in your gut. You have to go, have to check on your brother, have to figure out what you’re going to do. “That’s really none of your business,” you seethe. 

You go for another shove, but strong hands clasp around your wrists, pinning them to the bed. His expression has gone flat now, serious. “Actually, I think it’s completely my business. You going to report your failure? Should I expect another assassin soon?”

You scowl, tugging at his grasp and trying to free yourself. “Yeah, probably. He’s an insufferable idiot. I told him it wouldn’t work and it didn’t, but I don’t doubt he’ll send another.” 

His face cracks, his brows pulling together again. “If you knew it wouldn’t work then why’d you take the job?” 

You struggle again, less angry and more desperate now. “Because he’s got my fucking brother at gunpoint and I’ve got to figure out how the fuck I’m going to save him!” you shout.

There’s silence for a long moment– a long, uncomfortable beat of it– and then his expression softens into something… tender. It sends a chill up your spine. Satoru Gojo was never supposed to be tender with you, and that’s all he’s been. 

“I’ll save him,” he says. Your heart jumps and his grip on your wrists loosens, allowing you to slip free. 

“What?” you breathe. He sits back, allowing you to prop yourself up into a slightly less vulnerable position. 

He exhales slowly, but you don’t miss the way his hand settles on your bare thigh, a comforting weight. “I’ll save your brother and then I’ll take care of your boss.” A smirk creeps across his lips. “What? Don’t think I can do it?”

You stare blankly, lips parted. There’s no doubt he can do it, but that’s not the question swirling in your mind. 

“Why would you help me?” You’d tried to kill the man. You couldn’t make heads or tails of a reason why he’d go out of his way to help you. 

He chuckles. “Well, in case you didn’t know, I’m a hero of sorts.” You have to fight not to roll your eyes. “And… there’s something I want from you.” 

There it is– the catch. He wants something. You have no idea what you could possibly have to give him, but you’re willing for it to be just about anything. You narrow your eyes. “What?” 

He grins, but you can see the glint of mischief in his gaze. His hand slides further up your thigh, up your side, over your shoulder, until it rests at the nape of your neck and his face is only inches from your own. “What’s your number, gorgeous?”

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[whencartoonsruletheworld]

so like. fnaf movie. after night five, all outside observers know is "this 30yo guy with severe anger issues + his 10yo mentally ill sister just walked out of his collapsing workplace with an unconscious, stabbed police officer, saying that someone inside the building tried to kill them but we can't get into the building to check. we went to their house and the aunt who was fighting for custody of the child is dead on the floor. the guy's career counselor is missing, as is his babysitter and her family and apparently they're all dead in the building we can't get into." and like. that all looks suspicious as FUCK however we know that in the few-weeks timeskip both mike and abby seem happy and fine so it's not like mike was arrested or anything. he seems to be more adjusted and is happily talking with her teacher so i doubt he's under stress of interrogation or anything

there's a lot of implications there that mike mighta pulled something but it's all circumstantial evidence at best. i'm sure in jane's autopsy and crime scene evidence they couldn't find any evidence of mike being the one to attack her, esp since it was probably just golden freddy bopping her in the head so they dont even have the weapon, and if she was strangled they'd be able to tell it wasn't by bare hands and they couldnt get prints or anyth. especially if golden freddy is a FULL ghost and thus left no trail.

mike would be smart enough to only tell the cops what they need to know without mentioning ghosts to sound crazy. abby might be more honest with the cops just bc of #autism but they'd be more likely to consider her talking about ghosts and imaginary friends as a child's way of coping, and they cant get anything out of her that would incriminate mike. ADD TO THAT that mike has wounds that are clearly defensive and is SUPER banged up and his wounds would likely match his story way better than evidence of him attacking anyone, AND that there's likely footage and witnesses of him being in the pharmacy and then driving to work (and thus not in the area to attack jane), AND if/when nessie wakes up she'll probably vouch for mike as well, and the cops dont have anything on him

though i DO wonder if they would have records of vanessa patching him up in the police outpost. if they do, that would also back up mike's story as it's 1) far away from the aunt jane crime scene, 2) confirms that he and vanessa were working together, so either she's complicit in Crime™ or his story is accurate and she was helping him save his sister. him going to defend her instead of calling backup is also consistent with his personality of getting triggered and jumping into action around child abduction, esp w/ his sibling in danger

considering what abby would probably say, AND the history of freddy's, it's likely that they would come to the conclusion of is "someone [likely the og kidnapper from the 80s] found out that the guy working at freddy's had a sister, kidnapped abby from her house while her aunt was babysitting and tried to recreate the crimes, his story of him and vanessa defending her and escaping vaguely checks out." whether or not mike would incriminate vanessa by mentioning her dad was the killer is up in the air, and there's obviously some huge holes that are left from nobody believing that there are ghosts in the building but that would probably be the eventual conclusion

but throwing that all away, it would be really, REALLY funny if the rest of the town, being really fuckin nosy and getting into the juiciest gossip they've had in decades, took one look at michael "big teddy bear falling asleep on himself" schmidt and said "there's no way. there's no way this guy murdered his aunt, stabbed an officer and then destroyed his own workplace, especially when he really needed that job and was on sleeping medication," and then turned around to look at abby "neurodivergent in the early 2000s (ableist af time period)" "vocally hates her aunt" "doesn't talk to anyone and claims that she can see ghosts" "vaguely possessive of her brother" "claims that she found the guy who hurt her friends and got him jumped by a cupcake(?)" schmidt and said "oh my god. it was her."

and nobody's gonna directly say anything but they've got cautious eyes on the situation and someone quietly slips mike a copy of the bad seed to see if he has a realization but instead he's just like "hey this book kinda reminds of that golden freddy kid lmao. wonder how he's doin" and then we smashcut to golden freddy kid poking springtrap with a stick

[pomefioredove]

now I'm actually invested in this idea. maybe I'll write a full length fic someday idk... for now I have short hcs

summary: crowley decides to "give away" yuu to the highest "donation" for financial reasons type of post: headcanons characters: all nrc students additional info: can be read as platonic or romantic, except malleus is pretty romantic, second person pov, yuu is gender neutral, maybe a little ooc I wrote this as soon as I got up

crowley has had his fair share of "what the fuck" moments from you but this was really taking the cake

he acts so... casual about it?

swaggers into ramshackle one morning and says times are tough and your personal expenses are straining the budget so he's decided to "put you in someone else's care"

"The screening process will be vigorous to make sure you end up in good hands!" like you're a cat or something "Your expenses will be covered and you'll have somewhere to go during break!"

okay great. pretty obvious you have no say in this, so you don't even argue. what's the worst that could happen?

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Ace, Deuce, Jack, and Epel find you the next day to say they're pooling their money to buy you

"To what?"

Epel shrugs. "Oh, well Crowley said we need to offer a donation to prove we're capable of supporting you..."

(you think that if not for the laws of this land you would have slaughtered that old fart)

Jack goes on a really long tirade about how shady and underhanded this is, making sure to reaffirm that he believes you should be free to make your own choices

"So you'll let me go once you get me?"

"Uhhh..."

Ace thinks once they buy you you'll have no choice but to do all of his homework for him

Deuce says that's not really how it works- and even if he tried, Riddle would kill him

(they've already gone over this twice before finding you)

Epel happily volunteers to take you home with him over breaks, probably the only positive in this mess

even if he thinks the whole thing is kind of funny

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

incapable of keeping his mouth shut, Ace accidentally spills the plan to Riddle, who is understandably aghast

you can't just give away a person under your care like a toy!

of all the irresponsible things...

of course, he'll have to put up his offer, too

purely for your sake! with a nicer room and a brand new copy of the dorm rules, maybe you'll stop getting yourself into trouble

he's got some family money (doctors, naturally) and considers this a worthwhile purchase, for his sanity and yours

of course, Trey and Cater overhear and may or may not be pooling their own cash for a chance, too

going behind Riddle's back on this is a risky venture, but hey, someone's gotta be on your side, here, right?

I mean, between a bunch of sixteen year old boys, the housewarden, and them, who would you choose?

actually don't answer that

...not that it's much of a secret, anyway. Cater's already got their gofundme equivalent link in bio

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Leona initially plans to have you become a live-in lackey like Ruggie

but then he really starts thinking- and, hey, the possibilities are endless, right?

for one, you'd make a really good pillow

he might have to kick Grim out for your full attention, but you could learn to live with that

and malleus would hate it

...that's reason enough for him

plus, he's got money to burn, so why not?

either way, he sets his bid at a reasonable (maybe too confident) price and sits back to watch the chaos unfold as everyone scrambles for a piece of the pie

news travels fast around school, after all

then Ruggie finds out that you could dethrone him as Leona's #2 and is understandably a little annoyed

that's his cushy post-grad job gig, thank you! he's worked hard for that!

besides, why should Leona get to hoard you? the guy can barely take care of himself!

so, Ruggie ends up outsourcing to a few dozen classmates for the necessary funds at a steep I-owe-you price

he's gonna be eating nothing but dandelions for a while...

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

now, Azul is annoyed

once the news goes school-wide, it's all anyone can talk about

talk about good marketing...

why didn't he think of such a brilliant scam? he could have negotiated with Crowley to have a café brand deal tie-in!

of course, he's already set his bid, with Jade and Floyd offering to pitch in as necessary

it's a risky investment, sure, but a worthwhile one

Azul tells everyone that with the prefect's "obvious" popularity, having them at the café a few nights a week would drive sales through the roof

though that's really just what he says to shirk suspicion

a likely excuse coming from him, though, really, it would just be nice having you around

and if not for his own affections, Floyd's incessant begging and Jade's subtly manipulative comments about "how nice" it would be having a new face around would be enough for him to cave eventually

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

"Kalim, no," is the first thing that Jamil says

"I strongly advise against this. It's another one of Crowley's silly scams and you could end up a target bec- are you even listening?"

hint: he is not

the second Kalim found out that he could get to take in his favorite magicless student like one of his treasures, he was all over it

(AKA infinite sleepovers)

and for what? a little optional donation to prove he's got the funds? he's got cash to spare!

he's already got your new room in Scarabia set up before he even puts his bid in

right next to his of course :)

and despite what Jamil insists, he himself might be working behind the curtain just a little to ensure he's the one who ends up with you

after all, why should Kalim get everything? this might be a valuable learning opportunity for him

You don't always get what you want

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

as much as Epel tries to keep the rest of his dorm from finding out, it's inevitable

he's actually a little surprised that the news didn't get to Vil sooner

with Rook around campus, surely he must have said something...

when Vil does find out, though, he just sighs

oh, of course. what next, will everyone meet each other in the arena and fight to the death over the prefect?

of all the silly, immature things...

oh? what's that? he's bidding anyway? of course he is, silly potato. he can't have some unwashed miscreant making you sleep on polyester bedding

(really, he's the only person on campus worthy of your time)

Rook has also been mysteriously absent from the dorm lately, though his initials on a poem and a strangely large sum of money end up in the donation pile

but really, that could be anyone... Rook would never dare betray Vil again, right?

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Ortho finds out directly from the other first years and sends Idia the details immediately

with a little note of encouragement, of course: "could be excellent for improving your social skills!"

Idia understandably freaks out

"WTF!!!! nooo way! this is a person, not a chatbot we're talking about here! I can barely keep virtual pets alive!!!!"

(liar)

(...but this is still different)

the conversation ends there, but semi-anonymous bid from someone named "gloomurai" gets cashapp'd directly to crowley

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

everyone in the room immediately turns to Malleus

"For the record, I think it's wrong to be bargaining over a human being," Silver says first. "But if anyone could handle it with grace, it's you."

Lilia laughs. "Oh, you're just saying that because you like the prefect so much!"

"Father, you're the one who likes the prefect so much,"

"Oh, right! carry on then. After all, I'm sure we could share,"

Sebek is the only one relatively against the idea, though Lilia luckily manages to get him to lower his voice after his third speech about how you aren't good enough for his liege

Malleus is rather quiet through the whole evening, neither agreeing nor disagreeing with any of the points made

he disappears for a short while, and when he comes back he seems a little more confident

though, of course, he goes to you first

seeing him at Ramshackle in the middle of the night is a familiar and welcoming sight after all of the chaos of your week

and he's in a great mood!

"Child of man! I've come with news," he says. "I have heard of your predicament and have come up with a solution!"

you immediately sulk. "Oh, no. You know I think this whole thing is terrible, right?"

"Yes, Silver mentioned you might not like the idea of being bought and sold like a trinket. But worry not, I do not plan on paying for you in money,"

you pause, at a loss for words, and then tentatively continue. "You're not...?"

"Of course not. What a primitive idea, I was baffled to hear it myself. My proposal will be more traditional: a modest sum of treasure, and a generous amount of livestock and the finest crop Briar Valley can offer,"

certainly he's not this naive, you think

"You really think Crowley is going to accept that over money? I'm pretty sure Kalim just bid away an entire country's worth,"

he laughs. "You speak as if this is some kind of business deal! I'm quite confident that my dowry will be best,"

huh. that was a strange way of putting it

but then again, you still didn't really understand how things work here, so you go along with it

and you allow yourself to relax. he seems confident in his offer, and he doesn't even see you as some kind of prize to win!

"Oh, well, alright. Thanks! I'm glad you're on it,"

he smiles. "Rest assured, child of man, you're in good hands. My dowry will far outshine the others, and the wedding will be even better,"

"I was honestly getting a little nervous for a momen- wait- wedding!?"