#evidently two kinds of people/demons

[some-bunniii]

My Charming Red Savior [2]

・❥ Two odd visitors and a mugging. Can’t you stay out of trouble?

| Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 |

x: he’s back!! a little longer this time, 8k words. enjoy!

That evening after meeting Alastor, you sat at your friend’s dining table, your mind racing.

Your finger aimlessly twisted that gold ring he had magically placed on your digit, as you explained what happened. The creep harassing you, Alastor swooping in to save you. All of it laid out for your friend to digest. Which she wasn’t taking it very well.

“I mean, I'm glad that demon helped you out of that, but you should have gotten away as soon as possible! Haven’t you heard what he’s done, what kind of deals people have made with him?”

You sighed, feeling a bit frustrated with your friend's skepticism. "Look, I get it, you're worried. But Alastor isn't what everyone makes him out to be. He helped me when I needed it most. Besides, who are we to judge someone solely based on rumors?"

Your friend leaned forward, her eyes fixed on the ring adorning your finger. "What about that? What if it's some sort of trap he set for you?"

You instinctively pulled your hand back, a protective gesture. "Don't be ridiculous. Alastor wouldn't do something like that. He's... different."

"Different? More like dangerous," she countered, reaching out to grab your hand. "Come on, let me see that ring. We can take it to someone to see if it’s been magically altered."

Dangerous? He saved you from someone dangerous! Yes, he was a demon. A sinner, who probably did some bad things, and most likely continues to do bad things. Except, for the fact he didn’t leave you, a defenseless nobody, to be taken off and.. you couldn’t even think about it. 

You jerked your hand away from her hand, the ring glinting in the lamplight. "There’s nothing wrong with the ring, you’re just being paranoid. It’s.. comforting, actually."

Your friend sighed, frustration evident in her voice. "I just don't want to see you get hurt. Please, at least consider what I'm saying."

You softened, realizing she was only looking out for you. "I appreciate your concern, I really do. But I’m not a child, I can make my own decisions."

Your friend relented after a moment, sinking back into her chair. She nodded slowly, agreeing with your statement.

At that moment, your friend’s husband had entered the room. A large pot of steaming foodstuff in his oven-mitt protected hands as he walked. 

“I hope you guys are hungry!” He said cheerfully, the tension in the room easing with his upbeat demeanor. You quite liked him, he had some good jokes and cared about those around him.

You smile gratefully, welcoming the distraction from the intense conversation. “Absolutely starving,” you reply, grateful for the opportunity to shift the focus to something more light-hearted.

Your friend’s husband sets the pot on the table, filling the room with the delightful aroma of home-cooked food. “Well, dig in!” he encourages, serving everyone generous portions.

As you take a bite, the flavors dance on your palate, and your eyes light up as you eat. 

“What is this?” You turn to her husband, who looked up from his bowl, face stuffed with food.

“Crawfish Étouffée! A popular dish from New Orleans, back on Earth. Do you like it?”

You nodded vigorously. Is this what Jambalaya tastes like? If so, you really needed to try it. Maybe, you’d see Alastor again, and he could give you that recipe he had mentioned? 

As your thoughts drifted back to the red demon, your finger began to twist the ring around your digit once more. Why did it bring you such comfort? You had no idea. 

Sometimes, if you put your hand to your face, you could smell faint traces of his scent, that you had first memorized when you walked side by side with him. It smelled like an old cologne, something that you couldn’t quite recognize from your days. Maybe, it was back when he was alive? 

Lemony, hay-like and grassy. A whiff of licorice. Something peppery too? You couldn’t quite place it. But every deep inhale sent you into a lull. A trance, almost.

Your finger still mindlessly caressed the golden band a while later, during the early hours of the morning. You had been sweeping the front doors to the formalwear store you worked at, tidying up before it would be opened for customers. 

It wasn’t until you heard the sound of someone clearing their throat, did you get pulled back into reality.

“Pardon me, miss. Are you guys open?” 

Turning around to address the voice, you find no one. It wasn’t until you looked down did you see the demon man. He resembled that of an imp. Dark red skin with thin, striped horns that peaked out of the top of his head. 

He wore a white turtleneck, with long white hair that curled around his chin. His eyes were unreadable, hidden behind a pair of sunglasses. They were Ray-Burn glasses. You could immediately tell from the bridge, which were curved to resemble a half-circle rather than an oval. 

You also knew how high-end that brand was, and it wasn’t easy getting a pair either. The wait for those was no joke. And, this style was from their newest collection, which meant that he had to be of some importance to get one so soon.

His posture also struck you as odd, especially for an imp. He stood tall, shoulders back, head held high. Despite being a part of one of the lowest social classes in Hell, the demon regarded everyone and everything around him with an air of confidence and assertiveness. 

It was also odd that he was wearing sunglasses so early in the morning, there wasn’t really much light to need protection from. Maybe he had some bat genetics in him?

You smiled at him, but shook your head. “I’m sorry, sir. We’re closed right now. You’ll have to come back later.”

The imp visibility deflated at your words, a frown etched on his face. You could see his eyes through the shades just enough to show them flicking down the streets. 

“Oh, okay. That’s fine, I guess. Thanks, I'll just.. have to figure something else out.” 

He backed away, as he scanned the nearby stores again. He muttered to himself, too quiet for you to hear, but his tone sounded scolding. As if he was berating himself. The demon bit his lip, as if he was contemplating something.

A pang of sympathy hit you, as you watched him become more anguished. It seemed like he really needed whatever was inside, and you didn’t have a reason to deny him business other than to follow the official hours of operation. 

Placing the broom against the brick wall, you pulled out a set of keys. The demon turned slightly as he heard its jingle, and you met his shaded gaze. 

“There isn’t really anything else I need to do before opening though, so I suppose it’s not a big issue letting you inside.”

The imp perked, a smile blooming on his lips at your words. You bent to turn the lock with a click. Pulling the door handle, you pulled it behind you, allowing the demon to follow you inside.

“That is so kind of you! Truly, you don’t get to meet many kind and considerate people in this place.”

Well, it was Hell. Being friendly to strangers was not a common occurrence. You just weren’t one of the, well, bad ones. Sure, you had some flaws, you weren’t a resident for no reason. But, you prided yourself in having a reasonable moral code.

“Don’t worry, I know what I need. I’ll be quick!” The imp promised, as he passed through the entryway. The large room was dark, besides the morning light casting through the windows.

You flicked on the lights, and the overhead lamps lit the interior of the store. There were mannequins lining the dark-blue walls, styled in different tuxedos and dress shirts. Next to them were rows of shelves, each specific to a type of garment. There were dress pants, vests, shoes, and smaller accessories like ties and belts. 

As you walked behind the black-granite countertop, the imp had hurried over to a mannequin facing out of a glass display. He reached down near its feet, a small shelf lifted from the floor. A pile of red suits was neatly tucked next to the display. 

Gingerly, he lifted to the top piece, examining it thoroughly. After a few moments, he brought it closer to his chest, before turning to you. Your hands tapped against the display of the digital cash register, readying it for service.

You looked up just as he placed the garment on the counter, your eyes scanning the suit. Strange, he was still wearing those shades. You simply smiled at him, before pulling the item closer to you. Carefully, you unfolded it, examining its form.

It was a beautiful red tuxedo, with golden lapels. Dark-red buttons, with white cuffs. It was a women’s suit, which was rare for you to see, since the store mostly marketed towards men. 

“What a wonderful piece!” You exclaimed, your tone dripping with customer-satisfying professionalism. “Getting this for a special someone?” 

The imp nodded. “For my daughter. She runs a hotel a few blocks away, up the hill. The Hazbin Hotel, if you've heard of it? She needed a new suit, and this was the perfect fit.”

The hotel that was supposed to help sinners with redemption? You’ve heard bits and pieces, mostly when you watched that disastrous interview with Katie Killjoy. You couldn’t recall who ran it, though.

“A little, but you sure do have an eye for style!” You nodded, grabbing the small tag from the sleeve to input the information into the register.

“Well, it was my sweetheart who picked it out first,” the imp gushed, “I can’t take all the credit, I'm not good at these sorts of things, anyway.”

“Do they have a background in fashion?” 

“No, they’re an artist,” the demon beamed, his voice growing softer as he spoke of his lover, “I can promise, you’ve never seen a real painting until you’ve seen theirs. If it were my way, I'd fill every billboard with them, instead of those.. repulsive pornography ads they have downtown.” 

The imp held a look of pride and admiration as he spoke, obviously having full confidence in his claim. You pulled up the item on your screen, and read him the price. It was not a cheap suit, but the demon had no reaction to the total and simply pulled out his wallet. 

“Is business running smoothly at the hotel? Do you guys get a lot of guests?”

The imp contemplated for a moment, before pulling out a large sum of money, placing it gently on the counter. You reached for it, before licking your finger and counting through the bills.

“Not entirely. It just opened recently, and, with the demons it caters to? Hah, there’s not many around here with the mindset of redemption. But, I'm going to be helping her out, supporting her with the work.” 

What a nice father, helping his daughter out like that. If only someone like that had helped you when you were younger, maybe you would be stu-

“Especially when it comes to keeping an eye on some of the.. colorful characters she calls staff. Like that Radio Demon.” As the imp spoke, you could hear the disdain in his tone, as he uttered that name. Your head shot up from the bills in your hand at his words.

Radio demon? Alastor? Alastor was working at the Hazbin Hotel? 

“As in, the tall red guy with deer antlers? Carries a staff around with a microphone on it?” You questioned him, excitement lacing your voice.

“Yes. Do you know him? Word of advice, stay away from that demon. He’s nothing but a self-serving, pompous show-off.” 

That couldn’t be true, could it?

Quickly, you placed the bills into the cash register, pulling out change to hand to the imp. As he took the money in your hand, you found it right to defend Alastor.

“He helped me out of a tough spot awhile ago, practically saved my life, actually.” 

The demon regarded you for a moment, eyebrows raised as he took in your words. He didn’t argue, seemingly trying to leave as fast as possible. Back to the hotel presumably. “Hmph. Well, just be careful, you never know with demons like him.”

You were about to wish him farewell and turn away, before his hand lifted once more. Looking down, he held another stack of money in his hands, you could faintly read ‘100’ on one of the bills alone.

“For your kindness,” the demon stated simply, giving you a wink, “I enjoyed our short chat, there’s not many people down here I'm interested in talking to. Go treat yourself.” 

Your eyes widened at his words. How did he have so much money he could just.. give it away?! You almost wanted to reject his offering. But, money was money, so you took them from his grip. 

“I-I don’t know what to say, but thank you! This is very generous of you.” 

He only shrugged, sending you a charming smile. “I am indeed a very generous person. Just don’t spend it on drugs, or anything like that.”

As you handed him the small pink bag, his shaded gaze landed on the ring on your finger, and he leaned in just an inch to get a closer look.

“Boy, that is a fine piece of jewelry you’ve got there! Very nice, was it from a lover? It really makes a statement! Just curious.. do you by any chance know where you got it from?”

You tilted your head, wondering why he wanted to know, was he planning on getting one himself? You just shook your head, you couldn’t really tell him it magically poofed onto your finger by the same demon he held negative feelings for. 

He nodded, muttering something like ‘that’s fine’, before pivoting away from you towards the door. 

“Adios!” He called, a hand in the air in farewell as he strolled to the exit. The bell above the door jingled as it closed behind him, and you saw him step near the curb, away from your view. 

Suddenly, a flash of gold illuminated the small window on the door. Crossing the room, you peeked out the large display window. There was no one on the street, even when you cranked your head to both sides of the street. It’s like he just.. vanished. Strange.

You flipped the large sign on the window from ‘Closed’ to ‘Open’ before returning behind the counter. Your fingers still holding the money he gave you, your mind elsewhere as you waited for the day to begin. 

Your thoughts were still on that encounter when the assistant manager walked up to you a few hours later. He was a rather short, plump man with small horns protruding from his head. His skin was a pale blue, his figure resembling that of an ox. Alan was his name. 

You weren’t very fond of him, he always threw flirtatious comments and jokes at you. Always insisting to join you behind the counter, or lean right over your shoulder when you worked. He reminded you too much of that creep from the streets, which made you uncomfortable.

What was up with you always attracting the questionable suitors? Maybe your friend at the cafe was right, you weren’t going to find ‘The One,’ you’d just have to settle for less.

Alan would always try and pry into your personal life, asking if you had a lover, or kids. You’d simply change the conversation as smoothly as possible. If you told him we’re single, he’d no doubt try and court you. Which made you nervous, he didn’t seem like someone who could take a rejection. 

You weren’t able to say, ‘why yes, I have a hubby of my own!’ because you never had proof. Without a ring, and the rest of your co-workers aware of your singlehood, you knew lying to him would have consequences.

Not to mention, he was your boss. He had power, and unless you wanted to end up homeless on the street, you had to keep a friendly facade with him. 

Luckily, he wasn’t around much. Except today your manager had meetings out of town, and he was the substitute. So, for now, you were stuck with him.

“Hey, you still know how to use that sewing machine in the back, right?” He asked you after you had finished assisting a customer near the large display window.

You nodded, curious about his question. In truth, being a tailor sounded much better than working for customer service. You had spent late nights slowly practicing the craft, on that ancient sewing machine in your basement. Maybe, you’d use that money the imp gave you to buy a new one.

“Well, Darlene just called in, which means I got no one as my seamstress. We’ve got a few pieces in need of mending, you think you can handle that?”

“Oh, sure! I can do that, no problem.”

It was then you heard the bell above the front entrance jingle slightly and the creak as the door opened, which caused you to turn sharply to greet the newcomer. Except.. there was no one there.

That was strange. There were other customers milling about, but you were standing in a position that made it impossible to miss anyone exiting the building. 

“Must be having strong winds or something.” Alan remarked, and you turned back to him. As you moved, you noticed the corner next to the doorway was more shaded than usual. As if a large black shadow had taken residence there. Perhaps an overhead light went out? You’d have to check on that later. 

“Anyway, I wanted to ask you something,” Alan started, a flirtatious smile on his lips as he lowered his voice, “I’ve got VIP access to a new club that just opened a few blocks down. I was thinking you and I could get some drinks and have a little fun, whatcha say?” 

You groaned internally. Not this again. How were you going to say no this time? 

“Well, I mean, um- you see the thing is…”

Your eyes went down to the ring on your digit, that little A shimmering in the light. Maybe, you could use this.

“… I’m already taken!” You exclaim, your hand shooting up to give Alan a front row seat at the prize on your person. 

“You are?” He asked incredulously.

“Mhm!” You nod your head vigorously. “As you can see, this is my wedding ring. I eloped not too long ago, hence why it’s not common knowledge.” 

Hopefully, he would buy your lie.

Alan stood there, his eyes flicking from you to the ring. Was he going to try and fight your claim? It seemed like he wanted to. Before you even gave him the chance to, you whipped towards the door being the counter to start mending.

You had only used the machine in the back a handful of times, but you were trying to become more familiar with it. Nodding, you quickly slipped into the back room. The hum of the old sewing machine greeted you like an old friend as you fired it up and began to mend the pieces in need of repair.

The rhythmic clacking of the needle against fabric filled the air as you lost yourself in the task at hand, the radio beside you playing soft old-timey melodies in the background. You continued this calm pace for a few hours, thankful to be away from Alan and the bustling state of the store.

Until a familiar static-laced voice broke through the music. 

“Hello, sir! My, what a hellish morning it is!” 

Your foot instantly moved off the pedal nestled under the table, the vibrations from the machine ceasing as it stilled. You strained your ears, is that who you thought it was?

“Oh, why hello there! How can I assist you today?” You heard the loud, boisterous voice of Alan as he welcomed the newcomer. Quickly, you left your seat, and peaked through the small crack in the doorway. 

Your breath quickened as your eyes landed on the tall, red demon. Alastor. How did he get in here? You didn’t hear the loud bell jingle at his entrance.

He sported his usual red coat, with his staff resting lazily in his grip as he stood before the demon. He had a large smile on his face, but his eyes spoke differently. He looked absolutely bored, disinterested in the man before him and his surroundings.

“I’m simply here to adjust some wear-and-tear on my suit,” he remarked, “as you can see, my sleeve has taken quite the nasty wound.”

He lifted up his arm, displaying a tiny piece of missing fabric from the cuff. It was a clean slice, as if someone had taken a knife and barely nicked it. Nasty wasn’t exactly how you’d describe it, more like itty bitty. 

“If I may..” Alan leaned in slightly, reaching out to inspect the tear. 

Alastor only pulled his arm back, rejecting the gesture with a subtle yet firm movement.

“I prefer to handle my own attire, thank you,” Alastor stated, his voice carrying a hint of disdain as he withdrew his sleeve from Alan’s reach. His smile widened further, as he stared at the demon. 

Your boss recoiled slightly, taken aback by Alastor’s abrupt refusal. “Oh, of course. My apologies,” he stammered, attempting to regain her composure, “but not to worry, sir! We’ve got fabrics that match and a seamstress to do the work. Let me go grab her for you, I'll be right back!”

You saw Alan turn in your direction, and you backed away from the door. Your heart raced as you realized you were going to actually be face to face with Alastor again. How would he react to your presence?

You shot into your seat, spinning around towards the machine. You stepped on the pedal, and the machine hummed to life once more. The door opened, and Alan poked his head in.

“Hey, there’s a customer who needs some assistance. Get out here.”

His head disappeared from view, leaving you alone once more. Exhaling a large breath to ease your nerves, you rose from your seat. Quickly, you walked over to the door and gripped the handle tightly. Another deep breath, and you pulled it open gingerly before taking a step outside. 

Your boss was back beside Alastor, who towered over the man. As you slowly entered the room, Alastor’s eyes moved to you. They lit up with interest, the smile seeming to shrink slightly. The crooked edges on his smile softened too, appearing more genuine as he regarded you.

“Ah, there you are, my dear! I was hoping to find you here.” Alastor called to you. He stepped right past Alan, completely ignoring his presence as he strode up to you. 

As he closed the distance, you became awfully aware of how fast your heart was beating inside your chest. That smell of lemons and licorice hit your nose as he stood before you, and it eased your nerves as you took a quick inhale of breath. 

He turned, allowing Alan to see both of your faces as he slowly reached out to take your hand. His thumb gently grazed against the gold band and it spun slightly. Your breath hitched at his touch.

“It is so nice to be able to visit my dear wife at her place of work,” Alastor started, his gaze shooting to Alan as he spoke, “and, to meet her lovely coworkers! A pleasure indeed.” 

Did he hear you telling Alan about your ring? He couldn’t have, but there seemed to be no other reason for him to bring up the whole marriage farce.

Alastor turned back to you, finger still softly caressing your hand as he turned his attention to his sleeve. 

“It appears I’ve gotten into another miscommunication with an overly confident adversary, similar to what I spoke to you about before. Would you care to assist me, my love?” 

Your eyes momentarily snapped to Alan, who had turned a paler shade as he watched Alastor’s actions. Now, he was finally seeing who your ‘husband’ was. It appeared to be quite a shocker for the demon.

Your gaze flicked back to Alastor, who stood next to you. That grin of his hiding whatever emotions he was feeling as he slowly released your grip, indicating for you to lead him away.

“Thank you for coming to visit, Alastor. I can stitch that up for you, you’ll just need to let me take it for a bit.” You smiled at him, doing your best to play the part with professionality. What, were you supposed to just start calling him pet names like ‘honey’ and ‘babe’?

“I think I'd prefer keeping it on.” Alastor said curtly, adjusting his collar.

He wanted to still be wearing it while you fixed it? That meant you couldn’t use the sewing machine, without risking injury to him. 

“… I suppose you can just follow me, then.” You replied, turning away as you beckoned him towards the back room. 

Alan didn’t follow the two of you, maybe Alastor’s comments threw him off. You hoped they did, you had enough of that guy for one day. 

You opened the dark gray door, pulling it wide so Alastor could follow behind. The back room was a cozy nook from the busy establishment, half of it transformed into a makeshift tailoring nook. A small step stool nestled among tall mirrors allowed a multi-angle look for customers getting a fitting.

Rolls of fabric lined orderly shelves nearby, accompanied by an array of sewing essentials. In the corner, a small table and chair housed the ancient sewing machine. You walked forward, before realizing 

“Oh, i’m sorry, I don’t have another chair. Let me go get one!” You pivoted to go find a spare, but Alastor only lifted his hand in a sweeping motion, brushing off your attempt.

“Not to worry, my dear! I’ve got it under control.”

He reached a hand forward, gripping the air like he was grabbing the top of the backrest of a chair. He tugged at the air, and a plume of green smoke wafted from his fingertips as he pulled a wooden chair from the smoke.

You stared, mesmerized as he dragged it next to your seat. He gingerly lowered himself, and plopped into the chair. That had to be powerful magic, for him to be able to produce such an object easily from thin air. Just like he did with the seasoning.

Quickly, you gathered the necessary essentials to begin fixing his garment. A couple of needles, some dark red thread, and multiple fabrics that you seemed the closest to his suit’s color. 

While you collected the items in a small bin, Alastor sat comfortably behind you. His nails clicking against his cane rhythmically as the music from the radio filled the room. 

He hummed softly along to the melody, obviously familiar with the tune playing. You had heard it before, a classic rendition of ‘Once In A While’ by Lennie Hayton. It was a softer tune, and an orchestral piece that allowed you to drift into a comfortable lull. 

As you carried the bin back to your seat, you nestled in beside him. There was a small distance between the two of you, your knees a few inches from grazing each other.

“May I?” You asked, holding out your hand to take his sleeve. You thought Alastor was going to react negatively to the gesture, like he did with Alan. Instead, he carefully reached out his arm, allowing you to pull his sleeve down to the surface of the table. 

You tried very hard not to touch his skin, as you adjusted the tear on his cuff to face you. Grabbing a few pieces of fabric, you began to hold them next to his sleeve, attempting to find the perfect match.

“So, what happened this time? Surely, not that snake demon from before.” You spoke, trying to spark conversation with your ‘husband’.

“Ha, I’m glad you do remember our last conversation! I was worried you'd forgotten as the days went by.” Alastor started, sinking deeper into his seat. He placed his cane against the table, 

‘Of course, I'd remember,’ you thought, ‘I can’t get you out of my head, no matter how I try.’

“I had found myself in a rather lively discussion with a particularly vexing imp. Tiny thing, but full of mischief and malice. Managed to get itself tangled in my grip during our little altercation.” He chuckled, shaking his head slightly. “I must say, it put up quite the fight for something no larger than a rat. But fear not, I emerged victorious, albeit with a few battle scars.” 

Alastor gestured towards the tear on his sleeve, his eyes sparkling with amusement. You smiled at his words, a small chuckle coming from your throat as you pulled another piece of fabric to his cuff.

Finally, you found the color that matched his attire, and you carefully began cutting a large piece from the roll. 

“I’m going to have to hand sew your tear, is that okay?”

“Of course, my dear! Just try not to poke me, hm?” 

You nodded with a smile, before plucking the small needle from the table. 

With nimble fingers, you carefully align the edges of the fabric, pinching them together to ensure a snug fit. Holding the needle firmly between your thumb and forefinger, you begin to weave the thread in and out with practiced precision, creating neat, tiny stitches along the seam.

“I have been meaning to ask, how did the seasoning I gave you fare?” Alastor spoke, his eyes filled with intrigue as he waited for your response.

“Oh! It was fantastic!” You beamed, your mouth watering slightly as you recalled the wonderful dinner from that night. “They made Crawfish Étouffée, and it was very delicious.” 

“Ah! Yes, that dish was a staple back in New Orleans, when I was alive. Folks would gather all over to get a taste of my mother’s own twist on the delicacy. She was quite the cook, and her skill never faltered.” 

As you listened, you realized his voice softened quite more when he spoke of his mother. That static in his tone seemed to disperse as he mentioned her, and you caught a glimpse of his true voice behind that radio overlay. 

“Well, now that I've gotten a glimpse into such an art. I really am interested in trying your Jambalaya.” You spoke genuinely, your fingers still delicately lacing the thread across his sleeve. 

“I am pleased to hear that,” Alastor hummed, “I’ll have to bring you a sample the next time I'm in the area.”

Silence filled the room, other than the music that wafted from the radio’s speaker. You continued to adjust and stitch together his sleeve, very close to finishing the mending work. 

Even though there were no words spoken between the two of you, the silence was not awkward at all. The two of you simply sat comfortably in each other's presence.

Behind you, the slight crack in the door allowed you to hear the loud voice of Alan, as he spoke to another customer. Alastor’s ears twitched slightly as he heard the demon speaking, his body tensing momentarily.

“Has that wretch been bothering you often?” Alastor spoke after a moment, the static in his voice growing thicker as he spoke of Alan. His claws slightly dug into the table, a faint trail embedded in the wood.

“Well, he doesn't treat me like that succubus did. But, he does not drop the subject of us becoming romantically involved. It gets.. uncomfortable, I guess.”

You sighed as the words slipped from your tongue, a frown forming on your lips as you thought of his many attempts to swoon you. Alastor’s head tilted at your words, that smile cracked even wider as you continued to carefully slip the needle through the fabric. 

“Would you like me to ĐɆVØɄⱤ Ⱨł₴ ₴ØɄⱠ?” 

You jerked your head up at his words, surprise etched on your face as you turned to him. His voice had changed, the last bit of his sentence distorting into pure static, and you almost didn’t catch his words.

The room crackled with energy, causing your hair to practically stand on end. It was chilling, and you shivered subconsciously at the feeling. The room seemed to darken as Alastor stared at you, his pupils shrinking to resemble radio dials.

“Excuse me?” You questioned, your tone never faltering from its original octane. Which surprised you, since this powerful demon was looking at you with such murderous intent.

‘It’s not you he wants to murder.’ the voice in your head whispered. Which made your heart flutter, was Alastor wanting to kill for you? That was.. unconventionally sweet. 

Is that what he did to the succubus the other night when you weren’t looking? 

“If the little oaf can’t keep his words to himself, then there is no place for him to continue to sour your mood.” Alastor explained, his eyes taking their original form slowly as he spoke, and the distortion in his tone subsided.

The shadow festering around you slowly shrank away from your seat, illuminating the room once more. That cold feeling that gripped at your shoulders vanished. 

It wasn’t necessarily a bad feeling that left you, even if it smelled of darkness and destruction. It felt almost.. comforting to you. Like the shadow was pulling you into a protective hug, the chill cooling your heated skin into a soothing embrace. 

You only shook your head, “He doesn’t need to die for something like that. And, he’s my boss. Without him, the store wouldn’t run as well.”

Alastor only huffed, leaning back into his seat. His claws left the table, and were instead enclosed into a fist, as he rested his chin atop of it. 

“At least the poor bloke ceased in his courting when he realized another had already taken that place.” He shrugged, his eyes glancing down to the gold ring on your hand.

You halted, the needle hanging in the air mid-stitch. How did he know about you and Alan’s conversation? More importantly, what were his feelings about you still wearing the piece of jewelry? 

“Oh, right. Yes, I’m sorry for still wearing it, I know it was just for that moment and it was stupid for me to think I could keep it-”

“Nonsense! Do not fret, my dear.” Alastor interjected, brushing off your worry. “Think of it as a small gift to rectify the situation you were forced into that night.” 

A gift? He wanted you to keep the ring? 

“You could even go as far as to perceive it as a good luck charm, ha-ha. Trouble seems to never escape you, and if this ring can even give you an ounce of protection, why not keep it on to ensure nothing like that night happens again?”

You smiled at him, your eyebrows raised as you listened to his words. A tiny ring, protecting you? You doubted it.

“Well, thank you, Alastor. It is really nice to know someone cares in that way.” 

Alastor hummed softly in response, his toothy grin softening into a lipped smile as he turned his attention back to the music playing softly. 

The thread tightened snuggly between the two fabrics as you finished the final stitch, your other hand reaching to the small scissors next to you. Carefully, you snipped the thread as close to the sleeve as possible, and you leaned back to take a look at your work.

It looked perfect, like the garment had never taken a hit in the first place. Alastor pulled his arm back slightly, turning it over to inspect it thoughtfully.

“I must say, you have such talent with a needle and thread! When you told me you worked as a door girl, I never expected knowledge of tailoring to be in your resume as well!” 

Your cheeks heated as his compliment, and you began to slowly stand from the seat. For a moment, you wished there was something else wrong with his coat that you could fit. If only to keep him here a little longer.

What a selfish thought. You silently reprimanded yourself for such thinking, Alastor had no doubt better things to do than sit here and chit chat with a powerless nobody like you.

Alastor also left his chair, and he adjusted his collar. He gripped his cane, straightening his posture as he turned to you. 

“It seems every time we’re together, our conversations are never dull. Thank you for assisting me, I’d love to continue our talks but it appears I have other business to attend to.” 

“Back at the hotel?” You asked, as you walked with him to the doorway.

Alastor stopped in his tracks, his eyes widened slightly at your words. He tilted his head at you. “Forgive me, my dear, but I do not remember telling you such a thing. Where did you hear that from?”

Fuck. He never had told you about his place of work, and you writhed slightly under his stare as you tried to come up with an explanation.

“Oh, it’s just an imp had come in this morning, buying a tuxedo for his daughter. He said she ran the Hazbin Hotel. He also said you worked at the hotel too.”

‘And he doesn’t seem to like you.’ you added silently.

Alastor’s grip around his cane tightened, and his smile widened as he thought for a moment. A small chuckle escaped his lips, it sounded dark.

“Are you sure it was an imp, my dear?” He asked slowly.

You nodded, recalling the conversation. “Yes, short with white hair and red skin. Sunglasses too, weirdly. He was quite nice, actually. He gave me some money for helping him, nobody has ever done that for me.” 

“Ha! What a kind soul he must be. Did he say anything else to you, by chance?”

You shook your head, “no, not really.”

“A surprise, really. That imp has a knack for using his charm to bend others to his whim. I'm sure that gesture of his was nothing more than to sweep you off your feet for his antics. I’d keep your distance from demons like him, if I were you.”

Was Alastor.. jealous? He couldn't be. But, it seemed like the feelings between the two were mutual with the way he spoke with disdain. 

The imp seemed like he had someone he cared deeply for, anyway. You were sure his gesture wasn’t anything more than kindness. Although, you didn’t think Alastor would believe you if you told him.

“But, as you previously mentioned, yes,” Alastor changed the conversation, for his sake it seemed, “I do reside at the hotel in exchange for my services. Redeeming sinners is no easy feat, it needs special hands to mold such a dream into reality.”

“Well, I'm sure you’re doing a great job.” You spoke, doing your best to voice your support for him.

Alastor smiled at you, before nodding in agreement. He pulled the door open, and stepped through the doorway. You followed him, stopping at the threshold as he turned back to you. 

He lowered himself slightly, a small curtsy in your direction. As he lifted himself, he leaned closer to you.

“Until we meet again, my wife.” He spoke loudly, most likely for the others in the vicinity to hear. His voice was like honey to your ears as that faint hiss of static dispersed from his tone when his lips settled on wife.

You really did like his voice, and hopefully, you’d hear what it really sounded like more often. His eyes settled on you for a moment longer, as if he wanted to say more. He didn’t, instead turning towards the register across the room.

Leaning against the doorway, you watched Alastor stroll to the cash register. Alan stood behind the counter, and he seemed to shrink slightly under the taller demon’s gaze.

The sharp edges of Alastor’s smile returned as he watched the demon quickly ready the digital display for check-out. His pupils dilating slightly, eyes narrowed as he waited.

You had watched him leave the store, watched him stroll down the street without a glance at anyone else. That mild boredom taking over his features, like it had when he had first arrived.

For the rest of your shift, as you sewed buttons back into place or trimmed stray threads that stuck out of garments, your thoughts continued to stray to events earlier in the day. To that imp, to the ring on your finger, to Alastor and those fluffy little ears on his head.

You were still deep in thought when you clocked out, your feet carrying you out the door as your path led you to the bus stop a few blocks down.

It was a small blue sign, with the symbol of a bus engraved into it. There was no one around, the empty streets quiet as you plopped onto the bench to wait.

Your hands reached into your bag, pulling out your phone from its pocket. You scrolled through your notifications, before clicking on a message from one of your friends.

You were so deep into the screen in front of you, that you didn’t hear the quiet footsteps approach the bench. You didn’t see the knife pointed directly at your face, or the masked man who’s gaze traveled down your form. 

“Hey, you!” A voice coated with malice addressed you.

Your head shot up, and you reeled back at the large knife right in front of your nose. Your heartbeat quickened as you scrambled off the bench, the man only keeping pace with you as you backed away.

“You seem like a nice young lady, and I’d hate to ruin that pretty face of yours. Just give me everything you’ve got, and we can go our separate ways.” 

“I don’t really have anything for you to take!” You said breathlessly, your hands shaking as you pulled miniscule items from your bag. He only ripped the entire thing from your grip, throwing it behind him. 

“What about money? Hand everything over, sweet cheeks.”

You grimaced, before pulling the stack of bills the imp had given you from your person. He ripped them from your grip, before stuffing the money down his pocket.

“That’s all I have, I promise! Please let me go.” You begged, your back hitting the wall of an abandoned building behind you.

You prayed for someone to come to your rescue. Alastor graced your mind, that he’d swoop in to save you once more to save you. He was right, trouble never seemed to leave you.

This time, you’d let him tear this guy apart.

“What about jewelry, huh? I see that ring on your finger, it must cost quite a pretty penny.” The thug sleazed.

Instinctively, you brought your hand to your chest, trying to shield the band from his stare. The demon only closed the distance between the two of you, his mask grazing against your chin as he abruptly yanked you forward.

“Don't fight me, you bitch! Just give it to me, don’t make this difficult.”

His rough hand encircled around your wrist. It was harsh against your skin, and you winced in pain.

“Let go of me! I’ve already given you enough, just leave me alone!” You screamed, hoping someone would come to your aid.

He raked his hand down your finger, the ring slowly moving down your digit as he tried to dislodge it.

It was a snug fit against your skin, and it took him a few moments for him to begin pulling it off your finger. Tears pricked at your eyes as adrenaline pumped through your veins, but you dared not to move with the knife slightly pressing into your side.

Another tug, and the ring grazed over your nail as it was pulled harshly. It wasn’t able to make it past before something strange happened. 

The ring ignited in a green flame, and the thug’s hand shot away as he yelled in pain. It licked at the tip of your finger, but you felt no heat from its touch. 

You barely had time to blink, or scream before the ring exploded. It burst into a large cloud of green smoke that engulfed your figure. Shielding you from your surroundings. Energy crackled in the air, paired with a chill that made your breath visible as you gasped.

It felt like someone had reached out and gripped at the collar of your top, and you felt a much gentler tug and you were pulled backwards.

The smoke seemed to vanish, and you were drenched into darkness. You felt your feet lift off the ground, as if you were floating.

The problem, you had no idea where you were. Your heart felt like it was going to burst as you squeezed your eyes shut. It felt like hours went by, but in truth, it was only a matter of a few seconds that darkness surrounded you.

Just as quickly as it started, it ended, and your closed eyelids were hit with a ray of light. There were voices surrounding you as your feet touched on solid ground, the floor softer this time, like carpet.

The chatter stopped abruptly as you settled in place, and for a moment you felt like curling into a ball and hiding from whatever scene you had been thrusted into.

“Ah, there you are!” A familiar voice exclaimed next to you, static dripping from their words. “I was wondering how long it would be until you showed up!” 

Wait a second, was that Alastor speaking? Was he responsible for whatever the hell just happened?

Your eyes slowly opened, revealing a large room covered in dark red wallpaper that cracked with age. Gold framed the edges, and lights mounted on the walls illuminated a few paintings that filled the empty space.

It looked like a lobby. Couches nestled in a corner around a small box tv. Next to that was a small bar, bottles of liquor stacked on shelves behind the counter. 

Your eyes trailed away, before they landed on a small group of demons in front of you. Your breath quickened in fear, as you quickly scanned over their figures. 

There was a woman in a red tuxedo, her mouth slightly parted in surprise. Long platinum-blonde hair tied into a neat ponytail as it traveled down her back. Beside her, a tall snake held a hand to his chest as he leaned back slightly, as if he was more afraid of you than you were of him. 

There were a few others too, but your mind was racing so fast you weren’t able to get a settle on their frames before you eyes were bouncing around for an exit.

It wasn’t until you felt someone’s arm snake around your elbow did you whip your head to the side, Alastor’s large smile greeting you as he laced his arm with yours in comfort, no doubt noticing the way your knees were about to buckle. 

“Welcome to the Hazbin Hotel, my dear!” He exclaimed, as if your arrival was expected and totally-not-strange whatsoever. His eyes were soft, doing his best to calm you with his familiar presence. You opened your mouth to speak, even though you weren’t sure exactly what to say.

“Who the fuck is that?” The fuzzy, pink spider demon piped up from the shocked onlookers. A pair of hands on his hips as he regarded you with confusion. 

Your lips upturned into a faint smile, and you lifted your hand for a half-hearted wave.

“Um, hi..?” 

I hope you enjoyed part 2! Sorry for that cliff hanger 😭 i hate doing that but had to end it somewhere haha

and.. hold up yall…

for real?! i did not expect this my first month on this app, nor at all really 😍 what started as “just this one luci one-shot..” became so much more!

Thank you all for the support and love you’ve given me, lowkey itching to buy a computer just for writing (yes, all my fics have been written with sore thumbs haha)

HUGE thanks to @spoiled-slutt for being my beta reader and helping me brainstorm ideas for this part! They’ve been an amazing help, and you should definitely check out their works if they interest you! <3

have a great day, my swans! 🦢

—

taglist:

@the-tortured-poet @anonymousewrites @coleisyn @froggybich @chewbrry @watchinthestarz @mechanicalmari @luxmessorem @plapperlapapp @wonderlife974 @kottenox @cherry-cola-100 @the-shark-named-sharon @rae-pottah @just-trash-yeah-thats-it @corpsebridenightamare @pweewee @nijiru @ourfinalisation @anuttellaa @nonetheartist @bunnypeew @cryptidghostgirl @hxzbinwrites

[with-my-calamitous-love]

YOU’RE IN THE KITCHEN HUMMING

osamu dazai x reader

you show dazai the beauty in domestic life

inspired by sweet nothing

when dazai pictured his future, he pictured it short.

a mastermind of people, he knew that that the universe would eventually catch up to him. to his crimes, his wrongdoings, and all of his faults. truth be told, he pictured himself in some sort of prison, bleeding out on a stake of revenge, or simply just gone. he never exactly rejected death in the first place. he accepted it with open arms.

so to think he’d find himself, washing dishes from leftover marinated crab meat and glasses stained with sake while you do the laundry is more of a surprise than anything else. every now and then he looks over his shoulder, watching how you handle the delicate fabric of his brown vest with such care. you always use unscented soap. though you certainly have the money to buy lavender, or bergamot, the two of you enjoyed the simplicity of regular soap. because then, it has the scent of home.

but what exactly does home smell like? for so many years, he couldn’t answer that question. how do you match a scent to something that doesn’t exist? maybe he’d say it smelt like the port mafia hallways, or the smell of old bandages. maybe dazai felt that home smelled like it wasn’t there to stay.

now, home smells like you. it smells like the face mask you make him use because he takes shit care of himself. it smells like your bare shoulder in the morning, the patch of skin he always insists he kisses you awake on. it smells like your laughter, your smile, your beautiful eyes. you were home.

“samu?” you quip, pulling your boyfriend out of his trances. he blinks, his lazily draped arms subconsciously tightening around you.

“yes bella?” he asks, his voice lazy and his brown eyes tired from the day. if he could melt and simply become apart of you, he would. you’re the only part of himself he actually seems to love, anyway.

“were you listening?” you chuckle, knowing that he’s a thinker. he loves you for understanding that, for knowing the signs when he’s lost in his own brain. his nail biting, his wandering eyes, his occasional hums. you know it all, maybe better than dazai knows it about himself. you’d give anything to see what he’s thinking, the beautiful equations in his brain.

his lips curve into a smile, refocusing on you as you laid in his lap all tuckered out. “i’m sorry.”

you sigh, half disappointed but half too-love-struck-to-care. he pulls you flush against his chest, letting you listen to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. oh, how beautiful it sounds.

“i was saying we should go down to that new bakery.” you hum, not minding to recount your experiences for him. “atsushi told me kyouka really likes the crepes there.”

you know he’s listening this time, evident by the way his slender fingers travel through your hair. he loves the silky feel of it, how it may be the softest thing he’s ever felt after years of strangling throats and pulling triggers.

he melts onto that couch with you. the only other sound that can be heard is the occasional drip and drop from the sink. he makes a mental note to check on it in the morning, making sure its not leaking too much.

in his experience, everyone was up to something. no person was just kind for the sake of being kind. and for all his life, people wanted things from dazai. he was used and shaped into a demon when all he’s ever wanted was just to disappear. he insists he’s fine, and that this is just the person he is. he assures everyone that the voices he hears, in and external, don’t bother him at all.

but to you he can admit, that sometimes, he’s just too soft for all of it.

you built a home from the ground up with him. you sheltered and fed a man who never knew what it was like to be loved without condition. all you ever wanted from dazai was nothing. sweet, sweet nothings. and he knew he’d give you everything he is and more in return for that love, for those sweet nothings.

[svsss-fanon-exposed]

Exposing SVSSS Fanon: 24/∞

APHRODISIAC-PRODUCING PLANTS ARE AN EVER-PRESENT DANGER IN THE WORLD OF PIDW

Rating: FANON - UNSUPPORTED

One of the most common tropes that I have ever seen all across SVSSS fanfiction is the use of aphrodisiac-releasing plants or "fuck-or-die" plants, as a plot device in order to get two characters together. Surprisingly enough, however, there is not a single mention of such plants existing in PIDW.

I debated on whether to rate this as neutral or unsupported, since typically I will choose neutral when there isn't any kind of evidence for or against something-- however, in this case, I chose unsupported due to the sheer amount of times that SQQ's narration references the sex scenes and plot devices in PIDW, and the fact that not once was any specifically sex-related plant mentioned among them.

We do know that there are all sorts of rare plants used as plot devices in PIDW:

"Do you still remember creating a plant that only appears every thousand years?” Shang Qinghua was speechless. “Your description is way too broad. Bing-ge’s eaten at least eighty, if not a hundred plants like that.” (7 Seas, Ch. 5)

and

...the number of mythical flowers in Proud Immortal Demon Way numbered at least in the hundreds, and every single one was at least a thousand years old, and when you added on all the mythical grasses and mythical trees, who the hell could remember all those names?! (7 Seas, Ch. 3)

Naturally, we also do not know all of these plants, so it cannot be said with certainty what sort of plants are included or excluded from the set. However, the effects of the plants we do know of are as follows:

Thousand-Leaves Snow Petal Lotus

"This flower has grown within the depths of Jue Di Gorge for thousands of years. Its spiritual qi is extraordinary, and furthermore, it is the natural bane of creatures from the Demon Realm. It emits an innate barrier that repels demonic beasts." (7 Seas, Ch. 4)

Additionally, when Luo Binghe absorbed the flower, it increased his abilities, likely due to the spiritual qi contained within it:

Incidentally, he even absorbed the nutrients of the mythical flower the girl had just eaten, and so his martial ability once again made great progress (7 Seas, Ch. 3)

Sun-Moon Dew Mushroom

The Sun-Moon Dew Mushroom was also called the “flesh mushroom,” and this name was entirely literal. Though this mushroom wasn’t especially useful for cultivating, it still grew by collecting spiritual energy from nature along with essence from the sun and moon. If you planted its sprout in soil rich with spiritual energy, nurtured it, meticulously sculpted it, and watered it with blood and qi, once it matured, you could cultivate a living body of flesh. The body could grow just fine, but it was impossible to also create a soul via this method. That was to say, you could only grow a soulless, empty shell. (7 Seas, Ch. 9)

This is by far the most well-known of the mystical plants of SVSSS, considering the fact that it directly contributes to a major plotline. It is also notable that this plant was not used by Luo Binghe in PIDW:

In [SQQ's] defense, this mushroom wasn’t reserved for Luo Binghe. Rather, it was supposed to be for one of his opponents... ...If it were a thing that affected the main plotline, or if it were some mystical flower or herb meant to provide one of Luo Binghe’s power-ups, he wouldn’t have had the guts to try and steal it. (7 Seas, Ch. 5)

Also notable here is the mention of mystical flowers and herbs providing Luo Binghe's power-ups-- this is seemingly the primary purpose of mystical plants in PIDW.

The Ties That Bind

This is the final mystical plant mentioned in SVSSS-- and also the only one with a negative effect:

This plant sowed its seeds in the bodies of living beings, and they were especially attracted to people who gave off energy. Recklessly deploying one’s spiritual or demonic energy attracted these seeds to oneself. That was why Shen Qingqiu had stuck to physical combat as much as possible and avoided using his spiritual energy. When Ties That Bind seeds entered one’s flesh, they didn’t hurt, only faintly itched. But once they sprouted from the flesh that was their soil and burst forth through the skin, every inch of rent flesh from which they grew erupted in violent agony. Furthermore, the more you used your spiritual energy, the faster they grew. If you went as far as to use a spiritual blast, they would sprout like mad, budding in an instant. (7 Seas, Ch. 16)

Now, obviously, since there are only three of these plants mentioned within SVSSS, it is far from the eighty to a hundred mystical flowers, plus the additional trees and grasses, which we know nothing about at all. It wouldn't at all be unlikely for one of these many plants to have an aphrodisiac effect, or to produce a fuck-or-die poison-- but I personally feel that it would be likely for Shen Qingqiu to mention this directly in his narration had it been as common trope in PIDW as many fanworks imply.

Of course, it isn't unreasonable for fandom to come to the conclusion that such plants were present in the PIDW world-- after all, sex pollen is a fairly common trope, and PIDW contained a great variety of sex scenes. However, here it is important to note that Proud Immortal Demon Way WAS NOT purely an erotica, porn, or hentai novel. Fundamentally, it is a power fantasy-- and papapa scenes are just one part of that power fantasy.

In the original text, it is described as "YY", which is a slang term that literally translates to something like "mind masturbation"-- but that doesn't mean purely sexual content, instead it refers to a wish-fulfillment, escapist setting, a non-academic fantasy world, where the primary focus is on the main character becoming more and more powerful, overcoming more obstacles-- in Luo Binghe's case, this includes defeating all of his past enemies and marrying all of the beautiful women he came across. The sex scenes were just one part of the power fantasy-- erotica for erotica's sake was not the goal.

That isn't to say that PIDW didn't feature an abundance of sex scenes-- after all, that was one of if not the most-desired plotlines, and Airplane was made to cut backstory content in favor of them:

"And back then, everyone in the comments section was saying they wanted to see the other plotline, right? The one where Bing-ge bravely conquered a hundred flowers, you understand. A whole hundred holy flower spirits who had from their birth never laid eyes on a man, and all of them virgins. Cucumber-bro, how I suffered while writing the chapter of the hundred flower buds’ first mass-blooming! And still you roast me…” (7 Seas, Ch. 14)

Still, the power-fantasy of PIDW encompassed many different factors-- the battles and revenge against the villains and the ever-increasing power level as stronger and stronger enemies were defeated were just as important as the sex scenes and harem plotlines to the overall effect of the story.

My hypothesis for the origin of the theory that "the world of PIDW is full of fuck-or-die plants" is that it comes from the common sex-pollen trope in erotica and fanfiction, PIDW's reputation as containing quite a lot of erotic material, as well as a few select passages of SVSSS which link plants and flowers with sex-- one of which is the passage above, regarding the hundred flower spirits. I think that the more significant root for this theory, though, is the curing of Without a Cure through sex.

In SVSSS fanfiction, I have found it most common that the sex-inducing plants are specifically of the fuck-or-die variety (therefore, able to be categorized as poison) rather than the pure aphrodisiac variety. This lines up quite well with Qin Wanyue's affliction by Without a Cure in PIDW-- and its subsequent cure:

Then, in the end, how was the poison cured? After the down and dirty scene, the girl’s poison was naturally cured! Was it ridiculous? Cliché? Implausible? …But it was satisfying, right? Ridiculously satisfying, so ridiculously satisfying, ha ha ha ha… Look, Luo Binghe was of both human and demon blood, right? And the demon half of his bloodline came from their number one Saintly Ruler—from the heavenly demons of old! A wee little demonic poison wasn’t even strong enough to get stuck between Luo Binghe’s teeth, and he instantly absorbed and digested it during their you know. (7 Seas, Ch. 3)

However, the poison itself had little to do with either flowers or sex-- it was simply an incurable poison, which just so happened to be cured by dual-cultivation with a half-Heavenly Demon. There's a debate to be had as to whether the sex itself was the cure, or if it was Luo Binghe's bodily fluids in any form (curable by his blood as well), but that is all a topic for another post. Regardless, though this created a fuck-or-die scenario, it had nothing to do with fuck-or-die plants. Even in this scenario, the sex was only coincidentally a cure, with the characters not aware of it until afterwards:

The girl thought, “Since I’m about to die, I must leave behind some memories to ensure that my life won’t have been in vain. I don’t have many days left, after all, so I won’t suppress my feelings anymore.” Then, using her weak and fragile body, she pushed Luo Binghe down. (7 Seas, Ch. 3)

Now, we do know that aphrodisiacs do exist in the world of PIDW, but only one aphrodisiac is actually mentioned, which is produced by succubi:

Even if he was Great Master Liu, being poisoned by the succubi’s natural, innate Mesmerizing Fragrance—or in other words, their aphrodisiac, was profoundly…not good! (7 Seas, Ch. 23)

It's perfectly likely for other aphrodisiacs to exist in the world of PIDW, and for plants with aphrodisiac effects to exist, and it wouldn't be a stretch to say that such plants may have been used in some of the many, many harem plotlines. However, the aphrodisiac here is an ability belonging to a certain type of demon rather than a plant, and this is the only time where it is mentioned that some external cause is meant to induce lust in someone (Xin Mo is a matter for a future post as well). Rather, it seems that harem members are mainly drawn in by Luo Binghe's power, talent, looks, and generally magnetic appeal, rather than being forcibly drawn in through aphrodisiac plants or specifically fuck-or-die poisons.

Everything in PIDW was about bringing satisfaction to the (male) readers-- so, to determine whether fuck-or-die plants would have been a common plot device, we would need to ask would this plot device provide such satisfaction? It could-- but that would also depend on how it is portrayed. In fanfiction, both parties are often rendered helpless by whichever plot-device plant is being used as a means to get the characters together. In PIDW, though, I feel like it might play out a little more differently-- likely, there would be more plotlines in which Bing-ge himself was not affected, but instead generously helped out whichever maiden was currently afflicted and suffering, through which the romantic relationship was established.

Of course, it would still depend a lot on the specific plotline being followed, so this is more of just a suggestion to consider how the mechanics of such a plant would work to provide satisfaction to PIDW's target demographic, and whether to follow or subvert those expectations and tropes. Alternatively, because of the genre shift that occured during SVSSS, it wouldn't be out of place to include tropes more common to danmei, or to fanfiction, in that universe-- where it may be more common to have scenarios where both parties (especially the POV character) are incapacitated and affected. Every writer, of course, has the freedom to explore whichever tropes and plotlines they wish to-- but it could be interesting to look into genre tropes and see how they may or may not apply.

Typically, these arguments would lead to a neutral rating, rather than unsupported, since there is no direct evidence against the existence of such plants-- however, this post is not primarily meant to address the existence, but rather the prevelence. The existence of aphrodisiac or fuck-or-die plants in the world of PIDW would be neutral or even somewhat likely, but the topic being analyzed is the common fanfiction trope that within the world of PIDW, fuck-or-die plants appear frequently and are a well-known, common threat that the cultivation world's inhabitants must be prepared to face at any time.

I think that if that were the case in PIDW, there would have at least been one single mention in Shen Qingqiu's narration of a fuck-or-die or even an aphrodisiac plant-- perhaps as something that he himself would need to prepare for and worry about after transmigrating. However, there is no such mention-- therefore, while they may exist, it is not likely that sex-inducing plants are an overly common sight in the world of PIDW. The mystical plants seen in SVSSS are either poisons, power-ups, or utilities, and it is implied that most of the many other plants in PIDW would also fall into that category.

[cayleeuhithinknot]

❛ 𝑺𝑴𝑶𝑲𝑬𝑫 𝑭𝑼𝑪𝑲𝑬𝑫 𝑨𝑾𝑨𝒀 𝑴𝒀 𝑩𝑹𝑨𝑰𝑵 ❜

𝒊𝒏 𝒘𝒉𝒊𝒄𝒉. . .you hit up your dealer to get your mind off of your shitty day. but, he has another idea to make you forget.

cw: SMUT, dealer!chris, mentions of smoking, praising, use of pet names and y/n, oral (fem receiving), unprotected sex, p in v, not proofread. . .(im sorry)

requested here by anon: 🤍!

-ˏ͛⑅　‧̥̥͙‧̥̥ ̥ ̮ ̥ ⊹ ‧̫‧ ⊹ ̥ ̮ ̥ ‧̥̥‧̥̥͙　⑅ˏ͛--ˏ͛⑅　‧̥̥͙‧̥̥ ̥ ̮ ̥ ⊹ ‧̫‧ ⊹ ̥ ̮ ̥ ‧̥̥‧̥̥͙　⑅ˏ͛-

your day today was absolutely unfathomable. it all started this morning. your curly hair was just not cooperating with you. random pieces curled in a different way than others, and some had straightened themselves out over night. on top of that, it was incredibly frizzy no matter what you did. so, you just pulled it back and got into your car for work.

you worked in a family owned bakery down town, which was usually pretty relaxed. but today? no. on your way to work, of course, you made a right turn and heard an odd hissing noise outside of your car.

you pull over in a random church parking lot and hop out of your car, walking over to the right side. surprise surprise, you had a flat tire. “are you fucking kidding me..?” you mumble to yourself, walking back over to the driver’s side to grab your phone. but, of course, you had to stub your toe on the tire.

calling the mechanic and asking for just a quick pump of air was a disaster as well. your dad is good friends with the local mechanic, who usually gives you no problems and even gives discounts. but, it seemed today he was just having a bad day. you sat in the smoldering heat of your car, which wasn’t even on or blowing air conditioning, because you’d ran out of gas and you didn’t want to drain the car battery.

the mechanic finally arrived, luckily having a can of gas in his truck. he got to work, filling your tire back up and feeding the gasoline to your car. but then, he told you what the fee would be. you felt like curling up right there on that dirty pavement, but obviously you didn’t. you just agreed to pay it before the deadline and got back into your car with a sigh.

work was fine. for the most part. your shift was from 7am to 5pm, a couple breaks in between. but, you usually stay until around 9 after you clock out just to help out your dad. at around 1:30, 10 minutes after you got back to work after your lunch break, a lady with 2 kids walks in. the woman seemed to be about 40 and both of her kids were definitely below 10.

“hi, i need two bear claws and a danish.” the lady demands. obviously, you’re taken aback by her tone. this lady didn’t even specify what kind of pastry she wanted. “uhm, okay! what kind of bear claw and danish?” you ask kindly, your customer service voice making an evident appearance. “i just want two bear claws and a danish. your job really isn’t that hard,” she pauses to narrow her eyes at your nametag, slightly adjusting her glasses. “y/n.”

you close your eyes, taking a deep breath and then opening your eyes just to see the lady’s face again. great. this wasn’t a nightmare. “ma’am, do you understand what i’m asking?” you ask, trying to keep your voice calm and steady. the woman sneers at you. “don’t call me ma’am, it makes me feel old! and i just want two bear claws and a danish, damnit!”

your eyes widen at her demeanor change. you glance over at her children, who are arguing loudly—annoyingly. you finally realize you’re gonna have to spell it out for her. “miss, we have apple cinnamon bear claws as well as almond butter bear claws. as for the danishes, we have cream cheese and strawberry cream cheese flavors. which would you like?” you ask, giving her a tight-lipped smile.

“obviously, i want the apple cinnamon and cream cheese! god, you young people are so clueless.” she shrieks. you flinch slightly at the annoyingly loud sound of her annoying voice. you nod slowly, grabbing a brown paper bag from the counter behind you. you stuff the contents of her order with tongs into the bag carelessly. gripping the bag, you ask yet another question, ready for this lady to take her ass on out the door. “$7.89, cash or card?”

“card, obviously. do i look like the type of person to be paying with cash?” the lady rolls her eyes, whipping her card out of her red wallet, waving it in her face. you rip the card from her hands, swiping it. it approves, and you place the card on the counter, pushing the paper bag across the counter to her. “have a nice day.” you mumble, and the woman just glares at you as she exits the store.

to top off your day, when you got home, you accidentally knocked one of your favorite perfume bottles off of the counter, smashing it and causing it’s contents to ooze across the tile floor. you curse yourself, cleaning up the glass and the scented liquid. you open your nightstand drawer, fully ready to go on your back porch to smoke. only to realize, you were out of literally everything.

now, you were gonna have to call your plug and ask for more. he’s gonna think you’re crazy asking for shit at only 10pm. you plop yourself down onto your bed, pulling your phone out of your pocket. opening the contacts app, you take a deep breath, trying to ground yourself. the phone rings a couple of times before he finally picks up.

“hello?” chris speaks. it was clear he wasn’t fully..sober at the moment. “uhm, hey,” you greet. things were casual between you two. or, they were supposed to be. there was obvious tension, but neither of you ever addressed it of course. “oh, hey angel. what’s up?” chris asks, and you can practically hear his lousy grin. angel. he’s always called you that. which was weird, because you were definitely no angel.

“can you bring some shit over? you don’t have to stay, i’ve just had such a long—“

“of course, angel. be there in 15.” was all you heard from the other line before the call ended. well, at least you were getting what you wanted.

30 minutes later, there’s a knock on your front door. fifteen minutes my ass, you thought. you scramble over to the door, ripping it open. you’re met with chris’ face. his red eyes, his tired expression. yeah, he was definitely high. you gesture to the open room behind you and he steps inside. chris nods, dropping the bag into your hands. it feels…oddly light.

“chris, how much did you bring? this is so light,” you question skeptically. chris just stuffs his hands in his pockets. you open the bag. it’s completely empty. “really? what was the point of even coming if you’re not gonna bring anything?”

“y’know, there’s like..other ways..” he mumbles. you cock an eyebrow at his words. “what?”

“like..other ways to get the same effect being high gives you. other ways to make you forget for a little.” he explains, shrugging like it was obvious. you didn’t like how cryptic he was being.

“what are you talking about?”

“sex.”

your eyes widen at the change in his demeanor. “what..?” you mutter. chris scratches the back of his neck. “sorry..i shouldn’t have said that. i—i know you don’t want to do that, im sorry, fuck-“

“chris,” you chuckle slightly. in all honesty, you were glad he’d finally said something. the tension had been gnawing at you for..well, a while now. “it’s okay. you’re completely wrong.”

chris tilts his head to the side like a confused puppy. “wrong? wrong about what?”

“about me not wanting to do that,” you mumble. chris’ eyes widen. “w—wait, really?”

“yes, chris.”

“h-holy shit, angel..” chris stammers, his pants already seeming to grow tighter. “well then..you tryin’ to relieve some stress?” he asks, his usual cocky grin starting to paint over his face. “absolutely.”

at your words, chris immediately grabs your arm and pulls you toward your bedroom. of course he’d memorized where your bedroom is even after only being to your house a couple of times. words couldn’t describe how much he’d wanted this. yeah, you liked him—a lot, but he craved it more than you ever knew he could.

reaching your bedroom, chris pushed the door shut and pushed you down onto the bed. he wasted no time crawling on top of you, pinning you down. “you’re bold today, aren’t y—“ you start, but you’re cut off by chris smashing his lips into yours. this wasn’t like any kiss you’d ever had. it was full of fire, passion, desire.

you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him impossibly closer to you. chris slipped his tongue into your mouth, running it along the roof of your mouth. you weren’t exactly sure how long the makeout had lasted; you were so caught up in the moment.

chris captured your bottom lip between his teeth as he pulled away, slightly grinning. he dips his head down to your collarbone, placing open, wet kisses along them. he slides off your baggy crop top, admiring the sight of your chest, as you weren’t wearing a bra. “so pretty, baby.”

chris massages your tits, leaning forward to take one of your nipples into his mouth. he sucks on it, rolling the other one between his fingers, making you shiver and squirm. his actions cause a moan to slip from your lips, arching into his touch. chris chuckles, pushing your stomach back down onto the bed.

he trails sloppy kisses down your chest and stomach, eventually reaching your clothed pussy. he kisses over it softly. “can i take these off?”

you nod frantically, eliciting a chuckle to escape from his throat. he pulls off your shorts and panties at the same time, dropping them on the floor beside your bed. he stared at your glistening folds in absolute awe. he leans closer, the heat radiating off of you and onto his face. “you’re sure you want this?”

“yes, chris. please.”

“as you wish, angel.” chris mumbles with a grin, breaking the eye contact to run his tongue up your slit. you immediately arch into him, but he pushes you back down again, making you groan. his tongue circles over your clit, applying an unimaginably pleasurable pressure. he hooks his arms around thighs, spreading them further.

he brings his tongue down to tease your entrance before plunging it in as far as he can. you let out a whiny moan, something you’d never done. it was becoming clear to the both of you that chris could make you feel things nobody else could. his grip on your thighs tightened as he licked and sucked. it was as if he was on death row and this was his final meal.

“chris, i..” you’re barely able to vocalize that you’re extremely close already, the knot in your stomach tightening by the second. “hm? what is it, angel?” chris mumbles against your pussy, his breath sending shockwaves through your body.

“..’m close, chris” you whimper as he pushes his tongue back into you, releasing a hand from your thigh to let his thumb rub circles on your clit. you let out an almost pornographic moan at the motion. the string is about to snap, fraying at the edges. you were so close, but you wanted to savior the moment, so you were pushing it away.

“stop fighting it, angel. let go f’me.”

he didn’t have to tell you twice. at his words, you finally allow yourself to stop holding on, absolutely letting yourself go. you slap a hand over your mouth to muffle your shakily loud moans. chris grabs your wrist, pulling your hand away from your mouth. you finally come down from your high, shaking. “we’re not done, angel.” chris chuckles.

chris pulls off his jean shorts, along with his boxers. your eyes widen at the sight of his cock. you’d never seen anything like it. you weren’t sure you’d be able to take half of it. “i—chris, i can’t.”

“yes you can, angel. i’m right here to help you.” chris assures softly. he pumps himself a couple times. “see how hard you got me?”

he hovers over you and you grip his biceps. he lines himself up with your leaking pussy. “you ready?” he asks, more of a groan of impatience. you nod, squeezing your eyes shut. “angel, it’s fine.” chris chuckles.

he slowly pushes his tip into you, hissing at how tight you are. “chris, i can’t!” you whine. “that’s just the tip, angel. you can squeeze me as much as you need. if you really really need me to stop, just tell me.”

you nod slowly, sighing in nervousness. he pushes in further, the burning stretch gnawing at you. once chris can you’re ready to continue, he pushes in further. eventually, he’s finally able to bottom out. “you okay?”

again, you nod. “pl-please start moving..” you plead. sure, you were nervous at first. sure, it hurt. but, it hurt so good. chris nods, slowly starting to thrust in and out of you, never taking his eyes off of your face. “y’look so beautiful takin’ me like this.”

he starts to pick up the pace, causing you to let out moans, whines, whimpers, literally any noise anyone could think of. chris’ groans and pants only turned you on more. you start to clench around him, feeling your stomach tighten once again. and once his thrusts started to get a little sloppy, you knew he was just as close as you were.

chris peppered kisses over your face and neck, slowing his thrusts slightly. “where should i cum, angel?”

“uhm—in..inside..” you mumble, barely able to form words at this point. “you sure?” he asks, a little nervous. “very sure!”

chris nods, his arms starting to weaken beneath him as he tried his hardest to give you rougher thrusts. “c—cumming!” is all you manage to get out as you come undone on his cock. “me too, angel, me too. did so good for me.” he murmurs against your neck. his hot, white cum paints your gummy walls as you both pant.

chris pulls out of you and plops down next to you on the bed, laying on his back. he pulls you on top of his chest, wrapping his arms around your warm body.

“think you still need a smoke?”

-ˏ͛⑅　‧̥̥͙‧̥̥ ̥ ̮ ̥ ⊹ ‧̫‧ ⊹ ̥ ̮ ̥ ‧̥̥‧̥̥͙　⑅ˏ͛--ˏ͛⑅　‧̥̥͙‧̥̥ ̥ ̮ ̥ ⊹ ‧̫‧ ⊹ ̥ ̮ ̥ ‧̥̥‧̥̥͙　⑅ˏ͛-

a/n: hi hi!! i hope you guys enjoyed this!! i still have a long way to go on my smut writing skills LMAO but i try my best😭 but yeah i know this was uploaded a little…late…but it’s okay😛

tags: @sturn-saturn @xysbree @emely9274 @sturniolos4life16 @pearlzier

[heartsforseo]

Strawhats with a Lolita member

Summary: The straw hats just boarded into a new island. But, not like any others. This island was all white and black. Until they met you. The reader also has Daki's demon art technique. This was the request REQUEST are open (IM BEGGING) word count: 1.6k

The straw hats first met you on a gloomy island. Due to the lack of vibrant colors, everyone's in formal and dark clothing. Everyone except you. Your background was a blur. You grew up on the other side of the island and only come to the town when you need something.

Today was always the same. You wore your tall heels and grabbed your ribbon bag. You looked at your mirror one last time to check your makeup and fix your black and pink hair.

You leave your pastel house and start walking to the town. Your frilly dress bounces on every step you make, along with all the little decorations and the big ribbon on your back. Your creamy stockings hug your smooth and perfect thighs. Your parasol, walking beside you, waiting to be opened and used.

The walk to the town was short. All kinds of animals surrounded you. Hostile or not. You were an eye candy on the gloomy island, the only one with colors and a devil fruit.

You looked at the harbor. A ship has arrived. The Jolly Roger is a skull with two crossed bones underneath and a straw hat on top. You looked back at the market, trying to find people standing out.

You opened your parasol and took out your creamy fan, holding it below your eyes. There, you saw a young man with a straw hat, the captain, you presume. Next to him was a girl with tangerine hair and a man with curly eyebrows. Your island doesn't often get visitors. The last time someone came, they never went back to the sea.

There is a saying if you offend the island and do something wrong. At night, sashes will wrap around your body and slowly absorb you.

"Hey! I've been trying to call you for the last 5 minutes." The voice whined. You snapped out of your thoughts--making a little sound, and you looked at the man. He looks like a plank separated by its group.

"What's your name, and why are you the only one glowing?" the tall, lanky man asked.

"Y/n…" you quietly muttered. The fan was a great asset today. Covering your pink blush and trembling mouth.

"Hm…do you know anything about t-" "Luffy! Stop running a- A LADY~"

"Oh, uhm…" You were starting to get uncomfortable. Today was just supposed to be like yesterday and the day before. While the two were busy fighting among themselves, you had run off and went to one of the instrument stores.

There, you saw a tall man's back. He had an afro and, by the neck--an orange scarf. He also had a gold top hat and a cane on his side. The tall man turned around and, to your horror, a skeleton. Before it could open its mouth, your devil fruit accidentally activated, and your sashes were wrapped around the skeleton, ending it with a ribbon.

You gasped and mumbled a quick sorry, then left the store. Today has been unpleasant. You left the town while holding your mirror, making your hair and makeup look good. When you were away from the townsfolk, you used your fruit and made your ribbons carry you.

Various thoughts entered your mind. But the forest was calming you down. You looked around you-- and a woman with sunglasses and a bag stepped out of the shadow.

"That was an interesting ability, miss." The lady said.

You looked at the mysterious woman. Her clothes and accessories fit her. "Oh, uh, thank you!" You answered cheerfully.

"I saw a house on the other side of the island. It was hard to ignore it, especially the color the owner chose. With all the evidence I gathered, you were the legend the people were discussing. Ribbons and sash?"

You tilted your head to the side and asked, "How do you know?"

The woman chuckled and answered, "I saw what you did to my friend Brook. I asked the locals about the ribbons. They said that pirates only left their clothing behind, no bones or skin," she continued, "I must say what you're doing here is heroic. But don't you get ever tired from the lack of color?"

I left my ribbon vehicle and finally spoke, "This place wasn't white and black. It used to be full of color and life. One day, I was exploring the forest all by myself. I never made any friends. They said my style was too childish. My friends were animals, and I was hanging out with them. One of the red pandas gave me a strawberry. Instead of its usual dots, it got replaced with tiny carved ribbons. I ate it since my friend gave it to me. It tasted weird, and I passed out. When I woke up, the island had no color except for me. I want to help my people first."

The woman said, "Have you never thought you were the problem?"

I gasped. Me? What did I ever do?

"I'm not saying that you are. But what if? Me and my crew are going to depart tomorrow. I could show you around the ship. All your belongings are in the Thousand Sunny."

"I- can I at least check the ship first?"

Now, here you are in front of the Thousands Sunny. You entered the big ship, holding your fan just below your eyes. There was no one, and the only light source was on the second floor towards the back of the ship.

"Oh, by the way, my name is Nico Robin. You can call me Robin."

After the tour, you find out the men sleep on the first floor while the girls sleep on the second floor. Speaking of sleep, the crew arranged your corner neatly. You had your vanity and a lot of picture frames. Your bed also had a lot of frilly and curtains, and the wardrobe filled with Lolita and Victorian dresses.

"Let's go to the last room. The dining room." Robin said.

There, you two entered the room. All of the straw hat members except Robin were eating happily.

"I'll introduce you to all of them. The man with the straw hat is our captain, Luffy. The girl with the orange hair is our navigator, Nami. The guy with the long nose is our sniper, Ussop. The guy wearing a suit is the ship's cook, Sanji. The reindeer is the ship's doctor, Chopper. The tall man is a cyborg and is the crew's shipwright, Franky. The skeleton, the guy you packaged neatly, is the musician, and his name is Brook. Lastly, the Fishman is the helmsman, and his name is Jinbei. Let's eat with them."

You walked behind Robin, your fan still in front of your face.

"Oh, it's you!" Nami yelled. "LADY~" Sanji shouted.

You winced from the roaring noise and instinctively opened your umbrella to avoid them. Robin noticed you shifting and held your hand, then closed your umbrella. Sanji served you food, and you sat on the counter.

That night was lovely and fun. The crew, even though it looked chaotic at first, was pleasant. Everybody's different personalities make you fit in like the last puzzle piece. The ship made you feel needed. It made you feel wanted.

You left the dining area and stared outside. In front, you could see the vast ocean. But if you look back, you can see your colorful island. Colorful island?

Was I the problem all along?

"So, do you accept my offer now?" You look beside you to see Robin also staring at the island. You closed your umbrella and shifted your body, staring at her.

"I do."

The next day, you woke up in your bed. Last night was a bit of a blur. Luffy was cheering that someone new joined, and all the crew were doing whatever. You went to the girl's room and immediately passed out.

You stood up and looked at the mirror, observing the heart-shaped beauty mark below your right eye. You took out some new clothes, a white dress stopping at your thighs. You also took a pair of socks that reached your knees and arm warmers, stopping at your shoulders.

You look at the room Nami and Robin, sleeping peacefully.

After showering, you went to the girl's room and put your hair into pigtails, using two large ribbons as hair ties.

You finally left the room and went down to the first floor. There, mostly all of the straw hats were chilling.

"Are we leaving now?" You asked

"Yeah, the log post finally worked, and we're now going to the next island," Franky replied

You stared back at your island, slowly drifting away.

"I hope the animals will be--"

"I saw some marines just east from here," Zoro yelled from the top nest.

The next thing you knew, cannonballs were being launched at you.

Half of the crewmembers were still asleep. The only ones awake were Sanji, Zoro, and Jinbei.

"Don't worry. There are only two ships. I can handle it." You said.

The three looked at each other and nodded. Then, all went back to work.

You used your ribbons and stretched them to make them larger and larger. You wrapped the two ships like a present and ended it with a large bow.

You turn your gaze toward the direction of your island, feeling a sense of loss as it disappears from your view. However, the presence of your friends by your side gives you a glimmer of hope and comfort. It's hard to adjust, but having friends nearby makes it peaceful.

A/n: OMGG I FINISHED IT IN A DAY!! I STARTED ON 11 AM AND FINISHED AT 3 PM I AM SO SO HAPPY!! I LOVE THIS REQUEST SO MUCH SINCE I WANTED TO DRESS LIKE LOLITA BUT NEVER GOT THE CONFIDENCE. ANYWAYS TY ANON!! I LIKE BEING A WORKAHOLIC

[inbarfink]

I mean, the thing is that fiction about aliens is almost always going to be about some sort of Other on some level. Whatever it’s about demonizing or fear-mongering about some sort of Outsider Group or trying to get the audience to sympathize with the Other via the metaphor of a lovable alien. 

And Invader Zim is kind of an interesting spot there because, like, it’s not just ‘Bad Outsider Out to Destroy Our Beloved In-Group’ or ‘Poor Sympathetic Outsider Being Put-Down by the In-Group’. First thing first because Zim is kinda both. He is both the Outsider secretly hiding inside the in-group plotting their destruction - but the narrative and framing also sympathizes with him and supports his view of the in-group (that humans are stupid and gross).

So he can’t really be A Scary Demonized Outsider when he gets so much narrative sympathy and support, but also… he is a murderous little world-conquering bastard and most of his suffering is generally just him gets exactly what he deserves so he can’t be your classic sort of Sympathetic Outsider either. 

And the other thing is that the in-group is not even really involved in Zim’s conflict. Zim’s biggest challenge in conquering the earth is Dib, another Outsider. Often, despite being a human and thus part of the literal in-group, Dib is an even bigger Outsider to humanity than Zim is.

Zim and Dib are both Outsiders, and Zim isn’t just an Outsider as an Alien on Earth - among his own people he is in the same situation as Dib is, an Outsider in his own in-group. (Not that he can ever admit to himself that is the case). So these two Weirdos are fighting to protect/further the goals of two in-groups that will never actually accept them. 

And so often their main weapon against each other and the primary danger and the source of their suffering for themselves is the same thing; the in-group conformity and enforcement of social norms. 

Dib’s main evidence that Zim is an Alien is, most of the time, just the fact that he looks and acts weird. But also he himself is constantly bullied for looking and acting weird.

And Zim’s most constant source of anxiety while undercover on Earth is the fact that he’s going to get caught being Too Weird and then not just fail his mission, but get brutally dissected and experimented on. But his best defense against being exposed is… basically just to point out just how much Dib also Diverges From the Norm.

It’s the story of two Weirdos trying to get the other punished for being weird in some way, while the Normies just kinda look on and laugh at them both. And the actual thing they want, recognition and acceptance from their in-group is the one thing they are doomed to never actually get. 

And honestly, I think that's actually what makes a lot of real-life Outsiders cling to IZ, especially while we’re teens. I think, in a way, the fact that it’s kind of a messy Outsider narrative makes it more relatable to the messy middle-school/high-school experience than something more neatly crafted to be uplifting to the Weird Kids.

I mean, I certainly see the obvious value in fiction that’s actually trying to create a positive narrative for queer teens or autistic kids or maybe just scene kids or any combination of the following. This sort of media is very good, and can be just as important to some folks.

But... also the truth is that when you’re an edgy teen wrecked with self-loathing for Weirdness you don’t even fully understand “There’s nothing wrong with me and all the people making me feel like they are Bad!” can be a hard message to really believe in. Sometimes it’s easier to start from “Maybe I am all the terrible things people say that I am but.. still deserve love and sympathy, I can still be the hero of the story”. 

And because, sadly, the problem of Weirdos attacking each other for being Weirdos using the same rhetoric that’s used to hurt them, just for the sake of approval and recognition from in-groups that are never going to treat either of them as nothing but a joke - is not a phenomenon exclusive to the Silly Alien Invader Nicktoon.

And Dib and Zim’s rivalry is a great basic framework to explore it both in analysis of the canon and in fanworks.

[darin-nidk]

Family dynamic. | Vox's sibling!Reader.

Content: Implicit imposter syndrome, subtle hints of depression. General description of S.Reader's relationship with The Vee's.

A/N: Probably the last thing you'll see of this particular reader unless I get requests for potential relationships with other Hazbin hotel characters.

Frankly, Hell wasn't exactly what you had in mind, if anything, this particular ring of Hell was like Earth with extra steps and fancier titles: people (read: sinners) still got killed, sometimes there was a transactional reason behind, sometimes just because ; consent was also a bit of a myth here too ; politics? Not exactly. Religion? Uh, duh — after all, the fancy titles previously mentioned were: Archangels, Seraphims, Angels, Sinners and Hellborns (was Adam his own category? His title was First Man and, according to some sources, he had self-proclaimed as Dickmaster or the original dick).

The only upside thus far was that your physical form was kind of cool (literally, a humanoid robot so... an android that had to regulate its body temperature to not overheat), no bones ached, no muscles hurt and you couldn't get sick (a virus, maybe...?) plus your cult leader brother was, to no one's surprise, a cult leader! With the power of hypnosis which, in retrospective, was kind of like his gig back on Earth with manipulation skills that had been perfectly crafted and mastered throughout years and years of studying the human psique and emotions.

The TV head was... new. Unexpected, certainly hilarious even if the context was gruesome to an extent. It made sense, same goes with you: the right-hand, the prophet of this newfound god. Although your form was different since you died electrocuted because of a faulty electrical connection.

Ah yes, what is there to do in Hell..? The Radio Demon had gone missing as well as Lilith, part of you heavily believes that those two separate events are, in fact, connected despite the lack of evidence. A hunch though without something to back it up, you kept quiet — after all, you weren't a big mastermind, though you did enjoy chaos and creating a ridiculous amount of back-up plans in case something went terribly wrong. Cautious? Anxious? Oh, yeah. Your stubborn egotistical brother was careless when going through his many power-trips or when his rage made his (seemingly) perfect persona crack, hence why you just had to have ways to ammend any and all mistakes. Problems made you uneasy, utterly sick — gotta fix 'em, gotta have potential solution for every possible scenario no matter how insane they could be. You never know! You have to know, a sense of being capable of choosing, to own something, just about any single aspect of your life just had to be yours to control.

Nonetheless... Hell, huh. What to do? Unlike Vox, your powers were quite limited and served as support for his, rinse and repeat a life on that one. Besides that, you weren't an official Vee member, more like an honorary one — and thanks to you being a charmer, a problem solver (people-pleaser) and overall someone who rather live comfortably, well... You started babysitting looking after Valentino whenever Vox was too busy (read: didn't want to put up with his bullshit) and this lead to uhhh, unwillingly being dragged to his studio. The porn actors loved you, which made Valentino hate you but also love you as well because "motherfuckers are more willing to cooperate when there's una cara bonita como la tuya around these parts" while squeezing your 'cheeks' (screen). Yeah, you didn't get why Vox wanted this mothman carnally, though his voice was podcast material, the accent? Delicious.

Now when it came to the backbone of The Vee's, it was a trickier situation — mostly due to not having an actual reason to interact with Velvette. Sure, you guys exchanged texts like roasting Vox and Valentino, gossip, some blackmail material... Memes, selfies, the very basic. Being physically in the same room was comfortable, pleasant silences while sitting next to each other and showing funny videos from your respective devices ; or sharing private conversations that were hilarious with or without context, that's for sure! Oh and, let's not forget that this fashionista icon and unforgiving social manager will absolutely roast you if you are dressed like last century. Still, she was kind to you and, in return, you behaved the same way — work collegues, or flatmates would be a way to describe how you two got along.

If you like my stories, consider donating to my Ko-Fi! Even cents are plenty of help!

Y si hablas español, 'tonces no seas garca y dame $2 para honrar el billete que no esta en circulación y que ni siquiera es de colección a mi MP .

[science-lings]

Something that I think about a lot is how Phoenix's reputation evolves, because he starts out as the kid with no friends who would stand up to him, to the puppylike college student who got acquitted of the murder of another student and immediately changed the course of his life to become a lawyer, to the guy who interns under one of the greatest defense attorneys since Gregory Edgeworth, to the guy who took over her practice and defeated the demon prosecutor in one fell swoop, the guy who took down the powerful CEO guy who literally blackmailed a bunch of people to suicide and killed a woman with his own hands to keep the truth from getting out and Phoenix went after him in his first case that he took by himself.

The guy who confronted the mafia (twice?) and was the one defense attorney to take the case of said demon prosecutor to go against another unbeatable unethical prosecutor and he did it with a parrot and a single piece of evidence. He defended the chief prosecutor and took down the corrupt chief of police and that's just the first game.

Imagine the press following this guy. You know when you attend a trial where Phoenix is the defense there's going to be some Crazy Shit going on. He will leave his current trial to interrupt another trial and he gets popular enough that someone impersonates him and to the point where an assassin blackmails him into taking a case and this motherfucker still tricks them into incriminating themselves. He exorcises a ghost who has a personal vendetta against him in court and by the end of the trilogy is really well known for the most mindblowing crazy shit and then it all comes crumbling down like two months later.

The most sensational defense attorney is dethroned and adopts his disappearing defendant's daughter and I like to think that when he gets involved with underground poker and starts toeing the line between the criminal world and the one he knows he discovers that he has a reputation there already too. You cannot tell me guy who kind of made friends with Viola Cadaverini is not on the mafia's radar at least somewhat. He got Dee Vasquez arrested and was the one guy not afraid to poke at people associated with Cadaverini, who the entire police force won't dare touch.

it just wouldn't be surprising to me if he unknowingly garnered some street cred, especially if he's seen around Kristoph and Edgeworth, a guy who calmly makes sure he never loses his cases and someone who literally has a reputation as a demon. I just think it would be so funny if people were a little afraid of beanix, just because of what he's heard about him. He's never been violent or anything, but he's dangerous in much less tangible ways. He builds a vibe around him that makes him seem kinda threatening even if there's no proof that he's ever retaliated against anyone.

He stays calm even when he's being put on trial for a murder and in the courtroom there's a feeling that everything is being played like a game to him. He should be in the most vulnerable position but he's entirely in control. He's been an undefeated poker player for seven years and no one but his daughter can even guess about what he's thinking.

Just... the outward mysterious act and infamous reputation that grows beyond Phoenix's control that makes it when he gets back into law kind of hilarious when you think about it. The guy everyone was a little nervous around in the basement of a russian bar/restaurant is now a lawyer again and the first thing he does is defend an orca. The publicity around this guy has to be insane in combination with the whispers in the shadows. It is simply funny to me.

[demonslayerunhinged]

Unhinged theory:

Sanemi has some form of anxiety

Let me explain:

We all know Sanemi is depressed but I think he has some kind of anxiety disorder too. The evidence is based on two categories:

Sleep Deprivation

Anxiety & Stress

Sleep Deprivation

For this point, I made the diagram below(yes, I have no personal life 😔).

The main symptom that supports the sleep deprivation theory is his bloodshot eyes. Sanemi's eyes are always bloodshot and he always has eyebags, even when he's in a relaxed state (you can tell because his 'eye dots' are larger) which could be an indication of lack of sleep.

His scraggly hair could also be a symptom because aside from Giyuu (who has depression) he's the only Hashira that doesn't seem to take care of his hair.

Another observation I made is that Sanemi is always leaning on something or hanging on something. He also puts his chin on his hand/palm, I do that when I'm tired too.

Or sometimes, he hangs on to his belt.

It seems like a stretch but he does these things often and he's the only character -that I know of- that does this. It could just be a character quirk though, due to his ghetto upbringing.

He's also the only one visibly tired after the training session between him, Obanai, and Muichiro.

I noticed in the first episode of the Hashira Training Arc right after the Infinity Fortress trial period expired and he ended up stabbing the floor, he immediately sat down. Why? Seems like a weird thing to do .

Then there's all the wobbling he does in the mansion while fighting the demons.

Anxiety & Stress

The evidence for this has to do more with his behavior and actions, especially his anger and impulsive decisions. Most people associate anxiety with fear which makes sense but anxiety can also manifest as anger too.

From the article linked below,

Anxiety causes anger for several reasons. At its peak, anxiety can cause overwhelming emotions and thoughts that make you lash out in an attempt to regain your sense of power in a stressful situation.

Anxiety as anger can be triggered by:

Flight-or-fight response - when he feels threatened

Emotional exhaustion - from his past trauma and loss

Perceived loss of control - encounters with Tanjiro(bestest boy ❤)

Cognitive distortions - his belief that he's a monster, that he has to shoulder things by himself etc.

The perceived loss of control I feel is a defining factor for the two drastic decisions he's known for:

Stabbing Nezuko – A Corps member has been harboring a demon. In his mind, the Corps has been infiltrated, and Tanjiro’s probably been feeding Nezuko people.

Trying to poke Genya’s eyes out – His brother has been eating demons. He probably fears that Genya will turn into a demon and then he will have to kill his only surviving family member. Or that Genya will die early if he continues eating demons and fighting.

When it comes to stress, he displays the following symptoms:

Irritability

Anger

Grumpiness

Always on edge

Restlessness

Impatience

His impatience with others and with himself, with him trying to get the mark as fast as possible also points to anxiousness. His white hair too! He hair probably turned prematurely grey due to environmental stress, taking care of his family, worrying about keeping them safe, his violent upbringing and probably lack of nutrients from food because he would most likely have his younger siblings eat all the food instead of him.

So everything is all tied together. His anxiety from past trauma contributes to his present anxiety which prevents him from getting proper sleep and increases his stress levels which leads to even more anxiety.

But how does he fight and stay so alert then?

I think his anxiety disorder is high functioning plus he takes a lot of matcha tea which has caffeine. His constant eating of ohagi probably also keeps him hyper too.

Another piece of evidence that solidifies my theory is the appearance of his eyes in the last chapters.

Probably had that sleep he hadn't gotten in years.

In Conclusion, our boy Sanemi has some form of Generalized Anxiety Disorder and is highly stressed due to lack of sleep which is why he acts and looks like a crackhead. He needs some sleep and possibly to get laid.

[melbatron5000]

Wild theory, hold on.

(Please do not take any of my theories to Neil himself! Don't do it!)

I've already hypothesized that Crowley and Aziraphale have been working on a plan since Armaggedidn't in season 1. Here's where I go off the rails a little bit. Come along.

Saraqael is part of the plan. She's in on it.

I have only hints and suspicions, not too much for Clues, but hear me out.

In this post, we see a weird movement between buildings behind Shax. Almost like . . . a person in a floating wheelchair coming around the corner? And Crowley is in his spy turtleneck. He's doing something spyish. Meeting an angel he's not supposed to have a connection to, perhaps? About something that maybe interests both of them? Like, not having a second end of the world?

And in this post, we see that Saraqael has opened a spy porthole onto the book shop -- but the picture in the apy porthole is in 2019.

I do not think for a moment that tiny, weenie half-a-miracle-each accidentally blew up into a 25 lazarii miracle. I think someone else at around the same time did a huge miracle, someone powerful, someone who no one is supposed to know about -- or at least, doing something no one is supposed to know about -- and Saraqael hid it the best she could.

Show the arc angels the book shop when Adam reset it. You know, after it burned in 2019. That would be some crazy big miracle energy.

Then go to Earth with the arc angels and nudge Aziraphale into taking responsibility for the miracle. He's good at lying to them, after all, he can come up with something quick. And who is it that says, "Don't tell me you did it?" Why, sarcastic Saraqael. Translation, "tell them you did it, or we're screwed." And Aziraphale jumps right in and says yes, I did that.

Then send someone who won't give back good reports to verify the miracle. Saraqael, why would you send Muriel? Muriel is so sweet and naive, she won't come up with anything she shouldn't.

Then when Crowley is searching around in Heaven, who does he run into but his (doesn't exist) contact? And she tries to give him a reason to recognize her, they worked on the Horsehead nebula together. And he laughs and says, I meet a lot of people. He doesn't need her cover story, he'll just play dumb. She kind of snorts and shakes her head, she tried to give him an out but he took his own way. Headstrong demon.

When the Metatron shows up, who recognizes him? No one but Crowley and Saraqael. Could be because they just watched the trial, could be because they've been actively working together against him for years now. Hard to say. Hard to say. I honestly didn't recognize him in a full human form for a hot minute, it's not like it's impossible to imagine no one would know him. But those two do. Feels important to me.

I don't know if I'm right, but I'm suspicious now. What are they hiding? Who was doing a big miracle that needed covering up? Whatever was the miracle for?

Also, this. More evidence. They are up to something.

[aphroditestempleimagines]

Chained to a demon (18+)

Pairing: Fyodor Dostoevsky x fem!reader

Colour: rough and kinky

Warnings: bondage (kind of), vaginal sex, semi-public, prison, fingering, rough sex, kissing, spanking, hand over eyes, wall sex, loving pet names, praise, fyodor being a bit dom and tiny bit possessive, gloves, cum-eating, teasing, unprotected sex (don't do this kids, use your condoms), creampie (also don't do this), semi-public

Words: 2399

Summary: You have been working under Fyodor's orders for a while now. Unfortunately, that meant you were also arrested with him. He has a plan to escape, unlocking every lock in his way but the handcuffs that chain you together.

P.s. this is supposed to be set between Fyodor's arrest and his move to the high-security prison. It is a hypothetical situation.

Fyodor suddenly kneeled next to the iron door. The chain of the handcuffs connecting you was long, but not long enough to continue allowing you to stand. You fell to your knees next to him.

"What are you doing?", you said to him annoyed.

His hands were feeling the delicate mechanisms of the cell's lock. "I believe it is evident what I am doing, moya lyubov"

"I don't know what that means, and could you please just give me a warning next time?"

The silent click of the lock drew your attention. Fyodor let go of the iron bars and the door slid open.

"What the devil did you do?", you asked.

"I am tired of the view here", he said, "The lighting is wrong, the eyes too many and I am getting impatient"

"What are you-hey!", the chain pulled you towards him as he waltzed out of the small cell.

"Do not squabble so loud, moya lyubov, or you will draw the guards' attention sooner than I would prefer"

You opened your mouth to respond but no words were uttered. The fewer guards you encountered the fewer people would get hurt in the process and the cleaner your clothes would remain. Getting out was inevitable now that Fyodor had decided upon it, but getting out without encountering a soul would be a welcome bonus.

You stopped in front of a magnetically sealed door. Fyodor reached in his pocket and uncovered the piece of clear tape you had seen him stick on the iron food tray on lunch day. He had covered it with potato purree he had dried to powder. He pressed it on the fingerprint lock and in a few moments the light around it turned into the most beautiful green you had ever seen.

The door opened to reveal another long corridor. Fyodor moved ahead with ease, his mind probably already in possession of a detailed map of the prison's structure. Soon, he opened the door to a small guards' room, empty of its occupants. He locked the door behind him before he pulled the two of you to one of the lockers.

"Good, it will be much harder to be noticed if we blend in as part of their security", you tossed a guard's hat up and down with your spare hand.

"That is not what I require from this room, moya lyubov", he continued to search through the lockers one by one.

"No? But it would be useful", you said confused, "Oh, perhaps you can find a key for these cuffs, they tend to have the same ones per batch"

"Ah, here it is", he suddenly said. You thought he had answered your question until you saw him take out a pair of black gloves from the locker instead of a small silver key.

"Gloves?", you asked, "I'm sorry, but how is that going to help us get out?"

"It is not", Fyodor responded nonchalantly, "I do not wish to escape just yet".

"Then what-", your sentence was cut off as Fyodor collided your lips together. Your body recovered quickly from the initial shock and melted under his touch.

Touch; he was touching you! You had spent days bound to this man, years longing for him from afar, and yet all it took was a pair of borrowed gloves for him to play with all the strings of your heart like it was his cello. His kiss was rough and needy, devouring all of the words that he always left unsaid. A cold surface hit your back; the lockers. You twisted your body to get a better angle at him and he took the opportunity to cup your blushed hot cheek.

"What are you doing?", you breathed against his lips once he broke the kiss.

"I already told you", he said, "My patience has its limits. And when it comes to you, I'm afraid they fall quite short"

He kissed you again. This time his mouth trailed down your throat, tongue following the trail of your bones. He lodged his leg between your legs, his knee rubbing against your lower parts.

"Fyo...dor....", you sighed as his hands circled your nipples over the fabric of your prison uniform.

"I want you lisichka", he said, slowly peeling off the top of your blue jumpsuit, " I wanted you for years, I want you at this moment, and I will want you for all the moments and years to come". It was clear that his words were stalling for time, his grip loose enough for you to shake him away. "And if you don't push me away right now I'll take you right here and now, moya lyubov"

He dove to take one breast in his mouth, the other in his hand. Your head fell back as his knee continued to press on your clothed cunt. Your fingers clung to his slick black hair and pulled him closer, the chain scraping his pale cheek. Your hips jolted towards him at every touch of his. You guided the hand that was chained to yours down to the last of your jumpsuit's buttons and slipped both your hands underneath the uniform. He wasted no time in plunging two of his digits inside your walls. Your free hand gripped his shoulder as your body trembled underneath him. He had not done anything complicated, and yet he turned you on more than any other man. His presence was domineering, his touch loving and precise. Your juices were drenching his black glove as its roughness brushed over your silk walls.

He laughed over your skin. "I have to admit he quite surprised me when he tied us together with these", he said

"Why-"

He closed in enough so his free hand could lift the chain of your handcuffs to your lips. He placed the cold metal between your teeth, his thumb brushing the corner of your mouth.

"I have no intention of letting you know that", his lips attacked your shoulder. Your whines were muffled by the iron chain that hung from your teeth. Fyodor pushed his body onto yours, your bare back pressing down on the cold surface of the guards' lockers. "Unless you'd like to make a deal for it", he smiled. His thumb was dexterously playing with your bud, his teeth were lightly scraping your skin as he traced your collarbone, making you shiver. You opened your mouth to speak, but before you could utter a word Fyodor grabbed the falling chain and shoved it back in. He placed a soft puckery kiss over your sealed lips. "You can nod", he said.

He withdrew his hand from your lower lips and raised it to his mouth. He made a show of licking each finger with a snarky smile as his thumb traced circles on your left breast. He lightly scraped your torso from neck to waist with the back of his wet fingers before he kneeled down and buried his face in your cunt. He lifted one of your legs and placed it over his shoulder, his tongue reaching between your walls as his thumbs stretched their entrance. Your moan made the thin chain rattle. "Don't you drop it now, lisichka", Fyodor said as he kissed your bud, "I'll be very angry if you do that before the time comes".

He let his mouth water as he kissed your lower lips. His tongue once again plunged inside you. Your body trembled as he moaned for no other reason than to draw this exact reaction. "Let me let you in on my plan, lisichka", he said, his fingers taking the place of his tongue as he pumped them in and out of your body. "You will come on my hand and then I'll help you escape. But before that", he thrusted another finger into your hole, his other hand drawing circles quicker and quicker over your bud, "I'm gonna fuck you so hard I'll be the only thought in your mind until I get out myself"

One hand fell upon your asscheek, leaving behind a rosey imprint. The other reached inside you, searching for the sweet spot that would make the legs that squeezed him trembling and weak. His eyes were as sure as his fingers as they drove you closer and closer to the cliff of pleasure. Your writhed in his grasp but he only picked up the speed of his digits inside you. Your hand gripped his black hair as he spat on the hand which worked your clit. You could not see behind the white blur that clouded your eyes. The metal taste of the chain filled your mouth as you bit down harder, your body falling into the pits of euphoria.

Your vision was still white and you did not see him stand up. Suddenly he was in front of you, lulling the chain from your mouth and plunging his tongue inside in a deep kiss. There was a fire under the ice of his heart, like a sleeping volcano under the Russian glaciers. He turned you over. Your eyes were covered again. He let you taste yourself on his fingers before he returned them to your clit. He buried open kisses on your shoulder and nape as he pressed you against him. You could feel his painful bulge underneath his prison clothes.

"Say you want me", he breathed, "say you need me moya lyubov"

"Fyodor..."

"Ask me to fuck you", you could not see his smile and yet you knew it was there. His one hand moved to wrap around your torso, his other pulled out his cock and placed the tip on your entrance. "Tell me you want me inside you", he let his tip trace the lips of your folds.

"Fyodor....", you trembled. You pressed the lockers with your hands and pushed your body towards him, but he was good at keeping you at a distance. "Please", you heaved from need, "Please I need you inside me. I want you to fuck me. I can't take it any-"

He cut your sentence short. He plunged himself deep inside you. That hand that kept your eyes in the dark moved to cover your open mouth.

"Here's my deal lisichka:", he drew his length all the way out and thrusted back in. Your hand shot up to catch the locker as your body was jolted forwards. Fyodor softly played with your stray locks. You wiggled your hips, anything to get some friction, but he held you in place. His face seemed unbothered by the agony of the stillness between you. "You will hold until we come together", he said by your ear, "and I'll let you in on a secret"

His words came as a statement rather than a choice. Still, he waited until you nodded your head before he smiled and started to move. His thrusts were slow at first, his head fell back as if he was relishing the moment. He closed his eyes as if he wanted to isolate the sensation of the bond that bound the two of you.

"Do you know why they bound you to me?", his next thrust sent you forward. He picked up the pace, the sound of his hips meeting yours filling your ears. His hand still muffled your moans, so you could not respond even if he wanted you to. "I bet Dazai thought he would hobble me this way", he laughed, "Cause I'd be too concerned of using my ability on you by accident"

He grunted. You whined against his gloved hand. You could not control your breath anymore. Your heartbeat reverberated the beating of his body onto yours. He slipped his fingers into your mouth, your saliva dripping on the black leather.

"I wish I could fuck you like this in front of him", his voice was lost in the music of your bodies, "I wish he could see what a trifle his effort was"

He was saying that but his annoyance was clear. Whatever was the case, you could not help but bless Dazai as Fyodor sent you closer and closer to heaven. You felt the wetness of a tear running down your cheek. Your mind could not begin to process what was happening. You felt Fyodor's warmth as he pounded inside you, his hands wrapped around your naked body in the middle of a guards' room.

He changed his angle. The tip of his length kissed your cervix, your whine echoing around the walls. He removed his hand from your mouth and placed it on your hips, much like the other. He granted you a kiss on the side of your neck, his eyes searching for displeasure on your face. But there was none to be found. Your walls squeezed him tighter and he breathed heavily at the sensation. He grabbed your breast. He leaned in, close to your ear, and whispered, "You're squeezing me so tightly moya lyubov". He let his voice drop before he added in a grated tone, "Would you like me to make you mine?". He turned your body to the side, one of his hands holding up your leg. "Show me your face", he said, "I want to see it plead me to ruin you. That is the price of loving me"

Your mind was in a haze. One look at him was all it took to send it there. His words were coarse and domineering but his eyes were pleading for you like a man dying of thirst. He was drawing circles on your bud again, his thrusts quickening. He nipped on your ear as his warm essence filled you. You felt yourself let go, the knot in your stomach bursting and overflowing from your lower self. Your body trembled but he held you close to help you stand. He held your head and pulled you for a kiss.

"Good girl", he whispered against your lips, "Wait for me until we meet again. Whether that's in cuffs, or the end, or a life other than this one."

He pulled out and kissed you again, this time hugging your body from the front. He pulled a small metal needle-like object from his pocket and in a matter of moments your cuffs were unlocked. He placed his thumb on your lower lip, his face serious as ever.

"Wait for me to make you cum again", he said.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

¹ moya lyubov = моя любовь = my love

² lisichka = Лисичка = Little fox

[aceof-stars]

(Edited to adjust my argument).

I think RTFA confirming that Miles Edgeworth didn't intentionally forge evidence aligns with his established character in the first four cases. It does take away some audience interpretation but personally I'm fine with that.

First of all I don't think the rest of AA1 ever confirmed it one way or the other. There are a few instances where Phoenix thinks of Edgeworth as an evidence forger but it's not like Phoenix would know for sure either. (Do correct me, with specific lines please, if I'm wrong though).

But more importantly, if you only look at the first four cases of AA1 Edgeworth being an evidence forger doesn't make sense with his character. Why would a prosecutor forge evidence? Not including reasons like being blackmailed. 1) If they don't care (enough) about the truth (prioritizing things like success over it), or 2) if they truly believe the defendant is guilty and are desperate for a conviction (aka the reason Adrian Andrews forges evidence in 2-4).

Does Edgeworth care about the truth, before the start of his redemption arc at the end of 1-3?

Yes... kind of. I don't think he prioritizes the truth or consciously cares about it. As the "Demon Prosecutor", Edgeworth cares about justice, and achieving it through punishment. However, convicting the wrong person would not be justice to him. Which is what makes Edgeworth change sides to convict the right person in 1-3. So in that sense, he does care about the truth.

You could argue that Edgeworth had already lost once to Phoenix and thought "screw this, my perfect record is already gone, another loss wouldn't change that fact". But compare him to two characters who are actually obsessed with their perfect records. Manfred, a perfectionist control-freak, getting a penalty (not even losing!) unraveled him so much that he killed Gregory in the heat of the moment. Franziska after losing in 2-2 declares that: "That spirit channeling trial was a sham! I refuse to acknowledge its legitimacy! It did not count!" She doesn't even want to admit that she lost. Edgeworth, on the other hand, doesn't act like someone who truly prioritizes his win record over the truth.

Because Edgeworth didn't just let himself lose in 1-3, he made himself lose. He made Vasquez testify again. She would have gotten away if Edgeworth didn't say anything. And after the trial he tells the judge "Will Powers was innocent. That he should be found so is only natural… not a miracle."

Okay but if Edgeworth does care about the truth (to some extent), and believed that every defendant being guilty was the truth, he could have easily gone down the path of forging evidence to ensure the verdict reflected what he believed to be true. That leads me to my next question:

2. Does Edgeworth truly believe that every defendant he prosecutes is guilty?

Actually no. He says this in Turnabout Sisters: "Innocent"...? How can we know that? The guilty will always lie, to avoid being found out. There's no way to tell who is guilty and who is innocent! All that I can hope to do is get every defendant declared "guilty"! So I make that my policy.

Yeah I think that line speaks for itself.

Miles Edgeworth can't bring himself to consciously care about or prioritize the truth, but the moment it's presented in front of him he also can't bring himself to ignore it. He doesn't think it would be just to knowingly convict an innocent person, but he's so disillusioned and distrusting of people that he's lost faith in finding the truth.

So, he commits himself to getting guilty verdicts because he believes that's the best shot he has at enacting justice, even if he accidentally convicts innocent people from time to time.

And to me that aligns with his reaction to finding out he unknowingly used forged evidence in 1-5. Edgeworth was so disillusioned with finding the truth that he has accepted that some collateral damage would inevitably happen as a result of his mindset. However, because he still can't let go of his dedication to the truth, he wouldn't want to lie or rewrite the facts to achieve his verdicts.

[acourtofwhatthefuck]

Bluebird — Part IV — (Azriel x Reader)

Hey! Here’s Part IIII to this! Thank you for being lovely about it. 💕

Warnings: None for this part!

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･

Your fingers danced across the piano keys with a mind entirely of their own.

Sheet music sat before you, but you didn’t need to glance at it. This was pure muscle memory. Your favourite piece, memorised note by note. Playing it always felt like breathing for the first time. 

Arrival of the Bluebird, it was called. You couldn’t help smiling as you played. 

The notes climbed and fell in their flawless way, always like the calming ebb and flow of a tide. You soaked it in, your eyes closed, your skin prickling at the music caressing you—

A soft rustle sounded behind you. A rude awakening.

Two thoughts struck you at that moment.

The first — that you’d never played for anyone but yourself. To have a spectator felt like parading naked through the village.

And the second — that said spectator was, bizarrely, of the same ilk that you had been raised to detest.

A shadow moved in your periphery, and your fingers fell still, the music coming to an abrupt stop.

The creature — Azriel — loomed at your side, his gaze intent on where your hands had sat.

“Beautiful.” He murmured softly. “You play so flawlessly.”

It seemed so, so strange, so wrong, to sit and chat casually with a creature of such bloodshed. Like the tune had washed over you and made you truly aware of the situation. Of the action you’d taken.

You’d let him into your home.

You’d helped him when he’d been more or less incapacitated. When you probably had the advantage to strike and make a killing blow. To rid the world of one of its demons. 

And now you were playing music for him. Had he…had he enchanted you, somehow? Some faerie magic, perhaps, that put you at such ease? That made you forget who you were alone in a building with?

Your body was taut as a bowstring as you slowly swivelled on the stool to face him. And his beauty struck you speechless again.

He offered you a smile. One that was small and reserved, and yet held such devastating charm. You quickly forced your eyes away.

“Who taught you to play?” He asked softly.

Your hands twisted around each other as you answered, “I taught myself.”

“Entirely by yourself?” He seemed genuinely surprised. “Some people can’t reach such skill even with honed, esteemed pianists to master them. It must be in your blood.”

You’d always thought so. The piano had been here your entire life — your fingers had inched towards it for as long as you could remember.

“I’m told my mother used to play.” You said. That sore spot in your heart stung at the mere mention of the parent you’d never known. “The piano used to be out in the bar area. My father told me that she used to play every night, and people would flock to the inn just to listen.”

There was a heavy, unmissable pause. You were sure you noticed Azriel’s shoulders stiffening out of the corner of your eye.

“Used to?” He asked quietly. “Is she…is she no longer alive?”

You turned your gaze on him, sure it appeared as blazing as you felt. “I never knew her. She was murdered. By your kind.”

“By my kind?”

“By a group of High Fae.”

Another pause. Azriel’s head dipped a fraction, his eyes lowering to the ground. 

“That’s awful.” His voice was soft. Unbearably gentle. “I’m truly sorry that you suffered such a loss. However…I’m not High Fae.”

The declaration was enough for you to narrow your gaze on him. He certainly looked High Fae; you were sure there wasn’t a human in the world who carried such flawless beauty, nor the preternatural stillness that only a honed, immortal being could master. 

Azriel smiled wryly, like he knew you were searching for some physical evidence of what he’d said. He turned his head to the side, his fingers moving up to brush the shell of his ear.

A very rounded ear. No pointed tip. 

“I hail from a warrior-race of the fae called Illyrians.” He explained. “We’re fae, but…certainly not High Fae.”

You stared at him. 

At those rounded ears. The scarred fingers. 

As if not being High Fae somehow erased all that had been done.

It didn’t.  

You shrugged rather brusquely. “Makes no difference to me. Aren’t all fae the same, with a history steeped in violence? I hate violence.”

“…Blood has been spilled on both sides of the Wall—”

“I hate it.” You cut him off. “Too many people resort to violence needlessly. I see it every single night working in this place. And for fragile humans like ourselves, all it can take is one strike to finish a person off. I wish people — human and Fae — thought more before deciding violence as their route. Perhaps if they did, I wouldn’t have grown up without a mother.”

It was the most you’d said to Azriel in one breath. And you waited for his defensiveness, for him to tell you your thoughts were somehow wrong.

But he simply stared at you, an unreadable expression on his face. And his response wasn’t what you anticipated.

“You’re not wrong.” His voice was like wrapping yourself in silk. “I’m sorry you’ve seen such violence. I’m glad you have music to escape to, at least.” 

You stared back at him, your thoughts emptying for a moment. You willed yourself not to be intimidated by the beauty; by the deadliness of it. He could probably snuff out your life without anyone hearing so much as a squeak from you—

“Are you going to kill me now?” You blurted, rather pathetically.

Azriel’s steeled face twitched just slightly; the only reaction to your question.

It surprised you as he retreated a step. Put more distance between you. 

“Why are you so convinced that I want to kill you?” He asked quietly.

“Am I supposed to believe it a coincidence that a Fae male begins appearing in these parts at the same time that the girls in this village are being murdered?”

His brow furrowed. “Girls are being murdered?”

“Yes. The Village Guards have found them brutally slain, and then you appear. If I’m to be next, I’d really appreciate it if you don’t leave me to be found by my father in that condition.”

“I haven’t killed anyone in this village, and I’m not going to kill you.”

His words should have reassured you. But you honed in on the sentence. Saw it for what it was.

He hadn’t killed anyone in this village.

But he’d killed elsewhere. 

Bile rose up in your throat as you stared at him. And as he studied your fearful expression, he sighed. Looked away.

“What I told you was true. I was passing by, and I heard your music, and I wanted to hear more. But I don’t wish to frighten you.” He retreated another step. “Perhaps I should go—”

He was cut off by a thump so abrupt, it had you jumping out of your skin. Azriel quickly looked up.

Another thump, followed by a third.

“It’s the door.” You quickly stood, brushing yourself down. “I should answer.”

He pressed himself against the wall as you brushed past him, hurrying through to unlock the front door. You pulled it open a fraction, narrowing your eyes at the darkened figure on your doorstep.

Kiall. He looked…wired. Stimulated. But he didn’t stink of booze, for once.

“I’m sorry about the music.” You said before he could speak. “I didn’t realise how late it had got—”

“I’m not here about your little piano.” The older, scruffy male looked around feverishly. “I shot one down. A Fae. That fucking winged bastard from the alley. Got him right through those wings. He was flying above the village and I got him.”

You swallowed. Pulled the door a little closer to you. If Kiall — or anyone — knew that you had a Fae in your home, you’d be done for. Probably killed right alongside him. 

Unless, of course, you gave him up. Disabled him somehow and turned him over to the Village Guards. Perhaps those ash arrows, still lying in the puddle of his blood, could still be of some use—

“Where is the Fae now?” You blurted, blocking Kiall’s minuscule glimpse into your home. “Have the Guards dealt with him?”

“No.” Kiall sneered. “He got away someplace. Probably bleeding out somewhere nearby. I wanted to know if you’d seen or heard anything.”

This was your chance.

Kiall could help you.

Azriel had regained most of his strength, but he’d been caught unaware once already. Surely the two of you could deal with him. 

And then you’d never have to worry about him hanging around here again. Watching you. Watching and—

And listening to your music.

If he was to be believed…that was all he’d lingered for.

You didn’t really know why you did it. It probably made you an utter fool. But you swallowed and schooled your expression, shaking your head. 

“I didn’t see or hear anything.” You lied. “Like I said — I was playing music.”

Kiall studied you for a moment. And you wondered if, perhaps, the untruth lay blatantly on your face, in your eyes. The Bluebird Inn — your family business and home — was the hub of this little community. Everybody knew you. Everybody knew that you were the daughter of the Fae-hating innkeeper, and the woman who had been murdered by their kind. That you were raised to hate them just as fiercely.

To have one right here, in these very walls…to have helped him, and to now protect him…

You had utterly, utterly lost your mind. But you let none of that show.

“If I see or hear anything suspicious, I’ll report it right away.” You said.

Kiall eyeballed you again. “You do that, Y/N.”

“I will. I’m going to go to bed now.”

“Be sure to lock your doors. Don’t want to end up like those other village girls.”

A shiver ran down your back. But you nodded. “I will.” You repeated. “Thank you.”

Kiall had always been a strange person. His reputation for being a drunk was known from one end of the village to the other. But being the one who served him most of those drinks, you saw something more. An ever-present, crazed look in his eye, like he was always on alert, always ready — and happy — to attack. Many of the brawls in the tavern had been started by him over nothing.

That crazed look stayed trained on you, now, as he slowly backed away from your front door. And when a good distance was between you, you pushed it firmly shut. Locked and deadbolted it. Released a long, deep breath.

You slumped against the door, blinking forward.

You’d lied. You’d actually lied. All those years of your father telling you what to do if you came face-to-face with a Fae, and what had you done? Played him music.

And then protected him from the wrath of other villagers.

Maybe you were the crazed one. Maybe—

Soft footsteps thudded against the floor. You looked up as Azriel slowly approached, keeping a great distance away. He studied you unsurely; you had no doubt that he’d heard every word. That he knew what you’d done.

“Are you alright?” His voice was so gentle, so quiet; something you knew no human voice could ever master. 

Are you alright? When was the last time anyone had asked you that?—

You knew precisely when. When Azriel had stepped in and protected you from Kiall’s drunken ranting in the alley.

You stared up at him — those hazel eyes — and wondered why. Why he seemed to care. 

And why it made you feel good.

“I’m alright.” You eventually answered, pushing to your feet. “You should…probably go, though.”

He dipped his chin. “Thank you — for what you did just then. And for pulling those arrows out. And for sharing your beautiful music.”

Your beautiful music. The words almost knocked you breathless.

To hear someone appreciate it so freely—

That, you told yourself, was why you asked, “Will you come back and listen again?”

You could have sworn Azriel’s lips twitched. “I’d certainly like to.”

Insane. This entire thing was insane. You with a Fae in your house, engaging in pleasant conversation. You more or less inviting him back.

But you couldn’t stop yourself. 

You dipped your head, staring at the floor. “Will it be safe? Flying, I mean — with the injuries. And with Kiall still snooping around.”

“I have enough strength to get home without flying, now.” Azriel nodded. “I’ll be alright. And what of you?”

“What of me?”

“Will you be alright?”

Yes? No? You weren’t sure. Possibly not. You weren’t entirely convinced that you wouldn’t collapse under the entire, bizarre weight of the night’s events. You were in need of a stiff drink yourself.

But you nodded, all the same. “I’ll be alright.”

A moment passed of nothing. No sound, no movement. Neither of you took a step forward or back. 

But then Azriel inclined his head. “Goodnight, then. Sleep well.” 

“You—”

Before your very eyes — before you could complete your sentence — he disappeared into thin air. You blinked at the space that he’d vacated. And at the words you knew you were about to speak.

You sleep well, too.

Well-wishes to a Fae. You almost laughed at yourself. 

But as you stepped past the spot in which Azriel had stood, you paused at the scent that lingered. And inhaled.

A scent like…like fresh, undisturbed snow. Frosty nights and cedarwood. 

It was calming. Soothing. You felt it wash over you, like a blanket of security. 

You stood there for a moment longer, and then made your way into the bar area to clean up. And fix yourself that drink.

And you found yourself continuously glancing out of the window. Wondering if Azriel truly would come back.

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

Azriel didn’t consider the fact that he looked a little worse for wear.

That blood still stained his wings, his clothes, his skin.

That his hair made him appear like he’d been dragged through a hedge backwards. That he looked as though he could use at least three weeks’ worth of sleep.

Honed spymaster, indeed.

He traipsed into Rhysand’s office. The High Lord immediately sat up in his chair, relief filling his eyes.

“Don’t go quiet on me like that, asshole.” He admonished. “I couldn’t reach you.”

“Sorry.” Az winced slightly as he lowered himself into his chair; the wings were still a little sore. “Took a couple of ash arrows to the wings.”

Rhys stared back at him. “So it’s true, then. The humans are trying to rise up against us.”

“A whole group of them are travelling from village to village, spreading the word of their cause and trying to rally forces. They’re serious about this.”

Rhys slumped back, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Why now, though?”

Slowly, Azriel shook his head. “I think they’re using a whole number of reasons to justify it to themselves. They’re incensed about the land we have, the lives we live…a bunch of things. But…there have been attacks in one village. A few women have been slain. I think the Village Guards are spreading the word that they’re Fae attacks.”

“And do you believe them to be?”

“Not sure. I’d have to investigate it further.”

Rhys firmly shook his head. “I don’t want you going near those villages again for the time being. Not if they’ve got ash arrows in their arsenal.”

Azriel sat up. Tried not to wince. “The bastard had no more than two—”

“I’m not risking anything until we know exactly what we’re dealing with. We wait to see what move they make next; it could all just be talk, and I’m not risking you for some human gossip. I want you here, alerting the other courts that we may have an issue on our hands. Understood?”

Azriel’s jaw clenched. Yes, he understood. He understood his High Lord’s order perfectly well, but he didn’t have to like it. He wanted to go back to the village, ash arrows or no ash arrows. He wanted to hear the music again, to talk to Y/N again—

“Understood, Azriel?” Rhysand repeated.

“Yes.” The shadowsinger gritted out. “Understood.” 

“Good.” Just like that, Rhys was shucking off his title; sitting back and becoming a brother again. His face softened. “Go get some rest. You need it.”

Azriel stood without a word, dragging his feet from the room. 

He wouldn’t disobey Rhys’s orders.

But Cauldron fucking boil him, something nagged at him to do exactly that.

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *

Weeks passed. And there was no dark, passing figure in the skies. No booming clap of wings.

And your disappointment at Azriel’s absence frightened you far more than his presence ever had.

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･

azriel tag list: @hanasakr @positivewitch @ruler-of-hades @brekkershadowsinger @nightscourtt @imperfect0angel @luna-1-3-5 @hyacinthoideshispanica @lucyysthings @lahoete @littlemoonash @blacksstarrynight @azriels-mate123 @ghostly-poetic @frieddesigninspiringquotesslime @a-frog-with-a-laptop @illyriansimp @morrie-rose @passingthroughfireandshadow @illyrian-dreamer @azrielsbabyg @96jnie @mich0731 @mulansaucey @truthtellerfanclub @acourtofbooksandmagic @insightsonmylife @basicbittywitty @curbside-cyanide @acourtofchaosandmess @123345566 @starrynights-frostbites @eos-princess @thesillyyogourt @ona-raising-07-l @acediahamartia @dontfollowmepleaseitsannoying @polli05927 @asdfjklbooks @azriel-luvr @amysangel @humanpersonlasttimeichecked @wildflowernightmere @audie-writes @aaronwarnerswifereal @starxqt @lulufairbank @laurzwrites @livelaughlovenestaarcheron @girlwith-thecinder-blockgarden @emturtles @lostpirateinwonderland @kammsinn

[oosleepyfaeoo]

Royalty Fucked

Baelon Targaryen x Maid!Reader x Alyssa Targaryen

Summary: You catch the eye of a certain couple.

Warning: 18+| SMUT, Reader is a female, threesome, p in v, oral sex (f/receiving), fingering, creampie

Words: 2k

A/N: English is not my first language.

You were one of Prince Baelon and Princess Alyssa's servants. You start working in the Red Keep after your parent's death, leaving you with your two little brothers to raise. 

Since you had skills in caring for babes and children, you quickly became a nursemaid for the royal couple's children. Taking care of sweet Prince Viserys and the little demon prince Daemon was quite an easy and peaceful task, not to mention that their majesties let your little brothers play with their children. Make it easy for you to keep a close eye on your sweet brothers while working. 

The first day you laid your (e/c) eyes on the royal couple, you were completely in awe of their love for each other and how kind and humorous they were. Always riding the skies together on the back of their dragons or sparring in the training yard, laughing freely and throwing silly jokes at each other.  

Some people look at them with judgment, thinking how inappropriate the royal couple's actions were. Some look at them with eyes full of jealousy, wishing to have the same love and freedom that they have.  

But you look at them with admiration in your eyes, delighted to see your Lord and Lady happy. 

//// 

“Some day, you will fly with me on Meleys’s back.” Alyssa’s words made you stop, looking at her with wide eyes as she entered the bathtub.  

Prince Viserys and Prince Daemon were already tucked in their beds, so you were helping your lady bathe. 

“I-I... That would be unfitting of me, my Lady.” You say quietly as you begin combing her hair, untangling the knots that form when she rides Meleys. “People would talk.”  

She let out a flashy laugh, her mismatching eyes looking at you with mischief. “Do I look like I give a shit about what people would say?” She says with a smirk. “Let them talk.” 

As you were about to answer, Prince Baelon walks in. You quickly stood up and bow gently to him.  

“My Prince.” You court him softly. 

He nods and kneels beside the tub, giving Alyssa a quick kiss. “How’s my lady wife and my best maid doing?”  

You blush faintly at his words as you resume your work on Alyssa’s hair.  

“Good.” She says while playing gently with one of his long silver locks that escaped his braid. “I’m trying to convince Y/n to fly with me.”  

“Oh! That’s an excellent idea, my sweet wife.”  Baelon smirks, eyeing you as you comb his wife's hair. “I assume you would let me join you both, right?”  

Alyssa chuckles. The two shared a look between them which made you frown in confusion. “Of course, Husband.” The smirk on her lips widens as she pulls him into a passionate kiss. “What kind of wife would I be if I didn’t let you join us.”  

Baelon hums, letting his wife thrust her tongue into his mouth. He moves his hand to cup her neck gently which made her purr in delight.  

You try to ignore the show before you, focusing on your work but you found it hard when you notice Baelon’s hand slowly going down Alyssa’s body. Observing how his large hand kneaded her breast gently, gradually moving down to cup her core.  

Alyssa lets out a pornographic moan as his fingers thrust inside her.  

You made the mistake of looking at Baelon, gasping in shock when you lock eyes with him. His lilac eyes burned with lust and desire. His gaze goes down, locking on your parted lips, and then meets your eyes again. Sending you a sensual wink as he grabs Alyssa’s hair, his fingers lingering around yours. 

Quickly standing up, you put the brush down and bow. “M-My work here is done... I will leave you be, my Lord and my Lady.” You whisper, your cheeks burning from embarrassment and desire.  

The evidence of your lust running down your thighs and your hard nipples peeking through your simple dress. 

Not wanting to give them time to reply, you ran off.  

/// 

Since that night, you can barely meet Baelon and Alyssa's eyes. Feeling ashamed for your acts when you finally got your room. Lying down on your small bed, legs spread apart with your hand between them. Trying to imagine that Alyssa and Baelon are touching you, whispering praises in your ear while they make you fall apart. 

“Y/n! Y/n! Look what I did during my class with maester!” Viserys runs to you as you walk into the room, coming to collect him and his brother Daemon.  

You smile and kneel down to see the small wooden dragon figure in his little hand. “It’s beautiful, my prince! You’re talent.” You say while kissing his head. 

“Thank you! It’s Balerion!” He gives you a cheeky smile, a tooth missing in the front. “One day, I will be his rider!”  

Taking his hand in yours, you pick up Daemon and walk toward the room. “I’m sure you will, my sweet prince.”  

In the room, you give them a bath and dress them in their sleeping clothes.  

As you were helping them eat their dinner, Alyssa and her husband walk in, hand in hand. 

“My sweet children! How was your day?” Alyssa goes and picks up Daemon, filling his face with kisses, and making the boy giggle. 

Viserys jumps from his chair and runs toward his parents with his dragon figure in his hands. Both Baelon and Alyssa bend down to look in awe at their son's work, praising him vastly.  

You stood there awkwardly, eyes fixed on your fingers as the family laughed in joy at in being each other company.  

Grabbing the empty trays, you walk to the door but a large hand stops you. Looking back, you were met by the same lilac eyes from the other night.  

“Astrid, can you put the children to bed? I need Y/n's help to bathe.” Alyssa says while she hugs her husband from behind, her mismatching eyes shining with excitement while her husband gives you a smirk that almost made your knees give out. 

“Of course, my Lady.” Astrid grabs the children and took them to their chambers.  

The three of you stood there in silence, you afraid to meet their predatorial gaze while Alyssa walks towards the fireplace and Baelon stood behind you, studying carefully your curvy form. 

“S-Should I start the bath, my Lady?” Your voice trembles a little, making Alyssa’s gaze soften. 

She walks to you and cups your cheeks gently, making you look at her. “There’s no need to fear us, little flame.” Her thumbs move softly against your skin, forcing a shiver to run down your spine. “We only wish to please you.”  

Your face twisted in confusion, not knowing what in seven hells it was happening. “P-Pleasure?”  

You feel Baelon pull you into his front, wrapping his strong arms around your waist. “Yes, sweet little maid.” He mutters against your ear and coerces a whimper from your lips. “It seems our little show might have fright you a little but be reassured that we won’t force you into anything you don’t want.”  

Are they asking you what you think they are?! They want you to join them in they festivities?!  

Alyssa push forward and gently press her lips against yours, kissing you like you were made of glass. “Please say yes.” She murmurs against your lips. 

You look into her eyes, seeing them burning with extreme lust. You knew this was inappropriate. That someone like you, a low-born, shouldn’t indulge in royal affairs. If the King or the Queen found out, you would probably get fired and forced to go back to the streets. Doing works that would only bring you shame.  

But your body betrayed you, not listening to your morals as you crash your lips against Alyssa. Whimpering as she bites your lower lip, her firm hands grabbing gently your breast. Your body felt like it was on fire, your core already dripping from arousal.  

Baelon’s lips found your neck, kissing and nipping on your sensitive skin. His hands begin to undo your dress, letting the cheap material fall down, pooling around your feet. 

Alyssa pulls back, her eyes ranking down your naked body. “A true beauty.” She looks at her husband and nodded towards their shared chambers. “Let’s continue this in our bed, shall we?”  

With that, Baelon picks you up and strolls to their chambers. Alyssa is hot in his heels. He throws you into the bed, making you yelp in surprise. Alyssa starts to undo Baelon’s clothes, kissing every spot of his body.  

Your eyes widen when he finally gets fully naked, your mouth watering at the sight of his perfectly muscular body. Alyssa stood beside him, gently stroking his massive erection.  

“It seems someone likes you, Husband.” She says with a smirk, giving a small squeeze at the base of his cock.  

Baelon chuckles and moves toward you, his lilac gaze focus on your flushed naked body. “It seems so... and I intend to show her how much I also like her.” He growls. 

You suck a deep breath when he pulls you to the end of the bed, spreading your legs apart. Shivering in anticipation, your pussy spasms around nothing. Wanting nothing more than be filled by his massive cock. 

Baelon spits down to your core, makes you jump in surprise, and brought his fingers down to your needy clit. Rubbing gently on it while his other fingers play with your entrance.  

“So wet already.” He groans, slipping his long fingers in and out of you. Loving your lewd moans. “Who owns this pussy?”  

You gasp in shock as he slaps your cunt when you don’t reply. “You, your Grace!” You whimper pathetically.  

He bends downs, capturing your lips with his. The kiss was completely the opposite of what you shared with Alyssa. His kiss was full of passion, teeth and tongue clashing against each other. 

He rubs the tip of his large member against your entrance, coating it with your own arousal.  

“Ready?” He asks. 

Biting your lower lip, you nod. Eyes widened as he thrust fully into you, the sting of his rough intrusion creating tears in the corner of your eyes.  

“Relax, sweetie” Alyssa appears on your side, fully naked. She puts her hand on one of your breasts, slowly pitching your nipple between her slim fingers. “I know he’s big but you will get used to it.” She gives Baelon a wink. 

Baelon groans lowly as he gave a first thrust, his beautiful face twisting in pleasure from how tight you felt around him. “Shit! You’re so tight.”  

Alyssa takes your nipple into her hot mouth, sucking it harshly, while her hand moves down on your body. Her finger rubbed lazily on your clit.  

Your back arched in ecstasy, mewl as Baelon’s cock brushed against a spot that made you see stars. 

“Gods!” you cry “I-It feels so good!”  

Alyssa hums, the vibrations making you moan loudly. You move your hand down her body, your fingers finding her needy pearl. She pulls away from your nipple and captures your lips with hers, drinking all your moans.  

Baelon smirked and gave a rather rough thrust, making you both jump. “What a lovely view.” He growls. 

Grabbing your hips, he pulls you up, making you straddle him while he lies down on the bed. He kisses Alyssa as he starts driving furiously into you. 

“Sit on my face, my love.” He snarls at his wife, making her giggle. 

“Who am I to say no to that?” She straddles his face, her front facing your way, and sat on his face. Sighing in delight when he begins licking and sucking her cunt. 

Grabbing your neck, she pulls you into another passionate kiss.  

The familiar feeling of pure bliss begins to form on your lower parts, whimpering and mewling into Alyssa’s lips. Your walls squeeze tightly around Baelon’s cock, yearning you a rough slap on your ass. 

“Close already?” He chuckles beneath Alyssa. “You want to come on my cock? Want to soak my cock with your lovely nectar, sweetheart?”  

You nod quickly. “Y-yes! Oh God... Please! I want to come!” You cry. 

Baelon’s grip on your hips tightened as he set a brutal pass, forcing a loud wail from your bruised lips.  

“Come for me, little maid.” He growls, making Alyssa moan as he eats her cunt like a starving man.  

Your eyes roll back as you finally come on his cock, your body tensing as waves of ecstasy roll through you. Tears run down freely from your eyes.  

Baelon nipped Alyssa’s clit, triggering her own orgasm as he comes inside you. Painting your walls with his seed. 

You rest your head on Alyssa’s chest, nuzzling your face into her breast. Baelon pets your hips gently while he kisses Alyssa’s inner thighs. 

She grabs your chin and gives you a gentle kiss. “Congratulations, little flame. You finally rode a dragon.”  

Giggling, you both fell on the bed beside Baelon, who pulls you two into his arms. Your eyes begin to fall shut, feeling suddenly tired after all the adrenaline and ecstasy start fading away.  

But you quickly woke up as Alyssa pitched your nipples, giving you a wicked smirk.  

“Do you think it’s over, little flame?” she mused. “The night is still young. Let us enjoy it until both of us are carrying little dragons inside us.” 

.

.

Main Tag List: @cryptid-l0ver @saelwen @saelwen-shy-elf @papichulo120627

[lavernius]

Locus as a metaphor for colorism/racism

Some people were interested in this take so I'm going to go over it really quick. I am brown, a lot of the experiences I talk about here are lived (and a lot of them I experienced from this fandom, ironically enough). Warnings for discussion of racism and colorism + abuse.

Don't be weird, keep it civil! I'm not telling you what to think I'm just giving my two cents as a person who has experienced all of this.

Note: I don't think RT intentionally did any of this because they couldn't even treat their real life employees of color well so I don’t trust them with a character of color LMAO. “Colorism” is specified here because being brown affects every part of life in a way that's difficult to explain if you haven't experienced it firsthand.

Locus experiences very true aspects of real-world racial profiling: he's a big, dark-skinned, reserved brown man who is heavily demonized—both by the narrative/show AND in-universe. The fact that the “scary” merc of the duo is the one who was confirmed brown in 14 is likely colorism on RT's part, yes, but it doesn't change that Locus is painted as an aggressive monster canonically (a common stereotype of brown men, and a cause for code-switching in many POC). He's a monster, a dog, a weapon, a machine—all words that are used to describe him in the show, some he even uses on himself. Obviously not words you should be applying to a brown person good lord!

Locus’s apathy isn't inherently part of him. Maybe he wasn't always kind or gentle, but he was forced into a violent situation and TRIED to stay empathetic, wanting to spare his enemies at times, before he was forced out of the mindset—something that still bothers him to this day, even if he's repressed it! Brown people commonly have mental health issues and trauma that doesn't get addressed because of cultural expectations and medical racism, to the point where a lot of our cultures normalize very unhealthy behaviors. More of a stretch, maybe, but it reads like racial trauma if I ever saw it (and I have). Specifically because:

Felix sees him starting to lose his empathy, which is VERY BAD for Locus’s mental health, and takes advantage of it to use Locus as something of a “guard dog”. Erm, white people benefiting from racism and colorism? White people forcing stigma on brown people to gain power over them? What a surprise!

On the note of Felix: while Santa’s reveal that Felix is afraid of Locus can have several meanings, a lot of them can still lead down a road of (abusive) racism. He's scared of Locus because he's a “merciless killer”, isn't the same person he used to be? Who caused that, I wonder? Scared because if Locus found out he was being manipulated he’d immediately abandon Felix? Yeah, because he's being manipulated and abused, of course he’d leave… if I found out I was being manipulated by a white man I'd be uncomfortable too! Victim blaming is EXTREMELY common with racist white people because there is POWER in being white and blaming the brown man.

I like to see Locus’s divorce from his given name and visage as a symbol of cultural isolation. POC are so frequently made victims of identity crises because we’re expected to conform to a white world, whether we try to be white people or try to be what white people expect us to be. The latter in Locus’s case—they want a violent brown man, they have one. It keeps him alive at the cost of taking his sense of self away. He's safer as Locus, the armor, than he is as Ortez, the person.

There's not like, canonical evidence I can point to, but Locus feels like a catch-22 of “I want to be angry that people see me as a monster for being brown, but if I’m angry they’ll see me as a monster because I am brown”. It's a cycle that's hard to escape because when you ARE a righteous brown person who wants to be angry because the world has hurt you, it's so easy to paint you as an animal.

Um the fandom is extremely racist to him in ways I don't think they're even aware of. He's got it all! Fandom whitewashing and stereotyping and sexualizing and demonizing, people shipping him with a white person who hurt him (because a brown person cannot be hurt by a white person without SOMEONE wanting to forgive the white perpetrator for it LMFAO, many such cases where it’s done for the sake of shipping too), performative diversity and a lack of actual depth in his culture bar the fact that he speaks Spanish and has a Hispanic name…I don’t even think the guy who MADE him gives a shit that he’s brown (past it giving him brownie points) and how it affects him. Yeah who’s surprised. (EDIT: did not know Miles was mixed, but POC are still capable of colorism, etc. I still think Miles, as a lighter skinned person, doesn't fully comprehend how Locus being dark plays into the dynamic/Locus's character as a whole. Still, entirely my mistake.)

So basically: brown guy gets dehumanized, white guy takes advantage of it, systemic colorism and stigma helps white guy get away with it, brown guy is alienated from himself as a result and thinks he genuinely is a monster because everyone treats him like one. I see myself in him as a brown person who has experienced colorism for having low empathy and not connecting with society. It's awesome.

He is a textbook traumatized brown guy. He's got internalized racism/colorism. He's going to meet other brown people and unlearn it. He’s going to connect with his culture again. He’s going to realize he never owed the white man power over him just because he was convenient to control. He's going to be okay!

No thanks to RT because they couldn’t write a good brown guy if they tried + it falls on us brown people to give coincidences this kind of personal meaning. LOL

Next week (not really) I get into how Lopez is an incredible accidental portrayal of alienated brown people who have pride in themselves and want justice for being mistreated all the time.

[thechekhov]

you mentioned in recent tags about a horror comic you drew- i understand not wanting to link publicly to it to avoid creating MORE misinterpretations, but i really like your storytelling and now i’m curious?? so if you could, that’d be great! no pressure either way!

(i’m sending this off anon so you have the choice to respond to it privately anyways) (love your art thanks) (and the dungeon meshi reacts)

Thanks for the kind message! And it's not a secret or anything, it's straight up this post:

I used language comparing humans and other animals as two separate things (for the sake of drawing the narrative conclusions I needed to, in order to make the concept understood in only a few pages), like this:

But because of this simplified language, people drew their OWN wild conclusions about me as a person.

For example, this guy on twitter:

I never actually said humans WEREN'T animals, never said humans were somehow 'above' biology...I was simply putting them into a separate category capable of a specific set of skills for the sake of the comparison I made in the last couple of pages as the punchline.

But they decided that it must "clearly" mean I believe X, Y and Z.

This has happened MORE than enough times!

Writing is difficult, and writing for varied audiences with different dialects, different levels of reading ability, and different attention spans is hard! Sometimes, people don't want to sit through 2 pages of 'well humans are animals but due to a specific evolutionary niche we fill our ability to use language and calculate mathematical equations to the degree that we do is really unique--'

Now, mind you... I STILL got grief for trying to be soft-boiled in my delivery. People (who don't have a linguistics degree) IMMEDIATELY also messaged me to tell me that chimps CAN learn language - and haven't I seen that one video with the gorilla, the dolphin, etc?

And that's it's own can of worms. (No, other animals cannot learn language the way humans can. Yes, they can communicate in complex ways. No, language is a very specific human thing as far as leading scientists are concerned, at least based on current data. Yes, I went to University for this. I have a degree. Please just trust me.)

It happens, I'm not actively mad about it... Humans tend to take whatever we read and run with it.

But we make this mistake often! I know I also make this mistake. We come conclusions based on scarce evidence! We jump to the worst case scenario! We presume that we know better than that person what they believe, based on minimal interaction with them.

It's yet another thing that's unique to humans thanks to... wait for it... language!

It's the price we pay for having memes.