#goth line cook energy

[bosspigeon]

thinking about the fact that Noddy ABSOLUTELY fucked Gortash silly and ruined him for literally everyone else bc he's That Insane Guy who has the most ridiculous dick game you've ever seen 😩

[hwaightme]

"Your fan, _____" Series Masterlist

Hello there <3 welcome to the mini masterlist for this series! All works collected here are around the theme of what would each member be like as your fan and how that develops into a heart-fluttering romance! In general, the bullet-style fics are sfw, fem!reader unless stated otherwise, and done in two parts. Below the cut you will find the general disclaimers as well as additional information for each member, and links to the fics! Happy reading, and any and all likes, reblogs and asks are always welcome, thank you so much <3

Suggested order: Jongho, Yunho, Mingi, Wooyoung, Hongjoong, Yeosang, San, Seonghwa

GENERAL DISCLAIMERS:

These works are fictional and for entertainment purposes only, and do not reflect the people mentioned in them as individuals.

All works and moodboards have been created by me, and reposting is strictly prohibited.

Themes covered may be triggering for certain audiences and/or inappropriate for minors. This is why I keep the body of the works below the cut, and try my best to do extensive tagging and warnings. If you see something that does not sit well with you, please dni, and if I missed a tag lmk immediately.

👘 Hongjoong: (part 1) (part 2)

pairing: hongjoong x fashion designer!reader warnings/tags: language, radio shows, reader is goth, goth subculture, a bit of mutual pining, seonghwa aries rage, san is sus, jealousy, DRAMA(rama), hongjoong is starstruck, reader has her own fashion house/brand, photoshoots, brand collabs, demon line boutta act up

🛸 Seonghwa: (part 1) (part 2)

pairing: seonghwa x nerdfluencer & physicist!reader warnings/tags: language, SCIENCE, astrophysics, may the force be with you, scientific formulas, lego obsession, yunho driving, hongjoong jealousy and fatigue, seonghwa just wants someone to be a nerd with

📺 Yeosang: (part 1) (part 2)

pairing: yeosang x talk show host!reader warnings/tags: language, yeosang lowkey writing fanfics, manhandling, wooyoung attacks, roommate gathering, mc yeosang, reader is a late night talk show host, exo and txt appearances, wooyoung has connections everywhere, yeosang always has a plan even when you think he doesn't

🎮 Yunho: (part 1) (part 2)

pairing: yunho x game developer!reader warnings/tags: language, reader is a dev, coding/gaming is life, wooyoung knows, yunho as a gaming enthusiast, introversion, social anxiety, implied depressive episode, business friend playing wingwoman, flirting in chat, reader is oblivious, yunho wants to be noticed, gaming dates, ateez have potential as twitch streamers, yeosang is a legend, mingi is best homie

🍰 Wooyoung: (part 1) (part 2)

pairing: wooyoung x baker!/cafeowner!reader warnings/tags: maybe language, a tad suggestive, ateez chaotic energy, wooyoung what are you watching boi, e-girls mention with yunho hints, time to vacuum the lawn to catch gossip, ateez wingmen, wooyoung falls fast, reader and wooyoung are both flirts, cooking, baking, mention of food/eating

🎤 Mingi: (part 1) (part 2)

pairing: mingi x rapper!reader warnings/tags: language, reader is an underground rapper, mingi is totally starstruk, producer hongjoong energy, activism, criticism of music industry, dark side of idol life, hongjoong-ah instead of hyung, yunho is supportive friend (TM), mingi being a rebel, sneaking out, potential rap battles incoming, reader with that mic drop

💬 San: (part 1) (part 2)

pairing: san x interpreter!reader warnings/tags: language, simping, hopeless romantic, linguistics, interpreter/translator reader, duo bird terrors, ateez wingman alliance, concerts, public speaking, job stress, slow burn, falling in love hard and fast

⚽ Jongho: (part 1) (part 2)

pairing: jongho x footballer!reader warnings/tags: jongho falling fast, you are a football prodigy, hongjoong lowkey is a wingman, jongho hiding feelings, sports, football, cute romance, overall wholesome vibes, jongho is an undercover athlete, yeosang seizes opportunity, hongjoong is in on the secrets, sports, football, cute romance, secret relationship, seriously in love, overall wholesome vibes

Your fan messages:

[ 1 ] - Jongho, Yunho

[ 2 ] - Wooyoung, Mingi

[ 3 ] - Hongjoong, Yeosang

[ 4 ] - San, Seonghwa

[prettyflyshyguy]

Hi everyone in true Shy fashion I've been violently bouncing projects, energy levels and motivation and I'm still furiously trying to get my shit together for the latter half of the year; I'm cooking up big things but in the meantime, here's something extremely silly, and extremely fun, and extremely inFAMOUS.

It's a chunk of a WIP I'm writing that I'll hopefully release a few chapters of down the line.

Zeke rolled the near empty glass in his hands, watching the liquid swirl around and bubble softly. Under the blacklight it glowed an almost putrid green, and it tasted worse than it looked, but he couldn’t resist the siren song of the Pyre Night specials. Nothing good cost under five dollars, but he wanted something to do while he waited. The bar was packed full, and he was starting to regret the choice of location. He had hoped to mingle with the locals, maybe use Cole’s good name and face to chat up some beautiful goth women, but the Devil’s Sacrament had been overrun by commoners and rabble. He glanced up from staring into the green portal that had settled in his drink as the bartender gestured at the near empty glass. Zeke slid it across the bar with one finger, sighing as he checked his watch. It was too busy, and too early, to even bother trying to attempt to flirt with the venue staff, and he’d given up hope of even trying with anyone else since setting foot on the stairs leading into the basement. He’d had to fight tooth and nail to even make it to the bar, and he was growing tired of overhearing the drabble of conversation from plastered partiers who were at best simply uncultured, and at worse hillbilly’s out of the league of the regulars of the finest establishment in all of New Marais. 

“What is this music?” a man drunkenly slurred as he bumped into Zeke’s back, either apathetic or purposefully ignoring him.

“Bela Lugosi’s Dead.” the unimpressed feminine voice responded. 

“Oh my god, that’s like, so sad, how did he die?” 

Zeke groaned, loud and exaggerated, as he placed a few bills on the table before skulling the refilled glass. He had been waiting for over half an hour, and he was starting to get worried. Something felt off, and the artificial watermelon flavored wannabe-cruiser only made the feeling worse. Cole could handle himself, but this was supposed to be their night off. One night to party, one night to pretend things were like they had been once before. A night for themselves, before the powers, the responsibility. Before he had gone and messed everything up. Maybe Cole wasn’t coming back to meet him. Maybe he was off hanging out with Nix, or even Kuo. The conduit club, no Zeke’s allowed. That’d be right, he thought, as he considered flagging the bartender over for a third round. The eerie, somewhat festive music rumbled through the bar, and as he was lost in the swirl of green at the bottom of his near empty glass once more, Zeke didn’t notice the rhythmic buzzing coming from his short’s back pocket. 

His phone rang twice before he registered it, and he fumbled as he struggled to pull it out amongst the stumbling bodies of the crowd pressing against his back. Peering at the screen, he could just make out the caller ID in the dim smoke filled room. “Oh, oh shit.” he waved away the bartender as he slid off the stool, one arm holding the phone to his ear, the other tapping people on the shoulder and carving a path for him to escape the animals that continued to pour into the already cramped bar. 

“Hey Brother, where you at?” Zeke yelled over the booming sound system and rowdy crowd, “I’m starting to get worried over here. Everything ok under the church, did someone let off a firework on accident?”

He frowned as he struggled to hear Cole over the noise as he pushed his way up the stairs towards the exit and the outdoors. He could barely make out what the man was saying, but whatever it was, it hardly sounded good. 

“Woah woah woah slow down brother, can you uh repeat that last part?”

As he pushed open the door, the cool evening breeze washed over him and he admired the beautiful dark purple and blue of the night sky. Taking a few steps away from the bar and out into the street, despite the footraffic and explosions of nearby fireworks, he could hear the phone much more clearly. He pushed his sunglasses up to rest on his head as he wiped his eyes, trying not to laugh at what Cole was blabbering over the phone as the line crackled. He’d done his best to insulate the mobile, but given Cole’s situation, you can’t do much to stop electromagnetism messing with things when he was near them. 

“Ha Ha… Really?” Zeke grinned ear to ear as he shook his head. 

“Do you look more handsome than normal?” he chuckled, “Do teenage girls suddenly find you irresistible?” 

“Seriously, brother, I know I told you to get out and have some fun tonight but how many drinks have you had?” he added after a pause, “and why didn't you meet up with me first?”

He started making his way down the street back in the direction of their home base, smiling as Cole continued. “Yeah, brother those are your incisors, it is very normal if they're pointier than your other teeth.” he frowned, “Ok ok calm down, meet me at my place and Dr zeke will take a look at ya.”

“Are you sure you haven't had anything to drink?”

“Booze, Cole. I'm talking about booze.”

“OK brother, I'll Meet you there.”

Zeke hung up and slipped the phone back into his pocket as he chuckled to himself. “Hoooo… that boy is plastered.” 

His smile dampened slightly as the thought returned. Plastered without him. They’d always gone out together, he always promised Trish he’d make sure Cole didn’t do anything stupid, they’d look after each other. That was then, things were different now, he supposed. 

Guess being the Hero of Empire City, and now New Marais, earns you free drinks too. Guess ol’ Zeke’s only useful when thing’s go wrong. Only worth a dime when–

He cut the thought in half and attempted to distract himself with the sights and scenes of the festival as it began to truly come alive as the last embers of sunlight had faded. Something had gone wrong, that much was clear. Plenty of people might want to hurt Cole, put him in a vulnerable position, try and manipulate him, or just try and abuse his good nature. Sure a little penicillin smoothed things over last time Zeke made a grand mistake in New Marais, but things had changed. That was then, and this was now. It was out of character for Cole to flip out like this though, he recognised perhaps he had been too harsh. He’d hold the thought and see what the hell was going on once they met up. He was starting to get more worried. 

No part of the south island was devoid of activity, with performers, food trucks and spectacles on every corner. By the time Zeke arrived back at the building they’d camped out on the roof of he’d picked up multiple glow stick wristbands that had been shoved into his hands, and he’d narrowly avoided a group of youths armed with silly-string. It’d taken him long enough to return by foot, and even in a compromised state, he knew Cole was faster, having no doubt ridden the power lines. As he arrived on familiar gravel atop the stairwell, he announced his presence before even confirming if his friend was even there. His tone was jovial, but he couldn’t hide the twinge of pain underpinning it. “Alright brother now I won’t judge you if you’re into some freaky shit, I mean hell, tonight’s the night for it! I just wish you’d gotten me in on the action.” He continued to speak as he rounded the corner of the stairwell access. “But Cole man c’mon, I know you’re freaking out but it's ok, you’re not a vamp- HOLY MOTHER OF BABY JESUS!!”

[avampyone]

My FFXIV OC blog ☠️

Feel free to call me Pharos. Chill, non-binary (any pronouns), pan goth with a love for vampires, RPGs and horror games! I may reblog content from other fandoms I adore.

I go between content and occasionally rping or visiting RP venues in game - venue recs welcome! I'll be posting primarily gpose (mostly Hemlocke) on here but will include gpose/story snippets and writing when I have the time and energy to do so.

☽༺༻☾ ☽༺༻☾ ☽༺༻☾ ☽༺༻☾ ☽༺༻☾ ☽༺༻☾ ☽༺༻☾ ☽༺༻☾ ☽༺༻☾

Hemlocke:

Former Ishgardian noble who’s come to Eorzea searching for a specific black mage cult. A workaholic - Hemlocke is usually busy with bartending or working off his debt to the Thaumaturge guild. Confident and reckless, you’ll rarely find him without a smirk on his face no matter what situation he's facing. A mysterious elezen who's easy to talk with but difficult to truly know. Unfortunately, his supernatural constitution affects his ability to wield magic effectively, and he's likely one of the worst cooks you'll ever met. Hemlocke has a pet bat named Bruce.

https://hemlockevamp.carrd.co/

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A relationship chart and alt OC Info below the cut:

An OC + important figures relationship chart:

Dr Arazul De'Fleur:

A renowned doctor born of the De’Fleur family of Old Sharlayan - quiet, enigmatic and calculating. Like his father, he excels in medical practice and alchemy. A run in with the Garlemald empire and surviving Black Rose changes the course of his life forever. He awakes with an odd mark over his eye, silver hair and lips stained with a purple hue proving remnants of the poison lingers, unbalancing his aether. Worst of all, he develops a ‘Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde personality’. Will he ever find a way to cure himself completely?

Seiro Malkavi:

A WoL and a skilled hunter of the Dotharl clan from the Azim Steppe. His stoic demeanor hides a softer interior, unable to ignore a cry for help. He's honest, straightforward and generally warms up to others quickly. After a tragic incident involving a friend of the Mol clan and in disagreements about war, Seiro leaves his homeland to become an adventurer. The lust for battle and desire for stronger opponents consume all sense from him, and he finds the thrill of the fight in hunting monsters.

Cerys La'Sorciere:

An eccentric sorceress from the Churning Mists who wields a powerful command over the elements and plant life. She has a knowledge of herbal remedies and potions. Merciless to her enemies and seen as a trickster to many – At her core, Cerys carries an ancient secret that none would believe. Unwelcomed in Ishgard, she is the last of the long line of the La’sorciere family whom have made the mists their home for many decades. She allies herself with the Moogle tribe, dragons and the RedBills.

Amaranth Vyce:

A Dhampir priest in training from Ishgard. Trained from his youth at the orphanage, Amaranth primarily fights against the packs of the feral undead and aids Hemlocke when he can. He seems cold, vicious and detached, but he truly doesn't want to harm anyone unless he has to. One of his strengths is the strong connection to spirits and ability to see/talk to them. As a dhampir, he naturally struggles with less than priestly thoughts and hopes fervent prayer to the fury will overcome this.

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Alts profile carrd below:

https://pharosgremlins.carrd.co/#

FFXIV NPCs:

Carvallain De Gorgagne, considering Deryk.

[kennys-parka-jacket]

Kenny for that ask game! And all of the questions, or how ever many you feel like answering.

This took me, like, an hour and a hslf to type.

1. Why do you like or dislike this character?

On surface level he's really cute and silly. Then you realize he's perverse and swears like a sailor. Then you learn he's a loyal friend, good at emotional support, and will do anything for the people he loves.

He's also pretty versatile. He can be a beautiful princess, a batman-esque vigilante, an eccentric mad scientist, a whitetrash redneck, a talented opera singer, a skilled musician, etc. He can do anything!! (Except sew and cook apparently XD)

2. Favorite canon thing about this character?

How he broke the cycle of abuse that's been going on for generations in his family. Also, despite arguably having the worst home life, he never let himself become villian-like like some other characters in this series.

3. Least favorite canon thing about this character?

His tendency to be ignored by the writers. From being 'permanently' killed off to being reduced to a background character for a few seasons to just kinda being forgotten about halfway through some episodes.

4. If you could put this character in any other media, be it a book, a movie, anything, what would you put them in?

Sanrio, any animated run. I just think it'd be funny if this little orange nugget was running around the hello kitty universe being his usual R-rated self and every line of dialogue slipping past the censors.

5. What's the first song that comes to mind when you think about them?

Promotion Man by Merzbow. Same reason as All Star, despite the pain of existence he stays silly!! But in a much more noisy and industrial kinda way. Also I think Kenny would listen to harsh noise. (Tumblr wont let me link it :( )

6. What's something you have in common with this character?

Already answered.

7. What's something the fandom does when it comes to this character that you like?

In fan art he's often smiling when no one else is. Not in a way that feels like his happiness comes at the expense of others, but moreso he just has a different mindset. Or perhaps he's just high among his sober friends; which, given how he acts in canon sometimes, might be possible.

8. What's something the fandom does when it comes to this character that you despise?

When fans portray him as a casual sexual predator and it gets played off as just him being a flirt. The second half of that is the important part.

9. Could you be roommates with this character?

That's a big fat NOPE lol. He's messy as hell, cant cook, and, with his luck, he'd probably die every other week. Sorry, but there's no way no how it would ever happen.

10. Could you be best friends with this character?

Probably, yeah. Kenny gets along with pretty much everyone and I get along with most people too. I see no reason why we couldn't be friends.

11. Would you date this character?

He's 10 XD. But if you mean when he's around my age, still likely no. Reasons I'd rather not get into.

12. What's a headcanon you have for this character?

Some items he never leaves home without: a loaded handgun, drugs of some kind, 20+ dollars in loose change, the same phone that he's been using for the past five years.

13. What's an emoji, an emoticon and/or any symbol that reminds you of this character or you think the character would use a lot?

🧡😸🍊 reminds me of him

🌮😏🤘 IIRC canonically those are his most used emojis

14. Assign a fashion aesthetic to this character.

You know those shirts they sell at Spencers? Yeah.

15. What's your favorite ship for this character? (Doesn't matter if it's canon or not.)

In no particular order:

- Kenrietta. lady who's goth throughout x guy who's secretly goth but looks like the sunniest guy alive. They compliment each other nicely but also lend some funny contrast.

-Kammy/Kentam. The two poorest people in town, match each other's energy and craving for physical affection, are fiercely loyal to each other.

-Stenny. Sooo much angst and hurt/comfort.

16. What's your least favorite ship for this character?

Tbh never been extremely fond of that trope where his partner acts like they dislike him. But whatever, it just isnt my cup of tea.

17. What's a ship for this character you don't hate but it's not your favorite that you're fine with?

This is such an oddly specific question lol. Anyway, i enjoy him and craig, but a lot of content for them feels rather one sided. With that said, they absolutely deserve their reputation as one of the most popular ships in this fandom's history.

18. How about a relationship they have in canon with another character that you admire?

Basically the plot of season 24 is that everybody loves him even when no one likes each other. I strive to have that kind of relationship one day XD.

19. How about a relationship they have in canon that you don't like?

I dont know WHAT is going on between him and his grandpa, but something aint right.

20. Which other character is the ideal best friend for this character, the amount of screentime they share doesn't matter?

Everybody because everyone loves him.

21. If you're a fic writer and have written for this character, what's your favorite thing to do when you're writing for this character? What's something you don't like?

Already answered.

22. If you're a fic reader, what's something you like in fics when it comes to this character? Something you don't like?

Love how people write about his demise; everyone does it differently and it's epic each time.

Ngl it's pretty funny when fans write about him doing sex work sometimes. It's often comical how much he's willing to do for so little in return. Homeboy's seriously risking jailtime for a buck fifty.

23. Favorite picture of this character?

24. What other character from another fandom of yours that reminds you of them?

His muffled speech kinda reminds me of Coco from FHFIF. Also Rada from Chowder.

25. What was your first impression of this character? How about now?

First impression: the cutest little tangerine in the whole wide world.

Now: I would protect you with my life. I'm gonna go buy another pair of socks with your face on it.

[ghost-hosts]

Corbin Astrophel

General Information

First name: Corbin 

Middle name(s): Astrophel

Surname: Obitus

Age: 35+

Date of birth: 10/31

Race: Spirit

Gender: indifferent/nonbinary

Sexuality: queer

Current residence: HK Manor, Peach, Louisiana

Relationship status: Single

Social status: Upper Class

Traits of Voice

Accent (if any): Irish

Language spoken: English

Other languages known: Gaelic, some Latin

Style of speaking: poised most of the time, depends on situation

Volume of voice: average

Physical Appearence

Faceclaim: Andy Biersack

Height: 6'2

Weight: 140 lb

Eye colour: Blue

Skin colour: pale

Shape of face: angular

Distinguishing features: eyes, cheekbones

Build of body: skinny but muscular

Hair colour: usually either white, black or lavender

Hair style: longer, to his cheekbones

Complexion: clear

Posture: decent if not over confident usually

Tattoos: several along his arms and on either side of his neck and down his ribs

Piercings: lip piercings, with several ear piercings and two eye brow piercings on the left side 

Typical clothing: suits during the night, otherwise wears pastel lavender and black, usually pastel goth when not working

Is seen by others as: intimidating, bold, confident, mysterious, carefree

Personality

Likes: the manor, morbid things, bones, the mausoleum under the willow tree behind the manor, farther away from the rest

Dislikes: drugs, abusers, pain, touch

Education: high school

Fears: demons, hallucinations, being held onto

Personal goals: To help others heal

General attitude: welcoming, patient, kind

Religious values: pagan

General intelligence: high

General sociability: low to moderate

Health

Illnesses (if any):

drug addiction

mild hallucinations

insomnia

anxiety

depression

PTSD

Allergies (if any):

Sleeping habits: horrible. Looks like he hasn’t slept in centuries

Energy level: moderate

Eating habits: used to struggle with eating

Memory: shockingly good

Any unhealthy habits: vaping, workaholic

History

Birth country: Ireland

Hometown: Dublin

Childhood: Really well, even if his mother struggled immensely

Teen years: tumultuous, his bio dad coming back into his life got him into drugs

Adult years: after losing his crush and four others, he ran away to Louisianna

Past places of residence: Ireland, LA

History of family: comes from a long line of witches, grandfather is Death

Relationships

Parents: Valdis Kemp-Obitus(mother), Vincent Renner(father), Annaline Kemp(great grandmother), Mortem Obitus(grandfather),

Siblings: none

Any enemies (and why): none

Children: none

Friends: Church/Rowan, Zera

Best friend(s): Ace (hiddcnself)

Important friends/relatives (explain):

Love interest (if there is one):

Combat

Peaceful or violent: depends on the situation

Weapon (if applicable): cane

Style of fighting: dirty street fighting

Others

Occupation: Ghost Host

Current home: Hannigan-Kemp Manor

Favourite types of food: sugar

Favourite types of drink: cherry soda

Hobbies/past times: cooking and baking, exploring the house

Guilty pleasures: drawing and listening to stupid podcasts

Pet peeves: loudness, interruptions

Pets: Church(???)

Talents: Singing, art, really good at lying

Favourite colours: lavender and black

Favourite type of music: punk, metal and classical

Biography

Corbin grew up in Ireland, with a mom who worked as a Dominatrix at a sex club. He grew up in the club, knowing the business and learned about safe sex, and what wasn’t okay, which was beneficial when they moved to LA when his dad finally decided to be in his life. It was hard the transition from Ireland to LA, and he got pulled into the wrong crowd pretty quickly. His dad wasn’t in his life for long though. 

His mother inherited HK Manor when he was seventeen from his great grandmother. A few years later, while on a particularly bad trip, he watched his crush and four of his friends summoned demons while high. He held onto his crush trying to keep him from going to hell. Corbin had to watch as he unknowingly sped up his crush’s life. He watched and felt his crush’s life be drained from him, as his skin wrinkled and greyed and his eyes faded, turning to bone and to dust. 

After the event he fled to Louisianna, and put his entire heart and soul into restoring the manor. Though when he turned twenty-five his body started failing him and he kept it quiet until he was visited by Mortem who offered him the job of ghost host when he was ready, once he had his affairs in order.

He believes he is dead now, but his body is in stasis tied to the house, fed by his uncle every few weeks through his own life force.

[pizza-hats-of-the-world-1882]

Grimoud, your boy, and Percy for the character thing

I'm gonna break this into three posts so it's not obnoxiously long lol

First up: Grimaud!

(L to r, top to bottom)

1. Look, he's waaayy too competent and dedicated to his job, he would kill me without hesitation. Even when he's on your side he just has creepy/wet energy ( I mean, one of my fav parts of 20ya is when he's just running around covered in someone else's blood and saying weird ominous stuff)(king) (20ya has so much good grimaud content)

2. He appeared to me in a dream to clarify his characterization we have a special relationship 💜

3. WHERE! IS! HE! and honestly I'm not mad that bbc made him a villain I'm mad that they didn't commit to the bit and make it actually HIM as a villain (or better: evil lackey sqaud) also! It was a tv show! They had time to include more characters (like the lackeys) and they Didn't. Smh

4. Like I said he gets more screen time in the second book but I would not complain if he got even more

5. Free space! I think he's one of those people who carries like, an inordinate amount of utility items at any given time. Like he has a whole spice rack in dime bags "just in case"

6. Maybe if I had more information about him this wouldn't happen, Dumas...

7. Scrunkly line cook with the eyes of rasputin<3

8. I mean all of the lackeys complement their masters pretty well but I especially like the way that Athos and grimaud add up to give the reader a picture of Nobility! But goth and insane (I also love how dumas introduces the musketeers as people by describing their houses/servants it's so fun) but I think that grimaud just plays really well against other characters in general [Beaufort during the prison break, d'art and raoul, that one scene in 20ya where the lackeys are plotting to steal some wine and Blasois is like: isn't stealing wrong? And grimaud says: not if it's from the British! Asdfghjkl king)

Anyway askjeeves send tweet

[steamedlem0ns]

Adventures in Goth Sitting: Chapter 1

Bucky X Original Chubby Female Character, Nickname: Morticia

Word Count: ~1400

Warnings: cursing, soul sucking, general buffoonery, Bucky being a sweet shit, discussion of cannabis use (future chapters to include angst, love, canon compliant gore, occult activity, sex, dom/sub relationships, breeding (no pregnancy involved), and more.)

Rating: PG-13 (each additional chapter will be XRated )

Part two:

Author’s Note: Hi! Thanks for stopping by and I really hope you enjoy the first chapter of this fic. I’ve got some big things planned and I just really hope you like it. I really enjoyed writing it.

Rule 1: Your Goth requires darkness or shade, at all times. Bright, hot spaces are to be avoided without explicit permission.

You could cook an egg on the sidewalk. I was half tempted to at this point. My entire body was sticky and covered in a layer of sweat thicker than I’d ever been covered in before. My dress stuck to my body uncomfortably and I knew I was going to have chaffing on my calves from these boots.

“You better have a good goddamn reason for bringing me out here, Barnes.” I snapped.

Bucky was ahead of me cutting through a line of ivy to clear a path. I saw his back curl in a chuckle.

We’d had this discussion. When Natasha left for missions, I was his to watch. Couldn’t be trusted on my own apparently. You suck the literal soul out of a skeeze for touching you inappropriately once out on the streets and suddenly you need a court mandated babysitter. Bullshit.

I’d much rather be in my cozy nest in my room, Watching Simpsons and smoking several bowls. Maybe I’d pop some popcorn and order Thai for dinner. Treat myself to a nice relaxing afternoon. But, no. I’m stuck out in the middle of bum fuck Egypt for no apparent reason with the closest thing in existence (to my knowledge) to an incubus. The man was six foot five inches of pure sex and just radiated big dick energy.

Currently though, fuck him. Not in the good way.

“The stop is just up here, Morticia. You bring your bathing suit like I told you to?” Condescension dripped off his voice like honey. I motioned to the pack on my back with an eye roll, thankfully hidden by my sunglasses and hat.

I followed him up the hill and through the thicket of fully green trees. The terrain began to level out and we approached what looked like a cliff.

“Absolutely, fucking not Barnes. Did you really bring me out here to jump to my death? Ready to get rid of me, already?”

I knew he wasn’t my biggest fan, in fact, that was the reason Natasha picked him as back up. She thought there’d be less of a chance of me using my “wiles” to get my way. I gently reminded her, I learned from the best.

Bucky stopped and smiled, propping his hands on his hips. I could see a thin layer of sweat on his brow and felt instantly jealous of that damn serum running through him.

“I brought you out here to let go. You’re too wound up. You either hole yourself up alone or seclude yourself in Nats room. She’s tired of it. Frankly, I’m tired of listening to her bitch. So, doll, you’re go behind that tree and change - gentleman’s honor, I won’t peek - and then, we’re gonna jump off this cliff, together.”

I rolled my eyes and pulled off my sunglasses. If men have one thing, they have the audacity.

“I’m not cliff jumping with you, you goat fucker.”

Oof. Too much. Bucky’s face twisted in this sick half smirk half scowl and he advanced on me. I stumbled backwards, catching a boot on a rock and fell back on my ass. My tailbone stung and I looked up, bleary eyed to see a very angry James Barnes staring at me. He kicked the rock out the way and laughed.

“Am I making you fall for me already, sweetheart?” He mocked. Bucky knelt and grabbed the front of my dress, yanking me up and leveling my eyes with his.

“Go get fucking changed. I won’t tell you again.” He let me go and I landed with a sharp thud. I watched stunned as he just walked away to the ledge again and stripped off his shirt. There was NO way he’d catch me staring. Not after that. The consistent ache between my legs told me that if I wasn’t careful, something bad was going to happen. I picked myself up and adjusted my now, stretched dress. There was a large, old tree nearby and I decided to use that as cover. Believing that Bucky would keep his eyes to himself felt so far away at this point. But, the shiver that thought sent up my spine made me immediately put that fantasy to rest. I changed quickly, pulling my boobs in the cups of the black bikini and sending a prayer to the gods they’d stay there. I tied up my top and bottoms and adjusted the back. The skimpy garment was a great choice at the time of purchase. I would have never thought I’d End up here.

A moment later I mustered the courage to leave my hiding spot. I stuffed my clothes into the bag and slipped on my flip flops.

“Put your bag by the Boulder on your right.”

Bucky called. He never looked over. I did as he said and walked to him. My Heart pounded against my ribs almost painfully. Bucky finally turned his gaze toward me. With a huff and s jaw tick he held out his flesh hand to me.

“You good, Buck?” I asked.

He nodded, “Yeah, I’m good.” He certainly wasn’t. But, I took his hand and we walked to the edge. I could see for miles. Endless green and blue sky, wonder and beauty for miles. Untainted majesty in the middle of New York.

“I’ve wanted to do this for years. Never found the right partner. So.” Bucky looked at you, “wanna jump with me, doll?”

I nodded way too many times. I gripped his hand tighter and he moved us to the edge.

“Okay, we’re going to back up seven steps and then when I say go, run. Don’t let go.”

We went flying, Through the air, like two of the strangest birds. No wings, no way to keep themselves up.

We crashed. Pummeling through the cold water together. I felt Buckys hand slip from my own as we went under. I was consumed. The impact jostled my senses and I struggled to gain stability under the water. As I thrashed, trying to force myself up I felt a hand grab my arm.

Bucky pulled me to the surface and we swam to shore. We both heaved and fought for our breaths for a few moments before raucous laughter broke out.

“You said you wouldn’t try to kill me.” I chided. He cackled. I tried desperately to catch my breath.

“Good?” Bucky asked. His voice sounded genuinely concerned.

“Yeah, ugh. Just, need to breathe.”

We sat like that for what felt like forever. Watching the sky and resting our lungs, we warmed beneath the sun. After a few moments, I pulled myself up and sat cross legged.

“Why’d you agree to do this?” I asked.

“Huh?”

“Why did you agree to be my “escort” when Natasha isn’t around?” I asked him again. After months I still hadn’t figured that out. Usually, he stayed as far away from me as possible, even when he was supposed to be with me. I would walk into a room and he would leave. It’s not like he ever went far, I could always feel his eyes burning into me - but, he never made the effort to even stay around me.

“I know what it’s like to lose control. I’ve been unfair to you, honestly. I know you think I hate you, doll, but I don’t. I’ve been in therapy for a bit…” I turned to look at Bucky as he continued, “working on myself. Figured out that I was projecting my own fears onto you. Some shit my therapist said anyway. You can’t be expected to take shit from people for all your life and never fight back. I didn’t see some soul eating witch and I don’t. I see a woman who is tired of being treated like dirt and she fought back. She just happens to be able to eat souls.”

The tears formed quick, They burnt hot like betrayal in my eyes. I was so wrong about him. God, I was wrong.

I reached my hand over and covered his metal one with my own flesh fingers.

“Thanks, Mr. Roboto.”

Amendment to Rule Number One: when gothsitting in the heat, consider water. Results will vary.

[side-effect-of-the-meds]

PLEASE write about Andrew & Jean being chaotic and bitter bffs on the same team the power they would have the intimidation level the fashionable goth energy,,, w ow also I want Andrew to learn French so badly which we all know he would if Jean started insulting him in French

IT WON’T BE UP ANY TIME SOON but I’m writing a fic about Andrew visiting Renee’s for winter break in his final year of college in which he’s forced to spend the week sharing a space with Jean. 

Over the course of said week, they form a tentative alliance that’s essentially that We’re Not So Different You And I bit by John Mulaney 

Anyway, that’s like mid-way through Andrew’s fourth year. They don’t speak again until a little before Andrew’s graduation. The Foxes have just won the Championships they made it to finals last year and lost the last  game :’( and so they’re having a party. Andrew needed some air so he stepped outside and, a little while later, he hears footsteps on the porch behind him. Jean sits down, leaving some space between the two of them so as not to crowd Andrew, and just sort of slides a piece of paper over. Andrew keeps up his cool guy facade for a while, assuming Jean will break first. He does. 

“Would you just look at it?” Jean snarled. Andrew flicked him a cool look before, picking up the paper painstakingly slowly. He held it up to his own face, not bothering to actually read it. “Illiterate too, I see.” Andrew could barely keep the scowl off his face. He squinted at the stack of papers he picked up. 

“Why?” he asked. 

“Our goalkeep is, how you say? A piece of shit.”  

“You’re giving him more credit than he deserves,” Andrew cut in, his lips curling in a sneer. 

“I’m getting tired of being the last line of defense. It’s hard not having anyone to watch your back,” Jean said, shooting a meaningful look at Andrew. He elected to ignore it in favor of taking another drag of his cigarette. Jean muttered something that sounded like a curse before standing up and disappearing back into Abby’s house.

A month later, Jean stepped out of his apartment wondering which horrid little monsters the Cardinals had signed now. Turning towards the stairs, he found his answer waiting for him. 

“There’s no point in both of us driving down there. You make breakfast and I’ll drive,” the gremlin said. It wasn’t an offer or even a demand. He said it as though he were stating a fact. 

“The arrogance of Americans never fails to amaze me,” Jean shot back. 

“You’ve got dual citizenship, Frenchie. I’m sorry to say it, but that makes you one of us.” With that, the little monster turned on his heel and headed down the stairs. Jean muttered a steady stream of curses as he followed Andrew out to the Maserati

Having Andrew on his team is literally the worst. All he ever does is laze around. Sometimes, he’ll just lay down in the middle of the goal and stare at the ceiling. Jean gets a lot of shit for it bc he’s the one that recommended him for the line. It’s the day of their first game and tensions are high at practice when Jean loses his temper. He picks up an exy ball and hurls it at Andrew. Without even looking up, Andrew catches it with one hand. He stands slowly and throws it back so fast that Jean doesn’t have time to react. The ball wedges itself into the grate of his helmet, the force of it knocking him off his feet. Everyone assumes that Andrew isn’t going to play that night or will just be his asshole self but, when Jean finds himself struggling to hold the line, Andrew gets sent out and he’s an absolute monster in the goal. Every shot that comes his way gets deflected all the way down the court. The last goal of the night is made in the final seven seconds when Andrew slams a shot all the way down the court into the opposing goal. It lights up red and the crowd loses their shit. Exhausted, Jean collapses on the floor. 

“It’s hard not having anyone to have your back,” Andrew said as he passed by. By the time Jean found his voice, Andrew was already gone. Catching a ride home with one of the strikers, Jean felt a tightness in his chest. Andrew was an annoyingly lazy little bastard but Jean should have trusted him.

Jean doesn’t know how to apologize. Words are wasted on the likes of Andrew so he says nothing. He wakes early to make breakfast the next morning and says a silent prayer. Andrew is never late to anything but, when 6:30 rolls around and he isn’t there Jean’s heart plummets. He leaves the plate out on the counter while he eats. The ticking of the clock is deafeningly loud. At 6:47 there’s a knock at the door and Jean nearly faceplants in his hurry to answer it. 

“Your food’s gone cold,” Jean blurted out. Andrew turned a glare on him but said nothing as he shouldered his way into the apartment. Dark circles rimmed his eyes. His shoulders sagged, weighed down by exhaustion. There was no way he’d gotten a wink of sleep last night. 

“Moreau,” a voice said from the door. Jean whipped around to see Matt Boyd standing at the door. How he’d missed such a tall person standing in his doorway, Jean didn’t know. “Mind if I come in?” Jean stepped aside and Matt moved in. 

“Are you hungry?” Jean asked, haltingly. Boyd was the starting backliner for the Virginia Cavaliers, a whole state over. What the hell was he doing here? 

“I could eat,” Matt said brightly. He grabbed hold of a chair and dragged it over to where Andrew sat. 

“Not out of my plate,” Andrew snapped when Matt made to steal his eggs. Jean made his way to the kitchen to fix a third plate. From the dining room he could hear Andrew’s voice and Boyd’s laughter. Handing the plate over to him, Jean took his seat at the far end of the table. For the next quarter of an hour, Boyd rambled on about something or the other. If you asked Jean what he’d talked about, he wouldn’t have been able to say. He was far too absorbed in watching Andrew. 

The usual tension that pervaded his form had fallen away. Despite the obvious lack of sleep, Andrew seemed far more relaxed than usual. Every now and again, Jean saw his lips twitch up into the barest hint of a smile. From what he’d heard, Andrew had never had a good relationship with any of his teammates save Josten. But that made sense. Neil was his lover. What was it about Boyd that softened him so much? 

As soon as breakfast was finished and the plates cleaned, Jean disappeared back into his room to grab his phone. By the time he’d returned, both Andrew and Boyd were gone from the dining room. Jean found the pair blocking the open door. He stopped short when he heard Boyd’s voice. 

“I’ve missed you so much, Andy.” His words shook Jean to his core. 

“Yes or no?” Andrew asked quietly. Jean watched in stunned silence as Matt leaned down, mumbling yes a hair’s breadth away from Andrew’s lips. The second the word left his mouth, Andrew closed the distance between them. A soft moan slipped from Boyd’s lips and Jean watched in horror as he tangled his hands in Andrew’s hair. “Stop staring, Moreau,” Andrew said as he broke the kiss. 

“I thought that you and Josten-”

“We are,” Andrew cut in dismissively. “Matt is too.”

“Oh,” was all Jean could think to say. Back at the Nest, there had been no exclusive relationships. While most relationships in the real world weren’t like that, Jean had heard there were still a few. Boyd said his goodbyes before heading down the hall to the back stairwell. Andrew started off in the other direction. Jean had to run after him once he’d locked the door. Neither of them spoke in the car. They never did but there was a weight to the silence now that Jean didn’t know what to do about. A thousand small talk topics flitted through his head but he knew Andrew wouldn’t appreciate any of it so he kept his mouth shut, contenting himself to stare out the window. 

Jean is ready to run by the time that they pull up at the court but he doesn't. He needs to prove that he’s going to have Andrew’s back so he stays with him. 

It’s kind of awkward for a while. Andrew doesn’t like having Jean towering over him from behind bc it makes him feel vulnerable so he’s always really tense. 

The turning point in their relationship is when a striker from another team tries to start a twitter feud with Andrew. He gets asked about it in an interview and the interviewer pulls a Kathy Ferdinand and reveals that the striker is backstage. Jean is sitting with Andrew for the interview and when they try to start shit live on air, Jean snaps. He cuts the striker a new one, roasting them within an inch of their life and the interview is forced to end bc the striker throws a punch. Andrew steps in front of Jean, catching the punch with ease and judo flipping them. 

Neither of them really acknowledge that it happened but, when Andrew comes to breakfast the following Monday, he brings a loaf of sweet bread that he baked over the weekend. 

Things kind of settle after that. Sometimes Andrew leaves recipes for foods he wants and Jean starts filling their silences with something other than the news. He complains about Americans and moons over Jeremy and starts teaching Andrew French too. 

Jean has his own tiktok and most of his vids are of himself cooking and have Andrew reacting at the end but there’s a few subsections tho. One of them is Andrew and Jean and their baking escapades. It’s always super messy. Another is their ‘date nights’. On the weekends, the two of them get a little extra dressed up and go out to sample new restaurants.  They’re both massive foodies so they like to try new restaurants together. Andrew is a surprisingly picky eater and listening to him critic food is the most Jean has ever heard him speak. Platonic dates are actually incredibly nice n more ppl need to indulge in them. 

The final subsection is fashion/makeup. Jean likes to do makeup bc… why not? Sometimes, he manages to convince Andrew to let him be his model and does some really interesting looks on Andrew. Those videos never see the light of day but it’s something they do and it’s very important to Andrew. There’s something very intimate about letting Jean touch his face for hours on end but it also kind of feels nice. Also he loves the way Neil and Matt fawn over him when he skypes them with his makeup done. The fashion videos,  however, do go up. The two of them go to the mall p often and take turns styling each other. They do style challenges too where they’re both given the same horrible item (something like crocs or a really ugly sweater) and they have to make the other person look good in them. 

They do little nice things for each other. When Neil has a game against Bluefield, Jean gets Andrew front row tickets for him and manages to convince Matt to come down too. Andrew learns how to make french pastries that he leaves on Jean’s counter pretty often bc it reminds him of home. He also gets Allison to help him pull some strings and arrange for Jean to spend Christmas break in France with Jeremy. Jean doesn’t cry but he does tear up a little bit. 

Andrew is still a menace and you see that on his tiktok. He rigs ridiculous pranks like setting up a tripwire to dump glue and feather on him or wrapping all his stuff in plastic wrap.

[halzore]

Ooh gal, you told me to abuse that button and HERE I AAAM!

I love any and all SW eras so ship me with literally ANYONE you think is a good fit! Jedi, clone, anyone! No real preferences. Okokok... fun stuff about me...

I'm a 5'2" shortie with big attitude problems and a creative streak a parsec wide. I love cooking and baking, and never follow a recipe because it's so.much more fun to make it up as I go. Crocheting, macrame... anything to keep my hands busy. I have ASD, and I'm highly emotional, not always in a good way. I'm a Sag, INFP-T personality.

Physical stuff now I guess? I have super long, wavy hair (middle thigh long), I'm v curvy and a lil chubby with big hips n such. Hazel leaning blue-green eyes. My main aesthetic is cottagecore fairy/Stevie Nicks/hippie flower child (I love crystals).

I hope that's enough info! I'm so excited 💖

Ok, yes please, hello

I am ready, so absolutely ready,

OK so I ship you with:

Hardcase!

lemme eggsplain:

So you know how there is like the goth gal and the skinny gamer boy. Well let me proppose to you, crazy techno aesthetic Hardcase and fucking gorgeous fair girlfriend.

This is the energy i need

You and Hardcase are double trouble, absolutely the reason Kix has to prescribe that much more pain medication than usual. Because Rex has like fifteen more headaches now

Both you and Hardcase are creative folk, his aesthetic coming acorss in all aspects of his life, his straight well thought out lines slowly being corrupted by the beautful nature insppired patterns that you introduce him too

Both you and Hardcase have pretty big feelings, that can be difficult sometimes. But because you both can relate to each other in a how your feelings manifest, and because of the fact that Hardcase’s Bros know how to help him, they help him to help you when you have a moment

You have banned hardcase from the kitchen, because as good as he is with a Z-6 rotary blaster, he is actually just very poor at baking. You had no idea how he managed it, but he had managed to burn a cake so badly that it stuck to the bottom of the tray and you’re still trying to scrape it out.

You’re both real fun loving people who have a desire to be learning and creating and while he brings a splash of extrovert you temper it out with your introverteness to make the perfect recipe of good times.

[borderlandsthirst]

Flame Angel au

Koetai  

Physical 

Has a long gash going down her back at a slanted angle, it’s decorated with the twins’ snake symbol and a pair of dragon wings. 

Triple pierced ears, a small hoop for the earlobe and studs for the other holes. 

Long kinky hair kept in a ponytail, left side of her hair shaved around the ears. 

Has smaller scars over her body from years of abuse, use to try and cover them but now wears them with pride. 

Fashion since is nonexistent, just like the twins she wears an inconsistent color scheme. 

Has her own symbol she wears on the back of her jacket. A dark orange, six-winged serpent surrounded by flames. 

Has a pet Spiderantling name Natty who grows up to be a badass Spiderant Queen. 

I LIKE BIG BUTTS AND I CANNOT LIE!! 

Long post under the cut along with psychological destress and dark thoughts.

Mental 

Mostly shattered, years of mental and physical abuse has left Koetai in a state of numbness that only eases when the twins are around. 

It’s a bit unstable, can fly off the handle sometimes and takes it out on the followers.  

Has accidentally scratched Tyreen once while having a fit, it didn’t really affect her physically but emotionally she understands what it means to be treated poorly by your parents. Even if it’s not the same kind of trauma. 

Sometimes she’ll just shut down while in the safety of the Cathedral, while working with a saint or one of the twins she just stops and stare into the distance. Takes a while to bring her back 

Has stolen small unimportant items from the twins to take with her while she’s in the field so it feels like they’re with her. She needs them with her. 

Feels empty when the twins aren’t around or isn’t being praised by the followers, she’s the right hand of the twin Gods, she’s the enforcer. How can nobody see how powerful and important she is? 

Is a bit sadistic, will toy with Crimson Raider soldiers like a cat and then kill them in the most gruesome way imagine with her bare hands or a weapon that’s either her’s or theirs. All with a smile on her face. 

Takes pleasure in all pain, mostly people she knows are innocent and not fighters. Why should she care about the pain of children when nobody cared about her’s? 

Personality 

Crazy, that’s to be expected after everything that’s happened to her. 

Will fake you out in a heartbeat, one second she’s quiet and smiling real menacingly in your face, the next you’re lying on the ground bleeding while she walks off with your money and loot. 

Only when she’s with the twins can the girl she could have grown into is revealed, kinda shy in interested in music and crafting. And yoga, she has to be at ease to keep the twins at ease when they’re about to snap. 

Loves Troy and Tyreen but would never tell them (they’ll figure it out on their own eventually), because to her they are real Gods. 

When she’s focused on something she’ll get real quiet so her concentration isn’t broken. Sometime she’ll stick her tongue out the side of her mouth, Troy and Tyreen have many pictures. 

Gets along with the twins amazingly well, it’s almost like they’ve been together forever. Will let Tyreen do her hair and makeup, will let Troy do her nails. All three of them will sleep in a pile. 

Is standoffish towards literally everyone else, the bandits of Pandora remind her too much of a crazy, shitty father. 

See the cultist as demons, they aren’t even lost souls, just ants on the surface of a dry ass planet, but the twins have given them a chance to seek out salvation. She just loves the part where the follows fall out of line, although she hates seeing the twins angry, she loves the killing part.

Troy 

Physical 

Has a pretty nasty scar on his right shoulder leading down to the area across from his ribs. 

Troy protects his damaged area with a skin friendly and cushiony gel liner filled with medical beads. It hugs his shoulder and keeps his bracer in place without causing more harm to his body. 

Wishes for nothing more than to be normal like his sister, he constructs a prosthetic using stolen Hyperion tech that (surprisingly) still works and sprays it his skin tone. 

He has built up muscle mass (but is still skinny around his ribs) still has his eight pack (or is it a six pack?) 

Will cake on so much eye shadow you wonder if it's just a part of his face. And wears more eyeliner that is necessary when in front of a crowd. 

Has nipple piercings, gauges, a lip piercing, and a di- 

Still has the things in his arm (because Idk what they are) that are medical ports the pump nutrition into him. And so does his spinel connecter.  

THICK THIGHS AND ASS!! 

Mental 

Hates his body, even though he has an eight pack he loses weight at a dangerous rate, he has to eat lots of meat every day. 

Has night terrors often and usually wakes up with a knife in his hand. He wishes he could muster his powers to heal himself a real right arm. 

Tyreen usually has to come and calm him enough to get him back in bed, on especially terrible nights she’ll have him sleep with her for comfort.  

When alone he mumbles his mother’s name like a mantra, Leda Calypso. Like saying her name with keep him from going insane. 

Is angry at Tyreen for latching onto him as a fetus and almost killing him, but knows that she obviously didn’t mean to, this kind of thing happens sometimes to twins. And it’s not like she could do anything about the Leech, she was a fetus. 

Doesn’t stop him from hating what happened. Even though he loves his only family member. 

Has found himself thinking about very dark things involving Tyreen and blood. 

Making his prosthetic look like a real arm only broke him more, but even if it looks real, he knows it’s not. 

Personality 

A mask of channeled angsty goth teen energy, not as dramatic as Tyreen, but when he is it’s a fucking show. Overconfident in himself and cocky. 

Doesn’t like when the followers get too close to him, Tyreen, or Koetai. Will act like he gives a damn about his followers at a distance, but if they get too close? He crushes they’re skull with his cybernetic. 

Is a cold and viscous beast with no remorse for anyone, will stump in your ribcage just for looking at him. 

Keeps his personal saints at an arm's length, on Koetai can get close, anyone who steps out of line is, well, dead. 

Behind closed doors he’s all over his machines, he loves to tinker and build. He created the blueprints for the COV’s guns, Koetai’s buzzaxe, and countless other knickknacks across the camps of Pandora. 

Loves beatboxing, will make up some horrible beat in hopes that Tyreen or Koetai will rap or sing to it, can actually sing himself. Has sung the girls to sleep before. 

Records personal logs for himself whenever he’s in the mood, it can be about anything, personal issues, how being the GodKing makes him feel, how there’s really only one asset in his life that’s keeping him together. 

Love to bake, surprising to someone who doesn’t know him. But Troy loves sweets and it’s hard to get that on Pandora, so he makes them himself. 

Tyreen 

Physical 

Tyreen has a matching scar on her left shoulder blade where she was connected to Troy. 

She wears at least two layers of clothing to ensure it stays hidden, it doesn’t matter if it’s hot out, if her scar is covered then she’s satisfied.  

Has perfected a balanced look of dark makeup to make her look grown and sexy since she has a baby face. Sharp eyeliner, dark blue or black eyeshadow, and variety of dark lip-glosses.  

Works out with Troy (but not too much, just enough to stay in shape) so she has a nice four pack. 

Also has piercings, cute little studs for her ears, a nose piercing, nipples too, and a cl- 

Has her mother’s last name tattooed across her lower back. And has the COV logo tattooed on her right shoulder (really to match the eye on Troy’s shoulder.) 

Doesn’t wear a glove on her left had (since it doesn’t do anything nor does it really match the outfit.) 

THICK THIGHS SAVE LIVES, while big booties end them. 

Mental 

Can HEAR the Leech talking to her, trying to convince her to consume more, feed more, TAKE MORE. Has even told her to leech her brother more times than one. 

Was once teetering on the edge of insanity because of the constant whispering in the back of her head, but over the years she’s managed to push it back. But sometimes the voice breaks through again. 

Because of the voice she barely sleeps, it’s not like she needs to, but she can’t even if she needed to. 

Loves her brother with all her heart but feels like he hates her for what she’s done. Sure, she wasn’t even born yet, but she almost killed him before he was even born. 

Actually despises the fact she’s a siren, if she wasn’t a siren Troy would messed up, mom would still be alive, and dad wouldn’t have treated us so coldly. 

Doesn’t have it together as much as she likes to think, would have a mental breakdown behind closed door, Troy has only seen it once and spent hours with Tyreen as she sobbed uncontrollably into his arms. She made sure to never let him witness that again. 

Tyreen has clawed at her tattooed arm a few times, scratched thick deep cuts that immediately heal close, just to be scratched open again. 

Only perusing the Grant Vault for Troy’s sake, hopefully all that power will keep his stable for the rest of their lives. 

Personality 

Egotistical and shamelessly smug. Thinks she’s big shit and that she’s on top of the world. Lives with a shit-eating grin on her face while in front of the camera. 

Actually convinces everyone around her that she truly does care about of her followers (but is really still afraid of them.) Wouldn’t hesitate to punt-kick one in private though.  

Enjoys followers throwing themselves at her feet to offer gifts and praise, but if anyone touches her, even accidently, they’re dead. They’re not even allowed to kiss her boots, she doesn’t want their saliva on her clothes. 

When away from public she is extremely soft and sweet, kisses? She gives kisses to her brother and to Koetai, she is also pretty chill. 

While Troy bakes, Tyreen cooks. She may not need to eat real food but that doesn’t mean she can’t if she wants to. Pasta, sandwiches, a fucking baked potato? You name it, she can make it.  

Loves to sing, her mother said she had the voice of an angel, will perform a little concert for Troy and Koetai and feel flushed and proud afterwards. 

Enjoys painting like no one would believe, has a painting station in the corner of her room where she spends a good amount of time painting pictures of her loved ones, which is only three people, not including her father. 

Enjoys just, sitting outside on her balcony with the fresh air, even if the air is dry and smells like skag shit.  

First time I’ve ever written anything like this and I’m sure I did it badly, still more to come, should work on a position structure or something. Also need to make a layout of the common and working rooms.

[hoodie-lover]

Palette and Goth Sitting in a Tree Part 8

Palette was sitting on the couch and doodling in a sketchbook as Dream cooked some food and Ink painted. It was hard to concentrate on the task at hand, with everything going on he wanted to scream, cry, or do something other than sit around. But he had no idea what to do, he was the target and that meant getting close to Nightmare would give the mad man what he wanted, and whatever Nightmare wanted Palette for, couldn’t be good. As Palette stared off into space, he didn’t realize his view getting darker and darker. 

“Palette, nephew...” A dark and smooth voice called out, jerking Palette out of his trance. 

“What do you want?!” Palette screamed, and Nightmare laughed. 

“No one can hear you. We are in your head.” Nightmare said, bringing Palette closer to him as he smiled.

“I want to talk to you. Get to know you better.” Nightmare said, chuckling. 

“NO! You are evil! I don’t want to talk to you!” Palette said, struggling to wake himself up. 

“It’s my magic that lets us talk, and my magic that will let you leave. So, you have no choice.” Nightmare said, sitting down on the dark floor and smiling. 

“No.” Palette said, crossing his arms and turning his back. 

“Don’t you want to know about Shattered?” Nightmare asked and Palette flinched.

“I was kinda there you know, it was something just as important to me as it was to Dream. Don’t you want to know more?” Nightmare teased, throwing out his line with fresh bait. 

“What do you know?” Palette asked, the fish biting the line. 

“Sit down and I will tell you.” Nightmare said, and when Palette did, he had reeled the fish in. 

“As Dream told you, we don’t remember how we got un and uncorrupted, but did Dream even tell you what he did? How much of a threat he was? How he became such a threat?” Nightmare said and laughed.

“He had a mind control power, he literally puppeted people to do his bidding, and you know what?” Nightmare said, eye glowing his sadistic glee. 

“What?” The young child asked, scared.

“They said that every step or action, even breath they took was agony. He was told so, and he didn’t care.” Nightmare said, laughing as Palette’s eyes shrank. 

“So yeah, Dream isn’t so pure. He knows what it is like to not care for people, to have no empathy, to like bloodshed. And Ink is soulless so it’s a wonder you’re so kind, and sweet. Seems like you shouldn’t be.” Nightmare cackled. 

“You are not the person that he calls brother, so he is not the person who I call dad.” Palette said. “You’re just trying to trick me.” 

“So smart. You really are my nephew, we may not be brother’s in a relationship sense, but we are still made of the same magical energy. We are still related.” Nightmare mused, picking at his claws. 

“Let me go.” Palette demanded.

“No. Because you know what? I still could use my tentacles when I was uncorrupted, so, do you think that Dream can still use his powers? That he still can puppet people around as he tortures them?!” Nightmare asked, getting close to Palette as he smiled a cheshire cat smile. 

“He hasn’t. And he has had several opportunities to use them, and he hasn’t. So there.” Palette spat, sticking his tongue out at his uncle. 

“Fair.” Nightmare growled, inching away from Palette’s face. 

“Anything else?” Palette asked, squinting his eyes. 

“Well, Shattered wanted to corrupt me, stay corrupted and have us rule the multiverse together. Honestly, I like the idea. But, he needed some help with the execution and corrupting me. But I have an idea as to how it can work. That’s all.” Nightmare said and Palette woke up in his living room, falling off the couch, and landing face first on the floor. 

Dream and Ink ran over to Palette and helped him onto the couch. 

“Are you ok Palette? What happened?” Dream asked and Palette shook his head. 

“I just dozed off. Nothing too bad.” He lied, smiling innocently. 

“Ok Palette.” Dream said, giving Palette a tight hug. 

Dream’s child looked at his parent's gloved hands, he never took them off. Ever. Why?

Next - Pending

First

[moody-blues-requiem]

Au with King Risotto (feared and goth god among men) and hes going to take you, the fair maiden, as his wife. How’s the wedding? How’s that first night?

OK SO I got really into backstory here, but I really fucking enjoyed writing this! the first two-thirds are sfw, below the second dashed line is n/s/f/w. Enjoy your King Risotto!!The setting is medieval/fantasy, blended into a more modern day. The year 2001, in Sicily. The island-kingdom is ruled by Passione, as is the rest of the country, but Sicily is ruled by one of the most fearsome kings there is. He is good to his people and protects his home island, the ferocity arises when someone dares to challenge him. King Nero. 

Many rumors have spread about the king, and his seemingly magical abilities. He can control metal and bend it to his will, as if it were just an extension of himself. Some say a witch cursed him upon birth, gifting him control over metal but halving his lifespan. Others say he’s a demigod; either a son of Hephaestus, god of metalworking and the forge, or Ares, the god of war. Either one seems fitting to the king. 

Rarely is he seen outside his castle’s walls, no one is certain how he passes all his time. But of course, on the fateful day in which you two should meet, you run into him in the most awkward way possible: literally. You bump into his large figure in the marketplace-- he doesn’t flinch, he’s a walking wall of muscle, after all, but it knocks his signature black cloak to the ground, in the dirt. People gasp. You apologize profusely. He silently extends a hand to help you up, and you think it’s kind of him to show such a nice gesture before he’ll probably have you executed, or something like that. But King Nero surprises you-- all your life you’ve heard stories of what a ruthless, fearsome warrior he is, but now he just quietly asks for your name. You gather up his cloak for him and respond. You insist on cleaning the cloak for him, promising to do a better job than any old royal tailor could. That actually earns a small smile and a ghost of a laugh from Nero. He agrees, and pays for your groceries before you can refuse. 

In an act fueled by over-politeness, shock, and maybe a little bit of a crush on the King, you say that since he paid for your food, he should come to your home for dinner tonight. “The cloak will be ready by then too,” you say, “and you might as well stay for a meal you paid for.” Nero thinks for a moment before agreeing, “but not because you owe me a debt. You owe nothing.” You’re left with those words as he returns to his castle. 

In the evening, as the sun sets, there’s a small knock on your door. King Nero! He looks comically oversized in your small house, but he seems comfortable enough. “It smells wonderful,” he says, “may I ask what’s cooking?” 

“Involtini di pesce spada,” you reply, just now pulling the food from the oven. Swordfish rolls, a traditional favorite. “Have a seat at the table, your majesty, I’ll fix you a plate.”

“Please, call me Risotto.”

The two of you dined together, Risotto eating the two rolls you served him and politely asking for a third. You were flattered by how much he enjoyed your cooking, and after dinner the two of you chatted quietly over glasses of red wine. It was… almost strange, seeing him not as a warrior or a political figure or a half-god, just a man sharing a nice meal with you. It made something in your chest stir, in a warm, pleasant way. 

When the moon had risen high in the night sky, Risotto reluctantly told you that he had to depart. You fetched the now-clean cloak for him, but he left it neatly folded in your arms. “Keep it,” he said, “a gift from me.” 

He saw himself out, but stopped on your porch, turning back around to face you. “I… really enjoyed tonight, [y/n].” His crimson eyes looked up at the sky, then back down to you. “I don’t mean to impose, but… can we do this again?” 

--------------------------

The wedding took place on a fair day in early June. It was a small ceremony, only attended by the closest of your and Risotto’s family and friends. There would be a public ceremony tomorrow, filled with thousands of guests from all over the island-kingdom. To be honest, you weren’t looking forward to the non-stop camera flashes and cheers of the large crowds, but such was life in the public eye. With Risotto by your side, you knew you’d make it through. 

The ceremony was simple, but elegant. You and Risotto matched in all-black, his signature color. You had a more traditional white dress for tomorrow, but for now, you wanted to complement your lover. You recognized all eight of Risotto’s guests as various members of the royal court. They congratulate the two of you profusely, from the polite and reserved Prosciutto kissing your knuckles (you’re a queen now, after all) to Formaggio slinging his arms around both your shoulders and pulling you two newlyweds into a congratulatory hug. It was an intimate ceremony, a magical moment where you could practically see the love in Risotto’s eyes. Seeing such strong, clear emotion on his features was a little startling, but it warmed your heart. When you kissed to seal your new marriage, you wanted the moment to last forever. 

-----------------------------

After a long night of celebrating; with each other, with Risotto’s and your friends, and with the kingdom as a whole, you and your king were exhausted. That didn’t stop his large, warm hands from wandering across your body, and it didn’t stop you from pulling him into a passionate kiss. You had peeled off your wedding dress as soon as the two of you had returned to your room-- it was beautiful, yes, but it was infinitely more comfortable to be wearing nothing but a light slip and panties. Risotto had apparently felt the same, stripping down to his boxers before scrubbing off the highlighter on his cheekbones and collapsing into bed. His hands worked at your breasts, occasionally one moving to cup your cheek or brush a stray hair from your face, while you worked your legs around his waist and pulled him in close. You rolled your hips against his, already feeling the familiar heat of his growing erection, and before long Risotto was on top of you, nearly tearing off your slip and panties and his own boxers. His newfound burst of energy seemed to affect you too, as you dove in for another messy, passionate kiss while his fingers worked you open, preparing you for his cock. 

You’d taken him before, but calling Risotto “big” was almost an understatement. Thick, uncut, decorated with a few veins and a tuft of white hair at the base, you spread your legs eagerly for Risotto’s cock. He wastes no time in plunging in, though he starts with just the tip and works the rest of his shaft in slowly. Wouldn’t want to hurt his queen, after all. The two of you groan together in pleasure when he reaches the hilt, now filling you completely. 

It’s a bit of a messy affair, with how tired the both of you are, but something about the sloppiness of Risotto’s thrusts and your deep moans makes the moment all the more raw and real. Hot. You bite down on Risotto’s neck and he playfully swats at you, reminding you that the two of you are going to be the center of attention for quite some time, and he can’t be going around covered in hickies like some horny teen. Jokingly groaning, you shift to bite lower, nipping at skin that is (barely) covered by his usual outfit. He seems to accept this, groaning low and full of pleasure. His hips speed up, smacking against your own. 

His fingers rub harshly over your clit, bringing you to a fast orgasm to meet his own. The way you tighten around his cock has Risotto seeing stars, pushing himself in deep and releasing his load into you. You can feel how his cock pulses with each spurt of cum filling you up. It’s a lot, you’re not surprised to feel his cum start to drip down your thigh, but you love it all. You love Risotto so, so much, and you tell him so in between messy kisses and gasping breaths. He holds you close, his low, rumbling voice telling you that he loves you just the same.

[spirit-of-the-void]

Ebony and Ivory (V x Reader Fanfic) Chapter 40

Author’s notes: Howdy. So this is the ending of Ebony and Ivory, and to be honest I spent a long time working on it. Things have been a bit wild and confusing, especially with how divided people seem on the story ending. But...writing this long ass fanfic for you guys has been a privilege, even through depression and health issues.

The only thing I’m unsure of is if I should write the Vergil ending--because I want to reserve all my vergil energy for the Echo Chamber fic. I’ll let you guys decide--let me know if you still want the alternate ending, cause if so I’ll do my best. Either way, I’ll still be writing Echo Chamber.

Chapter 40

Epilogue

(Several Months later)

You never wanted to get up from your bed.

This was bliss in its truest form, was it not? Waking to warmth, face tucked against the neck of your lover and limbs tangled with the bed sheets. It was another beautiful, sunny day in Fortuna as usual, the sound of waves rolling against the shore and V’s slow breathing the only melody for your ears. Warm, so warm. This had to be heaven--there was doubt that anything else could feel so perfect. You let out a gentle sigh, mind feeling foggy with sleep and body delightedly comfortable as you stretched out along your poet’s form, toes pressing against his bare calves. It was so strange, you had gotten used to V feeling cool and frail for the entire time you traveled to the Qliphoth tree; feeling his warmth and solidity was a gift you would never take for granted again, not after witnessing him crumble his way up to becoming Vergil again.

V was doing better than he ever had, you and Kyrie made sure of that. The motherly woman had been worried upon seeing V’s ribs and rail-thin form, and seemingly made it her sworn duty to get the poet healthy. He learned pretty quick that arguing with her was not the best idea, not once she got rolling. No skipping meals, taking vitamins, listening to you both hounding him and not uttering so much as a peep of complaint. You both only backed off after his bones stopped showing through his skin, letting him decide on his diet after that. Not much had changed--V preferred eating light over big meals, which was understandable with such a new body. Months later and he was looking more lean and healthy, still a lanky man but less frail and with a bit more muscle. That cane was less as a tool to walk with, and more of a conductor's baton he used in battle.

Well-fed and well-rested. As he should be.

You had spoken of what happened in the Qliphoth tree, and to be honest you had forgiven him for everything that transpired before words of apology had left those lovely lips. Understanding could be found--there was  desperation, a need to return to who he was before. All that was gone now, V finally his own person with a full soul on top of it all. The only way to go was up, which you were more than doing. The new time together only strengthened how much you loved him, deepening that bond of trust and acceptance again after the lies and mistakes fractured it. Piece by piece, bit by bit...things were becoming as perfect as they could be, and in the end that was all you wanted. 

The things you once took for granted were now so precious, weren’t they? The feeling of V kissing your fingers, the way his hair felt under your hands. Those jade eyes, his sly smile...having them back felt like a dream, one you never wanted to wake from. It was the little moments of simple, domestic life that seemed so enchanting after he came back, moments you thought would never be had with him. Sharing a cup of coffee on the beach while the sun was still rising, watching him read poetry to the children, helping teach him how to cook with the aid of Kyrie and Nico. He was pretty hopeless in front of a stove before those teachings, but learned very quickly. If you weren’t mistaken, he found a joy for it too--he would sneak peeks at cooking novels and shows on several occasions, and offered to help with dinner often.

Something about it was...very cute.

As for Vergil, he returned back to Devil May Cry with Dante and the women. You were shocked, the spiky-haired male put up no fuss when his brother instructed him to do so, and had apparently put in a lot of effort to make it a functioning business. Not only that, but he had been making a determined effort to be a part of Nero’s life now that everything was said and done. His father and uncle now visited once a week, keeping the kids entertained and staying for dinner to talk and socialize. Kyrie loved it, Nero was undecided, and Nico still hated Vergil’s guts. Dinners were filled with hostile stares from the mechanic, which Vergil easily ignored. Hearing him ask Nero questions about his life, seeing them spar on the beach and Vergil actually trying to teach him things? Odd. But...maybe those trials left their mark, so the Outsider must have done something right.

Speaking of the God, you were back to talking with him. A shrine now rested in an alcove on a nearby cliff, glowing at night with the purple light of lanterns and humming with the Void’s energy. Corvo, as always, managed to talk sense into your father figure--He was there when you spoke last, promising the keep the God behaving while you got your life together. The Outsider wasn’t going to argue it, that much was sure. You thanked him for bringing V back, and managed to repair some of the trust that was lost, bit by bit as you did with V. The shrine was now visited once a week, offers left on its alter and gone the next morning. Food, books, sometimes things you crafted yourself. The Outsider seemed to enjoy food the most--you doubted he got to eat much of anything in a place like that.

Regardless. 

The kids warmed up to V well, easily sensing his uncertainty and all around awkwardness when it came to living normally. They liked being able to teach him things--like how to clean pots properly, how to make s’mores when a bonfire was lit in the backyard. Little things that V didn’t seem to think about or know, either because Vergil didn’t know them or because some things were lost when the two were separated. Being reborn had to be hard, you were always patient with him when a new problem rose up. V didn’t seem to mind either, it made the kids feel super important, like they could sense the poet’s vulnerability. Plus what could be better than having another person in the house to talk and play with? Julio in particular seemed to like the poetry, and asked the goth about it a lot.

Speaking of the kids, you knew that they would be going into town with Kyrie in the morning to practice for their performance in the spring festival. It was starting to get warmer outside bit by bit after winter came and went, but the day would be comfortably warm for the kids as they made props at Madame Elenor’s shop. You could hear them downstairs already, chattering excitedly about the prospect of seeing the other kids in Fortuna, practicing their lines and getting to paint trees and scenery to be moved into the theater at the square. 

Now that you thought about it...almost a year had passed, hadn’t it? Since you were brought to this world.

So much has happened.

So many terrible, wonderful things.

Only this time around, everything is perfect.

You let out a contented sigh, snuggling closer against V’s wiry form and feeling him shift and mumble lightly in his sleep. It was April now, and you planned to go through May and June in peace and delight. Just having these past few months has been so wild, celebrating Halloween, Thanksgiving, Christmas, New year’s Eve...all the things you were once certain V would never have, but got to have in kind. It was shaping up to be an amazing year, and you were ready for each and every one after that to come. 

That was the thought you drifted in and out of sleep on, knowing full well that you didn’t have to meet up with Kyrie and the others until noon. Nero would be out discussing the next mission with Nico, Dante, and Vergil as well until returning to go out with the rest of you. A day out to lunch was in order, his uncle and father declining the invitation despite how insistently Nero had offered it. Something about working some family things out had been their excuse--you were fairly certain they intended to visit their mother’s grave. Some things were far more important, you could easily understand that. Besides, being around Vergil felt...weird sometimes. Like staring at a painting that once held color, and seeing only black and white.

You tried to shake the thought, realizing for the first time in months you and V had the house to yourselves, peace and quiet reigning supreme once the kids were heading down the street. You loved your new family, you really did, but most mornings were rife with Nico’s invention shenanigans, or the kids finding their energy after breakfast and play-fighting with Nero. To finally be able to lie in bed with V, only the warm breeze drifting through the windows and the sun on your body...it was so nice, and needed. Maybe that was why Kyrie decided she would take the kids there herself, insisting you sleep in after “working so hard with Nero and the others”. Sweet woman, you adored her for that.

Especially when you felt V finally begin to stir, his muscles stretching and a soft groan leaving those beautiful lips. You decided to keep your eyes closed, wanting to savor the moments of relaxation for a little while longer and act like sleep kept you in its gentle grasp. You weren’t disappointed--V’s fingers stroked through your hair, nails tracing feather-light patterns on your scalp before trailing down your neck. If you were a cat, you would have purred at a feeling like that. As it was, you shivered softly in delight as you shifted even closer, one hand gracing his bare chest and over the faded tattoos that rested there.

After everything was said and done, you both shared a connection with the familiars. They generally spent most of their time in V considering he had been lacking in power for those first few months. But being born from the Void had left him with some byproducts, and he was learning how to use them at his own pace and tolerance level. The poet had been astounded at how much it burned to use the abilities of the Void, learning pretty early on that you dealt with it all the time--he didn’t like that, but reluctantly didn’t push things on it further.

The tattoos only extended over his arms and chest now, like sleeves that drifted over his collarbones. It was there that you traced your fingers, feeling his chest rise with a slow breath as your fingers danced a line from there to his stomach, resting there to feel the muscles bunch and relax. He was so sensitive, ticklish--a delightful thing, one learned pretty quickly after shenanigans had broken out on a particular evening. Cute. There were so many things about him now that were absolutely charming.

He let out a low hum, grasping your fingers lightly between his own and lifting them to his face. Those soft lips brushed your knuckles, tender and loving as you kept your eyes closed in an attempt to feign off waking a bit more.

“The sun descending in the west, the evening star does shine,” V murmured against your skin, his other arm wrapping around your waist to tug you closer as he continued, “The birds are silent in their nest, and I must seek for mine.”

You couldn’t help it--a smile broke over your lips, eyelids fluttering open to stare at his face in amusement. He always took your breath away,  a vision of beauty and perfection. His hair was black again with Nightmare’s presence, and the tattoos were dark on one side from housing...was that Griffon this time? You paused, feeling Shadow rouse briefly in your thoughts before plunging back again, giving you both the privacy you so craved. The demons weren’t oblivious, they knew you’d have the house to yourselves come morning.

Regardless, you let out a contented sigh, resting your chin on his chest and staring up at him with adoring eyes as you mumbled sleepily, “Do you intent to wake me every morning to William Blake?”

He grinned at that, tucking a stray hair behind your ear as he replied, “Perhaps. Does it displease you, my little Sparrow?” He kissed the top of your hair, voice rumbling over you as he added, “Would you prefer I wake you to…. other delights?”

Judging by his low, husky tone you knew exactly what these other delights could be. The man was insatiable now that he had this new body and freewill--not that you were complaining. 

“A beast has awakened in my tender poet,” You mumbled, feigning an exaggerated swoon and tucking your face against his neck again, “One that intends to eat me alive, always hungering for my supple flesh….!”

That earned you a low chuckle, V turning and nipping lightly at the skin behind your ear as he growled, “And you call me the dramatic one--you could put writers to shame when you speak in such ways,” Both of his arms wrapped around your waist, breath brushing your ear and making you shiver as he breathed, “Those who restrain desire do so because theirs is weak enough to be restrained.”

Leave it to him to find a poetry quote for everything. But he was right in an odd way--there was no restraining a desire like the one shared between you and the poet. It was a charged energy in the air, one that sent a bolt of arousal right to your core and left you aching in the best way. A soft sound of want left you as he pressed up against your back, his hardness very apparent through the thin fabric of your panties and body  deliciously warm as it cradled yours. Feeling a bit bold, you wiggled against him, smiling when he sucked in a sharp breath and put a very firm hand on your hips to still the movement. There was definitely no room for restraint when you were playing games like that.

He flipped you over in the next instant, your back pressed to the bed and both hands pinned by his as he stared down at you with heady, jade eyes. Your heart picked up its pace immediately at the sight of him, feeling almost dizzy at his beauty. Hair tousled from sleep, eyes hooded and staring at you with the most delicious hunger...Christ, he was so achingly lovely, wasn’t he? Especially with the sun making patterns on him like that, the curtains drifting lightly overhead and stroking his bare shoulders like a lover’s caress. Your face flushed despite how many times you had seen this same view, flustered all over again as he brushed a thumb over those parted lips and released one of your arms.

Oh dear. You could come undone at this rate.

“How I enjoy seeing that,” V whispered softly, shivering when you nipped at his fingers in their exploration, “The way you gaze at me, sparrow...it makes me ache in the best way.”

You smiled, wiggling lightly underneath him and enjoying how desire grew in his expression in response, “I can’t help it...I feel like you get prettier and prettier every day.” 

It wasn’t an understatement, either. Each time you awoke to his loving arms it was like seeing him all over again, overtaken by his lovely face and soft lips. Could you possibly love the man more? You had thought not, but each morning was proving you otherwise. 

V clicked his tongue at your response, seeming doubtful as he kissed a line from your neck down to your chest. He plucked at the straps on the camisole covering the parts of you he desired, pulling them down agonizingly slow until your breasts were bare to the glowing sunlight. You let out a slow exhale, feeling him slide those loving hands up from your stomach to the pert mounds aching for his touch and shivering when he gave each one attention in kind. The idle swirl of his thumb over a nipple, his eyes staring at you with the most unbelievable fascination and desire as he dipped his head to taste as well…

 Christ, you could have come just at that--his tongue was so warm, swirling over the pink tip of your breast and sucking gently until a light mewl of want left your lips. You buried your hands in his silken, ebony locks, eyes closing and head tilting back as you savored the tantalizing sensation of his mouth on your sensitive flesh. He was such a good lover, always loving, always willing to learn and try new things. The past few months had allowed him to come into his desires and sexual preferences bit by bit whenever you both could find the privacy, and that was always enjoyable. He was discovering a preference for being a bit more dominant in bed, which earned zero complaints from your end as well. The idea of V pinning you down and fucking you senseless was definitely an appealing one.

But moments like these, filled with gentle touches and soft exploration...they reminded you so much of that first time, but better. More familiar, more charged than ever before. 

Especially when he finally leaned back, hooking his fingers over the lace of your panties and slowly tugging them down and off. You obediently lifted your legs for him, eyes opening to watch as he tossed the scrap of fabric unceremoniously to a corner of the room. The action almost made you giggle, a smile tugging at your lips at the way he dramatically flung them away. He returned his attention back a moment lady, eyes drinking in the sight of your bare legs and dripping desire waiting for the pleasure you knew would come.

“Pretty and pink,” He murmured, stroking his hands up your thighs and squeezing as he coaxed them apart, “Just for me.”

You let out a low hum in response, shivering when he bent your knees and pressed both thighs back a bit more. Fully exposed to his eyes, glistening in the drifting sunlight and just as he described. The anticipation was killing you--this slow pace was delicious torture, and every second was like heaven and hell in one. But if the past few months had taught you anything, it was that good things came to those who waited.

“What do you have planned for me, slick?” You whispered, biting your lip as he pressed a kiss from your knee then down to your inner thigh. Part of you knew, and the need growing inside was making your toes curl in excitement.

V smirked, raising his eyes from your body as a playful look slipped across his face. He slid one finger idly down your wet folds, smirk growing as your breath hitched and you actively strained to keep your hips pressed against the mattress. Infuriating man, he knew exactly what effect he had over you, and exploited it in kind.

“I’m simply playing my part, Sparrow,” He replied in a husky tone, swirling a finger over your sensitive clit and down to your entrance in one tantalizing movement, “Hungering for your supple flesh...a beast with the intentions of eating you alive. Who will save this fairest of damsels from me? Surely no one is around to hear your screams for help.”

You giggled at V’s low, ominous growl, squeaking when he pressed his fingers against that sensitive spot and jolting you in place. Very sensitive, very needy.

“Bold of you to assume I’ll scream for help…” You breathed, voice trailing off in a soft whimper as he continued those slow rotations of his fingers. Each touch made you ache, throbbing and wanting to reach that peak only he could bring. But V was purposely drawing it out, finding amusement in your response and pausing for a moment in his actions.

The dark-haired male grinned, eyes meeting yours like a predator ready to devour his prey as he let out a low purr of, “Oh, you’ll be screaming alright.”

Please--My heart will stop if you keeps saying things like that.

But you didn’t get to say that out loud. V dipped his head down in the next moment, spreading your glistening folds with his fingers as he stroked a tongue over your aching flesh. Your hips jolted on their own, a soft whimper leaving you as he started devouring you just as promised. Slowly, carefully, taking his sweet time and savoring at his own pace. It took every ounce of control to keep your thighs in place, trembling lightly with the strain of not moving. Restraint? What was that again? Your thighs were strong, you didn’t want to accidentally crush him between them with how fantastic he was making you feel. Stroke after stroke of his tongue, warm and wet as he teased your clit and swirled over your aching entrance. 

Too much, not enough. You arched into his touch, soft moans leaving your lips and fingers gripping the bed sheets. What a wicked man you were in love with, bringing you slowly to the edge of pleasure with his tongue and not swayed by your soft pleas for more, for faster movements and more pressure. So close, fuck I’m already so close. He knew it too, a pleased hum leaving his throat and sending delicious vibrations over your clit as he sucked it between his lips.

“V...V…” You whimpered, fingers slipping into his silken locks to tug lightly as he continued to pleasure you right on the edge of that peak, “I need…please…”

The poet’s eyes practically rolled back in his head when you pulled his hair, knowing full well how much he loved it. That encouragement was just what V needed, his jade eyes meeting yours briefly before he tugged you closer, fingers gripping your thighs hard as he stroked his tongue over your clit, swirling and sucking with enough pressure to wring a cry from your lips. You were prone and gasping as he had his wicked way, hands grasping the poet’s head and thighs shaking as that peak grew and grew with his actions. Unrelenting, you were coming undone again. It was a good thing no one was home, because you couldn’t be quiet no matter how hard you tried. At least an attempt was made, but that wasn’t what V wanted. The ruthless man loved nothing more than to hear you wail with satisfaction, body writhing as he made you come on his tongue and fingers.

Which is exactly what he did.

Your head tilted back as you finally crested, something close to a sob of relief and pleasure bursting from your lungs and thighs shaking as he held them in place, “V…!”  It felt good, so good your toes curled and hips arched into his touch. He was doing a number on your heart, that was for sure--it was pounding in your chest, especially when V continued to tease and stroke his tongue over your flesh, not having his fill until you were whimpering and writhing from too much stimulation. Only then did he pull back, jade eyes staring at your spent form with satisfaction and amusement. He licked his glistening lips, wiping them with those elegant fingers and staring at the traces of your arousal left behind. That expression almost looked smug.

The poet’s gaze traveled over your form, taking in your chest as it rose and fell with each breath, face flushed as you slung an arm over your eyes. What a way to start your morning, listening to the waves crash onto the sand outside and feeling the most unbelievable pleasure from the man you loved...what a gift, one you would cherish every day until the end of time. To have him here after months of feeling like you wouldn’t, reminded again and again that this was reality...it made the bad times seem so far away, like a dream long forgotten in the realm of waking.

V seemed to understand, even when you didn’t say it. He leaned over your body in the next moment, pulling your arm away so his lips could find purchase. You sighed in delight, kissing back and wrapping both arms around his neck as you shared a moment of peace and tenderness.

“Still with me, love?” V murmured, a grunt leaving him when you wrapped both legs around his waist, thighs squeezing lightly, “Ah...gentle now, darling...I’m not done with you yet.”

He must certainly wasn’t. You kissed a line from his cheek to that sharp jawline, biting down lightly where neck met shoulders. V shuddered at your touch, gasping when you stroked a leg over his hard length, fully erect after taking so much time eating you out. Someone was certainly eager, weren’t they? You doubted he wanted to wait any longer, especially not with you grinding on him like that.

“I’m all yours,” You murmured, stroking a hand through his hair and giving it a light tug. He groaned immediately, head resting on your shoulders and breath coming faster, “Do you like that?”

V gripped your hip with one hand, bracing his weight on the other as he murmured, “I do...quite a bit.” 

Such a far cry from the bashful way he admitted it the first time around--now honest with desire and wants, needy as he leaned into each and every touch. You had learned so much about what he liked, what parts of that lovely body were the most sensitive. His fingers, shoulders, neck, hair, spine...all the best spots to kiss and touch, scraping your nails over the shoulder blades of his back and sucking the skin on his neck. That was going to leave a hickey, there was no doubt. But it would be yours to see, a secret. 

“S...sparrow...Y/N…” V groaned, grinding his length over your slick heat and making you both pause at the sensation of it, “Are you...can I…?”

“Please.”

It was all the affirmation he required, V rising from you to position his hips right where he needed them to be. You eagerly tilted your legs back again, spread and wanting for his cock. An invitation, one he would never ignore. What did you look like in his eyes, right at that moment? Hair still messed up from sleep, breasts bare and body in a position that was clearly meant for him and him alone. All yours, always. The poet almost looked ...entranced by the sight, bowing his head over you as the tip of his hard length pressed to your entrance, slick with the arousal left from your previous orgasm and finding no resistance. A breath passed between you both as he slipped inside, groan breaking past his lips while you took him inch by inch. Wet enough that it was an easy slide, body trembling eagerly as he filled you up in the best way.

This felt so right, like it always did. Two puzzle pieces meeting together, like your souls were meant for each other. 

A low groan escaped his parted lips, body pausing for a moment to feel your wet heat. You stared at his face in a mixture of desire and wonderment, loving how pleasure influenced his expression and made his hand grip your wrist ever so tighter. Even after all these months, your poet was so careful with you--waiting so there was time to adjust, your body relaxing around his cock and aching to feel him pound into you like before. You squeezed your legs around his waist for a moment, hips rising off the bed to grind encouragingly against his length. Such actions only elicited a gasp from you both, V’s head tilting back to show the smooth expanse of his throat and the slight bob of his adam’s apple upon swallowing. Such a pretty boy, struggling for control. You liked seeming him unrestrained every once in a while, but when he was trying to stay on his best behavior…

“So bashful,” You murmured, biting your lip when he tilted his jade eyes down to meet yours, “What happened to not restraining desire? Prove me wrong, Shakespeare.”

V let out a low, breathless chuckle at your challenge, leaning do so his nose lightly brushed yours. Breaths mingling in the air between, both bodies trembling with the need to seek pleasure in one another. His hips pressing on yours freed a whimper in your chest, resisting the urge to grind your clit against his skin. 

“Ask me nicely, Sparrow,” He breathed, nipping softly at your lips while he continued to rub his body lightly against yours. Just enough friction to not be enough. Your breath was hitching in response, toes pressing into his lower back to urge on what you knew he wanted to, but purposely denied, “And I’ll indulge us both. Honesty would do us both good, wouldn’t you agree?”

You flushed at his coy, strained smile, those jade eyes firm and far more unyielding as you whimpered, “You are the worst, you know that right--ahhh...”

Your words slipped into a soft moan when he retreated a bit, thrusting in once more before pausing his hips. Damn it. You knew what he wanted--V always loved making you say things that made you blush. He grinned, as if sensing your thoughts and enjoying them in kind. Mischief played a part in the desire now--this was payback for every time you cock-teased him in the past few months, there was no doubt about that. 

“Mmmm…” V hummed, lifting one of your hands and nibbling on each finger in order as he replied softly, “Perhaps I am, but acknowledging that isn’t getting you any closer to having me...is it?”

So smug, so cocky.

Your resolve was far weaker than his patience, tempered by neediness and desire. Especially when he was grinding on you like that, pausing right when pleasure started to build and leaving you aching. His elegant fingers decided to fondle your breasts, teasing the stiff peaks until you were practically squirming. Right how he wanted you.

Face flushed, one hand raised to cover his jade eyes as he chuckled lightly in victory, your lips parted to utter softly and desperately, “Pl...please...fuck me...V...Please…?”

He let out a pleased purr, pulling your hand off to see just how flustered you were and grinning in delight. A kiss to your warm cheek followed, V cupping your jaw with gentle fingers as he whispered, “So precious...you can take me making love to you every night yet cannot utter those simple words without embarrassment?”

Something about it felt a lot different than acting on instinct--begging always made you feel bashful, especially when he wanted it. 

“Hush,” You muttered, pressing both hands to V’s cheeks like it would somehow convey your growing sense of need, “No more teasing, just--”

Your words were cut off in a sharp gasp when V finally yielded to your demands, hip snapping back before plunging in with one fluid movement. Blessedly--you could have sobbed in relief when the motion continued. Right there, just like that. He seemed to be done with the shenanigans too, drawing your arms around his neck with one hand and bracing with the other. Unrelenting now, lips capturing yours in a frenzied kiss while his cock plunged in and out of your aching sheath. It was definitely good that you both were home alone, because the lewd sounds you were making would definitely be heard by others. As it stood, anyone who walked down the beach could run the chance of hearing, but you didn’t care.

You bit down on V’s shoulder, kissing the mark a moment later and trailing those same kisses up to his neck. Something about V awash in pleasure and lust was poetic in its own right. Gorgeous, breathtaking. He was releasing sounds of pleasure, gasps and groans that vibrated deliciously against your eardrums.  No longer bashful like that first time, noises released without hiding and face pressing to your shoulder. His cock throbbed inside, growing closer and closer to filling you with his cum with each frenzied grind of V’s hips. You wanted it, needed it, craved it. Ever part of you now strained for that second release, wanting to make him feel good too.

“Y/N…” V rasped, a heady moan leaving his lips as both hands entered his hair for a firm yank, “Just like that...I’m so close, dearest Sparrow…”

You let out a soft whimper, squeezing tighter around him and keeping that firm hold on his silken locks, “Come for me...Give me all of it, sweetheart.”

Your own orgasm was fast approaching, cresting when V tilted your hips a bit further back in his thrusts and stroked those beautiful fingers over your clit. Fuck--A sharp cry left your lips, hands gripping the poet’s hair hard as wave after wave of pleasure washed over you. After the first orgasm, this one made your legs quake with the level of stimulation and muscles clench inside. Almost too much, right on the cusp of how much rapture you could stand. It spiraled V into his own pleasure, slender hips stuttering and a breathy groan brushing by your ear as his hot load spilled in spurts. Your eyes practically rolled back in your head, body arching up to take all he had to offer and chest rising and falling in gasps. 

A gentle breeze drifted through the window as V slumped over, careful not to put all his weight on your resting body. It seemed so serene for a moment, your eyes drifting open to see the white curtains still swaying over you both, V’s shoulders rising and falling with his slowing breaths. Peaceful...tender, just as it should have been. Everything felt so unbelievably perfect, your body wonderfully spent and enjoying the fading throb of pleasure as you stroked a hand through V’s silken hair. He was your everything, every hope and desire and happiness wrapped into one bundle of a man. In that heartbeat of time, you felt so incredibly blessed, like a thousand years of lost happiness were nothing compared to what you got to share with him. All the loss, all the pain...they were a flickering, dying candle compared to the flame he kindled within.

Happy...you were so happy tears threatened to spring to your eyes.

You released a contented sigh, holding V in a tender embrace as you both caught your breath. Hours could have passed without caring, but...it took only a few minutes to gather everything back. There were still things that needed to be done, after all. Your poet was the first to raise his head, jade eyes meeting your gaze with an expression that took your breath away--One of absolute love and adoration, V staring at you like the entire world rested in your vision. A pleased rumbled left his chest, black hair swaying slightly as he leaned down to kiss your lips like you were air after years of suffocating. Such a kiss said a lot, more than any words could. 

“Thank you,” He murmured against your mouth, peppering kisses from there to your jaw as he continued softly, “For loving me despite...everything.”

You hummed lightly at that, pressing both hands to his cheeks so he could meet an adoring gaze of your own. He was always saying things of such a nature, as if he had something to prove or loving him was somehow difficult.

“You make it easy,” Another kiss to his lips, this one short and quick, “I would love you no matter what, V. You know that right?”

Even if you betrayed me again.

Even if things fall to pieces.

You are the reason I breathe.

V wrapped both arms around you, pressing his forehead to yours as the words hung in the air for a few seconds. What was that expression he wore on his face? Something between thankfulness and...regret. Was he thinking of what happened in the Qliphoth tree again, about the moments he lied to you and became Vergil again? It had never clicked before, but...if V had been awake and present, he saw every reaction you had, every tear and heartache. It would explain why he couldn’t let go of his guilt, or why he felt the need to thank you every day for staying with him.it was so hard to move past all of that, but...you did have four months to work things out with friends and family while Vergil spent it all in hell.

Regardless...you knew these things could be worked on with time, and V was more than worth the effort.

So you smiled, pressing a light kiss to V’s nose before pulling back and reaching for the phone resting on your window sill. V took the hint pretty easily, letting out a quiet yawn as he pulled away and stretched his long arms over his head. You tried not to stare, really you did--but christ, he was so lovely. His muscles bunching and relaxing, skin of his shoulders marked with your kisses and bites... We have things to do today, no staying in bed. The movement slipped his length from your body, causing a light shiver and sigh in response while you say up as well. Making love in the morning was nice, but you would both need a shower after throwing the sheets in the washer. A small price to pay, one that you were willing to deal with. 

V took up the task of cleaning you up at the very least, leaving the bed briefly to get a washcloth from the bathroom cabinet. It gave ample opportunity to stare at his cute little butt as he departed, which was an absolute delight. He smirked at you on the way down, not oblivious to your wandering eyes in the slightest. Some forethought made him grab sweatpants from the banister before heading toward the door, which was probably for the best--on the off chance someone came home early, seeing him naked would not be ideal.

Upon a brief glance at your phone, you saw it was ten thirty in the morning, giving plenty of time to shower and get ready for lunch at noon. There would be no viable excuse for being late, and it would be rude to the children on top of all of that. You never wanted to upset or disappoint them after all the terrible things that happened all those months ago, so it was the bare minimum you could do. A yawn left your own lips, flopping back on the bed and counting each peaceful second as it passed. Some time out in the city would be lovely, wouldn’t it? The smiling faces of your friends, delicious meal at a local cafe or restaurant...perfect. Everything felt like heaven.

It was on that thought that V returned, cleaning you up and helping gather the sheets to throw in the washer. You smiled when your gazes met, gathering clothes to wear out and heading for the stairs.

“I’m going to shower,” You announced to him, feeling his eyes on your ass as well while pulling on a light robe for modesty, “We should hurry up and get ready to meet Kyrie.”

V let out a low hum of agreement, footfalls following close behind as you entered the hallway, “Maybe we should bathe together, my sparrow?” He leaned over your shoulder, pressing a light kiss to your ear as he whispered, “I believe it will be beneficial to us both.”

Of course he would think that. You giggled lightly, turning around to press a chaste kiss to his lips.

“Depends on how quickly you get those clothes in the washer, slim,” You breathed, pinching his cheek with gentle fingers, “And only if you promise to be on your best behavior.”

V’s returning smirk was downright evil, jade eyes meeting yours as he stroked his fingers over you chin.

“Oh darling...you and I both know I am a gentleman before anything else.”

(Nero POV)

Nero had never been so glad to get out of a meeting early.

He and Nico were already driving back through the streets of Fortuna, heading for  Madame Elenor’s considering they were able to head home earlier than expected. Honestly, why had they bothered coming by in the first place? The maps could have been sent via photo or email, but Dante and Vergil didn’t seem to have a god damn brain cell between them. His uncle in particular had a cell phone and an ancient computer, but only used the phone to play a really shitty version of tetris. As for his father...well. Spending so long in hell and other places had left him a bit out of tune with technology.

Regardless, they had gotten the needed information on the coming mission and swung back to catch the earliest ferry home. Dante and Vergil had been arguing about flowers of all things as Nero left, which Nico had agreed was incredibly strange. Neither of the two had any idea why the older men had flaked on what would be a friendly lunch in Fortuna, but whatever it was had them in...a bit of a mood. Nero wanted no part of it, and had practically dragged Nico out the door once the bare minimum amount of information had been met. Location? Check. Client? Check. Demon types they would be facing? You bet your ass that was another check on the list. And from there he would leave the planning to Dante and Vergil before they actually set out. 

For now, he would stop by the shop and see how the kids were doing in their crafting efforts. Then the whole group could walk to whatever restaurant they decided on, maybe settle the day off with some time swimming on the beach or a bonfire. After the past week of work and demon hunting, some relaxation wouldn’t hurt anybody--hell, even Nico seemed excited at the prospect of having some free time to sunbathe, claiming she needed to work on her tan and rest her weary fingers. Nero wanted nothing more than to have some time with his wife, seeing her beautiful hair glow in the sun and a bathing suit…

He flustered himself a bit. She was so lovely it made him crazy.

“Jeez, it’s so obvious when you’re thinking about Kyrie,” Nico’s loud complaint made him jolt, looking over from the passenger side of the van to see her shutting off the engine and smirking mischievously, “You always get the goofiest, dopey smile on your face.”

He tried to scoff and play it off as nonchalantly as possible, but it was hard when his cheeks and ears were still tinged pink. Plus he doubted there was getting past Nico’s eagle eyes no matter how hard he tried.

“Lay off, Nico,” He huffed, scratching the back of his head and ignoring her chortles as he hopped out of the van, “So I love my wife--sue me.”

“You sure fuckin’ do, psycho,” Nico snickered, whapping him a little too hard on the back. Meanwhile, her other hand pocketed the keys to her van in those usual shorts she wore, “Just make sure to put on sunscreen today--Kyrie ain’t gonna fuck a tomato and I can’t see your sorry ass blush when you’re burnt like a marshmallow.”

She was certainly relentless in the insults today. Nero tried not to get more flustered, instead rolling his eyes in response to her taunts and pulling open the door to the Madame’s shop. The front windows were lined with costumes and small set pieces, a little bell jingling above them to sound of their arrival. It would seem Eleanor closed her shop early to make time for the kids, a “closed” sign hanging in plain view. But the door had been left unlocked for them, so Nero and Nico started making their way past the lines of costumes to the back area where they knew the kids would be hard at work.

“Madame…! How does it look?”

“Kyrie, I can’t find the pink paint!”

“I have the paint, sweetie--you’re painting trees right now, you need green.”

The children’s excited voices clamored within earshot, making Nero smile and press through the doorway. They were met with a medium sized room with sewing materials, an open archway leading to an open courtyard lined with cut out prop pieces being painted by the group of eager kids. The ones from their orphanage were here, mingling with some kids Nero only vaguely recognized from seeing them occasionally around the city. It was nice--seeing the young ones they cared about spending some time with others their age was a nice change of pace. Nero was also surprised to see you and V here earlier than them--this was one of the few days no one would be home all morning without interruption, so the fact that you were already present was unexpected. You were cross-legged on the floor, helping Emma with her brushstrokes and smiling cheerfully.

Even more surprising was V, hoisting a child up on his shoulders so they could reach the very top of a tree with green paint. He wore an apron over his black button up shirt and grey slacks, but it didn’t save his face from being smeared with some color. The poet didn’t seem to mind, nodding along to whatever the boy was saying and calmly replying to his questions with a small smile. As for Kyrie, she was on her knees beside Julio and Carlo, tracing a template for them to paint on and showing them the proper way to mix colors for what they needed. And boy if Nero wasn’t so smitten, seeing her hair pulled into a messy bun, hands stained with the colors of a rainbow and eyes filled with love and adoration for the kids.

God damn he was so lucky.

Nico rolled her eyes at the dopey look on his face, brushing past him just as Madame Elenor stood from her corner with the other kids, walking over with a limp in her step and wiping paint on the apron she also wore. The children from the orphanage waved and yelled in excitement when they saw Nero and the mechanic, but were so focused on their tasks that they didn’t get up. Which was for the best--they were covered in paint all over their little hands, and he would rather not clean purple and green out of his good clothes. Instead, the white haired boy smiled at his wife, turning away from her gaze to greet the woman helping the kids with this project.

“Nero, so glad you could join us,” The Elderly woman greeted him with a warm smile, wrinkles at the corners of her eyes and mouth as she grasped his hands, “I wasn’t expecting to see you today.”

The Madame had always been an incredibly kind woman. Getting up there in years, old age starting to slow her down a bit but not stopping the creativity and hard work. Nero could respect that.

He smiled lightly in response, wincing a bit at the sight of paint now on his fingers once she pulled away. Figures, “Thanks for helpin’ out with the kiddos, they’re having a good time,” Laughter punctuated his words, making the two look up and see Julio and Carlo giggling as they smeared paint on their faces. Kyrie chasing after with a handkerchief, of course, “The play too. Can’t remember the last time the theater set up anything worth doing.”

The elderly woman snorted, rolling her eyes as she settled on a nearby workbench to rest her weary legs, “Certainly. Making costumes for period dramas grew very tiresome--it’s a lot more energetic to work with the younglings.”

That was definitely an understatement. The devil hunter doubted the old woman had this much excitement in a while. But she seemed pleased about all of the activities going on, pale blue eyes tired but happy as she watched the kids make quick work of another prop, setting it up to dry in the wind and sun. Kyrie helped steady a little girl’s brushstrokes, the light making her hair glow a beautiful shade of auburn as she asked you a question. And that was a nice change of pace too--seeing you in such high spirits, smile no longer tampered by grief or pain and glowing bright as well. You seemed to be in your element among the kids, patient and kind enough to answer all their questions and help when needed. Very similar to his wife in a lot of ways--she had been a very good teacher, after all.

Nero let out a low sigh, leaning against the doorway and folding his arms as he watched the peaceful scene continue. Madame Elenor followed his stare, an amused grin tilting her lips as he kept a watchful gaze on his wife and family. The adoration and devotion was very apparent.

“I’m glad to see you’re finally settling down,” The woman commented, drawing Nero’s attention away briefly and meeting his gaze, “You were such a rebellious teenager--Kyrie is very good for you, such a kind and peaceful woman...her mother was the same way.”

She was one of the few people that didn’t tell Nero that Kyrie was too good for him, something he appreciated. As for her mother...he remembered her kindness too, and it was not lost on him.

So he let out a slow breath, smiling ruefully and scratching the back of his head, “I’m a lucky guy, there’s no mistake there...I don’t know what I would do without her.” She really was something special, carrying so much love and kindness in her body he sometimes wondered if there was any room for hate or animosity. Even when things upset her, she bounced back so fast he often wondered if she hid things away as to not burden others. But there was always communication, always talking with him and explaining how she felt about certain things. 

There was always trust, and he needed that more than anything.

Elenor let out a pleased hum at his response, nodding a few times and pushing her glasses up a bit. Those pale blue eyes scanned the courtyard, watching as you and V started helping pull a tarp over one of the dried prop pieces, kids standing all around to aid. Nero wasn’t watching her expression then, more focused on making sure none of the kids were doing anything to hurt themselves or spilling any paint on their clothes. The children from the orphanage still had to go out to lunch after this, but the other kids would be picked up by parents and family members. So focused as he was, he didn’t notice the curious look on the Madame’s face, the searching one as she kept her eyes on you. Observing as you laughed, picking up one of the kids and pressing a kiss to their cheek.

So that’s why it surprised him when the elderly woman spoke again, her voice low and thoughtful as she murmured, “Your other friend is like her mother too.”

That certainly made Nero blink. He turned, staring at the Madame in confusion and seeing a faraway look in her eyes, one of remembrance and wistfulness. What the hell was she talking about? There was no way she could have known your mother, right?

“What do you mean…?” Nero asked slowly, brow furrowed as the Madame turned to meet his perplexed gaze. 

She pursed her lips, head tilted in your direction as another prop was covered slowly and carefully, “I never forget a face, you know that,” The elder locked her eyes on you again, frowning now as she watched the children interact and clamor in excitement, “Even one I’ve seen a long time ago--I can remember the faces of Kyrie’s parents perfectly, and I remember another face too. A woman used to come into my shop years ago, a year before you were even at the orphanage I think...she looked just like Y/N, spitting image.”

...What?

Nero stared in blank shock, brain not sure what to do with the information and halting like the screeching of tires. Someone who was the spitting image of you in this city, before he was even born? But...how was that possible? Surely not, there was no way you would have a parent in Fortuna, that was very clear after all the information they learned about your past. Even while not knowing anything about your family, you were firm in the fact that it was a different dimension entirely. Wisps of memories, small feelings and Foresight told the truth in your statements--not to mention the fact that the Outsider changed your appearance after your first death to distance you from the life you lead. A fresh start, an entirely new you--even your name had been picked by him. From what you could gather, your parents lived in a small town anyway, not a city. So...how?

How could someone be here that looked just like you? Maybe the elder had finally gone senile, maybe it was just a simple mistake? But...practically everyone in Fortuna knew of her memory. Hell, the old woman could recall days from his childhood that blurred even for Kyrie and himself. Faces, names, events...Old age never soured her mind, not for a second. Conviction was in her tone, eyes firm and certain as she stared at you, like seeing a memory from long...long ago.

But...that couldn’t be right.

This didn’t make sense.

You said you’d never been to Fortuna before, this dimension before.

So...why?

Nero’s tongue felt glued to the roof of his mouth, heartbeat starting to pick up while his head tried to piece things together, bit by bit. You were prone to having your memory erased, right? So...maybe you had been to this place before, without even realizing it? It was possible, especially with how unpredictable the Outsider was. But...didn’t the God only erase your memories with trauma? And what could he have sent you to do in Fortuna at the time? The Order of the Sword hadn’t been affected, and no big events had gone on until they were taken down. Not unless there was an event you did manage to prevent, one he didn’t know about.

 The devil hunter couldn’t find it in himself to reply, even as the Madame continued on wistfully in her story. And as the words continued to flow, his trepidation grew in spades, like icy fingers tapping their way along his spine.

“Timid little thing, she came in a few times to help me with odd jobs in return for coin and food,” The Madame sighed, closing her tired eyes and pausing briefly as she remembered the past, “She started coming by less and less, spending time with a tall, cloaked sword-wielding man walking the streets. An outsider like herself, I think. And then...well, I stopped seeing her at all. I got worried for a little while that something had happened to her after rumors circled the town but…”

The Madame shrugged, smile returning as she watched you hug Kyrie around the waist and giggle about whatever joke was said, “Her daughter is alive and well, a very kind person. If she turned out this way, I have no doubt that her mother ended up safe as well--I imagine the cloaked man she was with must have got her off the island before the Order fell...I just wished she would stop by and say hello before then.” 

A...cloaked man?

Rumors?

The woman slowly rose to her feet, wincing when her bones creaked and ached in protest, “I’ll have to ask your friend about her parents another day, when things aren’t quite so busy. It’s strange...she shares the same name as her mother too, which is a bit...odd. But she’s far too young to be the same woman.”

She didn’t notice Nero’s frozen expression, especially not when a couple kids ran up to her and loudly asked for help with a prop. Walking away before any more questions could be asked, things seeming to pass in slow motion for a brief second. He wasn’t able to move, watching numbly as she was pulled away by tiny hands, chuckling lightly at their enthusiasm. Things seemed so normal in comparison to the new truth laid at his feet--the kids didn’t notice Nero leaning against the doorway, a hand on his mouth and posture frozen in place. Nor did you, V, or Kyrie. All so focused on the task at hand, while he was left wondering just what the fuck was going on.

The elderly woman’s words had...struck a heavy chord of unease, one that gripped him in its tight vise and refused to let go no matter how hard Nero tried. 

His mind was working overtime, trying to figure out just what the hell was going on with so little information in front of him. Same name, same face...that had to be you, right? What the hell happened to you in Fortuna all those years ago, if he was to believe what Elenor claimed to be true? If you could travel from dimension to dimension, what was stopping the chance of going to a certain place twice? It was completely probable that Fortuna could have been one of your mission places, but...maybe you had failed? Something traumatic must have happened, and you had each memory erased. The Order of the Sword could have been a big target, but…

But.

The timing of it...was far too uncomfortable for Nero’s liking.

A lot of these things were.

Nero’s brain was connecting things he absolutely should not be trying to connect--but it wouldn’t stop, it refused to. Not with this new information, not with things he had felt on the edge of his consciousness for a long...long time.

He had heard rumors too...hadn’t he? When trying to figure out the identity of his parents as a teenager, asking anyone who would listen if they could remember anyone dropping a baby off at the orphanage. Claims ranging from it maybe being a teenage mother who made a mistake, him being a cursed twin left by a frightened family. Ect, ect. But...those all came up empty. And besides, he had demonic blood in his veins, so anything stating he came from normal humans was implausible anyway. No, he only took to heart things that could actually depict something other than human.

And a couple tales came to mind. Not ones he heard while searching out his parents, but rather things heard in passing. Demon attacks were a common thing in the city until the Order fell, but people who actually held their own against the creatures outside of said Order were...rare. Nero remembered tales of an inhuman man in a cloak who once traveled the city streets for a short time, witnesses seeing him take out demons with speed and precision no mere mortal could have. As a teenager, it had all seemed so silly--why should he think that this man had to be his father, especially with nothing to go on? This apparent stranger came and went in a matter of a couple months, leaving no trace behind.

In retrospect...that did sound like Vergil, a lot like Vergil. Tall, cloaked, deadly and precise. Wielding a sword, obviously. But...Nero hadn’t put much thought into the stranger’s companion this late in his life, not when he was still trying to grasp the fact that he had a father in the first fucking place.

Less was known about her--a lady in red, according to a few passing voices that could barely recall the tales. After all, why did such things matter years later? Those people were gone, but some fleeting memories remained. Coming and going from Fortuna was incredibly rare, outsiders stuck out like a sore thumb and were generally met with wariness and fear back then. Some rumors claimed she was human, but a few more...a few more mentioned powers too, didn’t they? He had waved those away--he was mostly human, right? Mostly human meant only partial demon, the woman had to be human.

Had to be.

Right?

But…

The timeline...the timeline. It fit, didn’t it? This woman who looked like you was in Fortuna before he was in the Orphanage, a year before. Around the time Vergil was in Fortuna, a tall, cloaked man with a sword. There was no fucking way that could be anyone else, right? You already stated your age was a question mark after traveling for the Outsider for so long, and visiting to the same dimension twice without remembering it was...plausible. If something trauma based had happened to you in Fortuna...it would explain why you disappeared without warning, especially when he considered the fact that you had not been with his father when all the conflict between him and Dante had occurred. At least...that’s what he assumed.

Vergil would have remembered your face, though, wouldn’t he? But...his father claimed to have lost memories after a particularly bad run in with Mundus, avoiding the topic like the plague and growing agitated whenever Nero brought it up. So the younger Sparda learned to stop asking about it, not wanting to fuck things up when the once-surly male was clearly trying his best. Although that was what he claimed, Nero had always felt there might have been more knowldge to find, especially with the mentioned trials.

Thinking back on it...Nero’s foreboding grew in spades, leaps, and bounds.

You had eventually spoken of what happened in the Void, Vergil forced to go through three trials in punishment for his actions. The first was reliving the trauma of his mother’s death, the second seeing what happened with Mundus and becoming Nelo Angelo. And the third...well, your memory went blank at the third, fairly certain that the Outsider took your memory of it, but not knowing why. It was of little consequence at the time--you were just happy to have V back, and didn’t put any thought into it.

Nero had asked his father in passing about it, and V too since they seemed to share memories. Both clammed up at the third trial, Vergil stating curtly that it was a part of his past he’d rather not repeat aloud or bring into light, and V...well, V replied that Vergil’s memories weren’t his to share, nor were his traumas or mistakes. And it ended with that, Nero shrugging it off just as easily now that things had seemingly grown so calm.

But now...less calm. There was a reason your memory of the third trial had been removed, especially if that reason was…

That’s not possible.

 Nero turned, stalking back into the shop before anyone could notice the growing look of panic and confusion on his face. Both hands ran through his hair, heart pounding in his ears as he walked out to the van and leaned against its metal form, trying to talk out of his own reasoning and just carrying the disbelief and fear in circles. Not many people were on this street so early in the day, more than likely on the square or on the beach so there would be no one to see him trying to collect himself.

Vergil wasn’t the type to screw around with multiple women, that was obvious. But he was the type to reluctantly start traveling with one, maybe get too close. If something bad happened, if you had died...there would be no memory, no trace, no knowing him. Maybe no knowledge of having a...

There is no fucking way.

Nero felt his blood run cold, brain scrambling with this knowledge and sending off several warning bells that made him feel sick to his stomach. There was no way, right? This was stupid, foolish, idiotic--his head was just doing things it shouldn’t connecting dots that weren’t there.

As hard as he tried to tell himself that...the seed of doubt had been planted, and it was flourishing. He couldn’t even form the proper words or coherent thoughts, unable to even comprehend it. His friend, his best friend...the same one he had laughed with at home, messing up your hair, calling each other “jackass” at any given moment, flinging food at the dinner table. The one who he watched fall apart in the Qliphoth, who he had carried home and helped build back up for so long. There was no way that you could be his...no. That wasn’t possible, and as much as he wanted to ask…

He couldn’t, could he?

Memories of trauma were taken for a reason. According to you, the Outsider only took things that were too overwhelming for you to handle. Things that could break you, weights to heavy to bare. If he asked you about it, made you remember something on accident…That wasn’t a risk that could be taken. But there were other ways to find out, right? Maybe that would be best, a simple DNA test without your knowledge could easily show him that this theory was foolish and contrived, take the burden off his shoulders and allow things to continue in peace as they were.

But...what if it only proved the truth? Would he be able to keep treating you like a friend as before, would he even be able to look at you the same way?

He couldn’t live with this ignorance...somehow, not knowing seemed worse.

I need to know. I need to be sure.

Even if it changes things...I spent so long not knowing.

Now that the thought is there...I need to do something or else it’ll get worse.

And even if he did find out it was true, what did he have to change? His mind was starting to calm, looking for reason and stability anywhere he could find it. You were his best friend, incredibly kind and caring to everyone around--even in the Qliphoth, making sure people were eating, encouraging him when it seemed like no one else would. If the truth came to light that after all this time, after all the wondering, hate, and resentment that maybe he wasn’t an unwanted child...It was startling, it went against everything he taught himself. If you had died, if you didn’t remember anything...it was very possible that he had been loved, right? You definitely weren’t the type to just throw away your flesh and blood, there was so much love in your heart, like Kyrie. But...it made sense if things happened outside of your control, a tragedy. 

If he found out that...you were his mother, after all this time...then wouldn’t that be a relief? To know his mother was just a timid, lost girl under the guidance of a distrustful God, one who went through something terrible and wasn’t able to keep him--compared to all the ideas of him being abandoned for being partially demon, of his mother not wanting him, this was a blessing in comparison. And he could hold his tongue, bottle it all in even if he knew the truth. Because at the end of the day, you had always been family, his friend...All he wanted was the truth, and if he could get it then that would be enough.

I was wrapped in a cloth when Kyrie’s mother found me on the doorstep, dry despite the rain. The cloth was stained in blood, like whoever gave birth had me and dropped me off not long after.

Nero made up his mind, resolve snapping in place like steel chords inside and binding every decision in place. By the time Kyrie emerged with the kids an hour later, he had a casual smile on his face again, all the traces of panic and confusion tampered down even when you emerged with an arm locked around V. Smiling, happy, greeting him with a nudge of your elbow and a teasing comment about Vergil and Dante giving him a hard time. No one would notice anything was amiss with him, at least...that’s what he hoped.

“...Nero?”

The white-haired boy paused, lagging behind the group a bit as they started walking toward the square. You and Nico holding the kids hands, Kyrie pulling Nero’s arm with her gentle fingers and staring at him in worry.

But all he could muster was a small smile, leaning down to kiss the top of her head while pulling her along toward the others.

“Later, I promise.”

Kyrie’s eyes missed nothing, but this wasn’t something he could talk with her about, not yet at least. He needed to be certain, things needed to be proven and solid first. If the white-haired boy discovered that his theories were wrong and just his brain foolishly searching for what wasn’t there...well, he would tell his wife and have a little laugh, and maybe wonder about what happened to you in Fortuna all those years ago. She only nodded at his words, still seeming concerned but lacing her fingers with his as they caught up to the group just as they were deciding on the restaurant. You briefly looked at him, as if sensing his off mood yourself, but...knew not to say anything.

If it was the truth...Nero would tell Kyrie, warn her not to bring it up to you. And then he would ask Vergil about it, proof in hand and get the story from his mouth. Because there was no doubt that he and V both knew something that they weren’t telling.

Nero would be able to keep his cool through lunch, through everything. Arguing with Nico, talking with the kids, watching you laugh with Kyrie and the others while one hand grasped V’s tightly. There was truth to be had, but at the end of the day you would always be his family and friend above all other things. And that came first, your well-being always came first.

Some things were more important.

If he discovered you were this woman in red, his mother...then he would get the story from Vergil and be done with it. Just being able to know both parents was something Nero thought he’d never have, and to know his mother was someone kind and sweet in comparison to Vergil? Well...he could live with that, could go on being your friend without changing a damn thing if it meant saving you from trauma. Life would go on as always, but he would just have one less mystery hanging over his head.

There was definitely a truth to be had. But at the end of the day...family was family. And he was willing to do whatever it would take to defend it.

“Hey Nero?”

The boy looked up as he walked alongside his wife and the children, seeing you looking at him with mischief in your expression. The afternoon light making your hair glow, one arm locked with V’s as he chuckled at whatever you had cooking up.

Nero swallowed down the hesitation and uncertainty, replying easily enough, “Yeah?”

You grinned, jabbing him in the side once with a hint of challenge in your tone, one he easily caught onto, “When we get back, we should spar on the beach. You, me, and some good old-fashioned water guns.”

What was that in your expression? A hint of concern, worry for him that you were trying to mask with playfulness. She’s worried, and trying to cheer me up--Nero clicked that in place right away, knowing damn well that sparring was one of his ways to blow off steam. Of course you caught onto his unease as well, just as observant as Kyrie. He felt his wife squeeze his hand too, punctuating the offer with support of her own.

And it was in that moment, Nero realizing how very blessed he was. To have people who cared and loved him that much, to have a chance of discovering his mother was something like you, someone already close to him. It made him smirk a bit, picking up Carlo from where he walked with the other kids and letting the boy hug him around the neck.

“You’re on,” He replied with a low smirk, eyeing V at your side and adding cockily, “Bet I could take you and Shakespeare on at once.”

V rose a simple brow at that, lips quirking up in a smile as he replied with a low chuckle, “You can certainly try.”

The kids all chattered in excitement, wanting in on the battle and eager at the prospect of playing with super soakers. Nico seemed to want in on it too, pinching one of Nero’s cheeks and claiming she would ally herself with him in this so called “battle”. Nero was willing to bet there would be treachery afoot, but Kyrie would always be there to back him up in the long run.

They all would. And when the truth eventually came...that would always remain the same.

~The End~

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Tagged: @nightshadow4713 @slightlylunatic @silentwhispofhope @just-call-me-no-name @efiicitia @raven-huntress @shaelin444

[johnnys-so]

I recall you saying you don't know Day6 well enough for an analysis, but what about now? If you can, we'd love one. Thank you!

HEYOOO! 

Umm a lot hasn’t changed on that front but I feel like the distance might be a good thing so I’m going to attach some small mini-analysis after the cut.

sungjin

Bob is literally the most dad friend ever and I think he really takes the cake (though GOT7′s JB comes a close second). He looks so constantly done with all of his members, and yet - probably the one who cleans the kitchen and makes sure to stock up on water/ramyeon/veggies etc.

I feel like he was born to be the hyung, you know? He is the responsible and primary caregiver type. Even though he doesn’t make a big show of it, it seems to be a big part of his personality that he takes care of other people

Also, my god his humour is just.... something commendable, truly. He can’t be funny to save his ass but atleast he keeps trying and i think THATS what so funny about him??? sungjin-ah.... never give up bby

I feel like he’s the least complicated of all members. He doesn’t seem to be the emotionally volatile type and seems very centred in his personality, he also seems oddly like he might have a sister? a younger one (does he? idk, mydays pls let me know). it’s just that other than the protective bear stereotype, he does seem emotionally well-adjusted. Maybe he’s just at that point in life where he can encounter a shitty day or some sort of hardship and look at it straight and say - ok, that’s fucked up. But I guess we gotta just work through it. (in comparison, wonpil would be shrieking through his lungs AND working through it)

in terms of a temper i think he most certainly has one but it takes him a while to get there and i don’t think he’d talk through it AT ALL. maybe cleanliness would be his pet peeve? (im just shooting in the dark here)

to wrap it up, sungjin is the sort of guy (in my opinion at least) who has a strong and steady value system and he’s sort of ok with dealing with the world as long as he has it figured out in his head. He knows who he is, and therefore there is little conflict he brings to the world. If he wasn’t playing in this band, I’d 1000% see him settle for the corporate life and clean9 to 5 job which lets him come back home by 7pm and have some cold beer while watching football and hearing his kids play in the living room

Jae

Aww man this skinny bitch. I feel like the fandom is sleeping on his ‘annoying prankster’ potential because i think  he’d give peeves a run for his money

derives great joy from the misery and anguish of others (probably has Wonpil maniacally laughing in the background)

on a normal day Jae is the sort of person who’s probably going through memes on the phone while everyone’s having a serious conversation about their tour or like their everyday schedules. He has a few things he cares about in life and is okay to take a backseat when it comes to the other shit. As long as he gets what he needs (a possible slytherin mofo?)

But that’s not to say that he’s easygoing or wishywashy about the things that he does care about. Music, matters a lot to him. Even though he’s not academically musically instructed (as young k is) he has spent a whole lot of time and effort into educating himself to the point that it really shows in their albums (i could wax poetry about the complexity of Day6′s music and how its so refreshing in it’s personality of being both goth and peppy i-). So Jae is most certainly determined, goal driven and very intrinsically motivated

Also, very much in his head. If he doesn’t have a strong pisces placement, I’m willing to eat my foot. I feel like while Young K is very intense about his emotions, Jae gets very emotional about the people he surrounds himself with.

With people: not very trusting of everyone. Has a chosen few that he goes to certain things about. Might be the kind of person who distributes his troubles by categories to various confidants. But also, trust is something that is earned with jae. But that is not to say that he won’t get along with other people. He’s cordial and is good in engaging a crowd (as a performer, MC, friend, VJ) but he’s also good at drawing lines and boundaries

the most incredible part of his personality for me has always been his work-ethic and his drive to be better. He’s always challenging himself through his existing skill set, but also pushing himself to learn new things. Sounds like a bloody workaholic to me. 

probably shit at figuring out his own feelings/emotions/attitude about certain things. But always up for being the wise advice-giver to other delinquents (read: jamie)

sarcastic wit to sass everyone for days. probably a loki over thor guy

Kink master extraordinaire. Likes cooking up shit and encourages people to sin.

Young K

emo baby af. But we all knew this so more on that later

The ultimate Onion of a personality. Young K, off the bat, seems like he hides so many layers. Not purposely at all, but simply because he’s unable to communicate the extent of his mental world to the public

one beautiful way he has found to channelise all of his thoughts and ideas about the world is clearly through his music and lyrics. But he’s also extremely creative in other ways (art and fashion). I feel like he’s the sort of person who feels most confident and assured in himself when he’s creating. 

socially, what a mess. I wouldn’t say he has trust issues like Jae does but im pretty sure he’s made some foolish mistakes about choosing friends and not realising how to navigate that friendship (friendships where he has demanded too much or has been demanded too much of??). But otherwise a jovial fool the kind of person who laughs the loudest (and dorkiest) at a dinner with friends

how’s his alcohol intake? I have this super funny intake of a drunk young k trying to write mini love poems for all his friends and sungjin being called to take him home and the call actually begins with “did he try to be poetic again?”

while im trying to paint a picture of him as a jester (because young k also needs to be seen for beyond his emotionality) he’s the kind of guy that would surprise you with how brilliant he is. An actual wisecrack/genius, and very underappreciated. I wouldn’t be surprised if he someday returns to teaching

Right. Emotionality though. If he isn’t some pisces (sun or moon) i will actually yell. He’s the definition of ‘someone who navigates an alternate plane, is open to a world that most people don’t even begin to understand exists’. i feel like speaking to him about abstract concepts - such as the existence of truth, the point of life, the definition of beauty, other existential phenomenon - would be so much fun because he’s have such an interesting and unconventional take on things. I feel like he’s make me humble with the words he has (he already makes me feel so secure with all of his lyrics because i realize, even if the world is shit what a relief that someone like young k exists)

probably would be a guilt-ridden but a wonderfully emotionally supportive boyfriend. Someone who understands your demons all too well and would go the extra mile to provide whatever help he can

1000% has high neuroticism scores that would be cause for concern. someone give him a Beck’s depression inventory right away.

HAHAHAHAH probably the fucking kinkiest mofo, after Jae

Wonpil

An actual baby!!

No ok but wonpil has matured THE most in all of Day6 and i really didn’t realise it until i notice how his expressions have become more closed during airport pics, and his voice has gained a new level of emotionality in live stages, and he’s also a lot more reserved these days on variety shows

still the most extrovert in the group. I just think the fame, the crowd, the possible betrayals as a result of their growing fame and having to be an adult in this tough situation - has gotten to him. But that’s inevitable really. None of us can be protected from the reality of life that leeches away at our innocence

such a vibrant soul. Such a giver. As a friend, he’s literal sunshine. Not much of a protector, but more of an amicable I’ll-always-be-there-for-you sort of person (though im guessing the amount of people he extends this courtesy to nowadays has probably reduced. 

fucking made to be an entertainer. He’s naturally funny and attracts all the energy (and eyes) in the room to himself. A very good mood maker if you will

in terms of neuroticism, I think he’d be more on the depression (from the constant stress workstyle and the increasing loneliness) than an anxious person. I think he probably is a bit volatile in his emotions but that’s because he gets lost in the moment. He’s literally someone who lives in the present far more than he lives in the past (sungjin or young k) or the future (jae)

don’t think he's intrinsically motivated much. Prone to a lot of lazy days, a lot of extreme gaming and just randomnly playing jokes and pranks on people. he’d need some strongly external guidance/deadlines to get his work ethic going

high extraversion and agreeableness, probably low on conscientiousness (especially discpline) but fascinated by aesthetic beauty (openness to experience).

Dowoon

Honest to god i cannot figure him out. I think it’s a case of - im trying to look deeper and harder but the truth is, it’s not even that complicated

underappreciated oppa potential 100000%

still comes through as a dork of a maknae. has zeROhand eye coordination outside of drumming. the kind of kid who breaks the glassware and blames it on his sibling (wonpil) and his parents totally believe him because he could do no wrong (aka sungjin grudginly yells at wonpil, again, about house rules)

just a man dedicated to his drums and his food. if he can play some solid beats, get some work done on the albums, play a nice set on a tour, have some chicken and beer while he is resting, have his hyungs fool around in the green room --> he good bruh

but by no means does that make him a fool (though i do think he’s a bit of a fool sometimes when it comes to picking up social cues about wonpil/jae making fun of him. he lacks the��눈치 you know what i mean)

Also (maybe I just love plot twists) but i think he’d be eerily good at picking up on people feeling sad/depressed/lonely/off in general. He’d be like that guy who just walks into the room and sees you just slinking away on the sofa and he thinks.... nah im just going to give them space and go get myself some food. But literally a few seconds later, he sits by you on the sofa, offers you food, and asks what’s on your mind. The silent supporter kind. Willing to listen, willing to be there for you

i don’t know much about dowoon so im just going to end this with: arms that can lift kids/ crush you in a bear hug/ pin you against a wall and leave bit marks on your neck

sorry if that didn’t cover much. I sort of only know day6 with their music. If im extremely wrong or way off about someone, please reach out and correct me!!

[cosmonaughtt]

how I'd rewrite Danny Phantom

forever salty that elmer glue ruined such a good concept so it’s my territory now

Ghosts are dead, 100%. The science behind it is very paranormal investigation-y but the Fenton family is ten thousand times better than the other “ghost hunters” of their time.

Also, there are some ghosts that come from metaphorical deaths. I.E. Pandora, she technically didn’t exist but when the Ancient Greek culture died out, so did the gods and goddesses. They’re not technically ghosts but they are ectoplasm-based, so they get lumped in with them.  

The Fenton family has been a bit dysfunctional for the past four years (10-14 for Danny, 12-16 for Jazz) because it took four years for Jack and Maddie to build the ghost portal. Jazz took over and learned how to really clean the house, while Danny learned how to cook. He’s not the best, but Danny can definitely make some good Ramen from scratch.

Maddie and Jack realized a bit later that the portal had overtaken their life and feel really bad for abandoning their kids, and when it didn’t work they tried to rekindle those relationships. Even with it working, they still do.

We all know what happened when the portal finished; it didn’t work. Because Jack put a switch on the inside that should’ve been on the outside, not the “on-off” button. The switch was loose and when Danny knocked into it, the portal turned on, because it was just waiting for a little spark-- like how when a cord is not totally plugged in. 

This was the beginning of summer, around the end of May, and a month after it was technically done. Danny (no stranger to the hospital, he’d been in a few times when he was younger because he was born two weeks premature) was in the hospital until August, a few weeks before school started. He was exempt from his eighth-grade exams and passed all of his classes, so the district let him slide.

Danny doesn’t have an ice core. As cool as it is (pun intended) it makes no sense in the narrative. Like, he was electrocuted, and he’s got the “ghost-stinger” ability, why would he have ICE POWERS? He’s got an electricity core instead (slightly inspired by the electric undead oops). 

His ghost sense is less of a mist and more of a gut feeling, and he literally becomes a static electricity magnet.

Danny’s character is a bit closer to the show.

He's quiet around strangers, but open with his friends. Trust thing.

Still made fun of for being the kid of two weird parents, but he’s honestly used to it by high school. He’s also bullied for his autism and ADHD, but he’s been bullied for them for about ten years so he’s used to it.

Still wants to be an astronaut-- science is his best subject, second to math. History is his third-best, he hates English and Gym class.

He’s tiny and scrawny, like a toothpick. It comes from being a sick child, though after the accident he’s able to lean out and gain a bit of “muscle”. 

After the accident, he gets a bit paler than he was before and doesn’t tan. There’s also a Lichtenberg scar covering about half of the right side of his body from the accident, going from his fingertips, up his arm and over his chest, neck, about down to his knee. 

He’s incredibly self-conscious about it but it doesn’t hurt, weirdly enough. For the “first season” he covers up and wears a lot of sweaters and long-sleeves. 

His pulse and body temperature are much below normal. The hospital was concerned with this after the accident, but after a few days of him seeming fine, they had to drop it. Danny can also hold his breath about five times longer than a normal human.

Is he half-dead? Yes, technically. Does he not try and think about his mortality? Yes.

He enjoys puns and jokes still, though he makes them more as Phantom.

Speaking of Phantom, no, he doesn’t go by “Danny Phantom”. Just Phantom. He is trying to avoid dissection from his parents, you know. 

Phantom has no scars from the accident, the only thing that he has in common with his human half is the mole on his cheek, but it’s green now (because yes, both halves have freckles!) because of his ectoplasm. He’s much more floaty, and if you don’t focus on him  he looks like he’s made of television static. He also has little fangs.

You can see his details better up close, and the longer you spend with Phantom, the more details you can see. All ghosts are like that, their energy is on the fritz all the time and human eyes need to adjust to it to understand certain features. The only reason Sam  and Tucker know him right away is because they watched him, y’know...

Danny is asexual, only realizing the identity in the middle of freshman year when Sam literally had to explain that yes, Danny, sexual attraction is a thing and not made up. (Based on my own experience.)

Sam and Tucker are both different in this story, but they still remain Danny’s only friends. They have other friends, though.

Sam is still goth.

She wears all black and even dyed her ginger hair black. There aren’t many surviving photos of Sam with her natural hair, she made sure of it. 

Sam is like... punk-goth? Punk-goth-grunge? She identifies as goth, but her clothes can fit all three categories, really. 

100% bisexual, has bi pins all over her bag. Out to her parents, who are slowly trying to understand. She doesn’t mind they/them pronouns, either, and her gender identity is just a shrug with middle fingers.

She knows a lot of the LGBT students at school and is the vice-president of the GSA she helped found. 

Both Sam and Danny had a mutual crush on each other through half of freshman year and all of eighth grade, Sam decided that she’d rather be friends and Danny realized it was mostly him wanting to be friends. 

Sam is vegan. She isn’t as pushy about it as she is in the show (I feel like it was extreme and really made fun of vegans/vegetarians, I know it’s a kids show but still) and all of her family is vegan, too. She’s big on animal rights, but recognizes the line to not cross.

Her family is also Jewish, like in canon.

Though she did campaign and successfully get the school  cafeteria to have a “Tofu Tuesday” every other week, so that’s something, at least!  (And where Mystery Meat would start)

Still mourns My Chemical Romance, into all music like that. 

Tucker is still a “nerd”, but he doesn’t get picked on by the jocks for being a nerd. 

He’s pretty hipster, too. His red beret is now a red beanie, and he has naturally curly hair poking out. He loves his natural hair, he just  loves the beanie.

His “nerd”  seems from his technological abilities. He has the latest smartphone a month after it comes out, and always has a “tablet”/iPad knockoff in his bag. He knows how to take things apart and sell them for money, and is also pretty good at programming.

Tucker DEFINITELY has a gaming channel. He only has about 3,000 subscribers, but that’s still pretty good. His most-popular video is him talking about the Indie game industry. He might try and program some of his own games (ahemPhantomfangameahem)

He loves meat, just like in the show. He jokes about it a lot with Sam, and Sam jokes back. Sometimes they can lead into fights if neither are in the mood, but both of them are pretty good-natured about it.

Tucker is a ladies-man, and a man’s-man, and a nonbinary’s-man-- he’s pansexual. Doesn’t figure out that’s a thing until he stays behind school one day to help Sam with the GSA, but once he does he’s out and proud. Still flirts terribly, though, but now no one is immune from his terrible flirts.

Scared of doctors and needles-- had a bad experience as a child, projects it on everything medicine-related. Tries to avoid taking medicine at all cost, unless it’s really severe. Hates flu season, can be a bit of a hypochondriac/germaphobe. Has one of those Bath and Body Works  hand sanitizer things on his bag.

Out of the trio, he’s more terrified of the ghosts, though after a while he gets used to them.

The A-Listers and school remain mostly the same.

Wes Weston is 100% a thing.

The A-Listers are more preppy than before, and definitely try and get away with what they can with modern fashion-- at least, Paulina and Star will. Dash and Kwan are a bit fashion-deaf (Kwan. Owns. Crocs.)

They’re still jerks and Dash still picks on Danny a lot, but the teachers are more competent and he can’t get away with more physical stuff unless no one is looking. Dash is probably a victim of his own domestic abuse at home and takes it out on people-- totally wrong and not moral, but he doesn’t think there’s much of an option. Only Kwan and Paulina know about his situation.

Kwan is pretty smart and strong, but he dresses like a disaster. He mostly sticks to wearing his letterman jacket and a black t-shirt and jeans, but if he ever has to “dress-up” or wears something else, it’s awful. Cargo shorts galore. Crocs. Someone get the Fab 5 to help  him, please.

Paulina is pretty prissy, and doesn’t like getting dirty often. She’s a cheerleader and she’s good at it, but she’s only second-in-command of the squad, or however that works. She doesn’t mind, less work for her to do, and the person in charge enjoys it a lot. Paulina tends to make fun of Sam and Tucker’s clothes often, and like the rest of the A-Listers, everything listed above for Danny (sans the Phantom thing). Once Phantom becomes big, she gets a huge celebrity crush on him, probably has ten different Stan accounts for him.

Star is the head cheerleader, and enjoys every moment of it. She also enjoys math, and she’s really good at  that too. Of the canon characters, only Danny can keep up. She isn’t good at much else academia-wise, though she does enjoy a bit of biology and forensics. Much smarter than most people think-- it will astound you.  

Valerie is a part of their squad at first, only because she, Paulina and Star live in the same neighborhood. After Valerie moves to an apartment, their friendship falls apart after a big fight-- this is entirely not ghost-related, by the way. Vlad only contacts her after learning that her dad was hurt in a ghost attack and Phantom wasn’t there to help, and emotionally manipulates her. She becomes the Red Huntress and hunts Danny, and they do date for a few months before calling it quits. I’m not big on shipping, per say, but if there has to be a canon endgame, it’ll be these two.  

Wes Weston. He’s technically canon? I guess? But also fanon? Either way, having a character like Wesley Weston trying to expose Danny as Phantom and always failing is hilarious, but can also introduce other things into the series as well. How does Wes know? Is he like, psychic, or something...? 

 Oh, and Vlad.

He’s much more emotionally manipulative. Danny was really considering having him train him in ghost-powers and stuff until Vlad made an off-comment about Jack, and Danny saw through the act.

They’re very much enemies. Not frenemies, but enemies. Danny is terrified of Vlad, but doesn’t want him to hurt his family.

Vlad, above all, wants a family. He missed out on those years being in and out of the hospital because of his own, botched accident, and he has scars all over his face from the “ecto-acne” that he hides with makeup.

He’s equivalent to Elon Musk, but less of a weeabo. DALV Corporations has a lot more stock in experimental sciences, though, including paranormal investigation. When he learns that Jack and Maddie had successfully created the Ghost Portal, he puts a lot more funding into their projects and reconnects. 

Still got the creepy Maddie-crush. Does get a cat named Matti, though (no connection or correlation, shut up, Daniel). Hates Jack because of his own accident, and begins to despise him even more for not noticing the scars left on Danny’s accident, too.

Less of a vampire in ghost form. He has a fire core, which makes a lot of his ectoplasm heat-based. Probably has laser eyes that Danny desperately tries to emulate but alas, cannot. The only reason he has a leg up on Danny is experience, not strength. He was only blasted in the face, not the whole body, after all.

At some point there’s probably an argument with Vlad and the Fentons and he decides “screw it” and makes an offset of DALV that focuses on ghost-hunting.

No Mayor thing, but he does move away from Wisconsin to live  in Amity Park.

Amity Park is... Well, it’s something.

It was already a pretty creepy town before the ghosts get involved.

It was already a pretty creepy town before the ghosts get involved. 

There’s always been unexplained murders, disappearances, and strange lights in the sky that no one could identify—a lot of hints towards something other-than-ghosts existing, which makes sense. 

Amity Park is much weirder after the ghost portal opens. Not because of the ghost attacks and their ghostly superhero, but because the veil was torn a bit, and it was felt throughout the town. 

On the moment of Danny’s accident, there was a massive power outage, and they become a bit more frequent to everyone’s dismay.  Much of the older residents of the town are against ghosts—if excepting Phantom, on occasion. The younger residents are more open to the undead spectres, though, and are much less afraid of them. 

Phantom becomes a youth icon, and his twitter account that started off small and as a joke gets him national popularity. 

Tucker, naturally, rides this wave and gets a giant boost in YouTube subscribers, especially after he posted a few videos with Phantom. No one questions this except the A-Listers, who just want to know howhe did this. 

Okay that’s enough of an info-dump I don’t want to spoil everything. I’ll probably post this stuff on my ao3—calling this story “Hero Complex” for now, still working on the title.